He ran fast as he could, crashing through bushes and trees without care. There had to be something around; a landmark, road sign, even a damn building! He'd been wandering around for over an hour and yet he'd come across nothing but trees and rocks.

He didn't even know why he was out in the middle of the goddamn forest in the first place. Oh, when he found the son of a bitch who abandoned him, he'd make him pay! The first thing he'd have to do is find civilization, then he'd have to find the bastard. Okay, maybe he'd need to take things one step at a time.

Looking around, the man tried to find the sun, but it was blocked out by the trees. As he kept his eyes fixed up, he wandered around trying to get his bearings. That ended up being a mistake as he'd been too busy looking at the sky that he neglected to see the cliff.

He'd been walking backward, and the moment his foot stepped off the edge, his stomach was in his throat. He felt weightless as he scrambled like a mad cat to find purchase, but all he found was air. His back hit the dirt and he tumbled over backward down the steep embankment before landing facedown in a creek.

Ow. Everything hurt, but he didn't think anything was broken. Definitely bruised but not broken. At least the water was cold but wet clothes was never a pleasant feeling. Sitting up on his knees, he groaned and looked up from where he fell. Twenty-five feet at the maximum. Yeah, not a fatal fall but it hurt like hell.

Once on his feet, he noticed he was in what used to be a river but was no more than a creek. Looking around, he smiled at finally seeing something manmade. It was some kind of barrier built into the creek out of corrugated metal sheets and road signs. The lettering on a few of the signs was some kind of Cyrillic alphabet. Was he in Russia?

Sighing, he shook his head and climbed up the stairs to the left of the barrier and hopped over. Once down, he had to pause at what he saw. The biggest and ugliest thing he'd seen yet was laying dead in the water in front of him. It had three long legs that easily reached thirty feet each they were attached to a triangular shaped body. Part of its body had been torn off, by what he didn't think he wanted to know. He inspected it and noticed it dripped a deep mauve colored blood. The man made a disgusted sound before walking past it.

He made it only a few feet past a second large creature that looked like a mechanical whale, when he heard the snapping of twigs nearby. His eyes scanned the area, but it was too late. He'd been spotted.

"Stop where you are!"

His head snapped up to look up the cliff where a man in a dark vest, denim jeans, and dark hair was holding a strange gun. Said gun was pointing in his direction. Wait. He was speaking perfect English. What was he doing out in a European forest?

"Don't move, until you're cleared!" The man called out. Suddenly two more people appeared on the cliff and started climbing down with surprising ease. As they approached, he noticed they were both wearing similar uniforms, and they sported a familiar symbol on each arm. He rolled his eyes as they approached.

The two that approached were both sporting MP7s. As they got closer, he began to notice more things about them. Although they were dressed the part of soldiers, they weren't soldiers. Their stance, the way they held their guns, the way they approached him. It was all... wrong.

One of them approached him, their gun hanging loose around their shoulders by a nylon strap. Wrong again. They didn't even have a hand on it.

"Arms above your head and legs spread. We can't take any chances," one of the fakers said.

He complied, but as soon as they started their pat down, the man pivoted on his feet and snatched the gun from the fake soldier's side. The strap provided some resistance, but he used that to bring the phony soldier off balance. The sudden change in momentum brought the faker forward, so the man was able to wrestle the MP7 over the head of the fallen soldier.

With the sudden change in direction, the second faker ran at him. The man had expected that and pivoted once more on his left foot to bring his right knee up and into the gut of the approaching attacker. They grunted in pain, and that's when he realized it was a girl. Shit, he just hit a girl!

Double shit. He just attacked two people while someone still had a gun aimed at him from above.

Looking sheepish, he dropped the gun he had stolen and went to his knees in defeat.

The first faker was scrambling back up and looking rather angry. The man gave an apologetic shrug of his soldiers before putting his hands on his head. "Sorry…"

An hour later, with hands bound behind his back, he was led into a compound of sorts and steered towards a small metal building. Must have been used for storage at one point but the inside had a single table and a chair. He was forced into the chair rather rough by the woman he'd hit. He'd already apologized for that, but she hadn't accepted it. His hands were bound to the chair and ankles too. At least they did something right, but the question remained. Would this be torture or interrogation? Sometimes they weren't mutually exclusive.

He didn't have to wait long before he heard something outside the shed. There were a mechanical pounding and some long drawn out sounds before voices that were mumbled by the metal walls reached his ears. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he was sure it involved him. Of course, it involves you, dumbass, he thought to himself with a sigh. He was the one tied to a fucking chair.

The mechanical sounds drew closer and so did the voices.

"I don't know, man. He looks like a civilian, but he took down Roger and Maya like it was nothing, Calhoun!"

Oh yeah. They were talking about him.

"Let me talk to him," a second voice answers. He assumed that voice must be Calhoun.

A few minutes later a man with dark hair walks into the room with a second chair. He looked like hell warmed over with the heavy bags under his eyes, sunken cheeks, and messy hair. He had some gray in his hair at the temples and a few streaks appearing near the front of his scalp, but he was probably in his late forties at least.

"Alright, Rambo, care to explain why you attacked two of my men and then gave up?" He asked while swinging the chair around to sit in it backward with his legs spread to accommodate the width of the chair.

Rambo?

"I don't know. It just happened really," he answered.

"Do you make a habit of attacking people or do you just do it to rebels?" The man asked.

"Are you in charge here?"

This guy, Calhoun, held himself like he was in charge but there was something off about the whole situation. His shoulders were rounded, not square like all the big guys held themselves. He also seemed more relaxed with how he sat in the chair. This was not the attitude of someone in charge.

Calhoun was caught off guard, that's for sure. He visibly flinched at the question and his gaze looked to the ground. "No."

