Current Evaluation
Subject: Michael Anderson
Origin: Boston, Massachusetts
Assignment: Security
Position: BLUE SHIFT Lambda Sector
LEVEL THREE DISASTER RESPONDE PRIORITY:
Alpha: Secure and preserve are
Beta: Ensure security of staff
Delta: Personnel Safety
Current Time: 7:46 AM 5/30/98
"Good morning, and welcome to the Black Mesa Transit System." Those were the first words that Michael Anderson heard every morning. Michael rode with the Black Mesa scientists usually, and they only spoke to security guards when they needed too. Even then, their words were full of contempt. Most of them felt that the money spent on security guards salaries could be better spent funding the various experiments and projects that went on in Black Mesa, and perhaps their own salary. What these critics forgot, was that security guard salaries weren't that high to begin with, and even working in the Blue Shift didn't guarantee a high paycheck at the end of the day. Most of the men who worked as guards only stayed on the job because the Black Mesa administrative office literally paid for their food, drink, and personal dormitory. Though everyone in Black Mesa was prohibited from venturing into the outside world, no one had any real complaints besides the agonizing boredom. Confidentiality was high among Black Mesa, and particularly high among the administrative office. The chances that someone might leak to the general public about the experiments of Black Mesa were too big a risk for the OOA to take. Even though he was practically cut off from the outside, Michael found that socializing with his fellow security guards and comrades was pleasant, to say at the least. The security of Black Mesa were a comfortable bunch, men who had far more intelligence then the scientists of Black Mesa were willing to admit. However, on that particular day, Mike was confined to a tram devoid of human life besides his own. Though strange considering he was early to work in the Blue Shift, Michael knew that the reason he was alone was because the scientists had a huge experiment that they had to perform perfectly, lest they become in danger of losing their jobs and five thousand dollar paychecks. It was highly encouraged among the security to be early to work that day, and even more so for Black Mesas finest. It was no easy task to wake up at five 'o clock that morning, and harder to be expected to be sharp and diligent. The Anomalous Materials lab was the most concentrated point for the Blue Shift. The security center for the Blue Shift was just south of the AM laboratories. Mike was expected to be in his guard duty position at no less then six-thirty, giving him ample time to don his bulletproof vest, 9- millimeter sidearm, and metallic helmet. The ride to the Blue Shift security center would not take long, so Michael made the not-so-difficult choice to listen and admire Gina's voice over the intercom. Though not the most attractive women he'd ever seen, she was certainly a very striking woman, and Michael was very fond of her. She was one of Black Mesas finest, next to Walter Bennett and Gordon Freeman. Michael admired both of these men, for their personalities and generosity. Both men were willing to forgive the security guards lack of education compared to theirs, and converse when addressed. There were others, like Eli Vance, who also showed interest both their peers and lesser beings opinions.
The tram came to an abrupt stop, signifying the end of Michaels journey to the security center. Gina's low voice reminded Michael to take his possessions with him, and ended with encouragement: "Have a safe, and productive day," words that rang hollow in Michaels mind. He gracefully exiting the tram, Mike made his way to a metallic blast door. He bent down to activate the neural scan, and waiting impatiently for the door to open. When it did not, panic began to run through Michaels mind. His heart danced vividly inside his chest. After waiting an eternity for the doors to open, Michael kicked the door repeatedly. After maybe the fifth or sixth time, they groaned and started to drift apart. Then he was inside. There was nothing special about the lobby of the Blue Shift security center. It was a bland two-story room with a balcony above Michael's head. To the east was the security locker room, and to the right were the offices of the Anomalous Materials. Several familiar faces greeted Michael: Duran Monroe was monitoring the lobby desk; James Wallace was stationed behind the complaints desk; Katherine Crocker was whining at him, and Ron O'Neil was exiting the locker room to stand beside Duran. Mike nodded his greetings to all three of his comrades, exchanged an exasperated look with James as he listened to Crocker's threats of unemployment, and strolled inside to the locker room. After retrieving his sidearm, vest, and helmet, Michael paused at a mirror to see himself. Michael had black hair, blue eyes, an athletic body, and a noticeable scar on his short neck. He'd received that prize after his triumph over a pyromaniac who'd allegedly set fire to an entire forest in California in the summer of '97. The pyromaniac was armed with a knife, and had pulled it out at the last second and tried to stab Michael with it. He'd narrowly avoided the blade, and managed to shoot the desperate man twice in the knee to subdue him before he made one last thrust. Michael banished the memory. His victory had brought him to the attention of the Black Mesa administrator, who'd offered him a job just before Christmas. It paid twice as much as his police job, and covered him completely on all his healthcare and financial needs. It wasn't a glamorous job, but Michael could ask for no better. Michael knew he had to go to the armory to get ammunition for his 9mm. He washed his hands, tied his shoes, and set out to protect the world, one scientist at a time.
