Disclaimer: I don't own Half-Life.
(A/N: To hhgbh I send many thanks for beta-ing)
The Black Mesa Incident
Chapter Thirteen: Power Up
Gordon had a hard time remembering the last time his back hurt this much. It could've been that time when he and Dr Kleiner tried to move an equipment crate from one side of the lab to the other. Or maybe it was when Barney had leapt on his back for fear of the spider that had dangled down from the roof behind him. Those both left pretty painful marks on his memory.
But, he had to admit, this one took the cake. Falling through a rusty pipe usually used for sewage, through ceiling tiles and down onto a wooden table which then collapsed beneath his weight? Yes. That was fairly painful when compared to the other incidents.
"Oh… ow."
The voice made his eyes flickered open, and Gordon quickly realised that his glasses had come off in the fall. Everything blurred before him, and he tried to blink the blurriness away. Shockingly, it didn't work, so he went about trying to find his spectacles, hoping that Philips would get the hint and help him out eventually.
"You… okay?"
The security guard's voice sounded very groggy. Gordon couldn't blame him, really. He was wearing little to no protection against such big falls. At least, no protection compared to Gordon's HEV suit. Already he could feel the suit tending to his injuries, his medium health stats remaining the same but still stable. He sighed. Philips still hadn't got the message.
"I'm fine. But, um…"
Philips spent a few seconds just staring at him, before finally catching on. "Oh! Your glasses. Sorry, I'll just get them."
"You can see them?"
"Yep. Right over here."
A blurry mass passed him by, knelt just a few feet in front of Gordon, scooping up a smaller black object from the ground. Philips handed them over, and suddenly the world became clear again. Gordon immediately looked up. The pipe hadn't collapsed; it had broken and swung downwards, becoming a makeshift slide. That was probably why Philips didn't have two broken legs, although Gordon was sure he was probably still in considerable pain.
He hid it admirably well with a wry smile.
"Last time I go to the fun park."
Gordon's smile was far tighter, and he immediately regretted making such a potentially harsh reaction. With the damage already done, Gordon checked that Martha was still with him, as well as his handgun. All present and accounted for. Philips was doing the same, and after they were both done they gave each other an affirmative nod before looking around.
They were in a supply room. Crates surrounded them on every wall, with an open corridor beginning in the far left corner. The table they had landed on had some med kits, and Gordon handed one over to Philips, who took it gratefully and sat down, tending to his wounds. He looked up at Gordon curiously, who just shook his head politely. He could hold out until they came across a HEV charging station. A crate labelled with the red words 'Ammunition' caught his eye, and he wandered over, Martha slipping from his shoulder a few times before he tossed her to the ground irritably.
He knelt beside the weapon and pulled his crowbar from where it was tied to the barrel. A few swings, grunts and pulls later, the crate was open, and Gordon smiled. The mother load.
With relish he didn't think he would ever have for weapons, Gordon loaded Martha as full as she could go (eight or nine, he wasn't counting), and checked and loaded his handgun. Philips was up and about by this point, and helped himself to some ammunition. Feeling safer behind their loud killing machines, Gordon and Philips proceeded on down the corridor.
As they walked further on, the rattling noise of machinegun fire echoed down off the tight walls. Gordon and Philips exchanged a look before they walked on towards the source of light and the noise. The corridor opened out into a mammoth, circular room. In the middle of the room, a rail tram lay on a turnstile, pointing towards Gordon and Philips. A rail led to a tunnel entrance on the right hand side, but the turnstile was pointing in the wrong direction for them to just hop on and let her fly.
The control room for the turnstile was on the upper left of the room, a wide open window overlooking the tram turnstile. Gordon's eyes grew wide as he saw who was inside. The man with the briefcase. That pale ghost of a man… what was he doing here? Was he stalking him?
Gordon was about to step out into the hall and get him before he vanished, but sudden loud noises distracted him. Opposite from them, two wildly firing soldiers backed out of a blackened tunnel, the only one that matched the height of the rest of the room. A quick glance back to the control room confirmed what Gordon suspected would happen; the man in the suit was gone. He decided to focus on what was going on in front of him. Philips seemed ready to fight the soldiers, but Gordon put a calming hand on his arm. The security guard gave him a questioning look that seemed to question his sanity without his lips even moving. Gordon just nodded at the soldiers. They weren't even looking at Philips and Gordon. Their attention was on something in the tunnel.
