CHAPTER 1: PORK INSERTION
Chef Gordon Ramsay stepped off the train into City 17, Occupational capital of Earth and home to the Citadel, The combine's headquarters. As he got off the train, a man with brown hair, a beard, and a pair of glasses accidently bumped into him. Gordon picked up this man and flung him into an oncoming train. He probably wasn't even important.
"Hurry up, you fucking Donkey!" Shouted the chef to his bumbling cameraman, who stumbled off the train, struggling with the massive recording equipment. A city scanner noticed the new arrivals, and flew over to take their picture for the records. "FUCKING HELL! IF I WANTED MY PICTURE TAKEN I'D ASK, YOU FETID PEICE OF GOATSHIT!"
The scanner dejectedly flew away.
Gordon sighed and turned to the camera.
"Right! Here we are in City 17, the capital of the world! It's home to the citadel, and also has it's own special brand of- HOLD THE FUCKING CAMERA HIGHER YOU IDIOT! THEY WANT TO SEE MY FACE, NOT MY PENIS!"
"Sorry, Mr. Ramsay, It's just so heavy and-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, WANKER! ...Ahem. Right, well, we're gonna take a quick tour through the city and try out some of it's culinary wonders before we make our way to the citadel and have a wondrous dinner with Doctor Breen, and the Combine Earth Administration! Let's Be off!"
Chef Ramsay and his Cameraman strolled through the city streets. In front of them was a giant wooden building.
"Right, the ration dispenser! Many of the citizens come here for their daily meal of Meat substitute, stale bread, and sludge water! Let's go inside!"
Inside the building, lines of downtrodden citizens waited in line for the automated dispenser to give out ration packets. Chef Ramsay got in line.
The automated Dispenser deposited a Ration packet, which Gordon picked up. "Right! What i've got here is a City 17 classic, We have some excellent rotten beans, a packet of brown mash which is meant to be Meat, and a most excellent can of DrBreens Private Reserve! My memory is Fuzzy already! Let's dig in!"
"THIS IS FUCKING RAW!"
Every head in the building turned towards the Chef as he strode towards the dispenser, red in the face.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT HORSESHIT, YOU FUCKING PILLOCK! THE PACKET OF MEAT SUBSTITUTE WAS VOMIT INDUCING! IT WAS FUCKING RAW! Forget the rebels, YOU'RE The danger to City 17! I should call Civil protection on your dumb ass! Let's go around the establishment and see what the customers think, eh?"
The dispenser, being inanimate, simply spit out a ration packet at Gordon's feet.
Gordon kicked aside a table, sending several glasses flying. They smashed onto the ground. He grabbed a man by the throat. "What the fuck did you think of that shit, you fucking tosser?!"
The man choked out something about how the CPs would beat them for talking to each other, but Gordon had already flung the man into another table. He stormed out.
Gordon walked over to a Metrocop.
"Excuse me, officer, but it appears that the Rebels have sabotaged the Food dispenser! Instead of rations, it's now dispensing lies about the empire!"
Instantly, a warning Klaxon went off. Dropships appeared overhead, and overwatch soldiers rappelled down, surrounding the building. A Strider stomped onto the scene. A humming was heard and the light around the strider distorted as it charged it's warp cannon and fired, obliterating the building.
"Right, now that that's done, let's make our way to the citadel!"
Gordon walked briskly through the street, The smell of scorched wood and flesh still in the air. "Right, it looks like we'll have to make our way through this apartment complex to make it to the Citadel, but it will also be an excellent opportunity to experience some City 17 home cooking! Let's be off!"
Gordon walked through the trash- filled hallways of the Tenement, occasionally stepping over a shuddering body on the ground. "Right, let's take a look at what's cooking in this apartment!"
Without further pause Gordon kicked the door off it's hinges and strode into the filthy apartment, eliciting screams from it's residents. One man stood up from his chair. "Oh, man, You scared me! I thought you were Civil Pro-" No further words came from the man, as Gordon had knocked him out with a swift punch to the temple. The other residents screamed and fled, but Gordon grabbed a woman by the arm. "Hold on a minute, you fucking poodle! I'm filming a goddamn documentary here and You will cook me some fucking food, or I will slay you and everyone you know!" Terrified, the woman hobbled over to the Hotplate and broken refrigerator that passed for a kitchen and withdrew a small can of expired peas and a Can of DrBreens Private Reserve. "Please, sir, It's all I have!" Cried the woman.
