Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or Left 4 Dead. Just a warning, I'm doing the campaign order differently. Instead of No Mercy, Death Toll, Dead Air, and Blood Harvest, it's going to be No Mercy, Dead Air, Death Toll, and Blood Harvest. Why? Reasons only I know! 8D

Oh, and please review. I'd like to know what people think of my story. Even just a "nice" would be…shit, it'd be nice. *grumbles*

EDIT: I may end up changing my idea for the campaigns, by the way. Not like anybody even reads this fanfic besides my RE/Leon-obsessed friend, so why does it even matter? 8D

EDIT 2: Oh, and I changed the name of the fanfic! Soooo…

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
A Biohazard/Left 4 Dead Crossover

Chapter 2
Infected

"How did we already go through a week's supply of food?" Leon asked, picking up an empty can of ravioli and staring at the bottom that had been licked clean. "It's only been three days." Paul shrugged from his spot on the west side of the roof, his fingers fumbling with the bullets for his Desert Eagle as he filled a few magazines.

"It was a week's supply for one person, and we haven't exactly been rationing it." Paul absentmindedly remarked. "There's a supermarket down the road. We can just run down there and get some food and water. And a bigger tent." The dark-haired man said, looking with disdain at the medium-sized tent that was a bit to small for two grown men and enough bullets to take out the American army. Leon rolled his eyes, going back to his usual spot of filling his own magazines with bullets, slipping each magazine into the case on his right leg.

"I'm ready if you are." Leon said, sliding a new magazine into his pistol. "Fire escape or stairs?"

"Stairs. We need to take out any Infected on the stairs so that we can drag the tent up here. Unless you want to use your Superman skills to pull the thing up here." Leon stared at the man before turning on his heels to walk to the blocked fire escape that led into a partially-destroyed alleyway.

"Fire escape is faster." He ignored Paul's sarcastic murmur of "lazy." The two swung themselves down the fire escape, Leon dropping straight down from the last landing instead of creeping down the ladder as far as it went. He kept his gun trained down the alleyway while Paul finished climbing down. Once the other man was at his side, Leon placed a finger to his lips. "Quiet, there's a Witch around here somewhere." Paul cocked his head, listening for any sound in the air. The only thing he could hear was the collective groaning of a few Infected that littered the street, and maybe the growls of a Hunter that could smell them on the wind.

"I can't hear it." Absentmindedly, Leon let his muscle-memory take over, his right hand flashing through some hand-signals while he looked up at the roof that held their hideout; in the three days since he had met Paul, he hadn't come down from the roof once, and before he hadn't exactly been paying attention to where the building was at. "Oi, Leon. I can't speak Agent." Leon frowned, staring at his right hand. If he really thought about it, he didn't know what the signs he had been flashing meant. He knew he what wanted to say, and that the signs were saying what he needed to communicate, but he didn't know what each individual sign meant.

"Right. Witch is across the street, down to the left, and down in another alley."

"Of course you hear it with your super-hearing." Leon shook his head, and crept down the alleyway, gun lifted up by his right shoulder and at the ready.

"If we keep away from that alley, we shouldn't run into her. I'll tell you if we're getting to close; though, by the time we're too close, you'll hear her to, won't you?"

"Yeah, I'm not that deaf." Leon shot him a short glare to pay him for his attitude, but Paul just ignored him. The man trotted down the alley, spinning around and aiming his pistol at every corner like some cheap spy movie. Leon shook his head, walking right past Paul as he threw himself against a wall and slid along it, eyes narrowed as he quietly hummed the Mission Impossible theme.