And, judging from the rumbling of very big footsteps, whatever it was large. Very large.
As if in answer to Gordon's assumption, a blue alien the size of a truck cab lumbered out of the shadows, growling at the tiny soldiers that dared challenge it. Two thick set legs held up the cab-sized torso, which the head seemed to be a part of. Gordon couldn't see any eyes, but the mouth jutted out pointedly below where the eyes would be if this creature were like any other on Earth. Although there was something glowing red just above the mouth, where the nose would be on a dog.
"Looks like an eye just above the mouth…" Philips muttered, as though reading Gordon's thoughts.
The arms, about as thick as tree trunks, ended almost at the creature's ankles. Gordon couldn't see any hands or fingers, just claw-like appendages.
One of the soldiers tossed a grenade at the approaching creature's feet, and his companion followed suit. After a few seconds, they exploded. The creature barely moved from the blast, continuing forward towards its prey.
Philips shook his head. "Jesus…"
Gordon agreed. This wouldn't be an easy one to get around or kill. Although, really, none of them had been up to this point.
The gargantuan creature lifted its arms and pointed the claws, the undersides a much lighter colour then the rest of the scale-like skin. Two white hot jets of flame burst forth, like two enormous Bunsen burners. The soldiers were ripped apart almost instantly, the flame so hot they didn't even burn to ash.
Gordon closed his eyes at the sight and bowed his head. They wouldn't have hesitated to kill him if they had noticed him, but still… he couldn't help but feel remorse for senseless deaths. He figured that as long as he kept on doing that, this experience wouldn't turn him into a heartless monster.
Philips, however, held no such concerns. "Is it just me," he said, and Gordon looked over at him. The security guard's gaze was firmly on the alien creature, which hadn't spotted them or even made an effort to move after killing the soldiers.
"Or are we screwed?" he finished.
There wasn't much Gordon could say to that as he looked back at the monster. It was just stood on the spot, breathing heavily from the exertion of frying two little enemies. At least, Gordon assumed (hoped) it was exertion. That would mean it could be tired out, outrun. The red glowing eye had since subsided into a calm yellow, which Gordon took to mean it was resting, or at least off guard. Something caught his eye, and Gordon pointed it out to Philips.
"There," he whispered, not sure if the creature had good hearing like those tentacles had had. Hell, he wasn't sure if the thing even had ears. His companion followed Gordon's finger, and by the look on his face, he had seen it as well.
Just off to the left of the blackened tunnel that the monster had emerged from, there was another corridor, this one much appearing much more squat, although Gordon was sure it was just comparatively so. It would definitely accommodate humans with a few feet to spare over their heads.
Unfortunately the monster was stood directly in front of it, gazing off into the wall serenely. Philips seemed to sum it up well enough.
"Crap."
Gordon slung Martha over his shoulder and knelt on one knee, studying the creature.
"Bullets won't work…" he said to himself quietly, going through the options in his head. He usually did this when faced with a mathematical problem or something a little more intellectual. But hopefully it would work for this situation as well.
Philips, not familiar with Gordon's method, responded as though he had just made the most stupid observation in the world. "Damn right, they won't. Their bullets were bouncing off it like ping pong balls."
And right now he was thinking 'I thought scientists were supposed to be smart', but Gordon was only peripherally aware of Philips' opinion of him right now.
The control room was probably reachable through the corridor behind the creature. If they could get there and turn the tram in the right direction, they might outrun it. Gordon shook his head, dismissing the idea. That thing would probably roast them before they got anywhere near it. What was down the big, bad, shadowy corridor? And why were the military in there with it in the first place? He put that thought aside for later. Exploring was definitely a secondary priority after the all time favourite number one, survival.
"I'll distract it," he resolved, more to himself than Philips.
"You'll what?" That 'stupid scientist' tone was even more evident now. Although now it seemed more like 'crazy scientist'.
"I'll distract it while you run to the corridor," Gordon clarified, doing his best to make his tone as patronising as possible.
"Are you nuts? That thing'll fry you!" His voice was a harsh whisper, and he continually checked that the creature hadn't got wind of their presence in the room with it.
"The suit should protect me," he replied, getting to his feet. "To some degree, anyway. Once you're safely inside, I'll follow you."
"You're nuts."
"You've already said that."
"Well it's the truth, you moron! That suit won't protect you against heat like that."
Gordon shrugged and took Martha off his shoulder. He pumped the weapon. "I guess we'll find out."
