-=Chapter Eight: Reacquisition=-
White Forest, 6:39 PM
As Gordon's stolen Hunter-Chopper slowly descended through the dark evening sky onto the wet concrete helipad outside the damaged hangar of White Forest, his mind was reeling from everything that was happening. Alyx is kidnapped... Shephard's alive... and both these facts are somehow tied to me being brutally murdered in one way or another.
It was a depressing thought, that so many people wanted him dead. Then again, so many people wanted him alive and gazed upon him like he was some kind of Messiah. Which he wasn't. He was simply a human being who fought for the redemption of his brothers.
Defence, Destruction and Vengeance... that's why I fight.
And until the Combine was completely wiped from the face of this planet, he was going to keep on fighting to defend, destroy and avenge.
But... after I'm done fighting... what do I do then?
To be honest, Gordon had never considered what he might do after destroying the Combine. The first thing that came to mind was trying to live whatever fragments of normal life could be pieced together from the shards of the idyllic mirror that the Combine had shattered, most certainly with Alyx.
And for that to happen, I need to get her back.
Dammit, why did she have to get captured? Why did he have to get knocked out when his helicopter went down? Why did his helicopter have to go down? Why did the Combine even have to come and take over a planet that did nothing as an incentive to do so?
Life was full of crap. But sometimes, you just had to come with the crap and scoop it all away so you could find the many diamonds hidden in it.
Like Alyx. Oh, Alyx. The finest diamond of them all, captured by the foulest of the aforementioned solid waste. Ridiculous analogies aside, Gordon didn't just want her. He needed her. Her safety was absolutely paramount in his life, not only because of his feelings for her, and hers for him... but in respect of her father, and her mother.
He was going to get her back.
Because if he didn't, then every single other diamond in life was instantly transformed into crap, and his life was not worth living.
—
"Gordon," Dr. Kleiner addressed the theoretical physicist after he'd sat himself down in one of the ugly green couches in Kleiner's office, along with Barney and Magnusson, "you didn't tell us you didn't have Alyx..."
Gordon winced uncomfortably. Damn, he was right. "Ah... right, sorry about that."
Magnusson huffed. "Next time, try not to take everything for granted, Dr. Freeman. Remember, everyone has expectations of you, so when you don't clarify we usually — and quite irresponsibly, as you have now shown — take it you have been successful."
"Alright, geez, I'll tell you next time," Gordon raised his hands indignantly. "My brain wasn't thinking straight, since I'd just been shot at by a dead man."
Kleiner raised a finger, "if I may," he interjected politely. "Dr. Freeman, you claimed that you know the identity of the man who stole the Russian helicopter from this base. Could you please tell us who that might be?"
Gordon sighed. "Unless the guy who shot at me had stolen his clothes, it was Corporal Adrian Shephard, an ex-HECU Marine from Black Mesa with a grudge against me for defending myself against his mates."
"And how did he get here?"
Gordon was almost about to ask why they didn't know, but then again they didn't really have a reason to the knowledge before now. "Long story that involves the Gman and some kind of test to strengthen my abilities. The Gman said he killed him yesterday after the Phyx raised him..."
"Yes, yes, the Gman told us this morning before he left," Magnusson waved his hand impatiently. "They raised him and then he killed him, then something happened and now he's had to go back."
"Right," Gordon agreed slowly.
"So the guy isn't dead?" Barney inquired.
"I don't know how, but that appears to be the case," Gordon affirmed. "He didn't chase me in another Hunter-Chopper, though, but I guess he figured I come back here and he'd get shot down."
"So now what?"
Gordon shrugged. "How should I know? He somehow found out that we were at the Dnieper River... maybe he's got a contact that's telling him where I am?"
"Who would have access to such information?"
"Maybe there's a mole at White Forest," Gordon suggested.
Magnusson snorted. "I doubt that. The human race is universally in agreement that you, Dr. Freeman, are the hottest thing since buttered bread and that if anyone will destroy the Combine then you will be an essential part of their downfall."