"Honestly, how did you get all the way from Ohio?" He muttered, his grip on his own gun tightening as he reached the end of the alley. He paused, instinctively sliding towards the wall to his right to be partially blocked by a trashcan. Five Infected were stumbling around a police car that still had its lights flashing; it was a visual that made Leon feel like he should be remembering something. He just wrote it off as a suppressed memory, one that probably wasn't to important. It didn't take even four seconds to plant a bullet directly through the head for each Infected, the five falling to the ground before Paul even managed to reach the end of the short alley. "Okay…people are dead." Leon called, a little louder than necessary to emphasize his mocking. Paul just punched him lightly on the arm(lightly for Leon, though Paul had put more force behind the punch than he would care to admit), and continued past him, his expression being overtaken by a serious one. Unlike Leon's own stance - holding his gun up by his right shoulder - he kept his gun down by his right hip, ready for any quick draw that would be needed. The amnesiac had to admit, he rarely ever saw Paul in a serious mood, and seeing him so serious was a little unsettling. "Where's this store, exactly?"

Paul gestured with a jerk of his head towards a toppled-over barricade fence that reached twelve feet in the air, barbed wire circling the top. "Over that. Down the street a little, then to the left, and down the street two doors. It's a pretty large store, hard to miss. Good news is that its merchandise is hardly picked over by other scavenging Survivors." Leon gave a short nod in understanding; without many Survivors to pick through the superstore, there would be more food. Maybe even some better guns and ammunition.

"That's the same direction as the Witch."

"Then we'll just have to make sure we don't trip over her while running from a Tank."

"Wait to think optimistically, Paul."

"Hey, gotta reach for the stars."

:::Superstore:::

"DAMN that's a lot of food." Leon breathed, ignoring Paul who was spinning around in a shopping cart, sitting in the main body of the metal contraption while pushing himself along with a broomstick.

"I know, right?" Paul cackled, stopping just long enough to grab a box of Cheerios, rip it open, and dump half the contents all over himself. "It's freaking heaven!" He stared at Leon with a Cheerio-filled grin. "Bet you can't remember ever seeing so much food."

"Wiseass." Leon snorted as he grabbed his own box of choice cereal, a family-size Lucky Charms. He would never admit it, but he had a pretty large sweet tooth. He chuckled loudly, gaining the attention of his new companion.

"Your response wasn't that funny, you know."

"No, it's just that I remembered something."

"What?" Leon gave a massive grin, one that didn't feel right on his face, but felt good to show off.

"I'm addicted to sugar." He declared, shoving another box of Lucky Charms into the duffle bag that already cradled another among a bed of Hershey products, the very bottom of it all being held sturdy by a 22-pound bar of Hershey's chocolate.

"Great. Remind me to find some Mountain Dew, then." Paul jumped out of the cart, staring at it with longing eyes. "We should just fill this thing to the brim with food. You think you can lift it up the fire escape?"

"Empty? Maybe. Filled with whatever you deem useful? Definitely not. Use the cart anyway. I'll just have to take a few trips down to the cart when we get back to the hideout." Paul clapped with glee, looking like a little kid in a candy store. "And this is in no way, shape, or form me caving to your constant pestering that you would have used to get me to say yes eventually; this is just to make sure that we don't have to keep coming back every few days."

"If we stay that long. Still need to find the military and an evac center!" Paul called from the isle over. His words were followed by a yelp, and a quick succession of three gunshots.

"You okay?" Leon called over the top of the eight-foot-tall shelf.

"Freaking zombie tried to get the jump on me!" Leon snorted, shaking his head while opting to not point out that Paul had insisted that the Infected weren't actual zombies. No use in trying to piss off a man who was in such a good mood. On the other hand, what else would Leon do on their shopping spree where no money was needed?

Within half an hour, the two had combed through the entire store. They ended up needing two carts; one nonperishable food items along with drinks, and the other for miscellaneous items that might be needed. The second cart was already half filled, cluttered with a few changes of clothes for the two of them - though Leon got the same outfit that he was currently wearing, only picking out three extra changes - a larger tent, a few extra blankets, and enough batteries and flashlight bulbs to last them a year. The rest of the objects in the second cart were basic toiletries - hand soap, shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant - that the two were PRAYING they'd have enough room for when they finally had to move on. Their last stop? The gun department.

