5. "WE'VE GOT HOSTILES"

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"What will it be then, sir?"

The choice was definitely a hard one to make; but it's not that there were many others. Still, he looked thoughtful for a moment, as if trying to find some kind of last resort...

One that would allow to do both things at once. But he had already thought for almost ten hours, and there were none.

None, at least, requiring less than the time they had - time which was definitely running out.

He made a deep breath, then "Authorize the strike, and release the news." The man signed the paper, then applied a blue seal on it.

Ground zeroing Black Mesa... It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was as close as they could come to. The main plot was a takeover, of course, but with this apparent outbreak of monsters of some sort such an option couldn't be taken into account.

And although monster outbreak containment and takeover were the two best goals, destroying the facility would accomplish two other goals, neither of which could be really considered as second rate - unless directly confronted with the first two.

Then, the man dismissed the thoughts; he was busy, and the most pressing of his businesses at hand was to write a convincing speech to give tomorrow morning at the press conference.

It was going to be tough job.

*

The grenade had missed. Well, almost, missed... But still a miss - hadn't been for the man's stupidity.

"Again. Failure." the figure looked down, visibly depressed. "I can't even throw a grenade right... How can you say that the One Person can..."

"Stop complaining! We have simply no time for this." the voice was very firm. "You have a mission! And an important and vital one. And, neither you nor I have time for useless and completely undeserved self deprecation! You did what you needed to do, and it worked. That is all."

"But I..." One single breath, and it was acceptance. "No, you're... right. We'd better be going."

Stumbling slightly through the darkened corridor, the figure continued along its path.

*

A first impression is always wrong. Gordon had been inside the storage cell for little more than five minutes, and he could feel even through the suit's heating system that it was definitely freezing cold in there, at least minus fifty degrees.

The floor was covered with a thin layer of ice, probably formed due to condensation; his footsteps, along with the low whirring of the refrigerators, were the only distinct noises in the room. Or rather in the complex of rooms, since Gordon soon realized that the cell was quite large and split into various sub cells, connected by short corridors. The plan was a square; three cells each side, and in the center, the large refrigeration unit.

The only good thing was that this section had still power - unsurprising, given the fact that anything stored here would probably be quite susceptible to heat variation - and he could keep his breastlight off.

He was in the rightmost wing of cells, in the first one which contained various pieces of meat hanging from long metal hooks, hung to the ceiling; he briefly inspected the meat: it was unnaturally white, and yet showed no sign of temperature effects.

It was definitely intriguing, but there was no time for that; he had far more important things to do.

He moved northward, through another room again filled with various species of meat, which had in common only the fact they didn't seem to come from any animal he knew.

The ventilation access was just one room ahead and one left.

Suddenly, he heard something. He stopped cold, to listen better: apart from the still low whirring, there was... Again. There was definitely something. It wasn't rhythmical nor constant, and it sounded like some kind of... snapping, like if someone was flipping up and down a large, hard-to-move differential switch?

No, it wasn't that mechanical. It felt more... living.

He took several, cautious, steps forwards. Again the sound. This time he could hear something different, though.

Something that left an aftertaste of disgust: salivation.

He entered the last room of this side, before the corridor switched to the left and circled back to the entrance, to see four to five people bending over something, almost in a heap. What the hell were they doing here?

"Er, sorry?"

He called out. Only one of them raised and turned, allowing Gordon to see what he was crouched on.

*BEEP* *BEEP* "Warning: Hostile entities detected within thirty meters. Entities signature matching hostile unknown biological entity." *BOOP* *BOOP* "Warning: uneven odds. Caution advised."

It was a body.

The body of a security guard, still dressed in his blue uniform... Well, partly dressed since most of his abdomen had been ripped open and staining both the uniform and the floor blood red.

And the creatures, which only now Gordon recognized by the yellow head as one of the monsters, were eating it.

Through his sickness, Gordon noticed that his crowbar was in his hands. He looked at it.

It was going to happen again. He glanced again at the monster that was stumbling towards him, then again at the body.

This time he won't protest.

This time he wanted it to happen... to bring justice to that poor man.

He moved forward; it felt that his legs were responding to his own will, but he knew they weren't. He was less than a meter from the creature, and well within reach of its hands.

The creature tried to hit him, but it missed, as Gordon elegantly avoided the hit without stopping, as if he knew all along what was going to happen.

But Gordon didn't. The group of monsters was to his left now, and it wasn't coming closer.

He was walking away from them, and for the first time today he wished he wasn't doing that.

He wanted to kill them.

He wanted to...

`My God...' Gordon thought as his body went on its way, oblivious to his commands.

Was he becoming like that? Was he becoming a bloodthirsty monster as it was this... part of himself, this part oblivious to his rational commands yet that was now moving his limbs of its own will?

The straight end of the crowbar was inserted into a small gap between the grating just above him and the wall. A grate?

Of course, his mission... With a slight movement, the crowbar acted as a lever and the grating fell to the ground. With a truly athletic move, he jumped and climbed inside.