"This Marine guy wants him dead," Barney reminded Magnusson.
"And how many ex-Marines do we have at White Forest, Mr. Calhoun?" Magnusson retorted angrily.
Barney retreated into defensive silence.
"It doesn't matter," Gordon decided, bringing their attention back to the matter at hand. "I bet the Gman knows who his contact is and that's why he's out there. I don't know that for sure, but it seems likely."
The group gave a few quiet words of concurrence.
"OK," Gordon leaned back in his seat. "I need to get Alyx back. I have no idea where she's been taken, but I do know that the Combine is just waiting for me to barge in and try to save her. We need the Gman's help for this."
"As you just reminded us, he is out in the field looking for this apparent 'contact' of the ex-Marine trying to kill you," Magnusson interrupted.
"I know that," Gordon answered, frowning at Magnusson. "But surely he can take a break to help us out."
"That seems entirely reasonable, Dr. Freeman," the Gman agreed, closing the office door behind him as he strode calmly into the room.
"I will seriously never get used to that..." Barney muttered quietly.
"So you can help us?" Gordon asked as the Gman sat himself down in the empty couch to Barney's right.
"I don't see why not," the Gman shrugged. "I haven't had any form of success concerning my current assignment, since my target is rather excellent at evading me. When would you like me to retrieve Ms. Vance?"
"Uh... well, at the first possible occasion would be nice," Gordon admitted.
The Gman nodded curtly. "Right. I guess I'll be seeing you all in a little while." And with that, he stood back up, brushed himself off and walked to the door, opening it and walking through, before disappearing as the door clicked shut.
"That was rather abrupt," Magnusson noted.
"Indeed," Kleiner agreed, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Well now... now that the issue concerning Ms. Vance is being seen to, what else is there for us to do?"
Since the group had no suggestions, Magnusson decided everyone could leave. After a brief wave to the senior scientists, Gordon and Barney exited the office.
"So..." Barney nodded at Gordon. "Even though the mission kinda got screwed five minutes in... you still up for that celebratory beer?"
Gordon laughed. "It still is celebratory, Barney. It celebrates the day you actually kept your promise."
Barney chuckled. "Guess it is. Alright, you go get it from wherever you left it and I'll meet you in the staff room in, what, ten minutes?"
"Sounds like a plan." Gordon nodded.
"Alrighty, see you soon, buddy." Barney gave a casual wave before heading off.
Rostock, Germany, 6:55 PM
The Gman strode down the wide hallway, looking at all the dozens of thick wooden doors lining the right side of the corridor. Glancing over at the opposite side, he saw that it was almost exactly a mirror image of the right. The doors were surprisingly close together, he noticed. That meant the cells would be appallingly small, perhaps the size of an average shower.
Stopping in the middle of the hallway, he looked around the bland area. Everything was there, from dim lighting to dull flaking paint on the walls and insipid grey concrete that added to the boring, utilitarian decor of the corridor.
It needed some colour desperately.
Footfalls on concrete echoed from behind the Gman, who turned his head idly to look back at the stairs that ascended to a higher level of the facility.
A guard marched down the stairs, stopping to take a brief look at both sides of the cell block before continuing on toward the stairwell on the opposite side that looped back around to the level below.
The Gman tapped the soldier on the shoulder from behind him. Unlike the idiot henchmen commonly unfortunate enough to be employed by fictitious billionaire villains, the guard spun around and took a quick step backward to shoot whoever it was. Sadly, he wasn't fast enough for the Gman, who grabbed the muzzle of his pulse rifle and swiftly thrust the buttstock into his abdominal area. The blunt metal stock went right through his body, splattering the ground with thick droplets of blood as it and three of his lower ribs jabbed out his back, effectively impaling him with his own ribcage. The Gman simply let go of the rifle as the soldier fell forward lifelessly, the ground pushing the gun even further into his body as he landed on it.
