-1Disclaimer: I don't own Half-Life.

The Black Mesa Incident

Chapter Thirty Six: Worlds Collide

The continuous, roaring noise of heavy machinery grew louder and louder as Shephard descended. He barely noticed it, his dull, reddened gaze set blankly forward as he waited for the elevator to finally come to a halt so he could move on. Eventually, the elevator stopped with a loud clang that only merged with the noise blasting into Shephard's eardrums.

Sniper rifle raised, he stepped into the storage unit. In the darkened room he could just barely make out the outline of stacked crates on his left-hand side, stretching forward a few feet before going off to the left to create a small 'corridor' of crates, huge walls of wooden boxes stacked on either side. Even further ahead of Shephard was another left turn after the other wall of crates. A shadow splayed across the floor brought Shephard's attention to the further turning, and he headed towards it.

The noise of the machinery roared on.

Shephard was suddenly whirled around as a bullet blasted into his left shoulder, turning him so that he was facing down the first 'corridor'. He swung the sniper rifle up to his eye as two more bullets hit him in the chest, sending him stumbling back towards the wall behind him. As Shephard watched, two more flashes lit up his otherwise concealed opponent, and he brought up the sniper rifle again, even as the bullets thanked against his leg and protected stomach.

He fired, and could barely see the spray of blood from the Black Ops' head as the high powered bullet flew through.

With his teeth clenched, Shephard turned and continued towards the corner, his eyes on the shadow that still lay there. Those bullets had managed to drain his PCV of quite a substantial amount of power; the wounds weren't healing as fast as they should, and the pain was nowhere near subsiding. Normally it would have been completely gone by now. He would have to be more careful.

Eventually limping to the corner, Shephard cocked the rifle and pressed his back to the wall of crates, safe in the knowledge that the heavy machinery would conceal his presence as well. The shadow still hadn't moved.

After one long breath, Shephard whirled around, rifle at the ready. A black, leather clad leg sprung out at him, hitting his hands and sending the rifle flying over his shoulder and clattering to the floor behind him. He didn't even bother to look back at the weapon, instead throwing his fist forward. With speed and grace that Shephard had only seen out of dancers, the Black Ops woman stepped to the right, letting the gloved first sail by.

Winding her arm around his, she drove her hand in a pincer-like fist into his throat. Shephard gagged as he tried to back up, his hand on his neck. The Black Ops whirled to the floor, swiping her legs through his ankles and sending him thumping painfully onto his back. As she came back up, Shephard thrust out a booted foot to where her face would end up being.

The leather collided with a satisfying solidity, the pained noise she made completely lost to the machinery. Wasting no time, Shephard struggled to his feet, which was no easy feat with a bullet hole in his thigh and another in his shoulder. Cautiously, she began to walk around him, suddenly aware that her new prey might be able to pose a threat. Shephard followed suit, circling around to the right while she followed. As he walked around, Shephard noticed for the first time the opening between two walls of crates beside him, the 'corridor' facing opposite the wall he had just come from.

With a quick glance down it, Shephard saw large wooden crates placed onto metal braces, moving along a thick metal bar several feet above them. Every time they moved, they created the loud metal roar that he had been hearing ever since he descended down the elevator shaft. The crate blocking the 'corridor' ahead suddenly moved off to the right, revealing two Black Ops agents stood behind a mounted machinegun, their bodies almost completely hidden by the sandbag in front of him.

They noticed him instantly. Looking over at the Black Ops woman in front of him, Shephard threw his fist at her, half-guessing and half-hoping he knew what her response would be. She tossed up her forearm, blocking the blow. Shephard smiled and grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards him and finally swinging her around until she was between him and the now firing mounted machinegun. He leapt away as the bullets ripped through her like paper, streaking blood against the wall of crates behind her.

Shephard sat where he was for a moment, content to revel in the rush of survival for a few moments. He didn't let it linger, however. Survival instinct, mostly, but he also didn't want his brain kicking in anytime soon. Looking to the 'wall' in front of him, Shephard circled around and went to the body of the Black Ops woman he had shot earlier. Slotted neatly into her belt, two grenades beckoned him forth. He grabbed them both and walked back to the edge of the guarded 'corridor'.