And without leaving any more time for arguments, Gordon rocketed out into the room, firing in the monster's general direction. Some of the spray hit it, and it twitched. Quickly, it looked around the room for its mystery attacker, before finally settling its gaze on Gordon. The peaceful yellow hue of the eye became a far more threatening red as it stomped over to him. Suddenly Gordon felt as stupid as Philips thought he was.
Said security guard had wasted no time upon Gordon's hopefully-not-kamikaze run, and Gordon saw a blue blur dash into the corridor through the monster's legs.
So now it was time for the easy part.
Gordon was calculating what the odds were of him leaping through the creature's legs unharmed when the sound of gunfire rang out across the room. But this wasn't from Philips. The monster turned to the source, the accompanying roar sounding almost indignant. A security guard leant against the ledge of the observation window in the control room, pointing his standard handgun at the monster. He fired off a few more shots, shouting wild random noises at it. With a jerk of his head, he indicated for Gordon to run.
Had that security guard seen the briefcase man? Was he in league with him somehow? A growl from the monster shook him from his musings and Gordon sprinted to the corridor where Philips awaited.
"You okay?"
Breathless, Gordon just nodded. He could hear the monster unleashing hell on the control room. Philips understood Gordon's concern and indicated to the corridor behind them. There were two directions they could take, one going off to the right, the other straight ahead. A sign on the corridor going right read 'Generator Room', while another on the straight corridor read 'Control Room'.
"That's where he is," Gordon said before leading the way, Martha held firmly in hand. They followed the corridor up a brief flight of stairs, and the corridor turned left. Barely taking in his surroundings, Gordon was ready to rush ahead when Philips spoke up.
"Whoa…" He put a cautioning hand on Gordon's shoulder, and with the other, gun clasped firmly in hand, he pointed out the open pipe jutting out of the ground, an almost blue-hot flame steadily crackling away. With a grateful nod to his companion, Gordon stepped over it and continued around the corner.
Two aliens of the electricity throwing variety awaited him there, turning around as he entered. They looked as alarmed as he did, but he recovered faster.
One blast from Martha ripped into the alien on the right, killing it instantly. The other was ready to fire before Gordon had a chance to pump the gun again, but a quick bullet from Philips handgun went straight through its eye, and it collapsed to the ground. Gordon looked over at him.
"Okay?"
Philips threw up on the ground, and Gordon felt awkward. He tossed Martha around his shoulder by the strap and put a sympathetic hand on the security guard's back.
"Sorry," he coughed, wiping away any excess on his chin with his sleeve. "I just… I've never done this before."
He nodded, understanding completely. After all, that had been him vomiting everywhere at almost any opportunity just a few short hours ago. God, was it only hours?
"Anyway, let's uh… get going," Philips said, walking on with what he obviously hoped were confident strides. The way his legs shook slightly as he stepped over the dead bodies didn't really bolster the image he was trying to project.
In front of them was a walkway that hugged the wall on the right and continued on to the wall in front of them, where the doors to the control room stood on the far left of the room. There were planks of wood and crates blocking it up. Gordon felt suddenly excited and anxious. That would mean the briefcase man was still in there. The answer to everything that had happened today was in that room, waiting for him. Gordon knew that man would be able to give him the answers. Somehow, he just knew. The walkway extended a little further outwards from where the doors were, attached to the wall on the left. It didn't extend all the way to them, however, instead ending halfway with a red ladder extending downwards to the floor below.
Gordon and Philips walked across the walkway – Gordon noted with approval that the walkway had a handrail – and made quick work of the wooden planks blocking their way. They cautiously pushed the doors open. Gordon immediately looked around the room. No sign of him. He frowned. How the hell did he get out of there? In front of them, leant back against the wall, was the security guard that had pulled Gordon's fat out of the fire earlier. Blood was pooling beneath him, coming from beneath his Kevlar vest.
"Hi," he managed.
Philips looked white as a sheet, but Gordon knew he was the one who would probably know more about tending to injuries than himself. The scientist knelt beside him.
"Thank you."
He waved the gratitude away. "I'm just glad to see some human, non-military faces."
Gordon knew the feeling. "Does the tram work?"
The guard shook his head. "If you can turn the power on, it'll take you all the way to the surface."
"Why haven't you done it?" Philips asked, sounding more desperate than accusatory.
Both Gordon and the injured guard shot him an irritated look. After another glance at the blood pooling beneath the guard, Philips bowed his head in apology.