The two were immediately in heaven, abandoning their food to either stare in silent appreciation while mentally naming guns that he couldn't remember having ever learned about, or running, jumping, and spinning behind the counter, bending down to kiss a few handguns with glee. The two ended up picking out a few types of guns; five more pistols, all Desert Eagles to match their own, two pump shotguns, one sniper rifle(because Leon insisted, having a feeling he knew how to use a sniper VERY well), two auto shotguns, and six M-16 assault rifles. They also threw in a couple dozen magazines for each gun, a few boxes of bullets for each - which totaled in the three-thousand bullets PER GUN - and a better scope for the sniper.

They were truly in heaven now.

:::Back at the Hideout:::

Leon was on his last trip down to get the last of the ammunition - Paul was on the roof, organizing their belongings in a safe spot, and setting up their new tent - when a sound caught his attention. Little did he know it was a sound that was so high-pitched, only dogs - and a few Special Infected - could hear it. All he knew about the sound, though, was that it was loud, and coming from across the street and inside a short building that had most of its windows smashed. Leon looked towards the roof that he had been staying on for the past few days and, after deciding that Paul would be alright on his own for a few minutes, jogged across the road. He climbed through a smashed window - being mindful of the jagged shards still stuck in place and on the floor, of course - before making his way towards what had been making the loud noise.

It was an alarm clock set on a desk, the mechanics inside the machine whirring so fast that they gave out the high-pitched hum that had caught Leon's attention. The amnesiac picked up the clock, ripping the back clean off and pulling at the wires inside. The mechanics shut off with a satisfying hiss, leaving the room to bask in the silence. Leon was about to leave the way he had come, his mission completed, when a small black rectangle that the alarm clock had been sitting on caught his attention. If it didn't have the words 'THE INFECTED' printed in bright red Sharpie on the front, Leon's eyes would have rolled right over it, and he would have left the object to gather dust.

He picked it up, even with the dark feel that clung to its leather cover. He brushed his thumb against the rough surface of what looked to be a journal, a bit of dried blood flaking off. 'Who wrote this?' Leon thought, his eyes dragging over a few corpses that littered the room. 'One of them, probably.' Some part of his mind was yelling at him to put the book down, to get back to Paul before something happened. Like a Smoker dragging him away, or a Hunter pouncing him, perhaps. Or him just being swarmed by a horde of Commons. But his fingers weren't uncurl from the spin of the book, and he found himself flipping through the book, pages whizzing by in front of his eyes, a light breeze coming up to blow his bangs from his face. He froze, nearly dropping the book when three words caught his eye. Well, two words and a letter, really.

Leon S. Kennedy.

The blonde man flipped back, his eyes darting around to find the page that had mentioned him; or, at the very least, mentioned who he thought he was. He finally found the page, right after the page that described the Hunter in detail, and right before the page that went into explaining the Witch. Each page had a title, and Leon's page was no exception.

The Predator

'Predator?' Leon thought with a frown, staring at the hastily-scribbled title. He quickly glanced over the singular page - as opposed to the two or three pages that the other Infected types had claimed - that was for the Predator, looking for the image of whatever the Predator was; on the other Infected's pages, they had had many pictures. The Hunter had had the most, coming to a total of twelve, with the Smoker coming in at a close second with nine. But the Predator, the page that held his own name, had no pictures at all. Unless you could consider a blood splatter as an image. Considering it had no educational value and didn't relate to anything in the passage on the Predator, Leon didn't view it as anything but dried blood.

With nothing else to occupy his time and claim his attention, Leon hurriedly read over the words. When he reached the end of the passage, he let his arms go limp, the book dropping out of sight while he stared blankly at the far wall. After a few seconds of silence, he brought the book up again, re-reading the passage. He read it again, then again, and then again for the fifth time. No matter how many times he read the words, they didn't change, still telling him the same thing that it had initially told him. Still telling him one of the only things that he hadn't wanted to hear since waking up, even though it had been his suspicion all along.

