CITY 17: DR. BREEN'S OFFICE, 11:07 AM

DR. WALLACE BREEN P.O.V

Dr. Wallace Breen. Administrator of Earth, its ruler, its protector, its saviour. The word had reached him: City 8 was bordering open revolt, with Civil Protection spread out too thin. However, Breen did nothing. He merely paced around his office, in a calm and controlled manner, awaiting a transmission from the Far Side. If his last meeting was any indicator, whoever he would be meeting now would most certainly be someone of significant importance to Earth's further 'development'.

"Dr. Wallace Breen... no, not respectful enough." Breen said silently, rehearsing some of the lines he had to recite for the Breencast. This was to supplement the Breencast nicely, he thought. His pacing was disrupted by a loud ping coming from the console behind his desk, mounted onto a wall, surrounded by glass from both sides. He moved towards it, and with the push of a single button, the screen activated, revealing a well lit room, and a woman with light brown hair tied into a ponytail with a beige blouse standing. Breen visibly frowned.

"Dr. Mossman, your timing couldn't have been more awful. I am expecting a call from Our Benefactors, and you my dear are interfering." He said sternly, trying to rush the conversation to an end.

"I am sorry, Dr. Breen, but I simply have to give my regular report. It will only take a minute." She replied, gaining a sigh from Breen. However, she was usually precise about her timing, and as such, with a motion of his hand, allowed her to continue.

"The Resistance is continuing to perfect the Calabi-Yau Model, however, they are continuing to encounter some problems." She paused. "Eli Vance is, however, close to to making a breakthrough."

"I see." Breen said. "And why, Dr. Mossman, are you still delaying his capture? You can, with the research he has, continue the project by yourself."

"Dr. Breen, he is invaluable, and I want him to realize how much good he can do if he joined willingly, but I need more-" Mossman stated, having been cut-off by several pings coming from an adjacent console from Breen's office.

"Judith, do wait a moment." Breen said, excusing himself, so as to see the contents of the message he had been sent. For a faint moment, he just stood there, unable to fathom what was asked of him from the Benefactors. There was no doubt, this message came directly from the Combine Overworld.

'Mossman is concealing information. Ask for subspace anomalies.'

Breen, while confused as to how exactly they could have known this information, quickly remembered that these were their Benefactors. They had eyes and ears everywhere. Breen turned back to the monitor, a neutral Judith looking back.

"Judith, my dear, is there something you aren't telling me?" Breen asked inquisitively, prompting Judith to take a tiny step back, likely due to the fact that he was right, and that her 'secret', whatever it was, was no longer safe.

"Whatever do you mean? I delivered every report with precise information." She stated, and Breen nodded. Judith indeed had delivered true reports in the past, and even now. Yet, Breen's orders were to be followed by the letter: no deviation.

"Judith, as far as I am aware, the subspace scanners within the Resistance base you're in have far more accurate readings than ours, correct? If so, please tell me exactly what they say." Breen demanded, putting emphasis on the 'tell' part of his demand. He could see Judith sighing, excusing herself for but a moment, so as to look at the readings, requiring time to fine-tune the scanners. Although Breen couldn't see it, Judith was worried.

"Dr. Breen, the readings show a subspace anomaly in early stages of formation somewhere between City Seventeen and one of the Resistance outposts." She paused. "It's consistent with portal energies."

Breen was pleasantly surprised by this revelation, but still wondered why she would conceal such information from him. Alas, before he could ponder further on the subject, or speak to her once more, the primary screen moved out of its position, the visual link splitting between Judith and total darkness, before revealing one of the Benefactors. It wore the signature gas mask over the orifice that humanity would call a mouth, with metallic appendages, extremely similar to arms, folded in. A protective sack covered its frail body, protecting it against the elements of whatever treacherous planet it was currently inhabiting. It was situated inside of a dimly lit room, the red colour dominating. And then, it spoke, telepathically, to Breen.

