Half-life2:Resistance
- Thread starter theotherguy
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theotherguy
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sorry about lack of updates guys, I am getting it edited for grammar and plot holes right now (by a former english teacher, so it's almost professional!) and then will be sending it to valve, therefore, I cannot update for at least another week...
It was like a roach motel, the customers checked in, but they never got the chance to check out. There were several overturned tables and chairs in the lobby, which appeared to have been knocked over either by The Citadel, or by some struggle in the invasion.
Thanks man for including me into your story :cheers:
Thanks man for including me into your story :cheers:
theotherguy
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Disclaimer: may or may not be true
Sure, roach, you're exactley who I was thiking of when writing that line. :cheese:
Sure, roach, you're exactley who I was thiking of when writing that line. :cheese:
theotherguy
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alright guys, editing is going slow, so I decided to write a new chapter, enjoy!
-Chapter 18, Withdrawal-
Meanwhile, high in the dark, terrifying Combine Citadel; the commander of the Citadel Prison Facility, where Ian had been imprisoned for all of those three years, was pacing back and forth in front of the enormous metal door of Dr. Breen’s office. The commander was breathing heavily in his gasmask, glancing out the window every now and then to see the night sky over the sleeping City-17.
The commander had been called there by Dr. Breen, who always had a habit of making his sub-officers wait. The commander had never actually met Dr. Breen in person; he only talked to him over teleconference. There were even rumors going around that Dr. Breen didn’t even exist. It was said that Breen was the administrator of the Black Mesa research facility back in 1998, at the time of the original invasion. Dr. Breen was the first human to make contact with The Combine, the commander didn’t know how or why, but somehow, Breen made a deal with the leaders of Xen, and allowed them to enter Black Mesa those many years ago, in exchange for the promise that he would be the official governor of the new Earth Colony.
It disturbed the commander to always be taking orders from a human, especially one who never appeared in person. Ever since the invasion, Breen had been overseeing Combine operations from Black Mesa; but just recently, the Combine forces in the area had been informed that Breen would be arriving to take direct control of the city, since this would be the place that would be directly aligned with Xen the day of the terraforming. This had frightened the commander at first, because he had been entrusted with the direct rule of this backwater Eastern European city for several years, and it bothered him now to have Breen, the governor of the entire Earth Colony breathing down his neck.
“How long will this take?” the commander snapped to one of the guards in front of Breen’s door. The white gas masked turned his head toward the commander. “Sir, be patient, Governor Breen always takes his time.” The guard explained. The commander snarled: “This is just making me nervous, I’m sitting here wondering what I’ve done and this human is making me wait, I haven’t heard a single word from him!”
The commander, in his dark reddish-brown trench coat crossed his arms over his chest, and stood staring at the door, his legs spread shoulder-width apart. Suddenly, as if to answer him, the voice of Breen crackled through a speaker next to the black metal door. “Enter, you have waited long enough.” The voice of Dr. Breen said coolly.
The commander gulped, he felt a wave of nervousness in his gut as he stepped up to the huge door. The door slid open with a hiss, and the Combine commander stepped into the black-tile room that was shining with the glossy luster of black marble tile. The room was vast, for an office at least, and had two pillars at either side that held the metal ceilings from the marble floor. There were huge picture windows directly parallel to the door, which showed the nighttime landscape of City-17. They really were very far up in The Citadel. In the center of the room was a huge black desk, and behind it sat Dr. Breen.
The old man with a short grey beard and graying hair sat in a large leather chair, his elbows were on the desk in front of him, with his fingers making a steeple directly ahead of his face. His eyes were closed, and it appeared that he was on a great deal of stress.
The commander nervously walked forward toward Dr. Breen. “S-s-sir, you called?” he stuttered though his gasmask. “Sit down, commander.” Ordered Breen, his eyes still closed. The commander uneasily sat down in a black leather chair in front of Dr. Breen’s desk.
When he had done this, Dr. Breen took his hands from in front of his face and placed them on the desk; then, he slowly opened his eyes. “This morning, commander, I got a message that said that no fewer than one hundred of my slaves escaped from your prison, and possibly more. Is this true?” Breen asked calmly, convicting. The commander was filled with dread. “Well, err, sir, we, uh...” he mumbled.
“Answer the question!” snapped Breen. The combine commander didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir, regrettably, we did everything that we could, I don’t know how it happened!” Dr. Breen’s face filled with convicting anger. “Commander, you were given command of this miserable little city with the promise that you would keep the slaves under control! We cannot have slaves escaping The Citadel… No doubt they have joined that pathetic little resistance movement. We don’t have time for this kind of thing, commander; this escape will not only be a blow to our economy, but to the morale of our soldiers as well. Do you understand?”
The commander nodded. “Sir, I can easily replace them with new citizens, all I need is the law to do it…” He offered, trailing off. Breen replied, “Yes, and that’s exactly what you better do, commander, you have permission to arrest citizens indiscriminately until you have met the quota for the escaped slaves. There will be no more escapes, or your head will be on my wall!” The anger faded away from Breen’s face as he turned to look at the landscape of the city.
The commander stood up, and slowly began backing out of the room “Thank you sir, your orders will be carried out!” he exclaimed, exiting Breen’s office and turning down the corridor. “Yes, you human Pig.” he thought.
Ian restlessly rolled about on the old, worn out couch he was sleeping on. He was indeed sleeping, but he was not in a very deep sleep. He was having dreams; strange dreams that he couldn’t make sense of, even in sleep.
In his dream he saw a whip slowly falling onto his own back, tearing open his old slave uniform and ripping into his skin. He imagined feeling the intense pain of the whip, and he winced in his sleep. In his dream, Ian looked towards the face of whoever was whipping him, and then realized that the person had no face at all, but only a gasmask. Ian dreamed that the gasmask morphed into the face of Dr. Isaac Kleiner, lying on the floor of the old sleeping structure, his eyes in the back of his head, the other slaves all in the same state. Ian then dreamed of the Vortigaunts, huddled in their little cave, digging away and fearing the Combine guards. In his dream, he heard the voice of the Vortigaunt; it said “Why have you left us here? You promised us….” And Ian replied, dreamily “I’m coming for you tomorrow, don’t worry.”
The many pictures of his dream melded together, and faded into black, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, the vision of Dr. Breen’s face filled his dream, and the man’s booming voice echoed in his head. “Wake up!” it boomed… “Wake up!”
At that moment, Ian awoke, and breathed in heavily, his eyes were wide, and he was drenched in his own sweat. Suddenly, he felt extremely thirsty. He then realized that it was not Dr. Breen who had awoken him, but Tonya. Tonya was holding onto his shoulder, looking worried. “Ian,” she exclaimed “I was worried, you were thrashing in your sleep, and you weren’t breathing!” Ian gasped for air and then rasped to Tonya, “Thank you.”
He was so incredibly thirsty.
-Chapter 18, Withdrawal-
Meanwhile, high in the dark, terrifying Combine Citadel; the commander of the Citadel Prison Facility, where Ian had been imprisoned for all of those three years, was pacing back and forth in front of the enormous metal door of Dr. Breen’s office. The commander was breathing heavily in his gasmask, glancing out the window every now and then to see the night sky over the sleeping City-17.
The commander had been called there by Dr. Breen, who always had a habit of making his sub-officers wait. The commander had never actually met Dr. Breen in person; he only talked to him over teleconference. There were even rumors going around that Dr. Breen didn’t even exist. It was said that Breen was the administrator of the Black Mesa research facility back in 1998, at the time of the original invasion. Dr. Breen was the first human to make contact with The Combine, the commander didn’t know how or why, but somehow, Breen made a deal with the leaders of Xen, and allowed them to enter Black Mesa those many years ago, in exchange for the promise that he would be the official governor of the new Earth Colony.
It disturbed the commander to always be taking orders from a human, especially one who never appeared in person. Ever since the invasion, Breen had been overseeing Combine operations from Black Mesa; but just recently, the Combine forces in the area had been informed that Breen would be arriving to take direct control of the city, since this would be the place that would be directly aligned with Xen the day of the terraforming. This had frightened the commander at first, because he had been entrusted with the direct rule of this backwater Eastern European city for several years, and it bothered him now to have Breen, the governor of the entire Earth Colony breathing down his neck.
“How long will this take?” the commander snapped to one of the guards in front of Breen’s door. The white gas masked turned his head toward the commander. “Sir, be patient, Governor Breen always takes his time.” The guard explained. The commander snarled: “This is just making me nervous, I’m sitting here wondering what I’ve done and this human is making me wait, I haven’t heard a single word from him!”
The commander, in his dark reddish-brown trench coat crossed his arms over his chest, and stood staring at the door, his legs spread shoulder-width apart. Suddenly, as if to answer him, the voice of Breen crackled through a speaker next to the black metal door. “Enter, you have waited long enough.” The voice of Dr. Breen said coolly.