"It's a long way down to the generator room," the guard finished, looking at Gordon, "and there are… things… in the way."
Things. Lovely.
He put a hand on the guard's shoulder. "I'll go down and turn it on."
A nod was the only reply he got.
"Is there a med kit anywhere?"
"Nah," he gasped.
Gordon nodded, stood and went to the doorway, gently guiding Philips there by the arm. "You take care of him. I'll do the generator."
He looked uncomfortable with this notion. "But… what about the… things? Won't you need help?"
"He needs help more."
"Yeah, but…"
"Philips. Please."
He stared into Gordon's eyes before finally taking a deep breath and nodding. The security guard numbly wandered over to his injured fellow employee and sat down beside him against the wall.
"I'm Philips," he said simply, extending a hand.
"Robertson. Nice to…" he grunted in pain, "meet you."
Satisfied that Philips would be able to at least keep Robertson awake, Gordon walked across the walkway and back to the intersection where he had seen the sign for the generator room. A few twists and turns later and Gordon was about to walk down a flight of stairs that would take him there.
A loud howl echoed through the corridor and vibrated the ground, making Gordon stumble. The roof caved in on the stairs in front of Gordon, blocking them completely. After waiting for the dust to settle, Gordon realised that he wasn't getting to the generator room that way. He went back to the control room, where Philips and Robertson looked at him with surprise.
"That was fast," Robertson said.
"Is there another way to the generator room besides the stairs?"
The security guard nodded to the ladder that was attached to the walkway outside. Gordon looked at it for a few moments.
"Oh. Okay."
He climbed down the ladder attached to the walkway and to the floor below, where the corridor arched around to the right. Martha cocked and ready for action, Gordon followed it around. It was a fairly uneventful journey, at least compared to the ones Gordon had been going on recently.
A few of those headcrab things here and there, an electricity shooting alien in a room full of explosive chemicals (they really weren't smart, some of these aliens), and that was about it. He didn't even have to use Martha. The headcrabs had been easily dispensed with a few swings of the crowbar (sometimes in mid-air, baseball style – Gordon was proud of those), and the electricity alien… well, random sparks, explosive chemicals… it was almost as if someone was giving Gordon a break.
And then he came to some red safety doors. On the wall beside it was a serial number imprinted in large black letters, although Gordon had no clue what it could mean. A red wheel was lodged in the wall beneath it, and, with that feeling of dread that was becoming more and more commonplace, Gordon turned it. It took more effort than he thought to open the door, and once it was open, the grinding noise didn't stop, as though something was still working away in the walls.
Gordon sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. There it was. The lovely familiar glow of toxic material. And Oh! Look! It was another cylindrical chamber. Gordon stepped inside. This chamber was far tighter than the one the tentacle monsters had been in. He was stood on a walkway that ran the circumference of the chamber, and Gordon could see two more levels above him, and none below. Just toxic waste. A ladder led up to the second floor, and from there another led to the third.
He made his way to the second floor, and stepped into the room beside the top of the ladder. He back-pedalled and ripped Martha from his shoulder when he saw the soldier lying on the ground, face down. It was a tiny room, barely big enough to fit three people in. The wall on the right was a control panel. There was a hole in the wall behind the soldier, just big enough for someone to crawl through if they were so inclined. The soldier's foot was inside said crawlspace.
After a quick look around the area, Gordon kicked the soldiers' head experimentally. Nothing. He was dead. He felt relieved, and then guilty at his relief that another human being was dead. And just like that, the emotions disappeared. Was this how military people dealt with it? They started to deal with these emotions quicker to the point where they barely felt them?
His philosophical musings were cut short when he noticed the soldier was moving unnaturally. He was sliding backwards towards the hole. It was only then that Gordon heard the strange grunting and growling noises of one of the many aliens Gordon had come across over the course of the day. Not too keen on finding out which one, Gordon proceeded up the ladder to the top floor.
This room was far bigger, and seemed to open up into a storage room. Tall and squat wooden crates were all over the place. It was a dull brown which provided a welcome break from the luminescent glow of the toxic waste. To the right was a corridor the turned to the right again a few feet down. He stepped inside the room, Martha just slung from his shoulder when he heard the whine of a turret on his left. Panicking, he just fired blindly, taking out one of the turrets' legs and causing it to topple. It fired wildly in every direction and Gordon dove behind some storage crates to avoid the bullets. After a few seconds, the turret calmed down and deactivated. Gordon blew out a breath and heaved himself up from behind the crate.