"Inquire about validity. Sigma-Tachyon Relays are detecting no portal signatures. Her claims are inconsistent with our projections. Employer interference is astronomically unlikely." It commanded, the Benefactor speaking telepathically with a sharp tone, ordering Breen to do as it said. And Breen, both puppet and puppeteer, complied.

"Dr. Mossman, I have to urge you to confirm your claims. This can't possibly be happening, and I need proof of this before I can act, surely you realize that." Breen said, hastily so, having been caught off-guard by the sudden transmission from the Benefactors. But Judith merely sighed.

"Dr. Breen... Wallace..." She shook her head. "I don't have much time left, but yes, I can confirm that this is happening. I must get back now, otherwise Eli might become suspicious." And that was Judith Mossman's final message to Breen, before she ceased broadcasting on her side. The monitor quickly moved to plaster the Benefactor over the part where Judith once stood, said monitor moving to meet Breen's face.

"Sky Shield confirms her claims. As of now it is in late stages of formation. Outland Patrol Number Eight has been dispatched to area. Administrator, proceed as usual. This is now a matter outside your juridstiction. We will alert you when, and if, your assistance is needed."

EARTH: APPROXIMATE LOCATION OF THE GATE, 11:29 AM

SADERAN P.O.V

The forest was as calm as it could get, Saderan troops marching throughout the area, most on patrol, some training. The location of the Gate's appearance had put a damper on the Expeditionary Forces' plans, and as such, they had to rely on scouts and wyverns to scout the areas beyond the forest. In spite of this fact, spirit was very high, with troops eager to experience combat, and bring riches and slaves back to the Empire. For now, however, they had to stay their swords, and bide their time.

"How much longer until we get word of something? It has been endless forests for a while now." One of the officers noted, with another interjecting as they walked along a dirt path.

"We have only been here for mere minutes. You cannot expect progress to be very swift." The second officer stated, the first one begrudgingly agreeing. In the distance, they could hear the familiar sound of a wyvern's wings beating: they finally had a direction to go to.

Moments later, all the soldiers present heard a distant howl, made by an unknown creature, which sent a flock of birds soaring high into the cloudy skies above, cawing intensely, and in distress

"Alert. Airborne Exogen signals detected. Air Filtration system online. Code: Locate. Expunge." Boomed a strange, unknown and clinical female voice, sending more flocks of birds scattering to the winds. The voice echoed intensely, and was followed by another howl. This was a clear sign of impending battle.

"They try to scare us with threats!" Shouted one of the soldiers, earning him the chime of his comrades, all in agreement. Alas, as the troops prepared for battle, one group of soldiers was ambushed. Something had lept onto one of the soldiers, knocking him unto the ground, releasing a near ear-piercing howl, clawing at the soldier with unmatched speed. It was only muscle and bone, very few muscle, in fact, with... something, attached to the head. It was disturbing, yet terrifyingly effective. The few soldiers whom stood closest were temporarily frozen in fear, as they watched their comrade's very intestines clawed out by the creature. It looked like a human, yet it also looked like something akin to undead, with its elongated claws, sharp enough to pierce the armour, and with little muscle to slow it down.

As the wyverns drew closer, and finally came into view, more of the abominable undead came into view. Some looked identical to the first one, most however looked nothing like it. Their torso was ripped open, and they were slower; much slower. They were shambling, almost as if they were about to fall over with each step. Defensive lines were formed, and as the wyverns came into proper view, that was when tragedy struck. From the distance, bright bolts of blue came at frightening speeds, piercing the wyverns with such ease, as if they were merely paper being pierced through by a knife.

"It... it can't be..." One of the officers muttered, frightened at the visage of wyverns dropping down unto the ground, their lifeless corpses crushing both Saderans and undead alike. The battle, on the other hand, was going splendidly, bar the occasional undead that broke through. Those who were on the front fought valiantly against those undead whom could jump, blocking their strikes with shields, and felling them with a few clean cuts. For Colt Formal, this was an unusual, yet not unwelcome fight, which was only to go downhill from there. He could spot another one of the undead approaching, slower than the rest, yet unlike them.