And after re-reading the article twelve times, Leon threw the book on the ground, grinding it beneath his heel. "Bullshit!"

:::Back on the Rooftop:::

"What's that you got there?" Paul asked, sipping soda through a straw from a can, looking like he was on cloud nine. Leon glanced down to the black journal that he had tucked into the waistband of his pants.

"Uh…a book?" He offered. Paul frowned at him, alternating between glaring half-heartedly at the younger man, and staring cross-eyed down the length of the straw.

"Bite me, Agent-man." Leon scowled; he definitely didn't want his dog-tags to be made fun of, considering it was the only solid thing he really had that concerned him(maybe). Well…that and a gun, but that hadn't been with him when he had woken up, so it didn't count.

"First of all, even if I am really Leon," Which he was hoping to the Lord that he wasn't at this point "I don't think I would be a Secret Agent." At Paul's narrowed eyes of confusion, he continued. "Note the SECRET in Secret Agent. As in they DON'T want to be discovered. It wouldn't really be smart if they ran around with their names stamped into metal and hanging around their necks." Even if that metal was mostly still covered in blood, but that, like the gun, didn't count. And if what the book had said was true, then Leon wasn't sure if he WANTED to know what the rest of the tag said. "Second, I still might not be Leon!"

"And I still might not be Paul, and that Boomer down by that car might not be a Boomer, and that pole might not be a pole…what were we talking about?"

Having turned Paul's attention away from the black journal, Leon rolled his eyes with a sigh, sitting against a wall by the makeshift table while Paul continued to rattle on and on about how the world and its contents were all not really real. He tuned Paul out, staring down at the black journal that had turned his world upside-down. But that brought up a question. His world had already been turned upside-down by his amnesia, so then would it be right-side-up now? But what about the Infected factor? That would turn his life upside-down again. So that would surely make it upside-down again, right? Bah, whatever. Not like that was to important.

If only he hadn't gone searching for what had stolen his attention. If he had left it alone, then he wouldn't have found the book. He wouldn't have found the book, nor read the words. 'Why does my life seem so freaking complicated?' Leon thought, mentally sighing. He flipped through the book, finding the page marked "The Predator" again.

-I have catalogued the five main types of Infected of the North, along with the rumors of a sixth. But I've discovered a seventh, or at the very least, an anomaly in the mutations. I've labeled it the Predator, because it's almost like a supreme version of a Hunter mixed with a Tank. Really, it's like all of the Infected combined. If it was to wear a hoodie, it may be mistook for a Hunter, so long as nobody saw its ability to lift cars.

-Its senses, agility, leg strength, and instincts are that of a Hunter. Its strength seems like a Tank's, though noticeably weaker because of its size and appearance of a normal human, and shares a certain amount of resilience. Sight ability of a Smoker. Speed of a Witch. Hearing of a Boomer, along with what seems to be the ability to pick up scents by "tasting" the air. It also seems to have the lung capacity and vocal cord strength of the reports centered around the sixth Infected, the Screamer.

-I recognized the Predator off of the internet. When it was human, it had the name of Leon Scott Kennedy. Though now, it hardly has seems fit to call this beast capable of being such a killing machine by the name of a human. As if it had the smarts, as an Infected, to even remember its name.

-The last I saw of the Predator, it was wounded, and going into Mercy Small-Practice Hospital. I'll try and find out more information and write back later. -

After this entry were a few more, probably from gathered information. If this journal was to be trusted…well, Leon didn't want to think about it.

For a few moments, Leon just stared off into space, towards the barricaded door that led down into the apartment building that he and Paul were taking shelter on. After thinking it over, Leon tilted his head slightly, inhaling the wind, mentally inviting any and all scents to hit him. Big mistake.

Big big big mistake.