"Hey, Anderson! Need ammo?" Mike briefly glanced at the Playboy magazine that Roger Welshmen had been engrossed in, and then responded, "Yeah, nine millimeter." "If you want, you can get some target practice. Only person in there is Otis Langley." "No man, I got to be at the Anomalous Materials lab ASAP. They have to do some test, and I'll be damned if I get fired for being late." "Alright man. See you." Mike took one last look at the Playboy on the desk, and then walked off. Half an hour later, he stood at his post, still as a guard in front of Buckingham Palace. Michael had always wondered what it would be like to urinate on their foot, testing them for any signs of a reaction. It was an amusing thought, to see the look of revulsion on a man who's face previously could have been etched into stone. Michael allowed two men to enter the briefing chamber before resuming his post. He caught parts of their conversation about Gordon Freeman's absence from the testing lab. Their extreme irritation was self-evident on their faces. Gordon Freeman came down the hall mere minutes after the two men had entered. Looking hassled, he and Michael exchanged greetings. Gordon slipped inside before the door had even finished opening.
Maybe five minutes later, a vibration caused Michael's bones to shudder. The hallway lights dimmed, the klaxon alarms rang throughout the corridor. A scientist armed with a crowbar charged down the hallway and was about to strike the blast door when Mike grabbed him and yelled, "What's going on!"
The scientist looked like he was going to reply, even opened his mouth. The neural scanner behind Mike was then propelled forward into Michaels back. Though not seriously hurt, Mike was thrown off-balance. He knocked over the scientist, collapsed to the ground, and struck his head against a wall. Michael Anderson's world went black. It would stay black for a very long time.
To my reviewers;
You're-Under-Arrest: I appreciate your support!
Admiral: Hell yes, I would greatly enjoy having you as a proofreader!
Sulk: I VERY MUCH appreciate you clearing that up for me! I knew the Cobra WAS a helicopter but was not certain it was used in BLACK HAWK DOWN. The link you provided does not work, however. No need to apologize for being pedantic; believe it or not, I want to be as realistic with my fan-fiction as possible!
Subject: Michael Anderson
Origin: Boston, Massachusetts
Assignment: Security
Position: BLUE SHIFT Lambda Sector
LEVEL THREE DISASTER RESPONDE PRIORITY:
Alpha: Secure and preserve are
Beta: Ensure security of staff
Delta: Personnel Safety
Current Time: 7:46 AM 5/30/98
"Good morning, and welcome to the Black Mesa Transit System." Those were the first words that Michael Anderson heard every morning. Michael rode with the Black Mesa scientists usually, and they only spoke to security guards when they needed too. Even then, their words were full of contempt. Most of them felt that the money spent on security guards salaries could be better spent funding the various experiments and projects that went on in Black Mesa, and perhaps their own salary. What these critics forgot, was that security guard salaries weren't that high to begin with, and even working in the Blue Shift didn't guarantee a high paycheck at the end of the day. Most of the men who worked as guards only stayed on the job because the Black Mesa administrative office literally paid for their food, drink, and personal dormitory. Though everyone in Black Mesa was prohibited from venturing into the outside world, no one had any real complaints besides the agonizing boredom. Confidentiality was high among Black Mesa, and particularly high among the administrative office. The chances that someone might leak to the general public about the experiments of Black Mesa were too big a risk for the OOA to take. Even though he was practically cut off from the outside, Michael found that socializing with his fellow security guards and comrades was pleasant, to say at the least. The security of Black Mesa were a comfortable bunch, men who had far more intelligence then the scientists of Black Mesa were willing to admit. However, on that particular day, Mike was confined to a tram devoid of human life besides his own. Though strange considering he was early to work in the Blue Shift, Michael knew that the reason he was alone was because the scientists had a huge experiment that they had to perform perfectly, lest they become in danger of losing their jobs and five thousand dollar paychecks. It was highly encouraged among the security to be early to work that day, and even more so for Black Mesas finest. It was no easy task to wake up at five 'o clock that morning, and harder to be expected to be sharp and diligent. The Anomalous Materials lab was the most concentrated point for the Blue Shift. The security center for the Blue Shift was just south of the AM laboratories. Mike was expected to be in his guard duty position at no less then six-thirty, giving him ample time to don his bulletproof vest, 9- millimeter sidearm, and metallic helmet. The ride to the Blue Shift security center would not take long, so Michael made the not-so-difficult choice to listen and admire Gina's voice over the intercom. Though not the most attractive women he'd ever seen, she was certainly a very striking woman, and Michael was very fond of her. She was one of Black Mesas finest, next to Walter Bennett and Gordon Freeman. Michael admired both of these men, for their personalities and generosity. Both men were willing to forgive the security guards lack of education compared to theirs, and converse when addressed. There were others, like Eli Vance, who also showed interest both their peers and lesser beings opinions.