It still had the crab-like entity on its head, but alas, it also did not have the white and blue clothes that were drenched in blood. Instead, it had some sort of dark-blue clothing, bulky and most definitely slowing it down. Even from where he stood he could hear its unnatural growls, the weird speech it gave out, and the horrendously broken words, of which none being those he could understand. He deemed it of some importance to the shambling army, and quickly moved to one of his archers.

"Archer. Aim for the one past the first line." He commanded, pointing towards the slower undead, so that the archer could see where it was. The man nodded quickly, grabbing another arrow, and soon thereafter, launching it from his bow. It most certainly struck true, hitting the undead directly in the torso, but unlike with the other undead, it shattered upon impact. With the failed attack alerting it, it soon sped up into a sprint towards the Saderans, who not only mocked it, but taunted it. One of the soldiers with a shield, after dispatching an undead with great dispatch, had grown overconfident. He tried to bash the sprinting undead dead center with his shield, and was caught woefully unprepared for it to swat the shield right out of his hand with one fell swoop of its clawed hands. The soldier, for the briefest of moments, panicked, slashing at the undead wildly, leaving only tiny gashes in its torso instead of mortal wounds. As the undead quickly recovered from the attacks, another strike of its claws mauled the soldier's face, sending him flying into his comrades to his left, the once proud soldier now dead.

The Count could witness such devastating strikes, even from where he stood, which only confirmed his suspicions of that monster being important, if it could shrug off several clean cuts which would fell a normal man, even other undead. "Men! We must kill that monster! Do not get too close, however, for it can kill with a single strike!" Commanded Count Formal, well aware of what the thing could do from what observations he did. A group of eight men, he himself being one, surrounded the monster, whilst the rest of the troops held back the advancing horde. Each strike was co-ordinated, timed and well-executed, leaving nothing to chance as the beast was whittled down. The unnatural shriek it let out somewhat phased them, yet not enough to stun them. It had reached for a tube-like object, holding it high into the air as it flashed with bright red, prompting the beast to renew its sprint, with newfound vigor. Colt had moved out of the way, the others making sure it could not get to him, for their lives were less worth than his own; and they paid dearly for it. A bright explosion enveloped the seven soldiers and the undead, all seven sent flying into random directions, with the undead being sent into the ground, its head almost fully gone. Five of the soldiers were dead before they hit the ground, the other two wailing in pain as their limbs flew in seperate directions.

Colt went wide-eyed, for such devastation upon a group of soldiers was only ever seen with either a mage or, worse yet, an Apostle. He shuddered at the possibility of there being more of those undead warriors with such suicidal sorcery at their disposal, yet sighed in relief as he scanned the battlefield, finding none... yet. Another alien sound drew Colt's attention away from the front, and to the rear of the Saderan formations, his eyes landing on yet another beast, this one vastly different from the undead. It was insectoid, around five feet tall, with four legs, its colours predominantly a light green, with small hues of yellow. Three more emerged from the depths of the nearby forest, jumping high into the air, soaring through it with grace as they fell near both the undead and the Saderans. One of the insects had charged an isolated soldier, blocking its first strike with his shield, before attempting to impale it with his sword, to no avail. The insect, whilst its bretheren were busy dealing with the undead, had pierced the shield with its second strike, going far through it, impaling the soldier, whom groaned in pain.

The insect drew out its leg from the shield, promptly and rapidly positioning itself on top of the soldier, skewering him with its legs, and feasting on whatever flesh it could safely reach. From there on, Colt could safely say that even the insects of this strange, new world were hostile. And he did not like his chances now, especially with more of the insects and undead flowing into the clearing within the forest. The best he could do was hold out for as long as he could, whilst he sent a messenger to summon reinforcements. The air slowly became thick with the smell of blood and putrid acids of the undead and insects, Colt's forces slowly being depleted, yet still standing vigilant. And then, everything fell apart.