Leon's hands slapped to his nose, his body throwing itself sideways as the repulsive scents of blood, death, decay, and fear all registered in his brain at once. 'Oh GOD!' Leon thought, gagging openly from behind his cover of the makeshift table. Thankfully, Paul was still rambling loud enough to not hear Leon nearly empty his stomach of the candy bars that he and Paul had filled up on while still at the superstore. Well, Leon had expected to smell things, but not every disgusting smell at the same time. Maybe he should have thought his plan out more.

He sat up slowly, his hands still cupped in front of his mouth and nose. He had to try again. Sure the air smelled of death; most of the world was dead(or at the very least, America)! So just smelling decaying everything wasn't a good enough judge to see if what the journal said was true. But he really didn't want to try and get scents off the air again…

Even so, Leon attempted it again, once more nearly doubling over at the severity of the smells. But this time, he didn't close the smells off, he let the continue to filter through his nostrils, continued to translate the scents in his brain, to store them away and get used to the smells. It didn't take long - though to Leon, it felt like ages - to get used to the smells, and also get used to the ability of "turning off" his ability to pick up scents. Soon he was able to tune out the smells or tune back in, picking through the scents to find what he wanted; the Boomer that exploded after running face-first into a broken window, the salty tears of the Witch down the road, the swollen and split flesh of a Tank, the smoke around a pair of Smokers. The month-old candy bar wrapper in a trashcan, the bottle of spilt shampoo on the other side of the city. His most impressive feat in his opinion, though, was him picking up the scent of a 200-year-old book in the museum on the outskirts on the other side of Mercy City.

'…well, shit.' Leon thought blankly, staring down at his hand as he flexed it, expecting claws to suddenly rip out of his fingertips. Nothing like that occurred, of course, but the visual that the idea gave Leon didn't help at all. 'There's only one more test that I can do…' Leon sighed out loud, looking up to stare at Paul. All he had to do was wait for Paul to fall asleep, then he'd be good.

Turns out it doesn't take long for Paul to sleep at all. An hour later, and the older man was out like a light, snoring in the warmth of the new tent. Leon had, of course, come into the tent about ten minutes after him, bidding the man a goodnight. He pretended to fall asleep at the point - something that came to easily, as if he was schooled in feigning sleep - and waited for Paul's snores to grow loud enough in the partial quiet of the apartment roof. Once he was satisfied, and had checked three times to make sure Paul was asleep(though in hindsight, shining a bright flashlight at the man's eyes through his eyelids might not have been a good idea), Leon rolled out of the tent.

He walked to a extendable metal ladder that they had set up to bridge the gap between their building and the taller building next door, clambering up the gentle slope quickly. He over his shoulder for a brief second, his eyes being drawn to the earth-tone-colored tent that held his only friend since he had first woken up. Paul would be alright for a few minutes, right? Of course he would. And if the journal was right, then his hearing would be able to pick up anything going wrong. Hopefully. Hopefully Leon wasn't putting his faith into something that he was wrong to believe in.

Leon trotted over to the opposite side of the roof, jumping the four-foot gap between his current building and the next with ease, bending his knees slightly to try and absorb a bit of the shock. Turns out, that wasn't needed; he hardly felt the landing at all, even though he was sure his feet had cleared the five foot high mark. He jogged the length of this final building, stopping next to a eight-foot-tall billboard and looking down at the street four stories below. There was single car with a red light flashing on the inside sitting down the road, past the intersection that his current building sat on; this car was directly in front of the stairs that were supposed to lead to a subway, apparently. Part of the road on the way to the subway was blocked by a tanker that had crashed into the building on the other side of the street, flames burning from where the tanker had been practically gutted by the force of the collision.

"Well, this is a good a place as any. Either I make it and I have to kill myself, or I fall and make myself into fried Leon." Leon thought out loud, staring down at the burning tanker and the building it had smashed into around seventy feet away.