With strength unbecoming of a celebrity chef, Gordon picked up the woman and hurled her through the third story window. "Piss off, you ugly pig!"
Gordon then diverted his attention to the can of beans. He shoved the entire can into his mouth and chewed, spitting out shards of aluminum in disgust. He leaned out the recently shattered window. "It's fucking RAW anyway!" The woman's body on the streets below had no response. "Right, enough with this bullshite, on to the citadel!"
Right as the chef was about to leave the apartment, 4 civil protection soldiers stormed in. "Civil Protection! Prepare to recieve judge- Wait a minute, no one's here. Except for that enraged British man."
Chef Ramsay's face grew dark, and a strange red aura surrounded him.
"I'm Scottish, you plonker."
With that, the chef let out a primal roar, and flung himself upon the CP. He tore apart the unfortunate cop with his bare hands.
BOOOO-BEEEP came the sound from the officer's uniform as it registered his death with the overwatch central control.
"RAW, RAW, RAW, RAW, RAWWW!" Screamed the chef as he ripped the cop's limbs off.
He looked up. The three remaining cops stood there looking at him blankly.
Gordon stood up and swiped the blood from the front of his apron. He cleared his throat.
"Roight.."
The CPs fired up their stun batons and drew 9mm pistols.
The cameraman shivered, specks of blood adorning his disheveled, anemic face. The chef strode through the halls with a newfound purpose, seemingly ignoring metro cops hiding behind closed doors, hoping that the enraged man wouldn't choose their door next. Eventually he reached the attic of the building.
"Fresh air. I need some after the RANCID FUCKING SHITE IN THERE" he howled over his shoulder.
As he stepped out onto the roof, a distant sound like propellers could be heard. Gordon strained his eyes against the light, but what he saw gave him newfound vigor. A combine gunship. The insectoid synth was on a routine patrol path, it's cybernetic compound eyes scanning the streets below for signs of dissent.
"Well, fuck me. It seems like we may have a decent meal yet. This is a hallmark of regional cuisine, the famous City 17 Escargot!"
With a sudden, impressive burst of strength, the Chef leaped hundreds of feet into the air, easily closing the gap between himself and the synth. With an enraged furor, Ramsay landed upon the synth, who's intelligence could not have prepared it for this. Ramsay began ripping through the gunship's chitin-like armor plates, wrestling the creature to the ground, and crashing directly into a house.
Ramsay immediately began ripping out chunks of the gunship's meat with great savagery, his insatiable hunger undeterred. As he severed a vein-like hose with his teeth, viscous biological hydraulic fluid began pouring out. With this, Ramsay quenched his thirst, and then shot into the sky once more, landing on the roof beside his befuddled cameraman, in a shower of shattered clay tiles.
As the pair walked on the roof, a Civil Protection APC pulled up on the street below, noticing that two humans were travelling on a non-designated area. Upon noticing the identity of the viscera-covered scotsman, they immediately ducked back inside the APC, the illusion of safety it provided was some comfort.
Gordon drove his wrinkled scottish skull through a dormer's pane of glass, and stepped inside. As he walked down the stairs within, they suddenly gave out, and the chef and his unfortunate accomplice plummeted to the floor below. As Ramsay got up without missing a beat, he hauled up his barely-conscious companion by his shirttails.
Walking out into the hall, Ramsay found himself suddenly surrounded by more pesky metrocops.
As the leader sparked his baton, he spoke in the distinctive vocoded voice that all cops possessed-
"Now, listen here you crazy Irish fucker. Not only did you rip one of my squads to pieces, but you also rampaged through a tenement building, and I was really looking forward to doing that myself. So now you will pay!"
A malicious grin appeared on Ramsay's face.
Right as the last cop took his dying breath, the door opened and a Young, Afro-Asian woman stepped in. She appeared very confident and collected. That is, until she stepped through the door and observed the scene within. Two men were there, and while both were covered in an inordinate amount of blood, it was very clear which of them was the cause of the dismemberment of the several men who she had followed into the building.
As she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor in sheer terror, Gordon strode up to her.
"Excuse me madam, but would you mind taking your BREASTS out of the doorway? How can I walk through it with those things flopping around there?"
Before the woman could react to the demon standing before her, she was batted out of the way in a rather merciful fashion.