Don't Feed the Hunter

I do not own Left 4 Dead. This story belongs to me though.

It was midnight in the city, and chaos had engulfed the streets. I was high above the violence, perched on a building. I watched the events unfold as I scanned the scene for victims and planned my skirmish with this group. I pulled my beloved hood over my head, obscuring my face, and waited to strike. Some of my brethren, who also had hoods concealing their faces, pounced toward the survivors. I didn't bother warning them to proceed with caution as they always ignored me. Those clumsy fools were hastily dispatched, by the alert and resolute band of survivors. There were four survivors. One of them was a female who had dark hair and wore a jacket similar to mine. She seemed calm despite the circumstances and the constant bickering between the males of the group. Most of the quarreling seemed to be between an elderly man who was the leader of the group, and a man who wore a vest. A dark-skinned man who was with them was constantly intervening and telling the others to move on. After the phase had passed, the survivors continued down the street. Their teamwork was decent enough to keep them alive, but it was crumbling. Fear, desperation, and constant harassment from the inferiors were eroding their tenacity. I continued stalking them from the rooftops waiting for a chance to strike at them. Hunting requires patience, something that I was running out of. There was a small explosion and then the loud irritated complaints of the man with the vest. He complained about a strange liquid that covered him. There was a deflated bottom-half of a corpse lying next to him. Suddenly a horde of inferiors emanated from several nearby alley ways. During the fray, a long whip-like tongue shot out and grabbed the dark-skinned man. He was pulled into an alley screaming for help. I sensed an opportunity but I didn't dare take the kill from my brother with the tongue, as I had a mutual respect for him. The elderly man came running into the alley, looking for the dark-skinned man. I grinned slyly with bloodlust and ruthlessness as I growled with delight, and got ready to go in for the kill. You're mine now. I screeched loudly and pounced, crashing into the elderly man pinning him to the ground with a thud. He screamed harshly in terror as I dug my claws into his flesh. I found this very satisfying and swiped at him a few more times eliciting more screams. I looked behind me to check for the other survivors which were lost in the fray, oblivious to the fact that their friends faced an assured death. I then refocused my attention to tearing and ripping the man's upper body to shreds. After a while his screams were beginning to die down and I finally dealt him the killing blow. I stood up and looked down at my jacket, which was spattered with blood. However, my craving for gore and carnage was not satisfied. My instincts demanded more. I heard the calls of the other two survivors, who had finally fought off the horde, as they searched for their missing friends. I stealthily left the scene and faded into the night, hunting the remaining two mercilessly.