The blonde amnesiac backed up, rubbing his bare palms together while sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration, his eyes focusing on the roof across the street. "Okay…okay, I can do this…at the very least, I hope I land on something soft…" Leon muttered a quick prayer, and then took off running at the fastest speed that he could reach with the mindset of "I shouldn't be doing this." Seconds from hitting the edge, he thought about slamming on the breaks. But by the time he got ready to stop, he was already stepping off the ledge, pushing off with as much strength as he could muster in a few milliseconds of indecision. He sailed off of the building, flying in a tall arch through the air. He hit the peak of his jump about midway through the street below, and started to drop. Fast.

"Hooooly SHI-" Leon didn't finish, smacking face-first into the brick wall. His lower lip split, his eyes snapping closed at the dizzying hit as he slowly peeled backwards from the wall, falling head-first onto the ground from twenty-five feet in the air. Thankfully nothing broke; besides the ears of a few children, if they had been there, because of his choice words. And his pride.

He slowly picked himself up, groaning as he cracked his nose back into place. "Ow…" He muttered, looking up at the roof that he had thought he was going to land on. It was around forty feet up, and he had only missed by almost fifteen feet. The man glowered, standing back up with his eyes focused on the lip of the roof. He bent at the knees, nearly completely going into a feral crouch. He curved his spine forward, craning his neck to keep the roof in sight.

He pushed with every bit of energy he had gathered in his legs, and soared.

His arms pin wheeled in the air as he overshot the roof by a good forty feet, doing a few accidental back flips with his body completely straight while he was at it. Somehow, he managed to land on his feet, teetering backwards on the edge for a few brief seconds before redistributing his weight and stumbling forward until he was a safe distance from the ledge. He froze at a quiet exclamation of "dude."

He spun around, his eyes going wide when he caught sight of Paul standing on the roof he had originally leapt from. "Dude!" Paul called, louder this time after seeing that he had Leon's attention. "You've gotta teach me how to do that!"

:::Ten Minutes Later:::

Leon had managed to jump the gap between the streets on his second try; he now knew how much strength was needed to clear the distances, even if he overshot by a few feet and had to roll to absorb whatever momentum he didn't need any longer. He had followed Paul back to their campsite, silent. It was worse when they reached the tent, though.

"How'd you find me?" Was Leon's first question. Paul was oddly calm, something that was more unnerving than the older man actually catching Leon in the act of trying to learn to fly.

"It wasn't hard." The other man responded. "You smacking into a brick wall thirty feet in the air was pretty loud. Just had to follow your voice." Leon nodded, he could accept that.

"How much did you see?"

"Enough to know that you can put a Hunter's pounce to shame…is that why you left the tent?"

"I was trying to figure something out. I thought you were asleep." Paul nodded at that point.

"I was. But you snore when you sleep, and I guess I'm just used to hearing it now when I'm asleep. The silence was a little…uh, creepy? Yeah, creepy I guess." Paul shrugged. "Then you know the rest. So, my turn?" Leon nodded slowly, uncertain. "Good. First question. How'd you do that?" Leon spent the next eight or so minutes explaining to Paul. Explaining about how he found the journal, and its contents. And what the contents meant for him.

"Well, something good did come out of me finding the book." Leon said with a strained chuckle. Paul frowned, cocking his head. "I'm now positive that I'm Leon." He tried chuckling again, but this time the sound came out more as a weak cough.

"Leon, this isn't really a time to be laughing." Leon looked up from the spot he had picked on the roof to stare at for the past ten minutes.

"You don't think this is weird or stressful for me either?" He snapped. "I wake up, in an apocalyptic America, with no memories, covered in blood, and abandoned in a hospital! I don't remember my past, don't even remember my own name! And then I learn that I'm one of the things that humans are trying to kill? And you expect me to not find it stressful for myself?" Paul blinked, watching with a calm face as Leon flipped a metal folding table they had picked up at the store, the table spiraling right off the roof to smash into the police car down on the road, taking out a few Common Infected with it. His simple and momentary hysterical breakdown left him panting, glaring daggers at nothing; unbeknownst to him, his irises had began to take on a bright yellow glow, but pointing this out was probably not the best idea at the moment.