After a few meters crawling, he stopped, still on all fours inside the cramped ventilation shaft.

That was it. No bullets flying. No bloody fight. No more bodies on the floor.

He was almost about to turn around, but he soon realized that it was a pretty stupid thing to do. If not even his evil part could do it, what chance could he stand?

There was, as ever, so much to think of. So much... Was his `evil part' beginning to fear? Or was it just because it wanted to conserve ammunition? Or...

But the tunnel ahead reminded him of his mission.

`After everything will be over', he thought, `I'm in for a looong chat with a psychiatrist'.

With that proposal, he began to crawl forwards.

*

"Ten - HUT!"

The entire squad rushed to line and was fully to attention after little more than ten seconds. The man, whose grades identified him as a general, glanced from one end of the line to the other, filled with pride.

"OK, boys and girls. You all know why we are here, and you know I won't bother you with overly long briefings. Our mission is simple: get inside bunker A-14, place the charges, and get out - while making no prisoners, asking no questions and giving no answers. Is that understood?"

The "YESSIR!" was unanimous.

"OK. Good." the man made a brief pause, as he began to pace, nervous, face down.

"Look people..." he breathed, obviously bothered by something. "There's... one thing I want to say." he stopped pacing, and raised his face to glance again from one end of the line to the other.

"Play this one safe - very safe. We've got extremely heavy hostility down there, some of which are rogue agencies with twilight zone technology, aliens, and possibly more failed projects than you can lob a grenade at."

None of the people in the line blinked.

"So, I expect our motto for this mission to be stuff like `No one needs dead heroes', `no dirty harrys' and all that `be careful' things. Is that understood?"

Again, the "YESSIR!" was unanimous.

"Good. Let's do it."

He waved and, in an orderly fashion, the thirty plus people climbed into their assigned Chinooks.

The man boarded last, looking at the sky, and mumbling "And may God help us..."

*

`Why the hell did I wake up this morning?' The phrase was so cliched; but it was truly what Gordon thought. Even though he had tried to dismiss all of his questions, and more than once, it was obvious it was an impossible thing to do.

So, he more or less gave up and tried summarizing all the events; but there were still holes too many and too large for him to fill, such as the reason for his sudden fear of Etherthel all the way back in the test chamber...

Yes, the test chamber, where all of his problems had begun. Was his `evil part' in any way related to Etherthel? He was beginning to think so. Still, too many things didn't make a single bit of sense; and so he tried again to concentrate on his task - and on his current problem.

Checking back his map, he noticed that not too far from his current position was what looked like a connecting room, which he had to cross to get to another part of the ventilation system.

The problem was simple: what is in that room? For all he knew, there could be a large fan still working intent on chew him to tiny bits.

And his fear were justified by the rhythmical, echoing whirring noise he had been hearing from the moment he climbed inside.

Turning to crawl through another part of the shaft, Gordon tried to get into a sitting position to light the way forward with his breastlight. He couldn't see for more than a few meters ahead; and to that point, there was nothing strange.

He went on, cursing the suit designers: couldn't they make an headlight instead?

*BEEEEEEEEP* "Headlight available only with the optional PV390 helmet."

He stifled a chuckle; he should've expected that answer. He crawled further down the small tunnel. Without a true light, he couldn't see anything; but that was a blessing, as he really didn't want to know what he was touching when under his gloves he could feel something soft instead of the usual hard steel.

The echoing noise was growing louder as he turned again, this tunnel actually being very slightly lit by a light coming at the next intersection. He seriously hoped to be able to get through this in one piece.

Then another noise.

This one was different, much closer even to the background noise which was apparently coming from all around him. Gordon stopped, as it repeated another time, then again and again; it was definitely coming from just ahead. He tried to light his surroundings with the breastlight, but the instant he worked himself into a position to light little more than one meter ahead, his view was filled with what looked like a mouth; it was slobbering, drooling what looked like yellow goo little more than a few centimeters from his eyes, biting away at his shield.

And inside the mouth...

He didn't even have time to be scared nor disgusted, as he ripped it away with both hands and threw it in front of him.

Closing his eyes, he tried to erase the hideous entrails of the monstrous creature. The sight was simply disgusting, but it was only when the sound, that now he recognized as the low screeching noise typical of those pods, repeated.

The thing wasn't dead yet.

It jumped again, and Gordon, by reflex, looked hopelessly away.

Yet, there was no contact; and the thing's screeching had stopped.

Then, after a moment, he felt that his right hand was gripping something. Something heavy.

Looking at it, he saw through the reflections of his breastlight that he was holding the crowbar, the flat edge pointed away. And on it...

Disgusted, he shook the unwelcome guest behind him, which left another layer of yellowish goo over the now-dried last one, and set back to his mission.

At least, if he concentrated on something he won't have to think about all the disgusting things, about all the creatures and all the problems he has seen and had in the last few hours... If he was able to.

He crawled forward, then turned at the next corner and looked inside the room. Wherever the noise was coming from, it wasn't from here. One good piece of news at least.

