A/N: The only warning I have for this one is tobacco use. So don't do it, okay children? Okay.

Hesitantly, Alyx crept towards the small room. She stepped through the doorframe (what remained of it, anyways; Violet's forceful entry had split some of the frame) and was appalled at what she saw.

Both Metrocops were lying contorted on the ground, parts of their uniforms singed black. There was an awful smell in the air, almost like burnt rubber. A pistol and a stunstick were also charred and trailing thin lines of smoke into the air. Alyx looked from this mess to Violet, who had a dash of pride in her apathetic face. It was in the set of her mouth, Alyx decided; for the mutated woman's lips were curled up slightly at the corners, an unfamiliar disruption on her face. Turning her attention away, Alyx noticed a pair of large doors in front of her and the other woman.

But no sooner had Alyx taken note of the presence of the doors, Violet was very carefully opening the doors and stepping outside into the afternoon's light. Tilting her head as if listening, she gave Alyx the same 'Follow me' glare. Sparing one last look at the murdered Combine, Alyx followed with a sigh.

"No turning back now."

In the building opposite from which Alyx and Violet had just escaped, there was a slight congregation in the third room to the left off of the main hallway of the first level.

"Strategically chosen, of course," a man named John Cole said.

"Hah, 'strategically chosen'? Yeah sure, John," another man, Aaron Beck, chimed in, "and I'm a bowl full of rainbow sorbet."

"Sorbet? Where?" A rather large, muscular man named Jim Irvine chimed in with a good natured smile.

General laughter issued from the group of eight rebels scattered about the unnaturally large room. John was actually right about their hiding place, it was located in a relatively quiet part of the city and it was a room large enough to comfortably house the eight inhabitants, even if they were only staying the night. The two medics, Jane Prince and Sam Fowler, were seated near the two larger fighters of the group, Jim Irvine and Mark Prowda. The lucky ones who had nabbed the couch were John Cole, Aaron Beck, and Stephanie Schwartz, the latter of the three forced to perch on the armrest of the small couch. The eighth fighter lounged on an empty crate against a wall. She was preoccupied with a small leather messenger bag at her side, the length of her long dark ponytail hanging in her face, obscuring her features as she searched the bag.

Then, a noise quieted the idle chatter of the group. It was the opening and closing of a door. Stephanie Schwartz nimbly crept over to her own pack and took out a small pistol. She nodded to the fighter who formerly occupied the crate but now held a .45 in her right hand, standing tensely now. She nodded to Stephanie and they both made their silent way to the door. They stood on opposite sides of the door, listening intently for any more sound. The entire group had found their weapons and had assumed positions in the rear of the room, ready for a fight.

Two sets of footsteps were heard from the hallway, one set sounding considerably lighter than the other. They did not sound like the hard clumping steps of the Combine, but that detracted not from the group's tension at all. And strangely, though the door they were hiding behind was as nondescript as the others, the steps stopped right on the other side.

From that side, two brief loud knocks were heard. The two women fighters tensed, disengaging the safety on their respective weapons with two off-timed clicks. A brief look passed between them; before Stephanie grabbed the doorknob, twisting it and throwing open the door, pointing her pistol in the face of Alyx Vance.

The two just stood there, one frozen by fear, the other by adrenaline. When Stephanie saw that Alyx posed no threat, she exhaled and shook out the tension in her arms. Turning back to the group in the room, she yelled, "Clear!"

The others put down their weapons and resumed their places. Stephanie extended a hand to Alyx. "Hey, sorry about that, we were just a little on edge,"

Alyx smiled, "It's okay, times aren't really what they once were." At this, Stephanie nodded.

"Well, you should probably come in with us, it won't do any harm to have a ninth."

"Sure, I'll be a second though," Alyx said, relieved at Stephanie's shrug and smile as she retreated back in to the room. Alyx turned to Violet, who had pressed herself up against the wall next to the door, on full alert still. "Come on, Violet, they mean no harm," she pleaded, trying to shake the woman's iron will. Surprisingly, the woman relaxed but still drew herself up to her full height, as if to say that she was not going to trust them completely. Though Violet had lost her function of speech, she was intelligent and not easily fooled. That was part of what scared Alyx the most about the woman.