"What the hell was that?"
Gordon ducked back down again so quickly he almost fell over. Two soldiers burst into the room, rifles at the ready. One wore a helmet and a gasmask, while the other wore a balaclava.
"Who the fuck did that?"
Rather than risk being seen, Gordon ducked his head down as well.
"Took out the leg." That voice sounded like it was beside the turret.
"I'll check downstairs."
He heard footsteps that changed pitch when they left the concrete floor of the room and started clomping along the metal walkway. Gordon could hear him descending down the stairs. Slowly, Gordon inched his head up. The soldier was gone. He peeked around his hiding place even more cautiously. Gasmask was stood at a table beside the collapsed turret, fiddling with what Gordon assumed was a radio.
Trying to be both fast and stealthy – which wasn't very easy for someone with his reputation of clumsiness – Gordon crept out of his hiding place and went around the corner, pointing Martha at the soldier as he backed up around the corner. Once there, he took a breath, but didn't allow himself to stop, or to turn around. He continued backing up down the corridor until the wall on his left suddenly disappeared and opened up into a huge hallway.
Two ramps on either side led down to the hallway, with a gap in-between them. Two platforms on the right and left jutted out of the walls just in front of where the ramps ended. There was just enough room on either for one person to stand on them, and a red guardrail ran along the outside of the platform. Two open doorways behind the platforms led into hidden corridors that Gordon felt that he would no doubt be exploring soon enough.
At the far end of the room was a military barricade, a low level wall of sandbags set up in a line. Crates full of explosives were stacked up behind the 'wall'. A soldier's shaved head could be seen resting against the sandbags, his back to Gordon. As if sensing Gordon's notice of him, he idly turned his head, his eyes widening as they came into contact with the interloper.
He sprang to his feet and took aim with his rifle, talking into his radio.
"Squad! We got Freeman!"
He fired, hitting Gordon in the shoulder and knocking him over. Gordon rolled on the ground until he was facing his attacker again. He took aim and fired Martha at the crates behind the soldier. They exploded instantly, launching the soldier twenty feet into the air before he came crashing down with a dull thud and a crunch.
Gordon rubbed his shoulder where the bullet had hit. He needed to recharge the suit; Robertson's injuries had distracted him from taking care of himself. This place seemed like the kind that would require the staff to wear HEV suits occasionally, so Gordon hoped he would come across one soon enough. Usually that bullet wouldn't have knocked him over. With a shake of his head he continued on down the ramp on his right, fully aware of the fact that the soldier had called into his fellows that he was here.
The gap between ramps was in fact a ramp on the ground level that went in the other direction, leading to a small cubby-hole of a room beneath the corridor that Gordon has just been backing down. Inside he found a HEV recharge station on the wall and smiled. Within a minute the suit was almost at 100 and distributing that power to his injuries as was necessary, as well as reinforcing the protective field around his body. He also saw a crate with some grenades inside on the other end of the room, and scooped up two.
Gordon continued on, stepping around the wall of sandbags. A zigzag of two ramps and a flat third at the top led to a doorway in the middle of the wall. Gordon went up and approached the doorway. The noise of soldier's boots quickly made him backtrack, and he pulled the pin on both of the grenades. He turned into the doorway and saw soldiers converging from the corridor within from both the left and the right. Both groups seemed to freeze for half a second when they saw him brazenly step into their line of fire. Whipping his arms out to either side, he tossed the grenades into both groups and ran back out of the doorway, leaping out over the guardrail of the top ramp and aiming for the sandbags below.
The force of the explosion behind him caused him to overshoot slightly, and Gordon ended up colliding with the ground in a skid, sliding along until he almost ended up back in the little cubby-hole where he had recharged his suit. He rested his forehead on the cool concrete below him before grunting and pushing himself to his feet. After readjusting his glasses, Gordon scooped up Martha and pumped another casing out of the side. He took a moment to listen to the hollow noise of it bouncing along the ground before he ventured forth and back up the ramps.
He peeked his head around the doorway first before entering the corridor fully and turning left. Burn marks were pasted onto the walls where the grenade had exploded. A smell wafted up his nostrils, and it took Gordon a few moments to realise what it was.