He peeked around the corner. A crate was blocking his view of the Black Ops again. But they weren't what he was interested in right now anyway. Instead, he was studying the gap between the brace holding the crate and the metal floor below. Squeezing the grenade in his hand, he estimated that it was just about the right size. But to be on the safe side, Shephard waited for that crate to move on and for the next to slide into place before making his move.

Once the crate had groaned loudly into position, Shephard ripped the pins from both grenades and ran around the corner. He slid both into the gap underneath the crate before sprinting his way back around the corner, preparing his machete.

With a flash and a surprisingly audible bang, Shephard heard the grenades go off and whirled around the corner, charging through the smoking remains of the crate and into the little cubby-hole on the other side. He stepped over the charred remains of the first and foremost Black Ops, who no doubt had been manning the weapon. The second was backed up against the wall, dazed but still ready for action. Shephard charged him with the machete pointing downwards from his fist.

The Black Ops took aim with his rifle, but Shephard knocked it aside easily before slicing the machete through his neck with one swift motion. He didn't wait to see the fruits of his labours, settling for kicking his enemy's weapon away from him and going back down the 'corridor' to reclaim his own.

Finding no other way forward, Shephard went back to the moving grates and looked around. As one moved forward, Shephard could see a small gap of opportunity allowing him to slip diagonally through and into a metal-floored area beyond.

It would take some timing though, especially with a sizeable limp and boots that didn't particularly lend themselves the swift movements. After a few false starts, Shephard managed to quickly squeeze through as the crate before him very nearly crushed his foot clean off. Not allowing his relief to slow him down, Shephard heaved himself to his feet, using his rifle as a makeshift crutch for the act.

Before him was a platform high above his head, overlooking the area he stood in like an observation deck. A cargo elevator beside him yielded a way up, but Shephard kept a close eye on the floor above all the same. Keeping the rifle firmly gripped in both hands, Shephard elbowed the button to allow him to ascend, and waited nervously as it groaned and ached it's way up. The sound of the machinery was beginning to fade, and other noises started making themselves known.

His own laboured breathing, for instance. That was something he could have done without, really. He sighed as he took in what was on this floor as well. More crates, again creating another corridor for him to wind his way through, except this was far narrower than any of the crate corridors he had come across before. With a grunt he limped onward, noting with some degree of satisfaction that his injuries weren't throbbing anywhere near as badly as they once were. Of course, that could just be some head injury talking, but what the hell. Right now, he honestly didn't give a shit about the state of his body. As long as he could kill whatever was thrown at him, the aesthetics didn't matter.

The sound of clanging footsteps stopped him as he approached the corner of the corridor, and he pressed his back to the metal crates. They became louder as the numerous soldiers approached. It was true that they could be some of the soldiers he would normally fight alongside, but right now, he didn't care who he hit. As long as he hit it.

He waited until the sounds were nigh-on beside him before stepping out, thrusting the butt of his rifle in the face of the first Black Ops. It connected with his nose with a resounding crack, knocking him back and onto his rear. Shephard whirled the rifle around and blasted holes in the heads of the two following soldiers, watching dispassionately as they crumpled. After another blast to the groaning soldier before him, Shephard continued forward down the corridor, the dim light precipitating the need for his IR goggles.

Eventually, the winding corridor yielded nothing but a dead end. However, some seemingly randomly placed crates showed him a way forwards. Or rather, upwards. After some awkward clambering, Shephard found himself atop the crate wall, limping along it with his sniper held up, ready for anything that could jump out of the numerous shadows. By the time he reached the end of the wall, he was well and truly ready to relieve himself of the need to duck underneath the light fixtures.

The concrete walls had created a thin, very tall corridor ahead of Shephard, and on either side of him, a huge gaping passageway. The metal rack above him leading from one passageway to the other gave him the impression that these were for the transit of those large crates he had been fighting around earlier. Luckily, the entrance on the right-hand side was within jumping distance, and after a few tries that almost led to him tumbling to the metal floor far below, Shephard leapt into the 'corridor'.