The commander gulped, he felt a wave of nervousness in his gut as he stepped up to the huge door. The door slid open with a hiss, and the Combine commander stepped into the black-tile room that was shining with the glossy luster of black marble tile. The room was vast, for an office at least, and had two pillars at either side that held the metal ceilings from the marble floor. There were huge picture windows directly parallel to the door, which showed the nighttime landscape of City-17. They really were very far up in The Citadel. In the center of the room was a huge black desk, and behind it sat Dr. Breen.
The old man with a short grey beard and graying hair sat in a large leather chair, his elbows were on the desk in front of him, with his fingers making a steeple directly ahead of his face. His eyes were closed, and it appeared that he was on a great deal of stress.
The commander nervously walked forward toward Dr. Breen. “S-s-sir, you called?” he stuttered though his gasmask. “Sit down, commander.” Ordered Breen, his eyes still closed. The commander uneasily sat down in a black leather chair in front of Dr. Breen’s desk.
When he had done this, Dr. Breen took his hands from in front of his face and placed them on the desk; then, he slowly opened his eyes. “This morning, commander, I got a message that said that no fewer than one hundred of my slaves escaped from your prison, and possibly more. Is this true?” Breen asked calmly, convicting. The commander was filled with dread. “Well, err, sir, we, uh...” he mumbled.
“Answer the question!” snapped Breen. The combine commander didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir, regrettably, we did everything that we could, I don’t know how it happened!” Dr. Breen’s face filled with convicting anger. “Commander, you were given command of this miserable little city with the promise that you would keep the slaves under control! We cannot have slaves escaping The Citadel… No doubt they have joined that pathetic little resistance movement. We don’t have time for this kind of thing, commander; this escape will not only be a blow to our economy, but to the morale of our soldiers as well. Do you understand?”
The commander nodded. “Sir, I can easily replace them with new citizens, all I need is the law to do it…” He offered, trailing off. Breen replied, “Yes, and that’s exactly what you better do, commander, you have permission to arrest citizens indiscriminately until you have met the quota for the escaped slaves. There will be no more escapes, or your head will be on my wall!” The anger faded away from Breen’s face as he turned to look at the landscape of the city.
The commander stood up, and slowly began backing out of the room “Thank you sir, your orders will be carried out!” he exclaimed, exiting Breen’s office and turning down the corridor. “Yes, you human Pig.” he thought.
Ian restlessly rolled about on the old, worn out couch he was sleeping on. He was indeed sleeping, but he was not in a very deep sleep. He was having dreams; strange dreams that he couldn’t make sense of, even in sleep.
In his dream he saw a whip slowly falling onto his own back, tearing open his old slave uniform and ripping into his skin. He imagined feeling the intense pain of the whip, and he winced in his sleep. In his dream, Ian looked towards the face of whoever was whipping him, and then realized that the person had no face at all, but only a gasmask. Ian dreamed that the gasmask morphed into the face of Dr. Isaac Kleiner, lying on the floor of the old sleeping structure, his eyes in the back of his head, the other slaves all in the same state. Ian then dreamed of the Vortigaunts, huddled in their little cave, digging away and fearing the Combine guards. In his dream, he heard the voice of the Vortigaunt; it said “Why have you left us here? You promised us….” And Ian replied, dreamily “I’m coming for you tomorrow, don’t worry.”
The many pictures of his dream melded together, and faded into black, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, the vision of Dr. Breen’s face filled his dream, and the man’s booming voice echoed in his head. “Wake up!” it boomed… “Wake up!”
At that moment, Ian awoke, and breathed in heavily, his eyes were wide, and he was drenched in his own sweat. Suddenly, he felt extremely thirsty. He then realized that it was not Dr. Breen who had awoken him, but Tonya. Tonya was holding onto his shoulder, looking worried. “Ian,” she exclaimed “I was worried, you were thrashing in your sleep, and you weren’t breathing!” Ian gasped for air and then rasped to Tonya, “Thank you.”
He was so incredibly thirsty.
theotherguy
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Ian stumbled up from the couch, and staggered over to the bathroom sink. He turned it on and let the water flow into his hands. He was just about to put his hands up to his mouth when he remembered the words of Eli Vance: “Don’t drink the water….you may experience slight withdrawals.” The voice of Dr. Vance echoed in his memories. Ian let the water pour out of his cupped hands, and then turned off the water of the sink. He then hurriedly moved to the closet that contained the small refrigerator with the bottled water.
He quickly unlocked the closet, and opened the refrigerator, taking out one of the blue bottles of water. He then untwisted the cap, and let the cool water flow down his parched thought. Even after drinking nearly half of the bottle, however, he still didn’t feel totally satisfied. He knew that it wasn’t the water itself that he lusted for, but the chemicals that The Combine put into the tap. He intended to try his hardest not to drink the tap water.
Ian sat down on the couch and began to shiver; his muscles were going through involuntary convulsions. As he sat there, shaking, he knew that soon Tonya would go through the same withdrawal process as well, so he told her to remain strong, and not drink any of the tap water.
Tonya nodded in the blue glow of the night, and then laid her head down on the bed. Ian sat convulsing for a moment, and then, when he felt good enough, he lied down on the couch and went to sleep.
That night, Ian continued to dream his strange dreams. Most of them were set in or around the complex where he had been enslaved, and all of his dreams included violence, pain and loss. Soon, he realized that these dreams were not fabricated at all, but rather were the memories that he had lost all of those three years, under the influence of the dreaded Combine water. He now knew why The Combine had wanted them to forget… In his new memories he saw cruelty like no other: beatings, mass shootings, and loads of other sorrowful events. He supposed that the combine would not want their slaves to revolt; they wanted their slaves to think that The Combine was a little less cruel to them than they actually were.
While Ian was in the middle of one of his dreams, he was suddenly awoken by the beating of a fist on the door of the apartment. Ian slowly got up, and squinted towards the door. The knocking sound reverberated through the room again. Then, there was a voice “Please, let me in, I have to tell you something important!” whispered the voice of an Eastern European man outside of the door.
Ian slowly stumbled to the door, and unlatched it. Standing before him in the light of the hallway was a small, scraggly man wearing a blue jumpsuit. The man spoke, “Sir, I know you are new here; I am one of your neighbors. I wanted to warn you so that you would not be caught of guard, you see, there is a rumor that The Combine will come to this place…they’re looking for someone. I just beg of you, hide as quickly as you can, and leave your door unlocked…if your door is locked, they will take it down, and you will not have one anymore. Just hide, and remember what I tell you!” Ian was confused for a moment and then said to the man, “Alright, I will remember what you say, thank you!” the man nodded, and ran down the hallway.
Ian felt like panicking. He closed the door, but left it unlatched, and then went over to the bed of the shivering Tonya, she was obviously still in withdrawal. Ian shook Tonya and said “C’mon, we’ve got to hide, Tonya!” Tonya slowly got out of bed, while Ian was in the process of throwing everything into the closet with the small refrigerator and safe. “What’s going on?” asked Tonya. “They’re coming, The Combine! Get inside the closet quickly!” Ian exclaimed. Tonya got inside the closet as Ian glanced out the window. There, not far off down the moonlit street, were the headlights of a Combine APC, speeding down the cobblestone road towards their apartment building. Ian felt fearful as he quickly closed the curtains, and hurried into the closet with Tonya, closing and locking the closet door behind him.
Ian could hear nothing but his own heartbeat, and Tonya’s slow breathing. He felt like a sardine in a can. After a few seconds, he could hear the screeching of tires as the Combine APC stopped in front of his apartment complex. He heard the beating of many booted feet running up the stairs into the entranceway. He heard them coming up the stairwells to the floors. There were the sounds of doors being kicked in, women‘s screaming, and shattered glass. He counted the screams and was able to tell which floor they were on.
Now they were on the third, the fourth, and now it was his turn. The thumping boots of combine soldiers closed in nearer and nearer. He could hear them knocking on doors all down his hallway. And then, the knocking came to his room. “Open up!” a muffled voice shouted from behind the door. When no-one replied, Ian could hear the banging of the Combine officer’s fist against his door. Then, there was a pause as the combine officer pulled out his gun, and then turned the handle of the door into the apartment. Ian covered the mouth of Tonya with his hand to keep her from screaming.
Light flooded into the closet from the cracks around the door. Ian peeked into one such crack, so that he could see the room outside. There, in the middle of the room stood a white gas masked officer, clad in a black bullet proof vest, and black uniform. His gun was drawn, and he was looking around the room cautiously. Ian could hear the raspy breathing of the officer through his gasmask.
Ian was worried that the officer had seen him, as he kept glancing at the closet. Then, in a terrifying motion, the Combine officer began advancing towards the closet. Ian backed away from the crack, and pressed his back against the wall. He hoped beyond hope that the officer hadn’t seen him.