Burning flesh. In the corridor behind him, three soldiers lay on the ground, their skin a nauseating mix of inflamed red and charred black. Their uniforms were scorched, small flames licking at the air from random patches. Rather than linger on the death that he had just caused, Gordon continued on down the corridor, away from the bodies. The corridor opened up into a bigger room, which had the makings of a lab about it. A control panel rested at the far end of the room, where a hastily erected table next to it held a military radio.
Two more dead bodies lay sprawled across the middle of the room, their radios crackling with haunting static. On the right was a supply elevator, four yellow and black striped pipes leading from the ceiling and down to the floor below through holes in the corners of the elevator. A control panel with red and green buttons on it stood beside the elevator. The red was lit up. Gordon walked over to it.
Something big slammed into him, knocking him onto the elevator platform. Martha flew from his grasp, sliding along the floor and into the corridor. As Gordon turned over a soldier leapt on top of him, machete knife bearing down on Gordon's face. His face sickeningly burnt, the rage powering him making the sight before Gordon even more contorted and repulsive. He quickly put up his hands and grasped the knife-bearing wrist just as it tapped the surface of his glasses.
"Fucking scientist shit!"
Spittle sprayed from his mouth onto Gordon's face.
Looking down, Gordon spotted the red lit button of the control panel, and started kicking at the green one below it.
"You can't do this to me…"
He finally kicked the button, and the elevator descended with a sudden jerk. The soldier glanced up in confusion, and Gordon took that opportunity to drive a sharp knee into his groin. His opponent let out only a brief, loud of grunt of pain before moving enough for Gordon to push him away. The elevator reached the lower floor, and Gordon started to run.
He came to a sudden halt when he was confronted by two laser trip mines, ones at knee height, the other at chest level. A quick look around confirmed that the entire platform was surrounded by them, two on every side of the square platform. The soldier got to his feet, waving his knife around in the air as he and Gordon circled each other. The blue glow of the water below them lit up his burnt face in a haunting, ghostly way. Gordon's hand went slowly to the holster where his handgun lay.
The elevator jerked back up again, and the soldier charged at Gordon, roaring all the way. He whipped out the gun and fired, hitting the soldier direct in the chest. A cloud of white powder popped out of his vest, and the soldier just kept on going, barrelling straight into him. The elevator had reached to the upper floor again, and they collapsed into the lab area above. His opponent, on top of him once again, slammed Gordon's gun hand against the ground three times before he lost his grip, sending the weapon sliding along the ground towards Martha.
The soldier brought his knife up, intending to bring it down in one strong stabbing stroke. Gordon slammed the palm of his free left hand into the soldiers face as hard as he could, knocking him back enough for Gordon to get his right foot out from under him and give him a kick to the kneecap. There wasn't much strength behind it, but it was enough to knock him back onto the elevator and drop his knife. Swinging his leg around, he hit the green button that would lower the elevator.
As the soldier got to his feet, he looked at Gordon in surprise as the elevator lowered to the lower floor with him on it. Getting to his feet, Gordon ripped off his handgun holster as quickly as he could and peeked over the ledge to look down on the soldier on the lower floor, which was barely ten metres down. The soldier looked up at him.
"I'll get you, you motherfuckin-"
He froze as Gordon tossed the holster down at one of the blue lasers of the trip mines. Gordon backed up from the opening and closed his eyes as he heard them explode, the soldier's scream dying out in less than a second. After a pause of a few seconds, the elevator platform came back up. The metal looked slightly scorched, but there nothing to suggest that anyone had been stood there. His breathing shaky, Gordon wiped the sweat from his forehead and around his eyes before going to pick up Martha and his handgun. Having sacrificed his holster, Gordon slung Martha over his shoulder and resolved to just hold the Glock as is.
Gordon went back to the elevator and went down below. Blood spattered along the walls, and Gordon didn't want to even think about what was in the water below. The corridor was rather cramped, a layer of water on the floor kept separate from him by a raised metal walkway that ran along the center of the corridor. It followed the corridor around a left turning corridor, and Gordon did the same.
The problem was relatively simple, especially compared to some of the other tasks Gordon had had to perform recently. A quick walk down a spiral staircase to the bottom floor – flooded up to the waist with water - revealed that the hydraulic system had been blocked up by some wooden crates, most likely getting stuck there when the room flooded. Or by the military, Gordon had no way of telling. After a few whacks with the crowbar, the boxes were disposed of and the machine thrummed to life, the hydraulic pumps working in unison like a… well, like a well oiled machine.
The second floor held the power control room, and a quick push of a green button got the power flow going upstairs. Gordon continued on upstairs and up the elevator, trying to focus his mind on anything but the remains of the soldier beneath him in the water.