Behind him, Shephard could see a crate blocking the other passageway. The way ahead of him, however, was clear, so he chose that path. He was overlooking a huge, expansive warehouse area, containers stacked up in random placements all around the room. A long metal rail led from just below the ledge of the passageway he stood on and all the way to the other side of the room. Two crates dangled precariously from the now inert rail, their braces creaking under the strain as they swung back and forth loosely. When the first crate swung towards him, it seemed to be just close enough for him to leap onto. Shephard sighed and cricked his neck.

Shephard was timing his jump when machinegun fire from below made him hit the cool, metal deck. But it wasn't at him. The whirring language of the Race X electricity aliens buzzed through the air, as well as the disgruntled cries of the tiger-striped creatures. Bullets and electricity blasts sang through the air, interrupting one another in a colossal argument of roaring voices.

He considered the situation. Three options were open to him. One, wait out the battle and kill whoever was left. Two, jump in with all guns blazing and fight his way through. Three, sneak his way past them as the two sides massacred each other. Normally, Shephard would have been happy to go with option One. But he had a nuclear bomb waiting to explode up his ass, so that was out. Two wouldn't work either. Even in the best of conditions he wouldn't last long against such odds with just a sniper rifle, a machete blade and a wrench for company.

So, three seemed to be the magic number. With a resolved nod to no-one but himself, he decided to hop onto the crates in front of him and find a surreptitious way down. Hopefully he would be able to find an exit before someone (or something) spotted him and took objection. He slid the sniper rifle onto his shoulder and got to his feet. Taking a few steps back first - and trying to ignore the potentially off-putting explosions below - Shephard charged forward and leapt onto the crate as it swung towards him.

He hit it with a resounding thud that would have otherwise resonated loudly around the warehouse. As it was, the noise was barely audible. Not eager to make himself known to the masses below, Shephard scrambled up to the top of the crate, glaring in irritation at the sniper rifle that had slid off his shoulder and down his arm. It really was an awkward son of a bitch to lug around sometimes.

A outraged cry from one of the tank-sized tiger striped creatures didn't evoke much of a reaction from him. But when it repeated it in the exact same tone, Shephard couldn't help but peek over the side of the swinging crate. He swore at the sight below him. One of the creatures had indeed spotted him - annoying, since they had no eyes - and was charging a blast of purple energy.

It fired.

And all Shephard could think to do was stare at it and curse. Looking around, Shephard spotted two containers stacked atop each other that were just a few feet below him. He leapt for them as the blast sailed up behind him and annihilated the crate and the rack, sending them both crashing to the ground. Shephard barely managed to claw his fingers onto the edge of the container. Looking down, he saw the same alien staring up at him, waiting for its' prey to drop.

A little further up and close to his dangling feet, Shephard could see that the containers were not perfectly stacked; there was a small shelf that he could balance his boots on, at least until he dropped down to the floor below. Concentrating on the jump and not on the monster waiting to feast on his bones, Shephard dropped to the ledge and quickly bounced himself back, turning in mid-air and rolling to the solid ground below.

That familiar heavy galloping thudded away behind him, and Shephard looked over his shoulder to see the creature stood above him, claws held high to strike. Shephard rolled, pulling up the sniper rifle as he came to a kneeling stance. The grenade that dropped down below the creature's belly made him reconsider his strategy, however. He turned and ran, the surprisingly quick explosion knocking him off his feet, tossing him through the air and into the side of another container on the other side of the room.

He bounced once against the thick metal, denting it before he hit the ground with a quiet thud. The sniper rifle was knocked from his grip by the impact, and Shephard extended a groggy hand out to take it. A black boot clomped down the rifle, and Shephard looked up at the Black Ops soldier now staring down at him, rifle pointed straight for his head. Shephard prepared to kick him in the side.

A flash of blue-white light hit the Black Ops in the side, sending him stumbling back with a grunt before he turned to face his attacker. The Race X electricity alien fired again, this time hitting the soldier in the face and sending him spiralling through the air and onto his front again. Looking down across the room at his would-be saviour, Shephard watched as the creature stamped over to his still slightly dazed form, lifting its' leg to stamp down on his head.