The officer put his gloved hand on the door handle of the closet as Ian silently took the small silver handgun out of the safe behind him. Just then, however, the officer stopped, and turned towards the door. Another one had stepped into the room, blocking the light. “Nothing here, besides, we’ve got what we came for.” It reported through it’s gasmask with a garbled voice. The other officer turned towards the closet behind him one last time, decided that there was nothing in it, and followed the second officer out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Ian let out his breath loudly and with relief, as he had been holding his breath the whole time. It had been a long night.
Ian opened the closet door with a squeak, and he and Tonya went out hesitantly into the apartment. Ian still had the small silver handgun in his fist. He peaked out of the curtains and saw that the Combine APC was now speeding away, no doubt with a new roster of slaves.
Ian went over to the front door of his apartment, and opened it, leaning out into the hall to see what had happened. In the sulfur-yellow glow of the hallway, there on the ground lay a man that was beaten to a bloody pulp, his blood littering the floor around him. There was a woman crying next to him, her tears mixing with his blood. Ian was saddened by the scene. Many of the doors were now missing, torn down by the combine and taken away, simply because they had been locked.
The scraggly man that had warned Ian before now came up behind him. “They took fifteen…” he reported sadly. “That’s the most we’ve ever had taken in a single night. I don’t know what happened to make them do this, but they must’ve been really mad…” the man shook his head, and slowly walked down the hallway, his head looking towards the ground.
Ian knew that The Combine was trying to make up for the slaves that they had lost, so in a way, this was his fault. Why should he be spared and them taken? This question repeated through Ian’s mind as he looked at the man that was beaten, lying on the ground.
Indeed, The Combine had met their quota. Ian would spend the rest of the night awake, his small gun in hand, in anticipation that they would return for Ian and Tonya. He feared for the life of himself and his cousin, and he hoped beyond hope that he would not have to return to the slave camp; especially now, when he remembered every second of it.
So, Ian sat while Tonya slept, watching the picture of Dr. Breen playing on his TV, with a deep hatred for that man, even though he thought that Breen didn’t exist. He sat like that, through the rest of the hours of darkness, brooding.
-Chapter 19, Rescue-
He quickly unlocked the closet, and opened the refrigerator, taking out one of the blue bottles of water. He then untwisted the cap, and let the cool water flow down his parched thought. Even after drinking nearly half of the bottle, however, he still didn’t feel totally satisfied. He knew that it wasn’t the water itself that he lusted for, but the chemicals that The Combine put into the tap. He intended to try his hardest not to drink the tap water.
Ian sat down on the couch and began to shiver; his muscles were going through involuntary convulsions. As he sat there, shaking, he knew that soon Tonya would go through the same withdrawal process as well, so he told her to remain strong, and not drink any of the tap water.
Tonya nodded in the blue glow of the night, and then laid her head down on the bed. Ian sat convulsing for a moment, and then, when he felt good enough, he lied down on the couch and went to sleep.
That night, Ian continued to dream his strange dreams. Most of them were set in or around the complex where he had been enslaved, and all of his dreams included violence, pain and loss. Soon, he realized that these dreams were not fabricated at all, but rather were the memories that he had lost all of those three years, under the influence of the dreaded Combine water. He now knew why The Combine had wanted them to forget… In his new memories he saw cruelty like no other: beatings, mass shootings, and loads of other sorrowful events. He supposed that the combine would not want their slaves to revolt; they wanted their slaves to think that The Combine was a little less cruel to them than they actually were.
While Ian was in the middle of one of his dreams, he was suddenly awoken by the beating of a fist on the door of the apartment. Ian slowly got up, and squinted towards the door. The knocking sound reverberated through the room again. Then, there was a voice “Please, let me in, I have to tell you something important!” whispered the voice of an Eastern European man outside of the door.
Ian slowly stumbled to the door, and unlatched it. Standing before him in the light of the hallway was a small, scraggly man wearing a blue jumpsuit. The man spoke, “Sir, I know you are new here; I am one of your neighbors. I wanted to warn you so that you would not be caught of guard, you see, there is a rumor that The Combine will come to this place…they’re looking for someone. I just beg of you, hide as quickly as you can, and leave your door unlocked…if your door is locked, they will take it down, and you will not have one anymore. Just hide, and remember what I tell you!” Ian was confused for a moment and then said to the man, “Alright, I will remember what you say, thank you!” the man nodded, and ran down the hallway.
Ian felt like panicking. He closed the door, but left it unlatched, and then went over to the bed of the shivering Tonya, she was obviously still in withdrawal. Ian shook Tonya and said “C’mon, we’ve got to hide, Tonya!” Tonya slowly got out of bed, while Ian was in the process of throwing everything into the closet with the small refrigerator and safe. “What’s going on?” asked Tonya. “They’re coming, The Combine! Get inside the closet quickly!” Ian exclaimed. Tonya got inside the closet as Ian glanced out the window. There, not far off down the moonlit street, were the headlights of a Combine APC, speeding down the cobblestone road towards their apartment building. Ian felt fearful as he quickly closed the curtains, and hurried into the closet with Tonya, closing and locking the closet door behind him.
Ian could hear nothing but his own heartbeat, and Tonya’s slow breathing. He felt like a sardine in a can. After a few seconds, he could hear the screeching of tires as the Combine APC stopped in front of his apartment complex. He heard the beating of many booted feet running up the stairs into the entranceway. He heard them coming up the stairwells to the floors. There were the sounds of doors being kicked in, women‘s screaming, and shattered glass. He counted the screams and was able to tell which floor they were on.
Now they were on the third, the fourth, and now it was his turn. The thumping boots of combine soldiers closed in nearer and nearer. He could hear them knocking on doors all down his hallway. And then, the knocking came to his room. “Open up!” a muffled voice shouted from behind the door. When no-one replied, Ian could hear the banging of the Combine officer’s fist against his door. Then, there was a pause as the combine officer pulled out his gun, and then turned the handle of the door into the apartment. Ian covered the mouth of Tonya with his hand to keep her from screaming.
Light flooded into the closet from the cracks around the door. Ian peeked into one such crack, so that he could see the room outside. There, in the middle of the room stood a white gas masked officer, clad in a black bullet proof vest, and black uniform. His gun was drawn, and he was looking around the room cautiously. Ian could hear the raspy breathing of the officer through his gasmask.
Ian was worried that the officer had seen him, as he kept glancing at the closet. Then, in a terrifying motion, the Combine officer began advancing towards the closet. Ian backed away from the crack, and pressed his back against the wall. He hoped beyond hope that the officer hadn’t seen him.
The officer put his gloved hand on the door handle of the closet as Ian silently took the small silver handgun out of the safe behind him. Just then, however, the officer stopped, and turned towards the door. Another one had stepped into the room, blocking the light. “Nothing here, besides, we’ve got what we came for.” It reported through it’s gasmask with a garbled voice. The other officer turned towards the closet behind him one last time, decided that there was nothing in it, and followed the second officer out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Ian let out his breath loudly and with relief, as he had been holding his breath the whole time. It had been a long night.
Ian opened the closet door with a squeak, and he and Tonya went out hesitantly into the apartment. Ian still had the small silver handgun in his fist. He peaked out of the curtains and saw that the Combine APC was now speeding away, no doubt with a new roster of slaves.
Ian went over to the front door of his apartment, and opened it, leaning out into the hall to see what had happened. In the sulfur-yellow glow of the hallway, there on the ground lay a man that was beaten to a bloody pulp, his blood littering the floor around him. There was a woman crying next to him, her tears mixing with his blood. Ian was saddened by the scene. Many of the doors were now missing, torn down by the combine and taken away, simply because they had been locked.
The scraggly man that had warned Ian before now came up behind him. “They took fifteen…” he reported sadly. “That’s the most we’ve ever had taken in a single night. I don’t know what happened to make them do this, but they must’ve been really mad…” the man shook his head, and slowly walked down the hallway, his head looking towards the ground.
Ian knew that The Combine was trying to make up for the slaves that they had lost, so in a way, this was his fault. Why should he be spared and them taken? This question repeated through Ian’s mind as he looked at the man that was beaten, lying on the ground.
Indeed, The Combine had met their quota. Ian would spend the rest of the night awake, his small gun in hand, in anticipation that they would return for Ian and Tonya. He feared for the life of himself and his cousin, and he hoped beyond hope that he would not have to return to the slave camp; especially now, when he remembered every second of it.
So, Ian sat while Tonya slept, watching the picture of Dr. Breen playing on his TV, with a deep hatred for that man, even though he thought that Breen didn’t exist. He sat like that, through the rest of the hours of darkness, brooding.
-Chapter 19, Rescue-
_-_-SELAS-_-_
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theotherguy m8, do you still have a document with the entire stoy? Thatll be easier for some of us to print...
Brian Damage
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*Prod, Prod*
More!
More!