As Gordon made his way back down the corridor, he remembered that the two soldiers he had managed to evade in the storage room were probably still there, waiting for him to return after hearing the carnage over the radio. And, since they did hear the carnage, they probably wouldn't be too happy with him. He went back to the small cubby-hole room and scooped up another grenade.
Feeling somewhat safer with both hands full – a handgun in one, a grenade in the other, he continued on to the storage room where the turret had previously tried to drill him full of holes. The corridor turned right first, and then immediately left, which is where Gordon knew the storage room would be. Gordon tossed the grenade around the corner and backed up.
The soldiers didn't make a peep as the grenade exploded. Gordon swung around the corner, handgun held out in front of him in a manner halfway between professional and threatening. At least, Gordon hoped so. There was no-one in the room. No remains of soldiers, no tattered clothing, nothing. Just a big scorch mark in the corner of the room and the shattered remains of a table and radio.
Confused and wary, Gordon continued on down the ladders and to the corridors that would eventually lead him back to the control room, where Philips and Robertson would be waiting for him. As he reached the ladder that led to the walkway outside the control room, Gordon paused. There was no noise coming from the control room. Philips wasn't nervously chattering away, Robertson wasn't grunting in pain.
Either Robertson had died, or… the soldiers were in there. They had backtracked Gordon's path and come across them. Whether they had killed the two security guards, Gordon didn't know.
None of the options really appealed to him. He hoped it was just an awkward silence that had fell between the two. Holding on to hope, Gordon climbed up the ladder. He saw Robertson against the wall, breathing heavily and his skin paler than before. He gave a look to Gordon which seemed to say that he should run.
The balaclava wearing soldier stepped around the corner.
"Get in here."
Without much of an option, Gordon walked in.
The helmeted soldier was stood with Philips at the far end of the room, looking out the observation window in paranoia of the monster. Balaclava took the handgun and Martha from him, tossing them down to the corner of the room.
"How do we kill that thing?"
Gordon stared at them for a few moments. "You don't."
"Don't give me that shit. You brought it here, you must know how to kill it."
"I don't. Sorry."
"Well, you'd best find a way," Helmet said from behind Philips, pressing his handgun to the quivering security guard's throat.
"Buddy," Robertson gasped to Gordon, "just get out of here. Leave-"
"Shut up!" Balaclava yelled, whipping out his handgun and blasting a hole in Robertson's head. Philips screamed. His jaw clenched, Gordon dove at Balaclava's wrist. They struggled around the room, the soldier's gun firing off into the ceiling and the walls. Helmet was shouting at Gordon to calm down, shoving his pistol into Philips as encouragement. But Gordon couldn't hear him. He could just see Robertson's face as the bullet passed through his head, not even having the time to look pained before his brain was spread across the wall behind him.
They stumbled towards the open observation window and toppled through, falling the considerable distance into the hall below. Gordon landed first, almost numb to the impact. Half of that was because of the HEV suit. The other half was the rage in his gut, the kind that he knew would push him past everything else. He scrambled to his feet as Balaclava did the same, his handgun off to the side from the fall. They both dove for it.
Gordon noticed it first. The rumbling of giant footsteps. His rage subsided quickly as he remembered what was in here with them. What that thing could do to him, hazard suit or no hazard suit. Helmet was screaming desperately to his friend to get the hell out, but Balaclava obviously couldn't hear him. Gordon gave up on the handgun and rolled out of the way as the big blue monster lumbered over to them. Balaclava scooped up the pistol and pointed it Gordon, a look of triumph evident under the material of his mask. And then he noticed the monster as well.
He fired blindly at it, unconcerned with Gordon. The monster lifted its arms, and Gordon knew what was coming. The flames burnt the soldier away in a matter of seconds.
His comrade, none to happy about this, leapt out of the observation window, again distracting the monster from Gordon. Philips, meanwhile, was shouting something to Gordon and pointing to the darkened corridor that the monster had originally appeared from. Gordon just nodded at him and sprinted inside, blocking out all other distractions as finally, he could do something that came naturally to him; running. The feeling of progress, of pushing yourself… Gordon loved it, and it felt fantastic to be doing it again, even if it was for a less than relaxing purpose. For a brief moment, he was running with the track team in college, his friends and family cheering him on.