Looking up, Shephard saw another electricity alien approaching. Remembering an old trick, he rolled out of the way of the descending alien foot before rising to his feet and grabbing the grey tendrils that dangled from the creature's mouth. He yanked down on them, hard, pulling himself up by using the alien's knee as a step. Pushing off from the creature with his legs, he whirled around and scythed his leg through the air, hitting the alien behind him in the side of the face and sending it stumbling back, turning as it did so.

Shephard landing beside his sniper rifle and snatched it up. With a quick roll, he put some distance between himself and the two aliens, taking both out with one bullet each. The roach creatures they carried were easily dispatched by the butt of his rifle and his boot, respectively.

Getting to his feet, Shephard couldn't hear anymore noises of battle. It seemed that they had killed each other off. And while he would usually err on the side of caution and sweep the area just in case, he had a bomb to get away from. Rifle now empty, Shephard explored the room, the distant sound of industrial machinery echoing around him as he walked. At the far end of the room and around two stacked containers, Shephard found a car sized entrance to another room, the floor ramped upwards and leading to a large, secure looking door on the right-hand side.

Slowly, and with his rifle futilely held high, Shephard edged forward. When he got within a few paces distance of the door, it slid open with a mighty groan. Shephard brought the rifle to his eye, in another pointless gesture. Inside, a haggard looking security guard with messy stubble and an oily streak on one side of his face waved him in. He was leaning against the wall beside the doorway.

"I guess you're a good guy," His brown eyes flicked down to Shephard's nametag, "Corporal." He swallowed loudly between deep breaths. "Listen, you've got to get down below," he continued, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. Inside the room beyond, Shephard could see some shelves on the far and left-hand walls. On the right, in the far corner, an open elevator beckoned him forth.

The security guard continued. "There's something coming through, and it's the nastiest looking thing yet. Some of your buddies went down there awhile ago and I haven't seen them since. I've got some weapons I've piled up in here; you'd better take as much as you can carry… because I think this is it."

Shephard walked into the room, staring at the elevator. He didn't know if there was a way out down there. It could just be a dead end.

"Good luck, Corporal."

A clean, crisp gunshot ran through the air, making Shephard instinctively whirl around. The security guard lay dead against the wall, blood streaking down behind him from where he had been stood. In the large doorway, a Black Ops stood, standard issue handgun pointed at his face. He gestured for Shephard to drop the weapon. His teeth gritted, Shephard did so, tossing it to the ground beside him.

Slowly, the Black Ops walked into the room, keeping the pistol aimed firmly at Shephard. When he got too close for comfort, Shephard backed up so that his back was to the shelves on the far side of the room and the glowing elevator was on his left. At a lack of options, Shephard tried something new. Something he hadn't tried since he arrived.

Talking.

"Did you hear what he said?"

The Black Ops paused, tilting his head to the side like a curious dog. Then he threw his weapon away, sending it careening across the room and rattling to a stop beside the corpse of the security guard.

Shephard frowned in confusion. "What the hell are you doing? Didn't you hear him? There's something coming in down there. Something that could kill us all."

His mute, shadowy opponent started circling him, and Shephard cautiously did the same, keeping distance between them. The elevator was on his right now, with the shelves behind the Black Ops.

"This doesn't matter anymore!" he screamed. "None of it! What the fuck's the point?"

As if in answer, the Black Ops threw a jab of a punch at him. Shephard leant back to avoid the blow, and instinctively responded with an attack of his own, swinging his right arm around. His opponent easily blocked the attack and shoved his free palm up into Shephard's face. The lenses of his mask cracked as the breath nozzle on the front drove itself up into his face. His IR goggles flashed on and off angrily as he stumbled back, finally settling for off.

Blinking away the spots in front of his eyes, Shephard looked up in time to see the Black Ops coming at him with another punch to the face. Shephard ducked beneath the blow and charged straight into him like a bull, grabbing onto his sides and driving the Black Ops back into the hard metal shelves behind him. Both groaned noisily as they collided with the shelves, random supplies toppling and clattering to the ground. A solid hit to the back of his neck made Shephard back up, and barely felt two hands on either side of his head before it was driven down into the Black Ops' knee, sending the gasmask smashing into his face once again before tossing him onto his back like a spent weapon.