EARTH: APPROXIMATE LOCATION OF THE GATE, 2:15 PM

COMBINE P.O.V

Everything was going according to plan. The would-be invaders were distracted by the Antlions, thanks to the Restrictors each Air Filter had. By the time the Outland Patrol arrived near the subspace anomaly, it grew into a fully fledged Strike Force, a tidal wave of unrelenting and indiscriminate destruction. As of now, it consisted of six Gunships, eight Striders and twenty-four Hunters. Due to a misfire event, which revealed that not even OTA Soldiers were immune to necrotic conversion, none came to the operation. The necrotic and exogen smokescreen created by the Combine had allowed the Strike Force to maneuver into position, a wave of unending horrors coming in from all sides... waiting.

When a little more than three quarters of the would-be invaders were left, the prosecution could, at long last, commence. Imposing Gunships moved in the first, stunning the intruders with its shape and flying, seemingly without the assistance of wings, the fools desperately raising their shields as the first volley of gunfire commenced. The six Gunships moved in a circular formation, never once breaking it, for they knew that simply attacking them hap-hazardly would be inefficient. Methodical and precise strikes would serve the Combine well. All the while, unseen forces, the controllers, the Shu'Ulathoi themselves, observed, calculated, and planned. From the little they knew, given the complex web of information, he was still in containment, despite the Vault never having made the escape from City 17.

As the onslaught from all sides continued, the familiar howls of the Hunters could be heard far more clearly, the first of the three-legged beasts finally making its way through the forest, and into the clearing. Its blue colours reflected the sun's shine clearly, the optics darting from one non-citizen to the other, discerning major threats from minor ones. The ones with shields were deemed a higher priority, the Hunter directing its attention to them. The launching mechanism was ready, and before the fools could raise their shields to defend themselves from the incoming barrage. Rhythmical pounding of the inside mechanisms, launching Dark Energy infused flechettes at the enemy dominated the area surrounding the Hunter, its shrieks inducing the undertone of psychological warfare, most effective against these non-citizens.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five flechettes made their way to their target, lodging themselves into an unfortunate soldier, penetrating his armour effortlessly. He staggered back, dropping his shield as he fell to his knee, coughing up blood. Before he could look up, to see the Hunter once more, the flechettes detonated, sending Dark Energy particles into the body, disintegrating matter in mere picoseconds.

As the first target was confirmed as dead, more Hunters flooded into the clearing from all sides, outpacing the Striders by a significant margin. Seconds turned to minutes, the non-citizens slowly but surely being tagged by both Gunships and Hunters, the fools attempting to charge the numerically inferior Hunters, to no avail. They slashed and impaled many a hostiles, so much so, that their legs lay drenched in blood, bits and pieces of intestines dangling from their claws from the amount of melee they had been forced to participate in. The weapons these primitives used were only a mild annoyance to the synths, at worst. Each Hunter followed the orders they were given by Sky Shield to the letter, the artificial intelligence observing the planet, directing the synth cohorts with precision, watching the battle from orbit. Yet, even it was prone to lapses in judgement, as were all beings with intelligence and autonomy, however miniscule. It ordered a Hunter to charge into a clearing created by the Gunships in order to provide ranged support to its allies, and in the process, trampled over no less than ten non-citizens. Alas, as it got into position, the machinery inside the launchers warming up, its launcher was stabbed by a spear. In the worst moment, the launcher attempted to fire, yet it lay clogged, as it broke through the tip of the spear, the shrapnel from the exploded steel gnawing at the flechettes, each one detonating inside of the launcher itself.

The Hunter screamed in pain with each internal detonation, the fabrication unit operated on surplus Resin continuing to pump out flechettes, each one detonating as soon as it was complete. No sooner than it started, the pain ended, the twin-linked launchers exploding into a pile of organic gore, exposing internal machinery as the Hunter was launched into the ground, mucus and green ooze spraying the nearby soldiers, as they, for but a moment, cheered. A creature considered invincible mere moments ago now laid dead.