He carefully turned around, and climbed down from the pipe, dropping abruptly to the floor and cracking something below his feet.

He looked down to see what it was.

*

"Alpha leader, we lost contact with Echo nine!"

"I can hear, Echo three, thank you."

He was nervous. Way too nervous - but he had reasons. Already two people lost, and the end was nowhere in sight.

"Bravo, what's your status?"

"All clear, sir!"

As it was ten minutes earlier. Their mission was the most important for the time being, since it was going to be nearly impossible to do anything but getting ambushed without power in the entire sector; so, the only chance were the backup generators - but those were very far from secured position.

Secured... With Echo nine's death in cleared territory, how could they say what was secured and what wasn't? So far, they could only hope.

"Bravo one reporting primary target in visual range."

"Good. Make it quick, Bravo!"

"Piece of cake, HQ. Pull the switch, and... Off with the magic!"

Damn Bravo two. Young, inexperienced and eager for blood... It's going to cost him dearly one day unless he changes that attitude very soon.

"Sir, Bravo leader reporting mission accomplished. Returning to..."

"SHIT! What the hell is that?" Several MP5 bursts could be heard over the radio, then the unmistakable sound of a slave charging up cut it.

"Bravo leader down! Bravo leader down! Eat lead, you freak!" More shots, this time from a shotgun on full auto.

"Return to base, return to base! Do it NOW!

More gunshots, then another charge-up. A distorted laughter, footsteps moving away, then, silence.

That made four people lost. Damn it all to hell.

*

Bones. The floor was littered with bones, like the one he had crushed.

And the most terrifying fact, is that they looked eerily like human bones.

The room, apart from that, looked pretty normal; several ventilation shafts running from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall, intersecting and or circling each other. His tunnel was at the other side of where he had entered, and it was even open.

Strange... No, it wasn't strange. Whatever is using this place as a boneyard, literally, must have come from somewhere. Now, he could only hope it wasn't where he must be going.

*BEEP* *BEEP* "Warning: unknown biological entity detected within thirty meters. Entity signature not matched. Caution advised."

Oh no! He turned on his breastlight, although it was nearly useless since a red lamp was lighting the room, and swiped around, above, below, behind him...

Nothing. His shotgun, which only now he realizes was at the ready, had been swiping the room together with his light; then his hands somewhat relaxed. A suit error? That would be very strange... But what hasn't been that day? Still sweeping the room with both his tools, Gordon stepped towards his destination as he felt something tingle at the bottom of his right leg.

He tried to look, but he couldn't, as the world went upside down.

*

So different it felt from what one could imagine. But how could you say what death could feel like?

"Is this... This is hell, isn't it? At long last..."

"No. You're not dead."

"But I am! I couldn't have survived..."

"You... Well, you did."

"Who are you? And where am I?"

"I am..." there was a definite and long pause in the voice "I am yourself."

"You? Me? But I... What is this, some kind of perverted joke? I'm not enjoying it! Stop it!"

"Calm down! It's... It's all right."

"It's not! Why is everything green? What are all those bubbles? Why can't I move? I want to get out of here! I want..."

"Calm down! Calm down! You see, I..."

"I want answers! And I want them now!"

"Allright then. All right. You'll get your answers. Just stay calm, OK?"

*

D thought back over the plan he was just suggested.

"This is probably the most senseless task I'm ever allowing you to do, G!"

"There is no other choice, ssir. And, it is less risky than the method you suggested."

"Well, that I've got to give. Still, it's not exactly safe to try and capture a..."

The radio crackled on: *Sir! Contact! Squad, go get... Goddamn! What the hell is that thing?*

Several strange shots, each followed by what seemed like a small cry preceded a much longer and human one.

Just their luck. They had expected that those kind of things should have mutated or changed over all those years, but at least D hoped it would still be as near-harmless as it had been.

*Gamma 3 down! Squad, get that freak now!*

D was very tense as several more gunshots, this time unmistakably from human weapons, filled the radio, mixed with those strange shots and small cries. When were they going to use the neutralizer?

*Gamma 4, move left and use suppressing fire! Gamma 2, cover me! I'm going in!*

And it all boiled down to this. If it worked, they were almost all set. If, it worked...

"I can't hold it for long! It's..."

The radio was briefly filled with static. That meant either success, or failure; D was nearly holding his breath, and looked at G which was, as his usual, very relaxed. How could a person be so calm while being in the middle of a storm? But D already knew the answer; no person at all could.

The static subsided, and broken up, unintelligible words could be heard over the radio.

"M......is......get........red."

"Repeat, Gamma!"

"R...ing! M..ion is accomplished! Target acquired." the words had finally made sense, and they spoke good news. D relaxed; they were the first good news of the day... He briefly hoped that those incompetents he sent at sector D were actually doing any good - but he had already given up hope.

*

Bending slightly to look down at his right leg, he was able to see what had captured him; and the sight wasn't pleasant. Whatever it was, it was big, red, roughly cylindrical and with a mouth bigger than his head. Not to mention its tongue.

