The John Freeman Saga, Volume I: At the Top of Lungs
(Author's note: READ) This is based off Half Life: Full Life Consequences by squirrelking, which is a "so bad it's good" ff. If my story seems weird, it's supposed to be (read squirrelking's story first). I'm not too familiar with the Half Life games, so if I accidently butcher the canon, I apologize (but that's pretty much the defenition of the original story). And remember, reviews are appreciated, and encourage me to update faster!
Chapter 1
It was almost noon in the city. All around people began stirring outdoors, headed to restaurants and coffee shops for their lunch break. Most of them walked, which left the streets relatively quiet, probably the quietest they would be before rush hour.
At the center of downtown the tallest skyscrapers stood, monuments to corporate achievement. Their southern sides were illuminated with the midday sun, its heat reflected on the city below. Farther out the lesser businesses had to jostle for prominence in smaller structures. Near where the commercial zones ended and apartments began to dominate the streets, there was a smattering of office buildings in need of repair. It was one of the cheapest places in town to rent office space, and most of the area displayed that fact. Litter was a constant problem, and the road needed maintenance dollars that were being spent elsewhere.
It was in one of these buildings, a five-story box of concrete and plain windows, that John Freeman worked. His office was on the third floor, overlooking the sorry scene below. At the moment, John was staring into his computer monitor, doing what he did most days: trying to keep his barely-fledging accounting firm from going under. It was tedious work, but it was the career he had stumbled into.
Freeman Accounting was the proud employer of four people, sharing a spread of cubicles with two other businesses on that floor. John's personal office was one of the few extravagances he could afford, but one that he couldn't was a secretary. He handled most of his sparse scheduling himself, or dumped it on a subordinate if he didn't feel like it.
Clients were tough to come by when your office looked like the product of an architecture school dropout. Luckily, computers made it easy to gain customers while keeping your office safely out of view. The price of that blessing was spending long hours on the computer, rounding up advertising opportunities. John was online doing just that. Or rather, meaning to do that. Today he could find no interest in his work. Now would be a good time for a vacation, he thought. Why can't something exciting happen?
After realizing that he hadn't actually gotten any work done in half an hour, John decided to check his email. It would provide a few minutes of welcome distraction. He didn't usually check his personal email when he was working, but today (like a lot of days recently) would be an exception. He fired up his web browser and went straight to Gmail. After logging in, he opened the inbox.
The first message was from his insurance company, telling him about some new policy that he desperately needed. Yeah, I'm sure I'll die if I don't get more health coverage. John scrolled down the list, not bothering to open any of the messages just yet. There was a notification that one of the blogs he followed had posted recently. A friend had sent him a PM on Facebook. His mother had written him. As he was breezing through the rest of the new messages, the last one caught his eye. It was from Gordon Freeman.
Gordon wrote? Good, I haven't heard from him in weeks. John's older brother was pretty much the opposite of him when it came to careers. While John had been bouncing around between jobs for years, Gordon had gone to MIT. After years there he graduated at the top of his class with a Ph.D. in physics. The two of them had been close for their entire lives, even while college separated them. After college their lives had taken very different paths. While John finally got a degree in the accounting world, Gordon was off studying the limits of science. For years he had worked at Black Mesa, the world's premier scientific research facility. His job seemed to be going great, until the big accident. How Gordon escaped from that place John had no idea. John asked him once, but got no response. Gordon didn't like to talk about his time at Black Mesa, and John soon learned not to ask.
But still the two of them stayed in touch, even as Gordon removed himself from civilization. He had taken to living near Ravenholm, an abandoned city hundreds of miles from where John lived. It had good reason to be abandoned: the creatures from Black Mesa now infested the place. John often wondered if Gordon lived there because of some fascination with the creatures he had apparently encountered before. In any case, email was usually the only way they kept in touch. John clicked the message and read the first line.
John, I'm in trouble.
His mind came to a complete stop. What could that mean? John thought. He continued reading.
It started last night. Those creatures. They're in greater numbers than I've ever seen. I'm stuck out here, they're blocking the way out. I'm trying to hold them back, but they keep coming. Please, help me! I have to go,
-Gordon
John stared in disbelief. He had known that the monsters caused trouble occasionally, but Gordon could always handle it. If he was calling for help, he must really be in trouble. John sat still for a whole minute, staring at the computer screen with his hand on his forehead. What am I supposed to do? He asked himself. If it's as bad as he's implying, then I can't take them all on by myself. Maybe I should call the army… no, Gordon told me never to let the authorities know where he is. Something about the trouble at Black Mesa. But what can I do?
His mind was racing when he realized the true gravity of the situation. Gordon couldn't go to anyone else for help. John was the only one who could respond. And aside from his own wife and son, Gordon was almost the only family he had. At that moment John Freeman knew what he had to do.
He hit his computer's power button, not bothering to shut it down properly. Shoving his chair aside, he strode through his office door and barged past the cubicles, hastily telling one of his employees that he was leaving and didn't know when he would be back. Coming to the elevator, he impatiently hit the "up" button until the doors slid open. Moments later he was on the top floor, where he dashed for the roof access.
John's mild friendship with the building manager allowed him a few benefits, and the most important was letting certain things against policy slip by. Outside the door opening onto the roof, John yanked a tarp off a large object to reveal a jet-black motorcycle. It was one of his oddities, keeping that thing all the way up here. It had been a pain to fit in the elevator, but he had done it; and the vehicle had waited up here for months. An employee once asked him why he bothered to keep his motorcycle on the roof instead of in the parking garage. John told him not to ask stupid questions.
From the motorcycle's luggage compartment John pulled a bundle of clothes, which he quickly unwrapped. A shirt and tie wasn't exactly ideal for riding, so he kept the change of clothes with his motorcycle. A minute later John stood with jeans and a leather jacket replacing his old clothes, a wool cap on his head. Now he felt ready to tackle the open road.
So he could get off the roof in a hurry, John had installed a ramp that faced the alley in back. It was positioned at an angle so he wouldn't crash into the adjacent building when he tried to use it. The building manager had complained when John installed it without permission, but twenty dollars had shut him up.
The motorcycle started with a roar, and John maneuvered it into alignment with the ramp. For one last time he checked to make sure he had everything he needed. He didn't have time to go out and buy food; but he had money, so he could buy it on the way if he needed to. Throwing his right leg over the vehicle and getting on, he paused one last time. This isn't going to be easy, he thought, but I've got to do it anyway. Freeman is my name, and I've got to free Gordon from the danger he is in. It's time for me to face the consequences of living up to my family name!
John gunned the motor and pulled his foot off the ground as his motorcycle leapt forward. He crouched behind the windshield as he reached the ramp and launched into the air, keeping a vise grip on the handlebars as he and the motorcycle backflipped. John braced himself for the jolt of the tires connecting with the ground. Once he landed, John gunned the gas again and went zipping down the alley and onto the street. A car swerved to avoid him, but he didn't have time to stop and apologize. He made a beeline for the highway, and in minutes he was on his way out of town.
The roar of the wind filled his ears as John left the city and rode into the rural surroundings. He glanced around occasionally, just to make sure that there were none of the monsters from Black Mesa to get in his way. As John sped off towards Ravenholm and away from his home his thoughts were with Gordon. Don't worry, bro. I'm coming!