"…better now?" Paul asked after giving Leon another minute or so to calm his breathing.

"No." Leon growled, his irises slowly bleeding back to their normal hue. "But I'm working on it." Paul clapped his hands together.

"Good! Because I'm tired, and going back to bed. You coming, or are you going to stay out here and murder a few more of our tables?" Leon frowned, making a funny face at the man.

"You're not gonna shoot me 'tween the eyes?" He asked. "Kick me off the roof? Anything?" Now it was Paul's turn to make a funny face.

"Why would I?"

"Uh, my status as an Infected?" The blonde man offered.

"Oh, that. Pfft, you're nothing like other Infected. So long as you don't start chewing on my arm in the middle of the night I'm good. We can talk more about this later, if you're really dead-set on me taking some sort of action. But to me, you haven't changed. Well, besides you suddenly becoming superhuman, but I had my hunches already, remember? So, Mr. Predator, I'm going to bed. You do what you want." He pointed a finger at Leon, screwing up his face into a mock scowl. "Don't wander to far, or I'll go buy you a collar and tie you up at night, doggie-pet." Leon slapped the finger away, marching into the tent.

"I'm not a dog!" He called. Paul, however, ignored him, opting to run into the tent.

"Honey, the pet is peeing on the bed again!"

"I'M NOT A PET!"

"You didn't deny pissin' on my bed!"

"GREEH, SHUT UP!"

:::The Next Morning:::

"Okaaay…" Paul said, reading and re-reading the first entry on the Predator. "It says here that you're strong." He pointed over the ledge of the roof to where a Tank was making its way down the road. "Go rip him in half." Leon slowly looked over the edge of the building, before backing away.

"Yeah, that thing may say I'm strong, but I'm not going to trust any of those words until I've done something of equal proportions with less danger to confirm it myself. That entire thing is theory!"

"Well, the jumping thing was right!" Paul muttered, but moved on. "Okay, if you don't want to do that, why don't we work on your jumping?" Leon paled for a split second, before shaking his head.

"Don't want to. Remember what happened yesterday?" He swore his nose had been broken, though it hadn't swollen and had snapped right back into place.

"Well, if you don't train in your jumping then how do you ever plan on getting better at it?" Leon nodded slowly, agreeing even though one of the last things he wanted to do was start jumping off of buildings. Plus, he had the distinct feeling that he had trained a lot for a long time - which made sense because the dog-tags had to mean something - and that it had become a sort of routine.

So that's what led to Leon falling off of buildings for eighteen hours straight. He had gotten better at his jumping - judging them, getting the right amount of strength, figuring out how to vary his leaping speeds, sticking the landings without falling over and sliding on his face again - over the hours, so much so that he could now leap from one building to another for the most part, sometimes even being able to skip buildings if he jumped long and high enough.

There had been a point where he had jumped to one building and then another, and Paul wouldn't let Leon come back to the apartment for lunch until the blonde Infected jumped from the building he was currently on and directly to their own "home." Leon had tried and tried, over and over, for nearly two hours. He had finally had enough, and in that instance, he had backed up, crouched on all fours, and then leapt with an inhuman roar of annoyance, sounding much like a Hunter's scream that was deeper and slightly more monstrous. He had landed, hands first, pulling into a forward handspring, flipping onto his feet and nearly losing his balance. He had made it to the apartment roof. Had nearly overshot it, actually. Needless to say, he had gotten his lunch, and also gained the knowledge that he could jump further and faster on all fours than just on two legs. And had Paul come this close to shitting himself. That was always a bonus.

He slept like a baby after that, if only to escape the fact that Paul was going to wake him up bright and early to find out what else he could do.

:::Three Weeks Later:::

"There's a Hunter around. Just to give you a warning." Leon said right after landing from his jump from the building over. Paul looked up after a few seconds, finally pulling his eyes away from the broken flashlight he was trying to fix. After three weeks, he had gotten mostly used to Leon suddenly appearing from what seemed like nowhere. Mostly.