The Gman nodded approvingly at the mess. Bright crimson, he noted, very nice choice, if I do say so myself.
Turning from the body, the Gman looked around the hallway again before clapping his hands together with an almighty bang that reverberated off the walls and all through the facility, and every single door in the facility opened up. Violently.
It wasn't just the cell doors that exploded outwards, flying into each other in the middle of the cell blocks before clattering to the floor in various pieces of dismembered splinters. Every door was thrown from its frame. Those of the staff quarters, the mess hall, even the Combine bathrooms with their unusual wall-mounted hose apparatuses was not spared the power of the Gman.
That was when the torrent of inmates rushed out of their cells, ready to beat some Combine ass.
—
"I have to go."
"Uh..." Shephard frowned, looking out for the flock of birds flying past his Hunter-Chopper, "alright then. What's up?"
"Something just came up. The man I am looking for just gave away his position. Now I have the perfect opportunity to gain the upper hand against him."
Shephard shrugged to himself. "Well, don't let me get in your way, wherever you are."
He didn't get a reply, though, so he focused on flying.
—
The first thing she saw when she woke up was the blurred and dark image of a man in dirty denim clothing and tattered combat webbing that hung loosely around his body. "Miss, you awake?"
Alyx groaned, sitting up in her chair. She realised she'd been untied, presumably by the man in front of her. "Who... who are you?"
The man grinned. "The name's Lawrence," he extended a hand that looked as if it belonged to a builder, "and we're getting the hell outta here."
Alyx took the hand, and the man helped pull her up. "Wait... where am I?"
The man chuckled to himself as he walked out the door. "You don't know where this is?" he asked her as they walked into the hallway, which was somehow full of celebrating prisoners, "Combine barracks in Germany. City of Rostock, up in the north." He looked back at her with a confident smile, before his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Holy shi— Alyx Vance?" he exclaimed in disbelief. Apparently, her cell had been too dark for him to actually see who she was.
Alyx frowned, looking around the corridor at the people standing in it. Those nearby had just stopped what they were doing when they heard her name. "Yeah?" she affirmed, slightly confused. "What's going on?"
The man looked at her as if she were completely insane. "You're Alyx Vance!" he repeated, as if she hadn't heard him the first time. "Shit, how'd they get you?"
"W-well," she scratched her neck, not quite sure what was happening, "I was fighting in Ukraine when the Combine captured me... I think it was this afternoon. My chopper got shot down."
"So you were with the Romanian Resistance, right?" the man pressed.
"Yeah... look, what's happening? Why's everyone out of their cells?"
The man grinned again, wider this time. "No idea. All of the cell doors just blew up," he gestured to what remained of the wooden doors lying on the concrete floor, now in piles of splinted chips, "and yeah, we all ran out."
Alyx cocked an eyebrow. "All the doors flew off their frames?"
"It's crazy, I know," the man agreed.
Alyx nodded slowly. "Yeah..." she muttered, thinking whether the theory that was swirling around her head was possible or not. "Crazy."
At that moment, somebody started talking in her head. Ms. Vance. Get out of the building with the other inmates. I will contact Dr. Freeman and the others and request that they come and pick you up as something has come up that demands I attend to it.
The voice... it seemed to drown out everything else, like a narration over background noise. Alyx didn't know how to reply, or say she'd heard him or anything, so she just decided that the Gman really was here and that he'd let everyone out somehow.
You are correct, Ms. Vance, the Gman answered in her head. I am about to request the Romanian Resistance make their way here so as to evacuate you and whatever prisoners they can. Please hurry, Ms. Vance, as I am unsure how long this building will stay standing.
Alyx had no idea what he meant by that, but it didn't sound good.
What I mean... is that I am about to engage an old friend in physical combat.
—
Dr. Freeman, Kleiner, Magnusson and Mr. Calhoun.