Shephard just stared up at the ceiling as he breathed, the pain in his face suddenly awakening him from the numbness he had been feeling since he had watched the G-Man re-activating the nuclear bomb.

The light above his head was suddenly blocked by the figure of the Black Ops, and he watched as he lifted his boot and sent it slamming down towards his face. With a sudden burst of energy that he hadn't felt in some time, Shephard reached up and grabbed the foot, twisting it viciously and throwing it away. The Black Ops, equally surprised, backed up as Shephard heaved himself to his feet.

Like a boxer on a roll, Shephard charged at the Black Ops, his blur of a right hook connecting with a satisfying crack against his jaw. The left blow was blocked, and two more after were dodged with frustrating efficiency and ease. He sidestepped another blow, this time grabbing onto Shephard's arm and turning, rolling Shephard over his shoulder and again onto his back. He repeated his gesture from before and made to stamp on his head.

Shephard rolled out of the way, his hand slipping his wrench from his belt as though he had never forgotten it was there. Swinging it around, he cracked it into the Black Ops' knee, sending him screaming onto his back with a surprising volume. As he watched the faceless enemy writhe on the floor, he felt an overwhelming surge of hatred boil out of him. How dare these… things object to pain? As if they were human beings that hadn't killed and maimed and tortured.

His grip on the wrench tightened.

These… bastards…

"WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT!?" he screamed, swinging the wrench high above his head before he brought it back down on the Black Ops head, silencing him instantly.

Another hit.

Another.

And another.

Blood spattered against the floor and the walls, completely coating the silver tip of the wrench and sending little droplets flying up into his cracked lenses.

Finally, Shephard stopped, kneeling beside his handiwork in a haze of bloodlust. He stared down at the mangled body before him, the frayed lenses turning him into a multiple image in front of his very eyes. Slowly, Shephard got to his feet, the blood dripping from the wrench that dangled idly from his side.

He let it drop with a clang. He didn't feel like carrying it anymore.

Shephard pulled off his gasmask to remove the lenses, but ended up closing his eyes and simply letting the cool air waft onto his face. He hadn't done this since…

Since just before he met Gordon Freeman. So many people had just died before his eyes… Parker, Robbins, Jetson…

His eyes snapped open when he saw the faces of the dead swirling in the darkness. He shook his head, and, after stabbing the lenses out with his machete, replaced the gasmask on his face. It felt strange to not to have them. Like he was unprotected somehow. All it really meant was that he was even more likely do die from a shot to the head than before. Which wasn't much.

He picked up his sniper rifle and took what little ammunition for it he could find on the shelves. Five bullets. The only supplies those bastard soldiers had left him before going off into battle were five bullets. He loaded them up as he stepped into the elevator. With a gently push of his elbow, the pushed the button that would allow him to descend to the floor below. His exposed icy blue eyes remained on the dead Black Ops until he was well and truly out of sight.

The steady groaning of the freight elevator was gradually accompanied by a noise from below, like a constant whistling breeze. As he entered the floor below, he suddenly felt it too, almost being blown from his feet by the gusts that buffeted against him. Behind him and on the walls on either side of him, thick metal grates of epic proportions hid - he assumed - equally epic fans, their blades groaning rustily against the wind they were blowing out.

Looking ahead through squinting eyes, Shephard spotted his next destination. At the far end of the large room was a stairway leading down to a level below that he could see from where he was. Being mindful of the crates that were steadily being blown his way, Shephard fought against the wind and made his way to the stairs.

A sparkle of light flew past his head, quickly followed by several more. His eyes instantly going to them, he watched as they whirled haphazardly yet with a strange grace towards a metal door in the far left-hand corner of the bare floor below. They disappeared through it as though it weren't even there.