Brian Damage
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Heheh, 'm only kiddin'...
theotherguy
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alright, the whole document is rather hefty, but yeah, I can probably attach it. Things are going slow right now because of editing, but I can probably slip in another chapter over the weekend. Thanks for all of your nice comments!
sorry that its only text, the word doc was way too big, even zipped
sorry that its only text, the word doc was way too big, even zipped
L
Lone_Bullet
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I just red the whole thing... simply amazing, you have the talent man!
keep it up as you just made me addicted! *more....MORE :rolling: :rolling: *
btw can u tell me something more abou the other 2 scientist who came in HL1? there were 4 of them right? plz tell me what you think what happened to them
oh yea....perharps something about dr. Rosenberg too (Blue Shift) that makes 5 scientists....tell meeeee! :rolling: :rolling: :E :rolling:
keep it up as you just made me addicted! *more....MORE :rolling: :rolling: *
btw can u tell me something more abou the other 2 scientist who came in HL1? there were 4 of them right? plz tell me what you think what happened to them
oh yea....perharps something about dr. Rosenberg too (Blue Shift) that makes 5 scientists....tell meeeee! :rolling: :rolling: :E :rolling:
Brian Damage
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Hey, is that the Chrysalid from the #halflife2?
How're you doing?
Oh, yeah...
*Prod, Prod*
You still alive, theotherguy?
How're you doing?
Oh, yeah...
*Prod, Prod*
You still alive, theotherguy?
theotherguy
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only two more chapters to edit! once that is done, I will send the story to valve, and post whatever they send back on Hl2.net, after editing, I will continue to write more chapters
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Alright, here is the complete edited version so far. Editing is done, and I have already printed, binded, laminated, put in pictures, nice fonts, maps, a foreword, a dedication, a cover, a title page, and a letter to valve. I will be mailing it to them today or tommorow :afro:
L
Lone_Bullet
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theotherguy said:
Could we get it in a .doc file plz? Its difficult to ead as a .txt file....
anyways congrats with ya release :E
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Lone_Bullet said:
I wish i could ;( but the file is far too large, even when compressed to upload...
already sent it to valve today, I hope that they don't throw it away. I made it all cool-looking to grab their eye, and put in huge letters ATTENTION: GABE NEWELL or MARC LAIDLAW under the adress.
theotherguy
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yeah, but text files can be very confusing
Brian Damage
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Chrysalid said:Now i'm going off-topic
Altough I haven't seen you in the channel.
What, do you mean you haven't seen me recently, or at all?
If you mean at all, I'm pretty sure I had a conversation with you about getting UFO to run on newer computers without DOS...
Brian Damage
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This one's another good one...
Ok ive came to chapter 12 or something now..but I have the feeling i'm reading one big spoiler, because it all adds up perfectly to the HL2 story.
I'll gues i will stop reading until ive finished hl2.
--
btw: I'm still very impressed, and didn't thought a story as good as this could come from a fanfiction forum section in here
I'll gues i will stop reading until ive finished hl2.
--
btw: I'm still very impressed, and didn't thought a story as good as this could come from a fanfiction forum section in here
theotherguy
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he, not spoilers, im just making up stuff as I go along. (never played the beta or anything like that) I'm in the proccess of writing the next chapter, although I am quite discouraged that I have gotten no responses from valve....(it's been 8 days already!) maybe I will finish this next chapter today.
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Alright, done with chapter 19! It's my longest chapter so far, so enjoy!
-Chapter 19, Rescue-
Sometime in the night, Ian had fallen asleep. When he awoke the next day, a ray of light was shining through the window, onto his eyes, flooding his vision with light through his eyelids. He groaned, and slowly opened his eyes, and sat up in the worn-out couch he had been lying on. There was an immense amount of throbbing pain in his head. The withdrawal symptoms had taken their toll.
Tonya was already up, and was drinking from a water bottle. “Good morning,” Ian exclaimed to Tonya. “Ready to get to school?” he asked. Tonya nodded slowly, and got out of her bed. Ian noticed that the television was on, and Dr. Breen was dully droning on, “It’s another fine day citizens. I am proud to announce to you that the spies that were working for the aliens have been captured. In fact, police forces were able to capture no less than one hundred spies last night. Great job, police forces! Now, the city is safer for all of us.” The picture of Dr. Breen smiled, and the screen cut to a combine propaganda commercial.
Ian got up from the couch, and went over to the bathroom sink. He looked into the mirror, and found that his eyes were red, bloodshot. It had been a long night indeed. He rubbed his head, and could already feel stubble growing where his hair had once been. Ian went back out into the room, and allowed Tonya to come with him to the door.
“You’re going to have to go to the school today, Tonya,” He said, “Just promise me that you won’t fall for the propaganda they feed you, OK?” he asked. Tonya shrugged. Ian opened the door, and stepped out into the hall, Tonya following him. Ian shut the door, and then turned to look down the hall. There was still a bloodstain where the man that had been beaten had lain. Ian hoped that the man was alright.
Ian and Tonya went down the hall to a stairwell, and descended down it. They reached the small lobby, where there sat a few of the tenants, conversing with each other. The clerk that had first given Ian his key stood behind his desk, and nodded to Ian as he passed by. Ian went over to the front door, and opened it. With the door swinging, Ian and Tonya stepped out into the light of City-17.
The sun was shining brightly this day, and the green grass of the yard in front of the apartment complex was vibrant. Ian and Tonya walked through the yard, out the gate, and onto the street. On the cobblestone street outside of the apartment complex were combine officers and civilians scurrying about, as usual. The citizens seemed to always be in fear of the officers, judging by the looks on their faces.
Ian could see the Citadel, its peak high in the sky over City-17, with its mechanical parts moving up and down. Ian and Tonya strolled along the sidewalk, avoiding the gas masked officers as best as they could.
Ian checked Tonya’s papers to make sure of the address of The Compassionate Breen education facility. Ian recognized the address, because it was the same address as the old high school that he had attended before the invasion.
So, they walked along the occupied streets of City-17, along with the many others that were citizens of the new Combine Earth Colony. Ian checked his watch. “Hmm.. it’s 7:15. What time are you supposed to be there, Tonya?” asked Ian. Tonya shrugged, and looked at her papers. “7:30” she replied. Ian checked the street names. “Good, we should make it there on time.” He exclaimed.
They passed an open market with many open shops. The shopkeepers were all very quiet and reclusive looking; it seemed that they were afraid of the Combine officers as well. Ian noticed a man selling used television sets. There were several sets plugged into his little cart, and were hooked up behind him, their dusty screens all playing the picture of Dr. Breen, all on different channels; so the many pictures of Dr. Breen all seemed to be having a conversation with each other.
Ian and Tonya passed through the market, and into an intersection in the cobble stone street. Ian looked at the street names. “Ah, that’s it, right over there!” exclaimed Ian, pointing to short, squat, rectangular building. The building was made of grey brick, and over the front doors was the huge engraving of “THE COMPASSIONATE BREEN EDUCATION FACILITY” in bold, stone letters. In front of the glass doors of the building, in a small courtyard was a sizeable bronze statue of Dr. Breen. The Image of the horrible man was standing there, and smiling, with his hands on the heads of children who were gathered around his feet.
In an engraving at the base of the statue were the words: “Dr. Breen welcomes all children to the Compassionate Breen Education Facility.” Ian led Tonya across the street, and to the other side, in front of the squat school building. There were many children already filing their way into the building, on their way to another day of school; for another day of learning rubbish about The Combine.
“Alright Tonya, this is the end of the line. You’ll have to walk back home yourself, just please don’t listen to a word they say at this school. But please tell me anything that you hear that might be useful to my new…uh… profession.” Ian said to Tonya. Tonya nodded, and then headed off toward the school building in her blue jumpsuit, waving to Ian as she entered the glass doors. Ian hoped that she would be alright.
Ian now knew that he had to get to work. He had already been employed by the resistance to work in the United Combine Munitions factory, which was the building directly over resistance HQ. Ian already knew how to get there. After all, the streets hadn’t changed positions since the Combine occupation. Ian walked along the sidewalk of the cobblestone street, and headed back in the direction of the open market he had passed through earlier. He passed by a monitor with Breen’s face on it.
Ian turned his head to look at the Breen monitor. The old, welcoming face of the man grinned, and Ian could have sworn that the eyes of the monitor were following him. Ian looked closer and then noticed that the eyes were following him. “Good morning citizen!” the monitor spoke suddenly, eerily. “This is the new Follow-U technology! If you enjoy this technology, and others, come to the Combine Administration Offices in City Hall. To receive an updated television like this one, hand them your credit card, and the transaction will be made!” The monitor exclaimed. Ian backed away slowly from the monitor, and then continued on his way. Frankly, that thing had freaked him out.
Suddenly, as Ian was walking, one of the football-sized scanners whizzed up to him. The machine floated just inches from his face, and then snapped a picture, blinding Ian with the light. Ian covered his eyes, and swatted around for the little machine, but came up with nothing. Ian hated those scanner machines.
