STORY TWO: Tank Rush
LOCATION: Surface Exit Tunnel Two B, Black Mesa Research Facility
TIMESCALE: December 3rd, 1230 hours EVENT TIME PLUS ONE DAY 3 HOURS
"WARNING, ENGINE OVERHEATING"
Tank Driver Tom Peters ignored the flashing lights in his cramped compartment and floored the accelerator. The battered V12 engine grumbled angrily, lurching the heavy vehicle forward. The accelerator showed it was only going at a mere 45mph.
"LEFT!"
Tom threw the tank to the left, scraping it against the hard tunnel wall. He couldn't see, crouched as he was in the compartment. The turret had swivelled backwards so he was unable to get out. At that moment it blasted out a heavy round, giving the tank a short burst of speed. The voice was that of the commander, Major Dwyers, sat on the tank roof. The men of this tank were escaping both the Black Mesa Facility.and the huge, terrifying Garg beast that was thundering after them, ripping out concrete from the roof and ignoring the tank's gun blasts as if they were merely peas.
"RIGHT!" shouted Dwyers. At the same time as Peters reached for the right track control, another blast from the main gun propelled the tank forward, causing him to smack into the bulkhead of the tank.
"RIGH..." screamed Dwyers, but it was too late. The tank ploughed into the concrete wall, throwing a screaming Dwyers straight into it, breaking every bone in his body. He slumped onto the wrecked tank. Peters suddenly awoke, his head seething with pain. Smoke filled the compartment, but he still couldn't get out. Then he realised. Tank. Stopped. Big Garg.
At the same time as this realisation hit him so did the Garg creature, lifting the tank form the rear with one arm, and pulling off the turret with the other. Peters fumbled hurridly for his MP5, before leaping out of the compartment, just as the Garg stuck its arm into the tank and fired a blast of fire into the wreckage. The tank exploded in its hand, bright red pieces sticking into the creature, which screamed in agony.
Peters sighted his MP5 at the creature and let off a volley of rounds, to no effect. At the same time, Dwyers regained conciousness. He felt in so much pain as to not be able to speak or move. He let out a dull moan, just as Peters ran over. Grabbing the badly injured commander by the shirt, Peters began dragging him towards the tunnel exit, as the Garg fought to pull out the embedded pieces of tank shrapnel.
"NORTH WEST EXIT-400 METERS" Read a sign that caught Peters eye. Sunlight was already filling the tunnel, its heat both reasurring and soothing.
"Hang on sir, nearly there!" said Peters. But, as he did, the Garg ripped the last piece of Tank from its flesh, and focussed it's attention on Peters. With one huge swipe, it caught Peters in the back, smacking him against the wall and knocking him out. Dwyers remained on the ground, regaining enough strength to push himself over on his shattered arms. The Garg was staring at him hungrily. Dwyers pulled out his Desert Eagle sidearm and started firing at the creature, which reached down and picked him up. The Desert eagle ran dry, though Dwyers kept pressing the trigger. He knew he was going to die. The Garg ripped off his legs with the other arm and threw them in its mouth, almost like a piece of chicken. Dwyers screamed in pain. The creature crushed his chest, then bit his head off, before throwing the rest of the shattered soldiers' body into its throat. It swallowed, and then almost purred with satisfaction.
Peters again regained conciousness, rubbing his sore head. His left leg was broken, and his back ached. But this was not his main worry, the Garg was eyeing him up. It reached down, picking him up. But Peters had a little surprise for the creature. He quickly grabbed the grenade from his leg pouch before the creature grabbed him, and as it lifted him high above its gaping mouth, he flung the grenade into the creature. It exploded, and the Garg screamed, dropping Peters and clutching at its throat.
"Too hot for you, huh?" joked Peters. The garg let out one guttural scream, before it's stomach area exploded, showering Peters in green-orange blood. The huge corpse slammed onto the concrete road.
Peters shook his head, then reached for his MP5. Lifting himself up and suppressing the pain of his broken leg as best he could, he limped toward the sunlight.
At the end of the tunnel, a group of scientists were beginning to leave, having just escaped via the old teleportation labs. One jeep, with Dr Earl Rosenberg and a security guard pulled away onto the desert road. Another group was lifting the badly injured Dr Yuri Kavalov into a second jeep, he had been badly wounded by fire from a marine. At this exact time, Peters stumbled out of the tunnel. He gestured to the scientists.
"Help me!"
The scientists stopped, looking at each other and speaking quietly. Then one slammed the Jeep door shut, the rest climbing into the jeep. He sauntered over to where Peters was lying.
"You want us to help you?"
"P..please." mumbled Peters, who was already falling unconscious from the pain. "I'm in a lot of pain."
"YOU'RE IN A LOT OF PAIN??!" shouted the increasingly angry scientist. "You marines kill and injure innocents and you're in a lot of pain!" With that, the scientist revealed what he was hiding behind his back, a mean looking pipe wrench. Before Peters could do anything, the scientist lifted it high above his head and was about to plunge it into Peters skull when gunshots resounded. Two bullets smacked into the scientist's chest, and he fell to the ground, mouth wide open. Peters didn't look to see who had fired the shots, but reached for his MP5, summoned enough strength to lift himself up and sprayed the compartment of the jeep with gunfire. The three scientists inside slumped dead, blood spattering all over the broken windows. Peters spun round to see his guardian angel, but there was no-one there. Only a smoking M16 lay on the ground. Peters shook off any feelings of concern and limped over to the jeep, pulling the corpse of the driver out onto the hot desert road, he hopped in and pulled away from the scene.
Tom Peters drove 200 miles to Roswell, New Mexico in the shattered Jeep, admitting himself to the local hospital. He supposedly died of his wounds two days later, no-one noticing the suit clad man who left Peters room just before his life support machine sounded.