Shephard walked to the door, and, with his heart beating and stomach tingling far more than it had for any other battle in his life, Shephard hit the button beside it. The door slid open, revealing another greying room behind. As he stepped inside, he saw the walkway above him running around the room. The ladder that he assumed would have usually led up there was now half encased in brilliant luminescent green moss, glowing in an otherworldly way that didn't endear itself to Shephard.

In the far right of the room, Shephard saw another doorway leading into what felt like a much larger chamber, judging by the draft. He stepped through, and had to stop himself from doing a double-take. The room was huge. Both vertically and horizontally. He was standing on a T shaped walkway that itself stood above a black void below. Shephard didn't even want to think about how far down the actual floor was. Above his head, a walkway running against the near wall led to the walkway in the room behind him.

On the other opposite side of the T, a thick yellow tower had been erected, a walkway running around that, too. At the far end of each walkway, Shephard could see some kind of mounted weapon, pointing towards what had become the centrepiece of the room at the bottom of the 'T'. Shephard slowly walked towards the pulsating purple mass that had encompassed the wall there, towering above him like a skyscraper. The same green moss from the other room created a glowing border around it, like a sacred gateway for… something. The moss had spread out until it came to the very edge of the bottom of the 'T' walkway.

A flash of purple filled his vision, and the noise of thunder rolled through the air. The portal before him stretched and pushed out towards him, and he backed up accordingly, sniper rifle at the ready. Another flash, and another ominous thunderclap that echoed all around the room.

Several more followed in quick succession, and Shephard backed all the way back onto the metal of the walkway.

One more flash and a resounding bang of thunder, and, as though being born, a towering, writhing green monster came grunting and roaring from the portal, pulling and stretching the glowing purple gateway around it as it finally entered the world. Two large green tentacles swung around wildly in the air as it roared its' beaked face to the heavens, several smaller tentacles on each side wriggling around beneath their two larger cousins. Two glowing yellow eyes on either side of the shining, black beak took in the world around them.

And the creature didn't seem to like it. Its' gaze fell to Shephard, and he took aim. Not that he needed to; the thing was as big as a house, literally. He managed to fire off one shot that pinged helplessly against the creature's green hide before one of the large tentacles came swinging down, swatting him back dismissively. Shephard barely managed to hold onto the sniper rifle as he toppled back along the walkway, finally hitting a guardrail at the bridge of the 'T'.

Still sitting, he cocked the sniper rifle and took aim again, this time going for something a little more tangible. With all the creature's writhing, it wasn't an easy task getting a lock on the right eye. But years of training wasn't just for show. The high powered bullet punctured the eye like a balloon, and the creature clenched its' eyelid shut, the pale green making it look like a rotten grape. Still with one good eye roaming the room, it settled on Shephard.

With a roar, the creature rose its' beak up the ceiling before bringing its' head back down. A vortex of green energy spiralled towards him from the creature, and Shephard had no desire to be caught by it. Scrambling to his feet, he managed to sprint his way behind the yellow platform on the left. Breathlessly falling to the floor, he looked at the section of the walkway where he had just been. Melted, like acid.

Taking a deep breath, he cocked the sniper rifle again and whirled around the corner of the yellow tower. Within a few seconds, he took out the other eye, and the creature was blinded. It roared again, but this time it slammed its' tentacles down on the ground again and again, like a child having a tantrum. The room shook from the blows.

Then, something in the creature's belly attracted Shephard's attention; it was opening up. A purple orb of energy inside the small cavity was almost instant encouragement for him. He fired a high powered bullet firmly into the gaping wound, and the orb flashed angrily. And the creature roared, striking out at everything it could find. Whatever Shephard had just shot, it was certainly important.

He watched as the creature writhed yet more. Then, suddenly, it stopped, taking on an almost Zen-like calm before concentrating its' tentacles on the open wound. With a quick flourish, a golden orb of a portal blasted out, floating to a halt halfway down the walkway in front of it. It disappeared with a flash, revealing a Race X electricity alien in its' wake. Shephard wasted no time in taking aim and using his last bullet to blast a hole in the creature's head.

It collapsed onto its' back with a thud, and Shephard swatted the roach creature that remained away and down into the darkness below with the back of his hand. He had bigger alien killing machines to fry now. Looking around, he noticed the crystal gun on the walkway opposite him on the second floor, and remembered there was also one on the walkway above him.