As Ian’s vision came back, he could see the little thing flying off. (Probably back to the Citadel) Ian continued his journey to the United Combine Munitions Factory. He crossed the cobblestone street, and turned the corner around a tan stucco building.
When he turned the corner, something caught his eye. There was a man lying on the ground, with Combine officers standing around him, beating him with their shock sticks. It was not an uncommon sight in occupied City-17. The man was shouting out, “I’m telling you, I don’t have it! I don’t have it! Just leave me alone!” The officers continued beating and kicking him. Several of the other pedestrians just walked past the man on the sidewalk, barely even looking over. Ian was forced to do the same. He didn’t want any trouble with the officers, even though he wanted justice to be done for the man who was being beaten.
As Ian glanced at the man, his eyes locked with his. The man had a look in his eyes that seemed to say “help me!” but Ian just turned away, and continued his walk down the street. Some day, that man, along with all of the other citizens in this miserable city, would have justice. Ian felt guilty about not helping him for a moment, but soon shrugged the feelings off.
Ian could now see the building and the square where the resistance HQ was located. In bold black letters on the industrial building was “The United Combine Munitions Factory”. There were several other pedestrians in blue jumpsuits entering and leaving the building, as well as Combine soldiers, and rarely, a scientist dressed in a white lab coat.
Ian traversed the square, and climbed the concrete steps to the entrance of the factory. The entrance was a metal blast door. On either side of the silvery door stood two Combine officers. One of the officers pointed at Ian with his gloved hand. “Hey, you!” he exclaimed. Ian nervously walked up to the officer. “Show me your papers!” the officer snapped. Ian took the folded papers out of the pocket of his blue jumpsuit, and handed them to the officer.
The officer scanned the papers, and then made a sign with his hands to the other officer. “These seem to be in order, citizen.” He said, giving the papers back to Ian. The officer then leaned in close to Ian, and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, I’m not a real cop!” he whispered. Then the officer thumbed in the direction of the other one. “But he is.” He said.
The real officer who unknowingly worked with a false one opened up the blast door to the factory, which made a loud hiss. Ian stepped inside the door quickly, and it shut with a dull thud behind him. Ian was now inside a very small concrete room, and to the far right there was a man standing behind a reception desk, which was in a small booth jutting out from the right of the room. There was bullet-proof glass with wires strung through it in the front of the booth, which made it look like a ticket booth in a movie theater.
-Chapter 19, Rescue-
Sometime in the night, Ian had fallen asleep. When he awoke the next day, a ray of light was shining through the window, onto his eyes, flooding his vision with light through his eyelids. He groaned, and slowly opened his eyes, and sat up in the worn-out couch he had been lying on. There was an immense amount of throbbing pain in his head. The withdrawal symptoms had taken their toll.
Tonya was already up, and was drinking from a water bottle. “Good morning,” Ian exclaimed to Tonya. “Ready to get to school?” he asked. Tonya nodded slowly, and got out of her bed. Ian noticed that the television was on, and Dr. Breen was dully droning on, “It’s another fine day citizens. I am proud to announce to you that the spies that were working for the aliens have been captured. In fact, police forces were able to capture no less than one hundred spies last night. Great job, police forces! Now, the city is safer for all of us.” The picture of Dr. Breen smiled, and the screen cut to a combine propaganda commercial.
Ian got up from the couch, and went over to the bathroom sink. He looked into the mirror, and found that his eyes were red, bloodshot. It had been a long night indeed. He rubbed his head, and could already feel stubble growing where his hair had once been. Ian went back out into the room, and allowed Tonya to come with him to the door.
“You’re going to have to go to the school today, Tonya,” He said, “Just promise me that you won’t fall for the propaganda they feed you, OK?” he asked. Tonya shrugged. Ian opened the door, and stepped out into the hall, Tonya following him. Ian shut the door, and then turned to look down the hall. There was still a bloodstain where the man that had been beaten had lain. Ian hoped that the man was alright.
Ian and Tonya went down the hall to a stairwell, and descended down it. They reached the small lobby, where there sat a few of the tenants, conversing with each other. The clerk that had first given Ian his key stood behind his desk, and nodded to Ian as he passed by. Ian went over to the front door, and opened it. With the door swinging, Ian and Tonya stepped out into the light of City-17.
The sun was shining brightly this day, and the green grass of the yard in front of the apartment complex was vibrant. Ian and Tonya walked through the yard, out the gate, and onto the street. On the cobblestone street outside of the apartment complex were combine officers and civilians scurrying about, as usual. The citizens seemed to always be in fear of the officers, judging by the looks on their faces.
Ian could see the Citadel, its peak high in the sky over City-17, with its mechanical parts moving up and down. Ian and Tonya strolled along the sidewalk, avoiding the gas masked officers as best as they could.
Ian checked Tonya’s papers to make sure of the address of The Compassionate Breen education facility. Ian recognized the address, because it was the same address as the old high school that he had attended before the invasion.
So, they walked along the occupied streets of City-17, along with the many others that were citizens of the new Combine Earth Colony. Ian checked his watch. “Hmm.. it’s 7:15. What time are you supposed to be there, Tonya?” asked Ian. Tonya shrugged, and looked at her papers. “7:30” she replied. Ian checked the street names. “Good, we should make it there on time.” He exclaimed.
They passed an open market with many open shops. The shopkeepers were all very quiet and reclusive looking; it seemed that they were afraid of the Combine officers as well. Ian noticed a man selling used television sets. There were several sets plugged into his little cart, and were hooked up behind him, their dusty screens all playing the picture of Dr. Breen, all on different channels; so the many pictures of Dr. Breen all seemed to be having a conversation with each other.
Ian and Tonya passed through the market, and into an intersection in the cobble stone street. Ian looked at the street names. “Ah, that’s it, right over there!” exclaimed Ian, pointing to short, squat, rectangular building. The building was made of grey brick, and over the front doors was the huge engraving of “THE COMPASSIONATE BREEN EDUCATION FACILITY” in bold, stone letters. In front of the glass doors of the building, in a small courtyard was a sizeable bronze statue of Dr. Breen. The Image of the horrible man was standing there, and smiling, with his hands on the heads of children who were gathered around his feet.
In an engraving at the base of the statue were the words: “Dr. Breen welcomes all children to the Compassionate Breen Education Facility.” Ian led Tonya across the street, and to the other side, in front of the squat school building. There were many children already filing their way into the building, on their way to another day of school; for another day of learning rubbish about The Combine.
“Alright Tonya, this is the end of the line. You’ll have to walk back home yourself, just please don’t listen to a word they say at this school. But please tell me anything that you hear that might be useful to my new…uh… profession.” Ian said to Tonya. Tonya nodded, and then headed off toward the school building in her blue jumpsuit, waving to Ian as she entered the glass doors. Ian hoped that she would be alright.
Ian now knew that he had to get to work. He had already been employed by the resistance to work in the United Combine Munitions factory, which was the building directly over resistance HQ. Ian already knew how to get there. After all, the streets hadn’t changed positions since the Combine occupation. Ian walked along the sidewalk of the cobblestone street, and headed back in the direction of the open market he had passed through earlier. He passed by a monitor with Breen’s face on it.
Ian turned his head to look at the Breen monitor. The old, welcoming face of the man grinned, and Ian could have sworn that the eyes of the monitor were following him. Ian looked closer and then noticed that the eyes were following him. “Good morning citizen!” the monitor spoke suddenly, eerily. “This is the new Follow-U technology! If you enjoy this technology, and others, come to the Combine Administration Offices in City Hall. To receive an updated television like this one, hand them your credit card, and the transaction will be made!” The monitor exclaimed. Ian backed away slowly from the monitor, and then continued on his way. Frankly, that thing had freaked him out.
Suddenly, as Ian was walking, one of the football-sized scanners whizzed up to him. The machine floated just inches from his face, and then snapped a picture, blinding Ian with the light. Ian covered his eyes, and swatted around for the little machine, but came up with nothing. Ian hated those scanner machines.
As Ian’s vision came back, he could see the little thing flying off. (Probably back to the Citadel) Ian continued his journey to the United Combine Munitions Factory. He crossed the cobblestone street, and turned the corner around a tan stucco building.
When he turned the corner, something caught his eye. There was a man lying on the ground, with Combine officers standing around him, beating him with their shock sticks. It was not an uncommon sight in occupied City-17. The man was shouting out, “I’m telling you, I don’t have it! I don’t have it! Just leave me alone!” The officers continued beating and kicking him. Several of the other pedestrians just walked past the man on the sidewalk, barely even looking over. Ian was forced to do the same. He didn’t want any trouble with the officers, even though he wanted justice to be done for the man who was being beaten.
As Ian glanced at the man, his eyes locked with his. The man had a look in his eyes that seemed to say “help me!” but Ian just turned away, and continued his walk down the street. Some day, that man, along with all of the other citizens in this miserable city, would have justice. Ian felt guilty about not helping him for a moment, but soon shrugged the feelings off.