The tram came to an abrupt stop, signifying the end of Michaels journey to the security center. Gina's low voice reminded Michael to take his possessions with him, and ended with encouragement: "Have a safe, and productive day," words that rang hollow in Michaels mind. He gracefully exiting the tram, Mike made his way to a metallic blast door. He bent down to activate the neural scan, and waiting impatiently for the door to open. When it did not, panic began to run through Michaels mind. His heart danced vividly inside his chest. After waiting an eternity for the doors to open, Michael kicked the door repeatedly. After maybe the fifth or sixth time, they groaned and started to drift apart. Then he was inside. There was nothing special about the lobby of the Blue Shift security center. It was a bland two-story room with a balcony above Michael's head. To the east was the security locker room, and to the right were the offices of the Anomalous Materials. Several familiar faces greeted Michael: Duran Monroe was monitoring the lobby desk; James Wallace was stationed behind the complaints desk; Katherine Crocker was whining at him, and Ron O'Neil was exiting the locker room to stand beside Duran. Mike nodded his greetings to all three of his comrades, exchanged an exasperated look with James as he listened to Crocker's threats of unemployment, and strolled inside to the locker room. After retrieving his sidearm, vest, and helmet, Michael paused at a mirror to see himself. Michael had black hair, blue eyes, an athletic body, and a noticeable scar on his short neck. He'd received that prize after his triumph over a pyromaniac who'd allegedly set fire to an entire forest in California in the summer of '97. The pyromaniac was armed with a knife, and had pulled it out at the last second and tried to stab Michael with it. He'd narrowly avoided the blade, and managed to shoot the desperate man twice in the knee to subdue him before he made one last thrust. Michael banished the memory. His victory had brought him to the attention of the Black Mesa administrator, who'd offered him a job just before Christmas. It paid twice as much as his police job, and covered him completely on all his healthcare and financial needs. It wasn't a glamorous job, but Michael could ask for no better. Michael knew he had to go to the armory to get ammunition for his 9mm. He washed his hands, tied his shoes, and set out to protect the world, one scientist at a time.
"Hey, Anderson! Need ammo?" Mike briefly glanced at the Playboy magazine that Roger Welshmen had been engrossed in, and then responded, "Yeah, nine millimeter." "If you want, you can get some target practice. Only person in there is Otis Langley." "No man, I got to be at the Anomalous Materials lab ASAP. They have to do some test, and I'll be damned if I get fired for being late." "Alright man. See you." Mike took one last look at the Playboy on the desk, and then walked off. Half an hour later, he stood at his post, still as a guard in front of Buckingham Palace. Michael had always wondered what it would be like to urinate on their foot, testing them for any signs of a reaction. It was an amusing thought, to see the look of revulsion on a man who's face previously could have been etched into stone. Michael allowed two men to enter the briefing chamber before resuming his post. He caught parts of their conversation about Gordon Freeman's absence from the testing lab. Their extreme irritation was self-evident on their faces. Gordon Freeman came down the hall mere minutes after the two men had entered. Looking hassled, he and Michael exchanged greetings. Gordon slipped inside before the door had even finished opening.
Maybe five minutes later, a vibration caused Michael's bones to shudder. The hallway lights dimmed, the klaxon alarms rang throughout the corridor. A scientist armed with a crowbar charged down the hallway and was about to strike the blast door when Mike grabbed him and yelled, "What's going on!"
The scientist looked like he was going to reply, even opened his mouth. The neural scanner behind Mike was then propelled forward into Michaels back. Though not seriously hurt, Mike was thrown off-balance. He knocked over the scientist, collapsed to the ground, and struck his head against a wall. Michael Anderson's world went black. It would stay black for a very long time.
To my reviewers;
You're-Under-Arrest: I appreciate your support!
Admiral: Hell yes, I would greatly enjoy having you as a proofreader!
Sulk: I VERY MUCH appreciate you clearing that up for me! I knew the Cobra WAS a helicopter but was not certain it was used in BLACK HAWK DOWN. The link you provided does not work, however. No need to apologize for being pedantic; believe it or not, I want to be as realistic with my fan-fiction as possible!