It was that, in fact, which was holding Gordon upside down by the right foot, and the slurping and gnashing sounds left little to nothing to imagination as what would happen when it had him cross the three or so meters that separated its mouth from his leg.

The only thing he could hope was for the `evil part' to do something. But the distance was closing rapidly, and nothing had happened.

Then, the realization. Why couldn't he... He began swinging himself, rhythmically forwards then backwards, as the mouth came closer and closer.

Then, half a meter from it, he was swinging strongly enough to put both his hands on the ceiling, making lever and putting all of his weight, and more as the suit helped him, on his right foot.

The snapping noise he heard signaled it was enough. Unfortunately for Gordon, gravity realized not a moment too soon what had happened, and took its course making him fall down hard.

*BEEP* *BEEP* "Warning: Gravitational shock received. Damage sustained: negligible"

The fall was hard, but at least he was all in one piece. Kicking away with his left foot the remaining piece of the monstrosity from his right foot, he looked at it once more. It was crying, and trickling purple blood to a pool right in front of him.

Then something else came down...

He tried not to look as the being's internal organs splattered one after another on the floor, and stood. He looked at the disgusting heap in front of him.

Cold and emotionless, except for a slight nausea.

Picking up his shotgun, which he had dropped, he entered the next tunnel, trying yet again to keep his mind devoid of any thoughts. But yet again he failed; the questions were still too many.

Why had the `evil part' not reacted? Was it still there, or had it abandoned him? No, it hadn't. He had felt the same unnatural uninterest as soon as everything was over.

But still, if it was there, why hadn't it reacted? Was it dependable? Or will the next monster kill him without leaving him a chance?

So many doubts, so many things he couldn't understand, so much nonsense.

He though, as he moved through the tunnels, that it wasn't the right thing to do, to ignore them.

But the ends justified the means...

`Or did they?'

Of course they did! What the hell is he saying? Human lives are much, much more worth than any scientifical discovery! But were they worth much more than the lives of unknown beings, lives which he was claiming out of `self defense'?

He turned the last corner, surprised to see it brightly lit. Outside there was visibly light; he crawled to the end and dropped down to the floor.

Standing, still briefly dazed, he looked around; it was a silent corridor, one as many others were. But in front of him, a sign: `Warehouse access', pointing to his left, direction which was confirmed by the map.

He'd better get moving.

*

The green was slowly clearing, and the outside could finally be seen...

"NO!" the voice raged in the empty, dark room, as the figure realized it hadn't stopped moving.

"No... Stop the memories, please... Stop them!"

"I can't do anything about them, and you know. I'm sorry."

"I-I... Damn, y-you could at least avoid letting me sleep when I'm moving!"

"Yes... You're right. I'm sorry." The voice sounded really ashamed "Let's go on."

*

The radio crackled. "Sir, we have received..."

"I KNOW, dammit!" D was obviously very angry as he walked in circles inside the room, thinking about what he should do now. Even with their success, their team was way too broken up to stand a chance against that for long.

"Ssir, we should proceed with the plan! We can complete it well before the..."

But D wasn't listening, and he ran out of the room. G didn't follow; he knew what he was going to do. And that would be useless.

The skinny figure stood, again looking at the five soldiers guarding the large cylinder. Inside, one very deadly non human living being.

And soon, inside another, similar, cylinder there will be one very deadly human living being.

Just a couple more hours...

*

The number of problems had increased with the latest happenings. But they were just the tip of the iceberg: Etherthel, the resonance cascade, the monsters... And his `evil part'.

Again the evil part. Should he begin to call it with some real name? Because, reliable or not, it was really a different part of his head, and...

"God DAMN!"

He almost cried out loud. What the hell was he doing? Calling something that did not exist with a name, any name was a stupid thing to do. And he should stop even naming him `evil part'.

Because it was obvious it was just himself.

Just himself reacting by reflex, and not even realizing it.

"It's just my reflexes and I'm not realizing it. It's just my reflexes and I'm not realizing it..."

He repeated the phrase over and over, then he stopped: he wasn't convinced at all; he'd better go on as before and resume his mission. Things were going to get slightly easier now, since he had found an ammo storeroom right in his path, and, unguarded, he had taken as much as he could find, which wasn't much: a hundred or so both of 9 mm for his gun and of 12 gauge shells for his shotgun, and five grenades, which were residing into another of the suit's pockets.

He was much closer to the warehouse now, and the green path came almost to an end in a very large room just behind a corridor a few meters ahead. Jogging through the remaining space, he opened the door, quietly, and glanced inside; empty.

This corridor was much wider than the others; in fact, it didn't seem to be a normal corridor at all. The walls were made up of crude, concrete unlike all the others, and there was a mobile elevator cart, left unattended in the middle of it with a crate still loaded; in front of it on both sides, two large metal doors.

He approached the doors, almost excited, and read `Warehouse access B' over the leftmost one.

He felt really relieved as he pressed the green `open' button beside it, and finally stepped inside. This room seemed to be large, yet he couldn't see the walls at all since crates were blocking his sight in every direction; but in front of him was a grey cement column, holding several signs. Quickly scanning them, he found one pointing to the right which said `Surface access'.