Ian could now see the building and the square where the resistance HQ was located. In bold black letters on the industrial building was “The United Combine Munitions Factory”. There were several other pedestrians in blue jumpsuits entering and leaving the building, as well as Combine soldiers, and rarely, a scientist dressed in a white lab coat.
Ian traversed the square, and climbed the concrete steps to the entrance of the factory. The entrance was a metal blast door. On either side of the silvery door stood two Combine officers. One of the officers pointed at Ian with his gloved hand. “Hey, you!” he exclaimed. Ian nervously walked up to the officer. “Show me your papers!” the officer snapped. Ian took the folded papers out of the pocket of his blue jumpsuit, and handed them to the officer.
The officer scanned the papers, and then made a sign with his hands to the other officer. “These seem to be in order, citizen.” He said, giving the papers back to Ian. The officer then leaned in close to Ian, and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, I’m not a real cop!” he whispered. Then the officer thumbed in the direction of the other one. “But he is.” He said.
The real officer who unknowingly worked with a false one opened up the blast door to the factory, which made a loud hiss. Ian stepped inside the door quickly, and it shut with a dull thud behind him. Ian was now inside a very small concrete room, and to the far right there was a man standing behind a reception desk, which was in a small booth jutting out from the right of the room. There was bullet-proof glass with wires strung through it in the front of the booth, which made it look like a ticket booth in a movie theater.
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Ian walked up to the booth and then said, “Hey, this is my first day on the job…where exactly do I go?” The disinterested receptionist looked up from the paper he was reading, and then replied, “Just go through that door over there, it should lead you to the main factory floor… as for a job, just scan the barcode at the bottom of your official papers in that small machine on the wall next to the door into the factory.” The receptionist then looked back down at the newspaper.
Ian strolled to the far end of the room that contained the door into the factory floor. Next to the door, there was a small machine with a slit at the bottom of it. Ian took out his papers, and inserted the bottom end, which contained a barcode, into the slit. The machine made a clicking noise, and then spoke in an electronic voice, “Citizen Ian Olbowski, checked in at 7:50 AM. Please report to the foreman immediately, and gain instructions for your job: Canister placement and fitting for A-317 Plasma Shells.”
Ian stood there wondering what in the world “Plasma Shells” were when the door slid open with a hiss of steam. Ian made sure to dodge inside the door before it closed. He put the papers back in his pocket, and looked around the room in which he was now standing. The room, apparently the factory floor, was massive. It appeared that nearly the entire topside version of the building was filled with this one enormous room. The room was concrete, and was supported by several gigantic pillars. There were skylights at the top of the room, which allowed ample light to flood into the building. But the most noticeable aspect of this room was the intense amount of noise. There were grinding noises, screeching noises, and the noise of thousands of mechanical engines. All of these noises were caused by huge machines that lined the walls of the facility, with conveyor belts traveling everywhere.
There were workers all over the place, pressing buttons and pulling levers to make the machines work. Along the conveyer belts, millions of black and gold bullets, shells, and grenades were being whisked along, and being built or refitted. All of the shells had the symbol of The Combine stamped on them. Ian was impressed by the grandeur of the whole place, and he stood there in awe.
Then Ian decided that he must find the foreman. He looked around the room, and his gaze fell upon an elevated platform, high in the facility. On it stood a few men, overlooking the production. Ian decided that he must go there. Ian crossed the giant room, and reached a metal staircase which led up to the platform. Ian clinked up the staircase, and passed a few other workers on his long climb up to the platform.
When he reached the platform where the four overseers were watching over the work, he called out, “Excuse me, but does anyone know where I can find the Foreman?” The four overseers turned around, and looked at Ian. “Ah, a new one!” one of them said. Then another stepped out towards Ian and replied, “I am the Foreman, I think I recognize you!” Ian instantly recognized this man as Barney Calhoun, the fellow who had rescued the slaves from The Combine.
Ian’s face immediately lit up with a smile as he saw Mr. Calhoun. Barney smiled as well, and then said “Looks like you’ve gone through withdrawals, Olbowski. Eli warned you about those!” Ian practically laughed. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” he replied. “Are the others here with you part of…you know…” Barney cut him off “Yeah, they’re in the resistance too, so you don’t have to be tight lipped. After all, HQ is just downstairs. Anyway, how can I help you, Ian?”
Ian then responded, “The machine out there said that I was in charge of ‘A-317 Plasma Shell case fitting’, do you know what I have to do?” Barney Calhoun looked out onto the ground and replied, “Yeah, we need another one of those. Just go down to the machine labeled 113-B there should be a terminal open for you, terminal 15 I believe. Just overlook the machines as they fit the casings on to the plasma shells, and every time there is a beep, press the green button. If there is a problem, press the green button twice, and the shell will be removed. Every third shell, press the red button, and it will go into storage, so that the resistance can use it. It’s fairly simple, got it?” Ian nodded, and then replied “I’ll do my best, Mr. Calhoun.”
Ian clanked down the metal staircase back to the concrete floor. He then turned and walked down the line of machines, with their workers doing repetitive tasks. Ian finally came to the machine labeled “113-B.” The machine was huge, and had a gigantic mechanical arm, which was fitting golden canisters onto bluish Plasma Shells. The shells were traveling along a conveyor belt, and were either going into a tunnel labeled “shipment” or another one labeled “storage.” Ian found the terminal labeled “15” and settled into a chair behind it. The other workers at this machine were at their own terminals; pushing buttons with indifference.
There was nothing more at the terminal except for a red button and a green one, as promised by Barney Calhoun. So, Ian followed Barney’s instructions to the letter. Whenever a shell would come by his terminal, the machine would beep, Ian would then press the green button, and the mechanical arm would come down, and fit a golden canister onto the shell. The shell would then travel on the conveyor through the “shipment” tunnel. Every third shell, Ian would press the red button, and the shell would go into the “storage” tunnel.
This mindless, repetitive “work” continued on for at least eight hours. The shells kept coming, and coming, and Ian had to keep pressing and pressing. Ian thought that he would go insane, or his fingers would fall off after all that time of mindless, robotic work. But then, just as he was about to fall asleep, the voice of Barney Calhoun came over the speakers, “Good work, men, that’s pretty much it for today. Close your stations, and get the heck out of here!” Ian checked his watch. It was 3:45 already. He had just spent the last 8 hours pressing a little green button. He was beginning to think that mining under the Combine Citadel was a more exciting job. But at least he was getting paid for this one.
Ian pressed the conveniently labeled OFF button, and headed towards the front door. He was excited, because he knew that immediately after work he would get to participate in the rescue of the Alien Slaves…the Vortigaunts. Ian stood in line with the other workers in blue jumpsuits to get out of the building, and put his papers into the little slit on the wall mounted machine next to the door. “Working Time: 8 hours. Pay: full.” The machine chirped as Ian left the room.
Ian strolled to the far end of the room that contained the door into the factory floor. Next to the door, there was a small machine with a slit at the bottom of it. Ian took out his papers, and inserted the bottom end, which contained a barcode, into the slit. The machine made a clicking noise, and then spoke in an electronic voice, “Citizen Ian Olbowski, checked in at 7:50 AM. Please report to the foreman immediately, and gain instructions for your job: Canister placement and fitting for A-317 Plasma Shells.”
Ian stood there wondering what in the world “Plasma Shells” were when the door slid open with a hiss of steam. Ian made sure to dodge inside the door before it closed. He put the papers back in his pocket, and looked around the room in which he was now standing. The room, apparently the factory floor, was massive. It appeared that nearly the entire topside version of the building was filled with this one enormous room. The room was concrete, and was supported by several gigantic pillars. There were skylights at the top of the room, which allowed ample light to flood into the building. But the most noticeable aspect of this room was the intense amount of noise. There were grinding noises, screeching noises, and the noise of thousands of mechanical engines. All of these noises were caused by huge machines that lined the walls of the facility, with conveyor belts traveling everywhere.
There were workers all over the place, pressing buttons and pulling levers to make the machines work. Along the conveyer belts, millions of black and gold bullets, shells, and grenades were being whisked along, and being built or refitted. All of the shells had the symbol of The Combine stamped on them. Ian was impressed by the grandeur of the whole place, and he stood there in awe.
Then Ian decided that he must find the foreman. He looked around the room, and his gaze fell upon an elevated platform, high in the facility. On it stood a few men, overlooking the production. Ian decided that he must go there. Ian crossed the giant room, and reached a metal staircase which led up to the platform. Ian clinked up the staircase, and passed a few other workers on his long climb up to the platform.
When he reached the platform where the four overseers were watching over the work, he called out, “Excuse me, but does anyone know where I can find the Foreman?” The four overseers turned around, and looked at Ian. “Ah, a new one!” one of them said. Then another stepped out towards Ian and replied, “I am the Foreman, I think I recognize you!” Ian instantly recognized this man as Barney Calhoun, the fellow who had rescued the slaves from The Combine.