Alyx ventured into the room with Violet's light steps behind her. She watched as she caught the attention of all eight people in the room and then as their span shifted to Violet's presence. Alyx watched as one by one, all of their faces changed to expressions of mixed awe and puzzlement. Stephanie, still riveted by the presence of the mutated woman, spoke softly when she introduced each fighter. Violet surveyed each fighter evenly, her yellow eyes flashing. Alyx could only guess at what was going on in the enigmatic workings of Violet's brain. The circuitry that had been placed in her skull was busy processing and storing the names and correlating faces of each fighter.

Clearing her throat, Alyx began, "I am Alyx Vance, my father is Doctor Eli Vance-"

At that moment, the medic named Sam Fowler leapt up at the mention of Alyx's father. "Eli! I know him!" Alyx was immediately intrigued.

"Really? From where?" She asked.

Sam ran a hand through his fair hair. "He was the first one who saw me off the train when I arrived in City 17, now I have no idea where he is."

Alyx nodded and made a mental note to talk with Sam later as she remembered to introduce Violet. "And this is my friend, Violet." She motioned to the black-armored woman, who simply nodded and blinked a bit longer than normal in recognition of her introduction. Alyx continued, "So, it may be immaterial, but who is your leader, I mean, if you have one…?"

The entire group turned to the woman on the crate with obedience and a good-natured chuckle from a few. She looked at them, with a quirk of her eyebrow but got off her crate anyways. She walked towards Alyx and Violet with a sort of swagger; cutting a confident figure in the low light, her dark ponytail swinging. She carried a cigar and a white-colored lighter in one hand; what she had been digging for in her bag.

"I'm Jordan Newkirk, as Stephanie has said; and our impromptu leader as well, I suppose," her smooth voice was met with a few laughs from the group. Jordan took the moment to carefully light her cigar and exhale the smoke into the air. She continued, "As you can see, we're not staying here long," she motioned to their packs in various areas of the room with her smoking hand, "and if you couldn't tell already, we're a small resistance group. And we're a formidable one, if I do say so myself."

This sentiment was met with a general group cry of assent, various 'yeah!'s and nods. Jordan took another puff off of her cigar and exhaled the smoke through her nose. "So, you and…Violet, is it?" At this, Violet nodded mechanically. Jordan went on, unperturbed, "yes, you and Violet are welcome to join us. Do you have any weapons?"

For a fleeting moment, Alyx almost said 'yes', but she remembered that she had left her trusty pistol beneath her pillow back at Black Mesa East.

"No, I don't have my gun with me."

Jordan nodded at Violet. "What about her?"

Alyx remembered the two charred Combine and repressed a shudder. "She's fine as she is."

Jordan smiled wide, revealing a row of surprisingly white teeth. But there was something about the smile that made Alyx uneasy. It was more of a shark's wide grin than anything.

"Well then, welcome! We'll find you a gun, Alyx, if there's one thing we've got, it's firepower." Jordan exhaled smoke through her nose again, this time eliciting a joking remark from Jim.

"Violet, any more of that and you won't be able to run like you do!"

"Oh please, Jim," she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes, "it's my first one in months!"

And with that, Alyx was quickly accepted into the ranks of the small group of guerilla fighters. Initially, Violet kept her distance, but ventured closer as the sun sank below the horizon and the small room grew dark. Jane Prince and Sam Fowler scavenged for a bit in the other rooms and recovered a couple mattresses for Alyx and Violet; the others having already set up their bedrolls.

As everyone bedded down, Jim Irvine and Stephanie Schwartz stayed apart from the group. When Alyx asked Jordan why they had not set up yet, she responded that they were simply taking the first watch.

"We rotate the watch all night," she said, stubbing out the remainder of her cigar and carefully wrapping it, storing the rest in her bag, "with the city how it is, we can never afford to be completely blind and deaf. That's when they get us."

Jordan didn't need to clarify; Alyx knew exactly who 'they' were. She made her way over to her mattress and lay down. Violet had retired on the mattress next to her; Alyx could see her normally quickened respiration had slowed somewhat, her ribs rose and fell slightly slower. Alyx pulled the thin blanket Jane found over her and closed her eyes, eventually settling into a light sleep.

A/N: I actually like this chapter. And here's the characters from 'Merciless'! Haven't read it yet? Go here! (remove spaces, of course)

http:// www. fanfiction. net /s/4840669 /1/ Merciless_A_ Portrait_Of_A_Rebel

Cake and wishes times two

For those who fave and review.