He turned a corner going off to the left, and suddenly could see again. He was in another generator room. This was probably the final part of the power system, the one he would have had to switch on anyway in order to get the tram working. Two power controllers were on either side of the room with electrodes on the top. Gordon knew from his studies that this kind of generator involved a massive charge of electricity being transmitted across the two, from one to the other. And if something got in the middle of that…
Gordon nodded to himself, understanding what Philips meant. He ran between the two offline controllers, running up the four steps that led to the platform where the control panel for the generator lay. The familiar rumbling of the monster grew louder, and Gordon spotted it coming around the corner as he reached the lever that would activate the machine. It didn't seem to spot it as first, so Gordon waved at it to get its attention.
The yellow eye became red again as it recognised prey, and it lumbered forward. Gordon pulled the lever, and the generator thrummed to life. The monster stopped at the controllers, looking at them curiously, as though assessing them as a threat. A bolt of bright blue electricity sprang forth, shooting towards its twin. The monster exploded, chunks of it flying off in every direction. Gordon had to duck to allow some of it to hit the wall behind him.
The generator room thrummed around him, the sudden absence of random noises soothing Gordon as he stood up. It was then that he noticed that his glasses had not budged since he returned to the control room. That was definitely some kind of miracle. Someone, in the midst of all this, was throwing him a bone now and then. Not wanting to look a gift horse – however ironic said horse was - in the mouth, he walked to a doorway at the end of the walkway that led into little side corridor. It came out on the other side of the generator, dodging the unenviable task of trying to negotiate his way past countless volts of electricity.
He walked back the hall with the tram in the middle. There was no evidence that the soldiers were ever there except for some odd scorch marks around the floor. Pushing the thought aside, Gordon continued on into the corridor and up to the control room. Philips was sat against the wall beside the observation window, staring at Robertson's dead body. Gordon went over to him and crouched beside him.
"They… came out of nowhere…" He was still staring at the body, his eyes red from tears.
Gordon didn't say anything.
"You've gotta believe me. I… there was nothing I could do…"
No words seemed worthy enough to answer his plea. Everything that popped into Gordon's head sounded crass and insensitive. He sighed.
"I know."
He got up, went to the tram turnstile control lever and pulled it up. Mechanical grunts echoed around the room as the tram turned. Gordon picked up Martha – with crowbar still strapped to the top – and his handgun. He turned to Philips. Unsure of what to say to console him, Gordon just settled for stating the obvious facts.
"I have to keep moving. You can come along… if you want."
The security guard didn't acknowledge him.
"…Philips?"
He looked at him, bleary eyed. Then he forced a small smile and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Yeah… okay, yeah…" With so much effort it actually made Gordon wince, Philips got to his feet and walked over to the doorway, picking up his gun from the floor and holstering it as he went.
Satisfied that his companion wasn't going to shoot himself, Gordon turned to the doorway. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to face Philips.
"I'm sorry."
Gordon frowned. Why was he apologising? Because two highly trained military commandos took him by surprise and shot someone in front of him? Because he was young and hadn't seen anything like this before?
Instead of saying this, he just offered a small smile to the security guard that he hoped communicated those words, but probably ended up just being incredibly patronising. It seemed to satisfy his young friend though, who let his hand slide from Gordon's shoulder and nodded.
They made their way down the corridor and out to the tram. Once on board, Gordon actually had trouble remembering out to operate one, at least for a brief moment. Then he remembered that he had ridden one not one hour ago, and mentally slapped himself for letting his nerves rob him of his memory. Philips sat down and rested his back against the orange control panel at the front of the tram, one hand lifted above his head to the white guardrails that covered the first fifth or so of the tram.
He gripped the throttle and thrust it forward. The tram jerked to life with a grunt, and they were on their way. Philips was either trying to sleep or just couldn't bear to keep his eyes open, Gordon didn't know. They trundled around the corner, where a barricade of boxes had been set up on the rail. Gordon crouched as the tram ploughed through them with little problem.
Philips didn't even twitch. The tram turned another corner, and Gordon tried to think of something to say. Something inspirational, something uplifting, something that would make Philips believe that this was all worthwhile.
Nothing came to mind.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(A/N: I wish Gordon would wear contact lenses. His glasses make it very hard to do proper action sequences sometimes, especially with all the jumping, leaping, running and falling needed. Ah well. As he gets better at kicking ass I suppose they'll fall of less.
Anyway, enough of my moaning. Reviews, please!
P.S. Shephard is coming.
Next Chapter: On a Rail)