Ian’s face immediately lit up with a smile as he saw Mr. Calhoun. Barney smiled as well, and then said “Looks like you’ve gone through withdrawals, Olbowski. Eli warned you about those!” Ian practically laughed. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” he replied. “Are the others here with you part of…you know…” Barney cut him off “Yeah, they’re in the resistance too, so you don’t have to be tight lipped. After all, HQ is just downstairs. Anyway, how can I help you, Ian?”
Ian then responded, “The machine out there said that I was in charge of ‘A-317 Plasma Shell case fitting’, do you know what I have to do?” Barney Calhoun looked out onto the ground and replied, “Yeah, we need another one of those. Just go down to the machine labeled 113-B there should be a terminal open for you, terminal 15 I believe. Just overlook the machines as they fit the casings on to the plasma shells, and every time there is a beep, press the green button. If there is a problem, press the green button twice, and the shell will be removed. Every third shell, press the red button, and it will go into storage, so that the resistance can use it. It’s fairly simple, got it?” Ian nodded, and then replied “I’ll do my best, Mr. Calhoun.”
Ian clanked down the metal staircase back to the concrete floor. He then turned and walked down the line of machines, with their workers doing repetitive tasks. Ian finally came to the machine labeled “113-B.” The machine was huge, and had a gigantic mechanical arm, which was fitting golden canisters onto bluish Plasma Shells. The shells were traveling along a conveyor belt, and were either going into a tunnel labeled “shipment” or another one labeled “storage.” Ian found the terminal labeled “15” and settled into a chair behind it. The other workers at this machine were at their own terminals; pushing buttons with indifference.
There was nothing more at the terminal except for a red button and a green one, as promised by Barney Calhoun. So, Ian followed Barney’s instructions to the letter. Whenever a shell would come by his terminal, the machine would beep, Ian would then press the green button, and the mechanical arm would come down, and fit a golden canister onto the shell. The shell would then travel on the conveyor through the “shipment” tunnel. Every third shell, Ian would press the red button, and the shell would go into the “storage” tunnel.
This mindless, repetitive “work” continued on for at least eight hours. The shells kept coming, and coming, and Ian had to keep pressing and pressing. Ian thought that he would go insane, or his fingers would fall off after all that time of mindless, robotic work. But then, just as he was about to fall asleep, the voice of Barney Calhoun came over the speakers, “Good work, men, that’s pretty much it for today. Close your stations, and get the heck out of here!” Ian checked his watch. It was 3:45 already. He had just spent the last 8 hours pressing a little green button. He was beginning to think that mining under the Combine Citadel was a more exciting job. But at least he was getting paid for this one.
Ian pressed the conveniently labeled OFF button, and headed towards the front door. He was excited, because he knew that immediately after work he would get to participate in the rescue of the Alien Slaves…the Vortigaunts. Ian stood in line with the other workers in blue jumpsuits to get out of the building, and put his papers into the little slit on the wall mounted machine next to the door. “Working Time: 8 hours. Pay: full.” The machine chirped as Ian left the room.
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Ian then crossed through the small concrete reception room and out the front door into the street, along with the several other workers. The Street looked the same as it had before, aside from the afternoon light. Right now was rush hour, but since there were so few cars, the streets of City-17 seemed clear. Ian knew that soon, once the resistance had really begun in its violent form, these streets would be filled with the dead of the coming revolution. Ian thought about what he had just deliberated. His words were already starting to sound like old Father Gregori.
Ian nonchalantly moved around the right corner of the building, and into the alleyway that contained the entrance to Resistance HQ. As Ian was slowly pushing aside the dumpster over the hidden door with a loud mechanical screech, he could hear the thumping of a strider as its forty-foot figure began to enter the square behind him. Ian quickly got on his hands and knees, and pulled up the trap door underneath him. He hoped not to be spotted. Then, silently, Ian slid into the trap door, and shut the access panel behind him.
Ian gripped the handrail of the concrete staircase under the trapdoor in the pitch black of the cellar. He slowly and carefully descended the staircase, and came to the wall where the elevator to get into HQ was. He felt around the slimy wall for the panel, and finally found it, pressing the only button on it. The panel twittered in a mechanical voice, “yes?” it asked. Ian then responded “It’s Ian Olbowski, I’m with the resistance. I’ll be joining the rescue party for the Vortigaunts today.”
The machine paused, and then responded “Of course, Olbowski. Come right in.” Lights that lined the entrance of the elevator lit up, and the doors hissed open. Ian stepped inside the metal elevator, and pressed the button labeled DOWN, and the elevator began its descent. Ian went down three floors in the elevator, to the room where he had first met Dr. Eli Vance, and the doors slid open. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open and Ian exited the elevator.
He was once again in the bright, glowing, buzzing room where he had first met Dr. Vance. There were more people in the room this time, many of them carrying small sub machine guns. Ian assumed that they were getting ready for the rescue that would be occurring that day. Ian could see that Barney Calhoun was one of them. Barney was talking to Dr. Eli Vance, who was briefing him on the mission they would partake in that night.
Eli then saw Ian, and exclaimed, “Ah, there he is, our man Ian, who can talk with the Vortigaunts!” Eli moved over to Ian. “So how was your work? How were the withdrawal symptoms?” asked Dr. Vance. Ian simply answered in two words. “Boring. Terrible.” He grunted. “Yes, I could imagine, Ian.” responded Eli. Eli’s mood suddenly turned serious, and professional.
“Listen, Ian, you’re the only one we know of who can accurately communicate with the Vortigaunts. We believe it’s some sort of genetic trait. That’s why we need you to come with us today. We’re going to be traveling through the sewer system for quite a distance, up to a point directly under the Citadel compound itself. We have confirmed that the Alien slaves have indeed been digging directly towards this sewer junction, perhaps with the notion that they would be able to escape themselves. However, it seems that they have run into an incredibly thick granite wall, and cannot pass through; we’re going to need to blow through this wall, and then escort the Vortigaunts out of the Combine mines. We’ll need you to communicate with them through the wall, and tell them that we’re about to blow it,” Explained Dr. Eli Vance, speaking directly to Ian.
So, Ian would have to come along with them through the sewers, speak with his mind to the Vortigaunts through the thick granite wall, and then help the Vortigaunts, the alien slaves, escape. It was an enormous responsibility for Ian, and he wondered if he could accomplish such a task. However, it excited him to finally be n important member of the resistance; a position he had been dreaming about for the past three years. Ian turned to Dr. Vance, and then said, “I can do it, I won’t let you down, doctor.” Eli nodded friendlily “Great, Ian, I knew we could count on you,” Said Dr. Vance.
The party waited for a while for the other members of the rescue party to show up at HQ. When they finally arrived, Ian counted that there were fifteen members of the rescue party in all. Eli looked over the group, and then announced, “Alright, looks like everybody’s here! I trust that you’ve all been briefed on the situation. Let’s get started. Everyone get packed up in the storage room, and arm yourselves. It looks like all of your factory work has actually gotten some use, gentlemen! Barney Calhoun will lead you into the sewer system; we’ve installed an entrance right here in HQ, under the noses of The Combine!” Eli pointed in the direction of a door labeled STORAGE.
Barney Calhoun led the group towards the storage room, and opened the door for them. Ian stepped into the room with the others. The storage room had several racks of captured combine guns, ammunition, and equipment set up all over the room. The fifteen members of the rescue party got to select their own weapons and equipment for the mission. Ian looked about the metal racks of guns and equipment, and chose a small, modest looking black gun, which had a red laser sight, and appeared to be about the size of a large handgun. But, judging by the type of grip of the weapon, and the ammunition clips for it, Ian assumed that the weapon was automatic. Ian also grabbed an equipment belt, and a black Combine bullet proof jacket.
While he was equipping himself with these things, he overheard Barney Calhoun talking with his friend, “I can’t believe that we’re actually going in there to rescue Vortigaunts, of all things! I remember that when I used to be a security guard for Black Mesa, all of those Vortigaunts were just teleporting in all over the place, killing my buddies. I mean, I know that these things were being controlled by the Ninaliath creature. Now since the Ninaliath is dead (thanks to Gordon Freeman), those things are friendly. But I just don’t trust ‘em, I guess it’s a product of killing at least forty of them back at Black Mesa….”
So, Ian thought, Mr. Calhoun must have a grudge against the Vortigaunts. After all, they had been a major driving force of the original invasion when they were being commanded by The Combine. However, it was clearly not their fault, since the strange “Ninaliath” a bio-mechanical creature that The Combine had created, was controlling the Vortigaunts at that time. Or so Ian had heard.
Ian fitted the tight black vest onto his torso, and the others did the same. Ian took this opportunity to ask Barney about his gun. “Hey, Barney!” he exclaimed. Barney looked towards Ian. “What is this gun?” Ian asked, holding up the sleek, black thing. Barney shrugged, “That’s an MP7 Personal Defense Weapon, and it’s brand new. The Combine likes to use those things, probably because of their light weight, and high firing rate,” explained Barney.