Shephard latched onto the ladder on the yellow tower beside him and climbed up top. After a quick check to see what the creature was doing, he made his way around to the weapon. It basically looked like a box with two handles on one end and a nozzle on the other. A yellow crystal jutted out of the top, and Shephard hazarded a guess that they were alien in origin as well.

Two red buttons on top of the handles indicated how the thing worked, and Shephard took aim at the steadily recovering creature. Where once its' swollen eyes were clamped shut, they were now cautiously opening again, the yellow irises flicking around the room for some kind of safety.

Shephard clicked down his thumbs and fired a blast of golden energy into the creature's eye. Yellow blood exploded outwards, and the creature screamed with even more intensity than before. Whirling its' head around towards him, it brought its' head up again to unleash another blast of acid breath. Shephard ran for the guardrail of the walkway and stepped up onto it, leaping for the walkway opposite just as the creature fired. He slammed into the guardrail of the walkway chest first, his arms clamping over it like hooks.

The creature had followed his little leap, and was preparing another blast. Shephard swung his legs through the gap of the guardrail and slid his way around onto the walkway. He grabbed the crystal gun and fired at the remaining eye just as the creature unleashed another spiralling green attack. The blast was sent off course by the crystal gun, but not by much. It melted the support struts beneath Shephard's walkway, sending it toppling back and leaving a rather dangerous looking ramp leading down into the blackness beyond.

He grabbed turned and ran down the ramp, pushing off before it became vertical and landing rather hard on the top of the 'T' shaped walkway. As he heard the crackle of another portal releasing an electricity alien, Shephard dashed around and into the room beyond, taking cover. He stood with his back to the wall, his head leaning up against it as he stared at the ceiling. All of the aches and pains of the day previous were catching up with him. The PCV was now officially out of power.

There was nothing left.

"Fuck," he breathed.

Then, with another deep breath, he poked his head around the corner. Another electricity alien had indeed been released, and was standing directly in the way of Shephard and the creature. Not that he wanted to get close to it right now. All he had left to fight it were the crystal guns, and they were both…

Shephard's eye fell on something in the rubble of the yellow tower. There, just before the green monster that had been terrorising him, a crystal gun poked out of the debris. Almost like a game of join-the-dots, it was placed almost precisely in front of the now open orifice of the creature where the purple orb glowed.

He tucked himself around the corner again and took several more breaths, hoping that each one would increase his resolve. Instead, they just made him want to turn back. Shephard reached down and pulled out his machete.

This was for every good person he had met today.

Every security guard, scientist or soldier who didn't know the horror of what was around them, but ended up dying for it anyway.

Shephard charged roaring around the corner, using the pain that tore at him to power his rage. The electricity alien fired on him, hitting him in the shoulder. All it did was make Shephard turn a little. But he still kept coming. As he reached the alien, he plunged the machete into its' eye. With a cry, it brought up its' clawed hands to the weapon now lodged in its' face. Shephard pulled it out before it had a chance to anything of the sort, quickly whirling around with it and stabbing it into the creature's muscled, hunched back.

Shephard left the blade where it was and ignored the creature's pained cries as he dove for the crystal gun. Everything else in the room was secondary. Including the tentacle that came smashing down on his left leg as he reached the crystal weapon, breaking it instantly. Shephard roared in agony as he pressed the buttons on the weapon, sending a continuous burst of pure golden energy into the purple heart of the monster.

Finally, the purple orb started to crackle and pulsate wildly, sending cracks of light shooting up the screaming creature. Purple light shone through, breaking out as though through cracks in a wall. The creature lashed out at everything in the room, and the chamber began to crumble. A titanic limb thrashed out at a pillar that ran all along the wall beside Shephard, dislodging it. With a slow rumble, it began to topple down on him.

With the smile of a man finally at peace, Shephard closed his eyes and welcomed death. He had seen so much… had so much of his life shown back to him as a lie, a, dirty filthy lie… everything he had believed in and fought for… none of it true.

Yes, he welcomed death now.

But the sudden impact never came.