LOCATION: Surface Exit Tunnel Two B, Black Mesa Research Facility
TIMESCALE: December 3rd, 1230 hours EVENT TIME PLUS ONE DAY 3 HOURS
"WARNING, ENGINE OVERHEATING"
Tank Driver Tom Peters ignored the flashing lights in his cramped compartment and floored the accelerator. The battered V12 engine grumbled angrily, lurching the heavy vehicle forward. The accelerator showed it was only going at a mere 45mph.
"LEFT!"
Tom threw the tank to the left, scraping it against the hard tunnel wall. He couldn't see, crouched as he was in the compartment. The turret had swivelled backwards so he was unable to get out. At that moment it blasted out a heavy round, giving the tank a short burst of speed. The voice was that of the commander, Major Dwyers, sat on the tank roof. The men of this tank were escaping both the Black Mesa Facility.and the huge, terrifying Garg beast that was thundering after them, ripping out concrete from the roof and ignoring the tank's gun blasts as if they were merely peas.
"RIGHT!" shouted Dwyers. At the same time as Peters reached for the right track control, another blast from the main gun propelled the tank forward, causing him to smack into the bulkhead of the tank.
"RIGH..." screamed Dwyers, but it was too late. The tank ploughed into the concrete wall, throwing a screaming Dwyers straight into it, breaking every bone in his body. He slumped onto the wrecked tank. Peters suddenly awoke, his head seething with pain. Smoke filled the compartment, but he still couldn't get out. Then he realised. Tank. Stopped. Big Garg.
At the same time as this realisation hit him so did the Garg creature, lifting the tank form the rear with one arm, and pulling off the turret with the other. Peters fumbled hurridly for his MP5, before leaping out of the compartment, just as the Garg stuck its arm into the tank and fired a blast of fire into the wreckage. The tank exploded in its hand, bright red pieces sticking into the creature, which screamed in agony.
Peters sighted his MP5 at the creature and let off a volley of rounds, to no effect. At the same time, Dwyers regained conciousness. He felt in so much pain as to not be able to speak or move. He let out a dull moan, just as Peters ran over. Grabbing the badly injured commander by the shirt, Peters began dragging him towards the tunnel exit, as the Garg fought to pull out the embedded pieces of tank shrapnel.
"NORTH WEST EXIT-400 METERS" Read a sign that caught Peters eye. Sunlight was already filling the tunnel, its heat both reasurring and soothing.
"Hang on sir, nearly there!" said Peters. But, as he did, the Garg ripped the last piece of Tank from its flesh, and focussed it's attention on Peters. With one huge swipe, it caught Peters in the back, smacking him against the wall and knocking him out. Dwyers remained on the ground, regaining enough strength to push himself over on his shattered arms. The Garg was staring at him hungrily. Dwyers pulled out his Desert Eagle sidearm and started firing at the creature, which reached down and picked him up. The Desert eagle ran dry, though Dwyers kept pressing the trigger. He knew he was going to die. The Garg ripped off his legs with the other arm and threw them in its mouth, almost like a piece of chicken. Dwyers screamed in pain. The creature crushed his chest, then bit his head off, before throwing the rest of the shattered soldiers' body into its throat. It swallowed, and then almost purred with satisfaction.
Peters again regained conciousness, rubbing his sore head. His left leg was broken, and his back ached. But this was not his main worry, the Garg was eyeing him up. It reached down, picking him up. But Peters had a little surprise for the creature. He quickly grabbed the grenade from his leg pouch before the creature grabbed him, and as it lifted him high above its gaping mouth, he flung the grenade into the creature. It exploded, and the Garg screamed, dropping Peters and clutching at its throat.
"Too hot for you, huh?" joked Peters. The garg let out one guttural scream, before it's stomach area exploded, showering Peters in green-orange blood. The huge corpse slammed onto the concrete road.
Peters shook his head, then reached for his MP5. Lifting himself up and suppressing the pain of his broken leg as best he could, he limped toward the sunlight.
At the end of the tunnel, a group of scientists were beginning to leave, having just escaped via the old teleportation labs. One jeep, with Dr Earl Rosenberg and a security guard pulled away onto the desert road. Another group was lifting the badly injured Dr Yuri Kavalov into a second jeep, he had been badly wounded by fire from a marine. At this exact time, Peters stumbled out of the tunnel. He gestured to the scientists.
"Help me!"
The scientists stopped, looking at each other and speaking quietly. Then one slammed the Jeep door shut, the rest climbing into the jeep. He sauntered over to where Peters was lying.
"You want us to help you?"
"P..please." mumbled Peters, who was already falling unconscious from the pain. "I'm in a lot of pain."
"YOU'RE IN A LOT OF PAIN??!" shouted the increasingly angry scientist. "You marines kill and injure innocents and you're in a lot of pain!" With that, the scientist revealed what he was hiding behind his back, a mean looking pipe wrench. Before Peters could do anything, the scientist lifted it high above his head and was about to plunge it into Peters skull when gunshots resounded. Two bullets smacked into the scientist's chest, and he fell to the ground, mouth wide open. Peters didn't look to see who had fired the shots, but reached for his MP5, summoned enough strength to lift himself up and sprayed the compartment of the jeep with gunfire. The three scientists inside slumped dead, blood spattering all over the broken windows. Peters spun round to see his guardian angel, but there was no-one there. Only a smoking M16 lay on the ground. Peters shook off any feelings of concern and limped over to the jeep, pulling the corpse of the driver out onto the hot desert road, he hopped in and pulled away from the scene.
Tom Peters drove 200 miles to Roswell, New Mexico in the shattered Jeep, admitting himself to the local hospital. He supposedly died of his wounds two days later, no-one noticing the suit clad man who left Peters room just before his life support machine sounded.