Such premature celebrations were cut short, as at long last, the mighty Striders punched through the thick trees, standing far taller than the Hunters, and far more menacing. Arrows did nothing to them, the weapons of the intruders unable to reach the Strider's body, or even damage the legs in any way. Each step made the very ground shake, the rhythmical thuds scratching at the backs of the non-citizen's minds. Their situation would only worsen as the Striders opened fire, their cannons darting from one target to the other, their legs impaling fools which dared get too close. Yet this wasn't being co-ordinated by Sky Shield anymore, for it had allowed primitives to inflict a casualty they should never have been able to inflict. No, the synths were now being led by a premature hatchling, an Advisor itself, the grub approaching the site of battle as quickly as it could.

Two Gunships suddenly came from the horizon, constantly firing downward, keeping pace with whatever they had given chase to.

EARTH: APPROXIMATE LOCATION OF THE GATE, 2:44 PM

RESISTANCE P.O.V

"God damn it drive faster!"

"What do you think I'm doing!? Combine APCs can only go so fucking fast, Robert!"

"Oh my god we're doomed!"

The APC drove through thick and thin, dodging obstacles and swiveling past them for the last hour. The daring escape it made from City 17 had not gone unnoticed, given that a former Black Mesa scientist was on-board, an opening to White Forest given to him, due to Black Mesa East not being an option, especially at this time.

"Can you re-route the Mini-reactor to the APC somehow!?" The driver asked, making another sharp turn as the vehicle got closer and closer, driving over scores of Antlions. "God damn those Air Filters must've riled them up fiercely!"

"The APC won't withstand it, it'll explode if I do! And even if it didn't, it would still cause its engine to overheat!" The scientist blurted out, trying to keep himself stable within the vehicle, which was all but. The APC eventually had to drift to a grinding halt as it reached the clearing inside the forest, all three of the occupants gasping at the sight before them. It was a one-sided massacre between a full-fledged Combine Strike Force and humans, not resistance members, wielding ancient weapons.

"What the hell is going on here!?" Yelled out Robert, jumping out of his seat, to vault over the crate where the mini-reactor was, and finally man the Autopulse Gun on-top the APC. "And why the fuck did we stop!?"

"And where do I go, even!? This shit's being fought on all sides!" The driver yelled back as she slammed the pedal, accelerating in little time to near top speeds.

"Over there, through that archway!" The scientist suddenly suggested, the two rebels bewildered at such a suggestion.

"You're kidding, right!? That looks like the exact same thing that you dabbled with back at Black Mesa, which caused this whole mess!" Robert spat out, swiveling in place as he took aim at a Hunter, opening fire as soon as he had it in his crosshairs. It tanked the shots, as was expected, yet it was staggered, which was the only thing that counted.

"Well, there's really no alternative! Come on, for old time's sake! It'll be just like City 14, except this time we won't be getting shot at from every side!" The driver asked, Robert groaning in frustration, before shouting back in approval. The female only gave him a wicked smile, picking up even more speed as she made a beeline for the Roman-esque archway, the trio not having the time to contemplate on the why of it, but on the hope that it would lead them to some relative safety, at least temporarily. Driving past the soldiers of yore, they were almost at the archway, until they made a sudden stop. Something had stopped them, and they knew not the reason.

"Why did we stop!?" Shouted out the scientist, his nerves almost giving into the entire situation.

"We got a fucking flying slug!? Grub!? I don't fucking know, but it's doing something, and I can't shoot at it!" Robert said, clicking the fire button as to show his point across, the man staring into the new servant of the Combine, one he never saw before. And then, just as everything seemed bleak, the thing was stabbed by a spear, of all things, its seemingly magic stranglehold on the vehicle removed, launching everyone forward. Just then... time seemed to stop, for all but one man.

"Time, Count Formal? Is it really the time for... prayer?" He said, grinning at the confused man.