Ian slid his hands over the grip of the MP7, and pulled the shoulder strap of the weapon over his head. When the others seemed to be done gathering their weapons, Barney led them out of the room. Ian followed the other fifteen out of the room and towards a big metal valve door that Barney said was the secret entrance into the sewers.
The door was a dirty, rusty addition to the white walls of headquarters. It was round, and metal, and had a huge valve in its center. Barney Calhoun tugged at the valve, and slowly turned it. The rotating valve made a sound similar to fingernails scraping against a chalkboard. Slowly, but surely, the huge metal door opened.
Upon opening the door, Barney let in the smell of the sewers, which was rancid, and horrendous. Barney then announced to the fifteen, “Alright, just get in here, and make seven rows of two, and I’ll be at the front! People in the back cover our rear, if you’re in the center, cover our flanks and the ones in the front will cover what’s in front of us!” Barney hopped up into the opening into the sewer, and then dropped down into its depths.
Ian and the other thirteen in the rescue party followed suit. Ian hopped up the two feet to get into the hole, and then dropped five feet into the rancid water at the bottom of the dark sewer. Ian the others splashed down into the water, causing the terrible smelling stuff to splatter on them.
There was just enough light for the fifteen to get into formation behind Barney. Ian was one of the two directly behind Calhoun, since Barney had specified that he wanted Ian nearby. The other thirteen got into rows behind them; just as someone inside HQ closed the hatch behind the group, making the sewer all but pitch black. Luckily, several of the others in the rescue party had brought along flashlights, and they turned them on, giving the group ample light to see in the sewer pipe.
Ian nonchalantly moved around the right corner of the building, and into the alleyway that contained the entrance to Resistance HQ. As Ian was slowly pushing aside the dumpster over the hidden door with a loud mechanical screech, he could hear the thumping of a strider as its forty-foot figure began to enter the square behind him. Ian quickly got on his hands and knees, and pulled up the trap door underneath him. He hoped not to be spotted. Then, silently, Ian slid into the trap door, and shut the access panel behind him.
Ian gripped the handrail of the concrete staircase under the trapdoor in the pitch black of the cellar. He slowly and carefully descended the staircase, and came to the wall where the elevator to get into HQ was. He felt around the slimy wall for the panel, and finally found it, pressing the only button on it. The panel twittered in a mechanical voice, “yes?” it asked. Ian then responded “It’s Ian Olbowski, I’m with the resistance. I’ll be joining the rescue party for the Vortigaunts today.”
The machine paused, and then responded “Of course, Olbowski. Come right in.” Lights that lined the entrance of the elevator lit up, and the doors hissed open. Ian stepped inside the metal elevator, and pressed the button labeled DOWN, and the elevator began its descent. Ian went down three floors in the elevator, to the room where he had first met Dr. Eli Vance, and the doors slid open. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open and Ian exited the elevator.
He was once again in the bright, glowing, buzzing room where he had first met Dr. Vance. There were more people in the room this time, many of them carrying small sub machine guns. Ian assumed that they were getting ready for the rescue that would be occurring that day. Ian could see that Barney Calhoun was one of them. Barney was talking to Dr. Eli Vance, who was briefing him on the mission they would partake in that night.
Eli then saw Ian, and exclaimed, “Ah, there he is, our man Ian, who can talk with the Vortigaunts!” Eli moved over to Ian. “So how was your work? How were the withdrawal symptoms?” asked Dr. Vance. Ian simply answered in two words. “Boring. Terrible.” He grunted. “Yes, I could imagine, Ian.” responded Eli. Eli’s mood suddenly turned serious, and professional.
“Listen, Ian, you’re the only one we know of who can accurately communicate with the Vortigaunts. We believe it’s some sort of genetic trait. That’s why we need you to come with us today. We’re going to be traveling through the sewer system for quite a distance, up to a point directly under the Citadel compound itself. We have confirmed that the Alien slaves have indeed been digging directly towards this sewer junction, perhaps with the notion that they would be able to escape themselves. However, it seems that they have run into an incredibly thick granite wall, and cannot pass through; we’re going to need to blow through this wall, and then escort the Vortigaunts out of the Combine mines. We’ll need you to communicate with them through the wall, and tell them that we’re about to blow it,” Explained Dr. Eli Vance, speaking directly to Ian.
So, Ian would have to come along with them through the sewers, speak with his mind to the Vortigaunts through the thick granite wall, and then help the Vortigaunts, the alien slaves, escape. It was an enormous responsibility for Ian, and he wondered if he could accomplish such a task. However, it excited him to finally be n important member of the resistance; a position he had been dreaming about for the past three years. Ian turned to Dr. Vance, and then said, “I can do it, I won’t let you down, doctor.” Eli nodded friendlily “Great, Ian, I knew we could count on you,” Said Dr. Vance.
The party waited for a while for the other members of the rescue party to show up at HQ. When they finally arrived, Ian counted that there were fifteen members of the rescue party in all. Eli looked over the group, and then announced, “Alright, looks like everybody’s here! I trust that you’ve all been briefed on the situation. Let’s get started. Everyone get packed up in the storage room, and arm yourselves. It looks like all of your factory work has actually gotten some use, gentlemen! Barney Calhoun will lead you into the sewer system; we’ve installed an entrance right here in HQ, under the noses of The Combine!” Eli pointed in the direction of a door labeled STORAGE.
Barney Calhoun led the group towards the storage room, and opened the door for them. Ian stepped into the room with the others. The storage room had several racks of captured combine guns, ammunition, and equipment set up all over the room. The fifteen members of the rescue party got to select their own weapons and equipment for the mission. Ian looked about the metal racks of guns and equipment, and chose a small, modest looking black gun, which had a red laser sight, and appeared to be about the size of a large handgun. But, judging by the type of grip of the weapon, and the ammunition clips for it, Ian assumed that the weapon was automatic. Ian also grabbed an equipment belt, and a black Combine bullet proof jacket.
While he was equipping himself with these things, he overheard Barney Calhoun talking with his friend, “I can’t believe that we’re actually going in there to rescue Vortigaunts, of all things! I remember that when I used to be a security guard for Black Mesa, all of those Vortigaunts were just teleporting in all over the place, killing my buddies. I mean, I know that these things were being controlled by the Ninaliath creature. Now since the Ninaliath is dead (thanks to Gordon Freeman), those things are friendly. But I just don’t trust ‘em, I guess it’s a product of killing at least forty of them back at Black Mesa….”
So, Ian thought, Mr. Calhoun must have a grudge against the Vortigaunts. After all, they had been a major driving force of the original invasion when they were being commanded by The Combine. However, it was clearly not their fault, since the strange “Ninaliath” a bio-mechanical creature that The Combine had created, was controlling the Vortigaunts at that time. Or so Ian had heard.
Ian fitted the tight black vest onto his torso, and the others did the same. Ian took this opportunity to ask Barney about his gun. “Hey, Barney!” he exclaimed. Barney looked towards Ian. “What is this gun?” Ian asked, holding up the sleek, black thing. Barney shrugged, “That’s an MP7 Personal Defense Weapon, and it’s brand new. The Combine likes to use those things, probably because of their light weight, and high firing rate,” explained Barney.
Ian slid his hands over the grip of the MP7, and pulled the shoulder strap of the weapon over his head. When the others seemed to be done gathering their weapons, Barney led them out of the room. Ian followed the other fifteen out of the room and towards a big metal valve door that Barney said was the secret entrance into the sewers.
The door was a dirty, rusty addition to the white walls of headquarters. It was round, and metal, and had a huge valve in its center. Barney Calhoun tugged at the valve, and slowly turned it. The rotating valve made a sound similar to fingernails scraping against a chalkboard. Slowly, but surely, the huge metal door opened.
Upon opening the door, Barney let in the smell of the sewers, which was rancid, and horrendous. Barney then announced to the fifteen, “Alright, just get in here, and make seven rows of two, and I’ll be at the front! People in the back cover our rear, if you’re in the center, cover our flanks and the ones in the front will cover what’s in front of us!” Barney hopped up into the opening into the sewer, and then dropped down into its depths.
Ian and the other thirteen in the rescue party followed suit. Ian hopped up the two feet to get into the hole, and then dropped five feet into the rancid water at the bottom of the dark sewer. Ian the others splashed down into the water, causing the terrible smelling stuff to splatter on them.
There was just enough light for the fifteen to get into formation behind Barney. Ian was one of the two directly behind Calhoun, since Barney had specified that he wanted Ian nearby. The other thirteen got into rows behind them; just as someone inside HQ closed the hatch behind the group, making the sewer all but pitch black. Luckily, several of the others in the rescue party had brought along flashlights, and they turned them on, giving the group ample light to see in the sewer pipe.
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