"At last..."

To his right was a short path of crates, which led to a large metal elevator, overlooking another storage room, this time much emptier.

It would have been a six meter jump to the floor, and the platform was vehicle-only, so he searched for another way down; close to the elevator was another small opening, which led to another metal platform: following it to his left, he could see it turned the corner of the room, then stopped as a long metal ladder descended right to the floor.

He was about to step on it when he heard voices coming from below.

*

"Ma'am! We might have intruders in the Lambda complex. They seem to..."

"I already know. We will deal with them later."

Dismissing the agent with a gesture, the elderly woman pressed again the comlink button.

"Status?"

"Good, ma'am. Unit one is fully functional, and in three to four hours we expect vocal synthesizing and..."

"We don't have that time! Send it in now."

"As you wish, ma'am."

The connection closed, and she smiled, something that she quite rarely did. But it was only for the means destiny forced her to choose: using a mistake to re-capture another mistake and use it to correct someone else's mistake. She wished it could have been easier... But she knew that only the woman could actually solve this problem.

If she was still alive.

And willing to cooperate.

*

Looking down below, he could see two scientists, in their ordinary white labcoat, running from the ladder towards another person, also dressed in a whitish but definitely different suit.

"Thank God you're here!"

"We're not the only survivors here! You must bring others!"

"There are several wounded! Bring a medical squad also!"

The two were in a frenzy as they talked, but that was understandable.

Rescue had arrived!

His odyssey was about to end. For a brief instant he wondered if it was going to be a good thing or not; then his thoughts were cut as sound of an automatic submachine gun firing echoed in the room.

He stepped towards the edge of the platform, to look down better and take aim: they were obviously under attack!

What he saw was at least terrifying; the man with white suit, which now Gordon identified as a soldier, had fired upon the scientists and they were lying in a pool of blood at his feet.

He was frozen, unsure if it was shock or terror or sadness or anything; but he remained frozen. The soldier, in the meantime, walked lazily towards the ladder, as Gordon - barely aware of it - was, as quickly and silently as the metal platform allowed.

Still mesmerized, he looked down, surprising the soldier who had already begun climbing the ladder; he raised his gun, still clinging to the metal steps, and fired off a few bullets before he was sent abruptly to the floor by the large orange and black mass, which landed over him.

Gordon was furious. Extremely furious. He didn't know what was the reason for the fury, and he didn't care; he had thrown himself over the man and had landed on him; then, he took a few steps ahead only to turn around.

The man was still alive, and, dizzied, looked up only to immediately raise his submachine gun again and fire at Gordon, while walking backwards towards the nearest pile of crates.

*BEEP* *BEEP* "Hostile human life form detected." *BOOP* *BOOP* "Shielding strength is dropping."

Unsurprising, since Gordon was charging through the fire.

"Die, you stupid freak!"

The man's words, even if covered by both the mask and the bullets sound were clear.

Thirty bullets fired so far. Gordon was counting them, somehow.

Gordon came closer, and the man's back was now nearly at the pile of crates. The suit lamented something, but he didn't listen.

Forty bullets fired so far.

Gordon had his crowbar in hand, and his eyes were filled with rage. The man had tripped over, and nearly fell to the floor, his last burst missing Gordon.

Fifty bullets, and a click. Out of ammo.

"EEEYAAAAGH!"

The soldier, panicked, threw all he could in a punch aimed at Gordon's face. Without blinking, he blocked it, almost breaking the man's arm, with the crowbar.

Kicks followed the punch, effortlessly. Then, Gordon kicked as hard as he could in the man's groin, breaking his cup and sending him on the floor.

"UUNGghhh... Help... For God's sake... Help!"

The man was shouting, in pain, at someone, probably on a radio. But Gordon didn't care, as he picked up the man by the suit with almost unnatural strength, slamming him on a pile of crates, still holding him.

He removed the man's helmet and anti-toxin mask, and revealed a panting, sweating, almost tearing face.

"Don't... Don't kill me... Please..."

Gordon dropped him, and he laid there, still breathing heavily as Gordon walked away.

"Thank you... Thank you... Thank you..."

Then, with an almost bestial roar, Gordon charged him hit him on the head once, twice, trice.

Then another roar, and again: four, five, six, eight, nine... He staggered, but gave the tenth.

He then retreated from the bloody mess that now was the soldier; the body's face was disfigured, its braincase irremediably broken.

He stumbled as he walked backwards, his gaze fixed on the hideous sight; he dropped his crowbar, then dropped down to the floor himself, unconscious.

*

"Be warned that this is one difficult operation, and that we..."

"...Can't guarantee the results, I know! You've said that dozens of times! Just get on with it!"

D was impatient, as was usual with him; the operation was difficult, he knew that, but he knew also it wouldn't take much more than ten minutes - plus post-conditioning.