And the roaring of the creature was gone, replaced instead by a noise Shephard had once found comforting and safe; the blades of an Osprey helicopter, chugging away melodiously.

Shephard opened his eyes and found himself in the same helicopter he had first ridden to the Black Mesa Facility, sitting in his usual bench. Outside, the rocky mountains of New Mexico flew swiftly past.

And, stood before him, smiling down like a condescending teacher, the G-Man, his briefcase by his side. He opened his mouth, and a deep, slithering voice oozed out.

"So, Corporal Shephard, we meet at last. Please, don't think that I've been… avoiding you, a great many matters require my attention in these… troubled times." He smiled falsely. "I do hope you understand." He took a sudden, choked breath, sounding like he had just swallowed something unpleasant. "And… now I require a further indulgence, on your part. I cannot close my report until every loose end has been tied up."

That was something Shephard understood quickly. Loose ends… like those the military had been slaughtering. His fellow soldiers, turned into heartless, mindless killers because of this… bastard standing before him.

"The biggest embarrassment has been… Black Mesa Facility, but I think that's finally taken care of, itself."

He spoke in a disjointed, unfamiliar manner. But his words were all so well pronounced, it wasn't like he was foreign. It was like he had the dictionary, but none of the grammar.

A gradual flash of white light blinded Shephard, the distant rumble of an explosion still managing to make his ears ring from this distance. His eyes widened as he realised exactly what that was.

The G-Man smiled.

"Quite so."

Shephard couldn't find the will to speak. They were all gone. Everyone he had met, everyone he had saved and spared and seen… all of them, burnt to nothing.

With another blinding flash and the sound of a teleportation, the Osprey suddenly found itself surrounded by green sky. The occasional small, floating island drifted past. But Shephard wasn't interested in that. He was only concerned with the murdering scum in front of him.

As hard as he tried to stand up, however, he couldn't. It was as though his body simply didn't want to function. He couldn't even clench a fist or wriggle his toes. All he could do was move his head, and even that seemed to take the greatest of efforts.

Either the G-Man didn't know or didn't care about his predicament, because he simply continued on. "But there is still the lingering matter of… witnesses. I admit I have a fascination with those who adapt and survive against all odds…" He smiled. "They rather remind me of myself."

The way he smiled, it was like he knew that Shephard would want to kill him for the comment. This bastard was fully aware of Shephard's immobility.

"If for no other reason, I have argued to preserve you, for a time. While I believe a civil servant like yourself understands the importance of… discretion, my employers are not quite so trusting, and, rather than continually subject you to the irresistible human temptation of telling all, we've decided to…" He paused to swallowed loudly, "…convey you somewhere you can do no possible harm… and where no harm can come to you."

The door to the cockpit slid open, revealing a pulsating green portal inside. The G-Man nodded to Shephard with the slightest tip of his head, and moved towards the portal. He stopped and turned halfway, looking to Shephard.

"I'm sure you can imagine there are worse… alternatives."

With the barest of smiles, he turned, straightened his tie, and walked into the portal.

And with a flash, he was gone.

Shephard stared after him, waiting for the portal to close or for the door to slide shut. Or for his arms to suddenly gain the ability to move. But… nothing. Just nothing.

The wind blew gently outside, filling the barren alien wasteland around him. Shephard tried to move again. The portal stayed where it was. That was it. The struggling, the endless fighting and death that had surrounded him, that he had crawled, shot and blasted his way through… all of it, so he could be left here to float in silent nothingness. Left to drift for all time.

Slowly, Shephard bowed his head, eyes closed. His voice was somewhere between a croak and a whisper as he spoke.

"Please… just let me die…"

His final words disappeared into the green void around him.

The Osprey floated silently on.

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(A/N: As hard as I try, I genuinely can't believe I'm nearly at the end of this story. It's been a long project, and I can't honestly say it hasn't had its' downs. But anyway, that's an author note for another chapter. Next chapter, to be precise. :P

Anyway, I'm sure there are people who have opinions on how I've conveyed the end (so far) of Shephard's journey. So review, and let me know!

Next Chapter: Nihilanth)