"Did you hear that?" Gordon hissed at Barney, who was sitting opposite him at a small metal table in the staff room. Barney nodded slowly, his eyes darting around as if looking for the source.
I have freed Ms. Vance from her cell in the Combine barracks a little to the north of the New Market in Rostock, Germany. I would return with her myself, however, the man I have been attempting to track down this past day evidently discovered my location when I instantaneously opened every door in the building. We are now delving in what I would barely consider gentlemanly conversation before we rip each other's brains out. It is absolutely essential that you make your way over here in case I am unsuccessful at escaping or defeating my target before either the building collapses or the Combine kill her. If either of these things has to happen, I can promise you it will not be the latter.
—
"Surely you cannot consider your argument rational?" the Gman asked of the man standing before him.
"Why ever not?" the man demanded, his eyes burning with rage. "You tried to kill me, without motive and without any provocation from myself."
"You know why we had to kill you."
"What crime had I committed against you?"
"Playing the fool will not assist you in any way," the Gman whispered. "You were entirely aware of your proposed actions and the consequences thereof."
"My proposition was in no way detrimental to you or the Fissionists." The man retorted.
"There is no possible way in which you can refute the immoral nature of what you were intending on doing."
"What is immorality?" the man snapped back. "Such is founded on the principles of right and wrong, of which there is no universal standard!"
"Your words suggest that you possess evidential proof on which your argument is based," the Gman noted. "Have you witnessed a social convention in which your actions would be considered a conformation to the accepted norm?"
"Yes, I have!" the man growled. "My own. My own decisions are of irrefutable stability. I am in no way suffering from any damaging mental issues that would inadvertently bias my opinions!"
"So you claim your choices are not the material of any sort of mental retardation?"
"Of course not!"
"Then you can only be classified as insane."
The man's tone seemed to lighten. "Perhaps. But only if I am viewed likewise by those who write history, which I am confident you know is always written by the victors."
The Gman just stared at him. "I assume you are convinced you will be that victor?"
"You said it yourself," the man shrugged. "My actions are considered immoral by the social conventions of this planet's native inhabitants. Well, I can see why my theory of single-species supremacy would be viewed as such in their eyes."
"That is not the issue, and you know as much." The Gman growled. "Your theory makes rational sense. The way in which you proposed to go about it is not."
"I proposed that we painlessly destroy every single other form of sentient life in the universe so as to free them from the unavoidable curse of life! I fail to see how this can be considered 'immoral'!"
"You don't consider universal genocide immoral?"
"Gregory..." the man sighed. "Think about it seriously. Our job is to defend the universe. If we instantaneously and painlessly destroy everyone in the universe apart from ourselves, we will have defended the universe."
"And how is that a beneficial idea in any way, shape or form?"
"The Fissionist Faction is the epitome of intelligent life! The universe will be a perfect utopia when it is inhabited by us and only us!"
The Gman just stared at him sadly. "How could I have become the corrupt creature standing before me?"
The man opposite him just chuckled coldly, brushing off the lapels of his blue suit and adjusting his purple tie. "Oh, quite easily. Surely all those years you spent watching the Combine tear this planet and the human race apart in your timeline affected you?"
"Of course it did! But it didn't drive me to become some sort of genocidal perfectionist as it has to you!"
The other man sighed again. "For some reason, things didn't stay consistent when you came to this timeline and I have become you gone wrong."
"I'm glad you agree with me in that case." The Gman smiled tightly.
"Well, 'you gone wrong' just sounds more... poetic."
"And now we fight."
"To see who will write history."
OK, from here on out it is going to be action. Now you know practically everything you need to know, apart from the obvious expansion of why one Gman has been convinced that killing everyone in the universe so they can no longer feel pain is an ingenious idea.
Next chapter: Gordon and the Romanian Resistance have to get Alyx out, Alyx has to escape with the other prisoners... and both Member Eights will fight.