The large cylinder was flooded with biosuppressing gel, freezing the creature; only its head was spared, as it was needed for the operation. Climbing a few steps, the doctor opened the top plate, and, after a heavy breath through the mask, picked up its pencil to begin marking the beast's cranium for headcase removal.

He looked at both D and G, who stared back through the thick glass, cold.

Then he went on; picking up the scalpel, he gently cut through the brownish skin over the pencil's path; then, his hands slightly trembling, he changed to the laser bone cutter, and followed the same path, now slightly beginning to bleed its usual yellowish blood.

One last glance at D and G, still staring coldly, then he grabbed with both hands and took out the headcase, placed it into a container, and raised his hands to pick up the electrodes. "This will hurt..." he whispered, as if the creature could actually hear him, then the electrodes were placed expertly over the foremost and central lobes of the creature's brain.

One second later, and all of its nerves were stimulated simultaneously, making the being twitch its eyes and third hand, even though it couldn't actually wake up. But it was suffering, and that was sure; he'd better hurry, before its brain decided to give up.

Picking up a small device, he attached it to the exposed synapsis that he knew led directly to its vision, then, typing a few commands on a keyboard to his right, he verified, surprised, that it was already functional; the operation successful, he removed the electrodes and began to replace the headcase.

"So...?" D's voice boomed again through the loudspeakers

"It's done, and it should be working. I hope."

"It'd better. Patch him up and send it to... re-education."

D was smiling, while G remained cold.

*

"Why are we here?"

"We must get through this place to reach the One Person. Just keep listening to me."

"I won't." The figure stopped cold.

"No, please... You simply don't understand how..."

"I DO understand. I understand what you're trying to force me to do. I'm no hero - and I'm not going all the way there to save the day. Not after all that."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Well..." Smiling a hopeless smile, the figure watched the grenade which it was holding.

"It's so simple... A gesture with my arm. I wonder how many muscles would it take to die?"

There was silence for a long minute, but no action was taken.

"What are you waiting for, then?"

"I... I... You are keeping me from doing it, aren't you?"

"I'm not. And you know it. Let's return to finding the one person, shall we?"

*

*BEEP* *BOOP* *BEEP* "User Gordon Freeman, please resume standard functions."

*BEEP* *BOOP* *BEEP* "User Gordon Freeman, please resume standard functions."

Over and over in his mind were repeating those strange phrases... What did they mean? `Resume standard functions'? Well, he was already doing that... He was in his bed, sleeping the night away... Last night there had been the HEV Decathlon, and he couldn't miss that; he only hoped he could squeeze a few more minutes of sleep in before he had to go to work tomorrow morning.

Ah, sleep. Everything is so wonderful, when you're in your comfortable bed...

Wait a minute: comfortable?

It felt like there was solid concrete right below him!

*BEEP* *BOOP* *BEEP* "User Gordon Freeman, please resume standard functions!"

Again the phrase. But this time it was different: it sounded almost... scared.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, then shut them back, as light dazzled him. Slowly, he opened them again, and he realized what was happening. Above him was the cavern roof, blown open just minutes before by the strange spaceship, which luckily wasn't there anymore.

He tried to move his legs, and he couldn't.

He looked to his right arm, and it wasn't there.

He looked around him, and everything was covered by blood - his blood.

And bodies all around him... Then something was applied to his face, and he woke up.

*BEEP* *BEEP* "Hostile human life forms detected." *BOOP* *BOOP* "Extremely uneven odds. Engagement not recommended!"

How long had he been down?

"User Gordon Freeman not responding for: six minutes, fifteen seconds."

As expected. Oh well, what was the suit saying?

The sound of quite a lot of people stepping over metal caught his attention. Three... Four... Six... Ten soldiers, all walking on another catwalk above him!

He picked up his crowbar, and ran, ducking behind a crate as bullets flew towards him by the dozen. Spotting a door a few meters ahead, he decided to go through. More bullets flew towards him, followed by an explosion.

*BEEP* *BEEP* "Warning: shield status is fifteen percent, holding."

Uh-oh! He glanced back, now almost at the door, to see that the soldiers were literally charging towards him, and that another grenade was about to reach the floor.

Without actually a thought, he crashed his crowbar, still at the ready, in what he then recognized as a fire door emergency control button, starting the door to close, then dived below it instants before it closed. The explosion from the second grenade echoed behind him as he realized he had stepped right into a trap.

*

*Huh? Shit! Squad, we got more hostiles!*

"Uh-oh! Now what?"

"You've got nine more grenades; use them."

Grenade in hand, pull the ring, throw.
Grenade in hand, pull the ring, throw.
Grenade in hand, pull the ring, throw...

*Grenades! Grenades!*

*Take cover!*

Three explosions, each one about one second from the other.

*Damn... MEDIC! I need a medic over here!*

*Fire! Fire!*

The soldiers over the radio were obviously in a frenzy.

"Wow! I... I got one?"

"Continue bombing."

*Squad, let's split up! Four with me, the rest demo that door and kick that twerp's ass!*

"Oh no! They're going to blow it up! That guy's never going to survive all those soldiers!"