"Okay. And this concerns us how?" Leon pointed over his shoulder, down the road and past the partially-destroyed barrier.

"Because there's a lot of Infected activity that's headed this way?" He offered. He paused, sniffing the air just to make sure his hunch was correct. "They're following a group of Survivors that have been doing circles in the city for a while. They're headed this way, finally."

"Probably has something to do with the helicopter that passed through earlier. The one issuing orders to head to Mercy Hospital for evac." Paul mused. Leon snorted, plopping down in the chair across from the older man.

"Every Infected in the city is going to be headed there. It's suicide."

"They probably know that. And even if they don't, it's not like there's much of a choice. There hasn't been any news about any other nearby evacuation centers." Paul sighed. "Still, unless they have good teamwork and know what they're getting themselves into, they're going to have a difficult time."

"'specially since there's a few Tanks centered around Mercy Hospital." Paul flashed Leon a confused expression. "Scouted out the area a few days ago. Saw a few Tanks, scented the others." Paul nodded in understanding. "Anyway, back to the problem at hand…there's a Hunter that's been moving this way. Trying to find the Survivors, I expect. Just wanted to warn you so you can be on your guard in case the jumpy bastard decides to pounce you."

"And if Hunter-buddy decides to set his sights on you?"

"Then we'll have a dog fight on our hands, and I'll bite out his throat." Leon deadpanned. Paul scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"More like a cat fight." Paul chuckled, before ducking out of the way of a thrown, full can of frozen ravioli. "Meow! O-oi!" The older man struggled as Leon wrapped his arm around his throat in an attempt to choke him out.

Leon's grip suddenly slackened, his eyes going alert as he stared off into space with an otherwise blank expression.

"Hey…something-MMPH!" Leon silenced his comrade with a gloved hand, snapping out of his trance to lock eyes with Paul. He brought a finger up to his lips.

"Shh. Tank." Leon whispered, tuning his sensitive sense of hearing into the quiet snuffling and bull-like grunting of the largest Special Infected. He quickly found this to be a mistake, though, when loud gunfire from right down the road overtook the sound of the nearby Tank, his eardrums nearly shattering at the unexpected noise and its intensity. He released Paul all the way, dropping down into a crouch while clapping his hands over his ears. "Shit!" He growled, waving off Paul's silent offer of help. Right as Leon managed to block out the gunfire so it sounded more like water dripping into a puddle, another sound reached his ears. "Duck." He deadpanned, flattening himself to the roof's surface. Paul hesitated, but lay flat next to him, right in time to dodge a few flying Infected and a spinning car.

"The hell? Are they evolving into flying ones now?" Leon looked over his shoulder, catching a glance of one of the flying Infected's face; blank, staring forward dumbly. Right before it smacked into a building and was shredded by the glass of a broken window.

"No, they're Common."

"Thank God." Paul muttered, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet. "I don't think I'm ready to deal with flying Infected." Leon said nothing, brushing his bangs out of his eyes to get a better view over the ledge of the roof.

"Yeah, well you should be ready for this, it's not to difficult." Leon pointed over the side of the roof, wincing as somebody got pounced from behind by a Hunter. "The Survivors are coming near. We should hide."

"Uh…why?"

"We're on a heavily-fortified roof."

"And?"

"They might make their way up here."

"So what?"

"They're armed to the teeth to fight Infected."

"Aaaaand?" Leon pointed to himself.

"Infected."

"…ah…point taken…we should hide."

"Thank you for seeing my point." Paul opened his mouth to respond, but stopped to look around. He smirked.

"So, smart guy. Where should we hide?" Leon frowned, turning to stare at the painfully-open roof with no place to take cover.

"…shit."

And there we have it. Random second chapter. Didn't really like the ending, but I know how I want the third chapter to start, and it has to be right after what just happened…I'm so tired that that made sense in my head but doesn't make sense in person. I mean said out loud. God I need a nap…

So not gonna happen. :3

~Kitsune-242