At least he was honest.

"But I'd like for you to answer my questions," he continued.

"Alright…"

Calhoun smiled at that and stood up from the chair. "Alright, so why'd you attack the rebels?"

"I felt threatened," he shrugged.

"For what reason?"

Was this guy serious? "Excuse me for waking up in the middle of the forest and stumbling across some fake soldiers holding guns in my face. That tends to make me jumpy."

That made the guy pause again.

"Why'd you wake up in the woods?"

Was he serious?

"Some jack-hole kidnapped me. He then abandoned me out in the fucking woods of god knows where… I don't know!" He glared daggers at the dark-haired man. "And just what the hell are you talking about. What are you doing out here running a guerilla compound in the first place?"

Now the man looked confused. He damn well should be confused.

"What's the last thing you remember before you woke up?"

A voice. That damn voice. It was everywhere and nowhere. "You won't believe me…"

"Try me," Calhoun smirked.

Taking a deep breath, he said what would either condemn him to a padded room or mockery. He'd take mockery any day. "Well, I remember an explosion and some green lights…" he paused. He wanted the Calhoun guy to believe him, but his story was just so outrageous. "Some strange creatures appeared. They teleported out of thin air, then that... guy appeared. There was darkness, then I woke up in the forest without my fatigues."

The man looked to give his answer some serious thought. Just who the hell was he?

"Before we continue, Thunder Dome, you got a name?"

"Course. What kinda guy doesn't have a name?"

"Alright, smartass. What is your name or should I keep giving you nicknames?"

He shot Calhoun a look before answer. "Shephard. Adrian Shephard"

Adrian, huh?

Barney looked at the man with curiosity. He had a strong build to him and with what he heard from Matt outside, he had some fighting experience. Not only that, but he had witnessed some sort of teleportation event and possible memory loss with how he claimed to wake up in the middle of the forest. He could be lying about that.

Yet something bothered Barney about the whole thing. The central fact being the guy didn't look a day over twenty-five and manner of speech was strange. Fatigues? That was military speak. In fact, everything about him screamed military. From the way he squared his shoulders as if it at attention to his clean shaved face and a shaggy yet well-kept crew cut. Just who was this kid? Damn. He was just a kid. He physically couldn't be a day over twenty-five.

'sending you a gift...'

Barney pursed his lips in thought and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, think you can answer a couple more questions for me?"

"Sure. I don't have any other plans," Adrian responded, wiggling his legs and jerking his shoulders to accentuate the fact he couldn't move if he wanted.

"You're a little smart ass, you know?"

"Takes one to know one," Adrian replied.

Calhoun sighed before continuing. "Alright, Adrian. After the stunt you pulled down by the river, some of my guys think you might be a Combine Soldier," Calhoun said as if he was discussing the weather. "Care to confirm or deny that?

'Combine? What's the Combine,' Adrian thought to himself.

"What the fuck does farm equipment have to do with me?"

Barney sighed as he realized what that meant. He had no idea what had been going on the last twenty years but what could this guy have to help Barney? He looked like a kid, but there had to be more to it.

Teleportation… Barney prayed he was wrong. "Joking aside, time to get back to business. You ever hear about Black Mesa?"

Barney watched as Adrian's entire frame went rigid at the mention of the old facility. So he had been at the labs and combined with his lingo, Barney had a steady idea of what he was.

"That damn place…"

"So you do know about it? What can you tell me?" Barney said. He had to have confirmation. He needed to know if this was one of those bastards that killed his friends.

Adrian shook his head and grimaced. "I tried. I tried all I could, but it all amounted to shit."

Barney cocked his eyebrow at the kid.

"I tried to do everything I could to stop it. Nothing I did seemed to be good enough. I- I was too late to save them," Adrian mumbled. He paused to take a breath before looking up to meet Barney's gaze. "Briggs, Davies, Travers… Otis… They all died because I wasn't there, or I was too slow to save them."

Barney had a flicker of a memory. A large man who had a big stomach and an even bigger heart. The man had been an amazing shot with a handgun and had spent many hours with Barney helping him get better with his pistol. He hadn't thought of Otis for years.

"We were called in. My platoon. I was about to find out my orders when the Osprey was shot down. I was out until the next day. It was hell. I tried to fight my way out but everyone I met… I thought I could save them all. I did all I could. That bomb. I turned it off! But…" He paused again. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as if in pain before looking up at Barney once more. "But it still detonated. What's the point of putting on the uniform if I couldn't protect anyone!"

Barney had reached out and gripped onto the side of Adrian's shoulders. He then began to shake the man hard enough for the chair to start shaking. "Hey! Calm down, kid!" Barney then took his knife hidden inside his boot to cut away the ties holding Adrian in his seat. Didn't want him hurting himself trying to get out.

Adrian instantly stood to his feet and began pacing back and forth, hands raking through his short brown hair.

Barney recognized the signs. He'd seen many people go through the same over the years and there came a point where it became a natural occurrence to see. The kid was having some kind of panic attack, a pretty big one too. Seemed all the stress of what he'd been through was catching up to him. Barney watched as Adrian's breathing only became harder and his movements quicker. If he continued like this then-

"What the fuck happened?"

And there it was.

"I'll explain it all, but you will have to give me the full story as well," Barney said. He kept his voice slow and what he thought was a calming tone. "Think we can do that?"

Adrian kept his eyes fixed on Barney as if he was a predator about to pounce, but he knew the man was right. "Yeah… I think so."

Barney nodded his head and sighed. "Okay. Let's get you checked out in the med bay then we'll get the full story."

Despite the panic attack, Barney knew who the guy used to be, and he wanted answers from him. He wasn't about to let one of them out of his sight.