"Continue bombing! If you stop now, you will be the one not to survive! They're about to come up!"

Grenade in hand, pull the ring, throw.
Grenade in hand, pull the ring, throw.
Grenade in hand, pull the ring, throw...

*

A trap then. Well, why it was a trap, Gordon simply didn't have the time to even think about; anyway, there were several crates stacked in this long corridor, and on some of them there were small black rectangular objects, all identical, on the side pointing towards the opposite wall.

He approached, to better examine one of them; it had some kind of large lens, which Gordon soon recognized somehow as some kind of laser beam emitter.

"Breda 1999-B laser-activated mine; calibrates its laser beam on a distance through simple measurement procedures, then detonates if the distance becomes shorter or longer."

Again... But the thudding behind him left him no choices: pass the trap, or...

"Fight them!"

Why couldn't he? He was, after all, completely capable of... No, he wasn't. He had just passed out after brutally killing one of them - and that was only the latest sign of the unreliability of his unnatural fighting abilities. He'd better take no chances; the odds were simply too bad.

He crouched in front of the first crate and crawled forwards, bare centimeters below the beam.

Damn! In front of him there was another one of them, but that was impossible to crawl under since it had been placed way too low; he looked above, and found that he could stand up - although in a very narrow space.

Slowly, pondering every slight movement, he fitted purely by centimeters between the invisible beams. He wished he had some kind of chalk dust, or infrared option...

But he hadn't, so he had to do it by instinct.

Over the low mine there was another, at about head height. He slightly bowed, still careful not to touch the beam behind him with his butt, and walked both under a beam and over its twin below it. Still carefully, he pushed the rest of himself to the other side.

Whew! That was half of the corridor clear.

The thumpings had stopped; this meant that the soldiers were either coming through a different route, or that they were waiting for demo charges to be delivered. Either way, no good news.

The next beam was too high to be climbed over, so he had to crouch; but space between that and the previous was really thin. He turned to his right, facing a crate, and tried to go down as straight as he could, missing the two beams with his shoulders by mere millimeters.

"Slow..."

He had to bank slightly to the left to fit his shoulders through.

"Slow..."

Back on his hands and knees, his face almost sweating he slowly made his way below the beam.

Looking up and forward, he couldn't see any more of them; which meant he was clear.

Whew - that was not nice. Then, a warning beep behind him. Had the soldiers gone to plan B?

Another warning beep. He ran forwards, tripping another mine hidden by the crates and almost panicking as the entire room transformed into a raging inferno.

*

The explosion, even from here, sounded obviously tremendous; the soldiers must've blown up something big inside that room.

And there was no way the man could've survived it. Another failure accounted.

"He's... He's dead?"

"If he is, there's no time to mourn. Resume the mission."

"But... It's so... wrong..."

The figure's voice sounded distant.

"Yes, it... it is. But, anyway, there's nothing more you can do."

"You're... right." the figure breathed once, and tried, failing, to relax as it began running again. "I still wonder how an HEV got here. There aren't supposed to be any in this sector - except mine."

"And an orange and black one... You're right; that's strange. But anyway, he's beyond help, so you'd better go on. Once you get rid of our unwelcomed guests, the surface isn't far."

"And after I get to the surface, what will we do?"

There was a moment's pause.

"You'll... find out."

*

*BOOP* *BOOP* "Warning: reactive shielding down. Please find the nearest HEV charging station available. Armor integrity: one hundred percent."

As if he hadn't any more problems. Shaking his head clear of concrete dust, he stood, the taste of blood in his mouth. Without the shield, he was nearly defenseless; and while the armor could still take a beating, one well aimed shot to his head and goodbye doctor Freeman.

He looked back; well, at least the second fire door, activated by the simultaneous explosions of 7 laser tripmines and a demolition charge which also blew him forwards, will delay the soldiers for a little bit more.

Enough, he hoped, to escape. But escape where? So many problems, again... He'd better stick with the first part - because it was definitely the most pressing one.

He checked briefly the corridor he was now in. The roof and floor at this end were scorched and cracked, due to the explosion, but it was nearly devoid of anything else - nearly, because of what seemed a camera tripod in one corner. Oh well; this was a warehouse after all, so he should expect to find nearly anything here.

He glanced down to the opposite end; the path was much less filled with crates, but he expected it to be at least as deadly. Examining the walls revealed no mines, apparently, so he walked forwards, still cautious.

He was about middleway through this corridor, when he heard a short beeping noise. Uh-oh!

A whirring noise, and he could hear dozens of bullets flying towards him. Just his luck. He ran forwards, and was missed by millimeters by the bullets as he dived down, between two low crates, and laid flat on his belly to hear the firing stopping and getting replaced by low, rhythmical beeping noises coming from both ends of the corridors.

Raising slightly and peeking from the edge of the crate towards the end, he saw another of those camera tripods, with something on it that might have looked like a camera from this distance, but that it was moving left and right quickly.

"PP-39 motion tracking 9mm gun cams, with remote motion activator and optional grenade launching equipment, not currently installed. "

Nice. Now what? He looked at the floor, nervously exhaling rhythmically as he was thinking of a plan.

Running through them was out, without any shield.

Maybe he could blow them up with a few shotgun shells? Possible - but only after he'd been chewed up by the guns' bullets, since he had to expose to do that.

And that without taking in account the kinetic power loss due distance and the pellet spread...

Such technical words. He knew, of course, what was kinetic power loss, though he couldn't guess of what; but he wondered what a pellet could've been.

Then he removed the safety pin from a grenade, and threw it over the crate with impressive force.

"Huh?"

Unreliable or not, the `evil part' had obviously taken over this in time, as he simply hadn't thought of using grenades.

The beeping sound interrupted, as bullets once again filled the air, targeting the explosive device. Gordon laid as low as possible, as the grenade exploded.

*

*Alpha leader, we lost contact with the blue HEVed one.*

*Keep checking. Whoever it was, it wasn't an egghead.*

*And the guy in the orange suit? Is he one of them too, sir?*

That would've been absurd... But then, even the man's skills were.

Because it doesn't take just luck to survive a demo pack blowing up and detonating a corridor filled with laser activated mines: for doing that, he should've been at the opposite end of the corridor from the demo pack.

And crossing it definitely required skill. And not just a little.

*Take him to the surface for questioning.*

With a little luck, they might still catch him cowering between those two crates, as he had been last time he had checked the guncams' visual transmission.

*

The beeping resumed, mixed this time with a trail of smoke coming from the end of the corridor.

He peeked over the side of the crate, and saw a large dent on the floor a couple of meters from the guncam, which was still active and scanning. The grenade had missed, and it was blown up by bullets. Damnit!

Then he found another one in his hands. But this time, he stood, exposing himself to the guncams, threw, then went flat down again mere milliseconds before the stream of bullets passed buzzing over him.

Another explosion, bigger than the first one, and another trail of smoke.

Again he peeked over, nearly without hope, but this time the guncam was covered with the dark black smoke.

Then the smoke cleared, and he could see the guncam had changed into a pile of metal.

"YES!" He was cheerful, as he found himself turning and getting ready for the third launch, this time towards the guncam at the beginning of the corridor.

One tiny clink for the pin touching ground, then bullets flying for a split second, an explosion and then silence and smoke. Two to zero for him.

"Hehehehe... Come get many!" No, it wasn't that the phrase... "Come get any?" No. "Come get none? Bah."

He dismissed the thoughts, still somewhat excited, and resumed walking through the corridor.

He was invincible now. He could go through anything. Everything!

*

"Take cover! Detonation in five."

Those bastards... Casualties had increased to eight; one splattered by the egghead in orange suit, and three who got surprised by the one in the blue suit as it had begun to throw grenades.

And with their luck, the five or so that had run off towards the bomber to check what it had between the legs would've turned up another guy.

How the hell were they supposed to find their target, he had no more ideas.

A large explosion over the radio; *Move in! Move in!* Gunbursts, meaning the intruder was in sight.

How the hell could he have survived even that? After getting unscathed through enough explosive to take down a tank, he had even been able to take down both turrets. One moment, the guncams were sending at their standard one picture per second, the next nothing.

Never underestimate an egghead... He almost hoped that guy was in truth a gal with fake moustaches and beard. It would've made things so much easier...

Ah, damn it all to hell, and back again.

*

The fire door had blown open, and he had run, scared. He was now climbing, hastily, another flight of stairs. And to hell with his courage!

He didn't exactly know where he was going, as the maps he had been given didn't go through the warehouse in enough detail that the suit could plot a course through it.

But the elevator to the surface was shown, and it was close.

Turning around and climbing the next staircase, he found it was the last; a short corridor led to another of those clinky metal platforms, hugging the wall of a large room, about six meters above it.

Looking inside, he saw smoke and rubble to the side he was just coming away from, and at the opposite, the soldier he had slaughtered before; although the other bodies were a mystery, it was without doubt the same room he had been in.

But there was no time for thoughts; the sound of boots behind him was getting closer by the second. He dashed forward, the sound of clinking metal echoing in the room as he crossed the platform and entered the only door.

Three corridors led from that room... Which one should he take?

The boots behind him were now over metal; they were close!

He dashed in the left corridor, taking out the map only after he was already far in it.

Wrong direction... No, it was right! Or not? Too much apprehension to study the plan calmly, and the sound of a door bursting open behind him didn't help.

He ran again, turning right at the first intersection, completely at random, then avoided a crate by circling at and shouldered open the safety door at the end of this corridor. Gunfire erupted from behind him, barely interrupting as its target went out of sight.

But Gordon was trapped. There was no way down from the metal platform he was now on, as the twelve meters section connecting him to the ladder had been for some reason blown up, and was lying at least ten meters below.

No more gunfire; the soldiers probably knew he was trapped and they were coming for him.

Trapped...? He looked down again, over the railing. Then he climbed over it, took aim and jumped. This was going to hurt someone quite a lot.

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