Mike: WHAT! You thought my original tale was silly and uncreative! You shall DIE! Just kidding! Thanks for your review!

Sulk: I just realized that the General at the command base referred to the helicopters in BHD as Little Birds. Silly me!

Your-Under-Arrest: Here's a new chapter!

Authors Note: I've been thinking long and hard about my Pulp Fiction-style Call of Duty. And I've come to the conclusion that it just won't work. This story will still focus around Michael Anderson instead of the multiple POV stories I had been thinking of.

Current Evaluation

Subject: Michael Anderson
Current Time: 8:04 AM 5/30/98

          Michael's eyes slammed open. He blinked once, feeling disoriented and nauseous.

          Walter Bennett stood over him. Without a word, he grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

          "Thanks." Mike said.

          "Not a problem." Said Walter with a small grin.

          "What the-" Mike took in the devastation and chaos around him. Walter and him were the only living men in the hallway. Mangled bodies lay sprawled across the floor, spewing blood copiously. Severed limbs, organs, and various mutilated body parts littered the corridor like a junkyard. He almost vomited. His stomach had come further up his chest.

          "Yes, it is what we call a resonance cascade scenario. Please, follow me. We must leave this facility and make our way to the surface. I am sure other survivors of the resonance cascade will be glad to help us."

          "Can't we call the police or something? Don't you have a phone?" said Mike, recovering his stomach. He had to get to his friends and get out of here-

          "All the phone lines are out. We need to signal for help on the surface."

          Mike and Walter strolled down the corridor. Mike noticed that the scientist that had run to him just before the accident was missing. "Hey, did you see anyone go up or down the elevator?" asked Mike.

          "No, not that I know of. Why?"

          "There was a guy running down the hallway earlier. He tried…he tried to say something to me. He isn't here"

          "I don't know then, mister-" Walter peered at Mikes nametag "-Anderson, ah. I was down here when it happened. The elevator is in…decent condition. We should use it to ascend to the second level and proceed on from there."  

          The elevator was in actually very poor condition. It had suffered extreme structural damage. Though mobile, Walter and Mike exchanged nervous glances at each other. Luckily, the ride was a short one.

          As the doors opened, It charged them. It collided with Walter. The monstrosity collapsed and kicked. It let out a horrible screech. Mike grabbed Walter, threw him out of the elevator, and drew his 9-millimeter. He stepped back and fired once into the head of the creature. The bullet entered directly in what should have been the forehead, and exited from the top of the brain.

          That shot should have been fatal, but It was not about to be stopped so easily. It leaped at Mike and tackled him to the ground. There was a loud SMACK followed by another one. The creature stopped moving.

          "Eli!" shouted Walter.

          Eli Vance stood with a crowbar over the corpse of the creature. "The-that thing was Doctor Grantham. It-it-it was inside the-the container when the class shattered and the thing just-just leaped."

          "What the hell was that?" Mike demanded to know.

          Walter turned to Michael. "I guess there's no point in not telling you. For the past few months, the Black Mesa Research Facility has been experimenting with teleportation. However, we found that we could not teleport accurately because of a strange border world we nicknamed "Xen". The inhabitants of this new world were very…strange. And hostile."

          "So…so these aliens that you found have come through the border world to Earth." He looked at Eli Vance. "My God, that means that the experiment today…you fella's unleashed an invasion!"

          "We tried to warn them!" Eli Vance snapped.

          "It makes no sense bickering about it right now." Said Walter Bennett. "We've got to make our way to the surface and call it the armed forces. The military can handle this situation!"

          Eli and Michael agreed. Together the three men set off from the engineering room to escape.

          The administrator watched the cameras silently.

          He had their dossiers in front of him.

          "Michael Anderson," he read aloud, "born in Natick Massachusetts, by Kristin and Matt Anderson. Dropped out of high school. Moved to California as a police officer. Winded up in San Diego as a patrol. Followed a suspect in a California forest fire that had killed seven people and destroyed nearly two hundred thousand dollars worth of damage. Subdued him suffered two blows to the head and a near-fatal thrust of a pocketknife. Interest…" he trailed off. He had a strange lisp. His face was shrouded in darkness.

          Captain Garrison stood uneasily as the administrator went through Walter Bennett and Eli Vance's histories. His insertion team consisted of twelve assassins. He had been briefed on the whole situation before hand, knew every nock and cranny of Black Mesa, and had trained for it for six and a half months.

          "We've determined these three to be possible threats." The administrator went on. "Walter Bennett and Eli Vance are some of Black Mesa's more respectable personnel. This Anderson fellow may also pose a problem. Your first assignment in Black Mesa is to take your team and terminate this threat.

 "The military is thirty minutes out. Needless to say," he went on, the Captain seeing what might have been a grin on his face, "that they are also threats to you and your team. However, in order for this operation to go smoothly and successfully, you are not, under any circumstances, to kill a soldier of the military. Insert your team, hide from the grunts, and find and exterminate these three individuals. Your next mission objections, should you live, will be delivered to you as the situation develops over the communications channel. Dismissed."

          "Sir, yes sir!" The Captain saluted.

          The administrator did not return the salute. "Go, Captain."

          "What the hell is that thing!" shouted Michael. The vaguely crablike creature crawled towards the trio.

          "Shoot it! Shoot it before it jumps!" screamed Walter.

          Michael already had his 9mm drawn out and ready to fire. He discharged two rounds into the monstrosity before it died.

          "What you've seen is what creatures zombies." Said Eli. "This creature, nicknamed by us eggheads as a headcrabb, latches itself onto a human being and begins to…well take over the body for its needs. It is very destructive and hostile. Anderson, I would suggest you shoot these things on site."

          "Don't worry doc," Grinned Michael, "I'll be sure to give the next one I see a nice reception."

          "Let's proceed," said Walter.

          They were in the lobby of the Anomalous Materials lobby now. Walter had suggested that they try to see if the tram system was online and operational. If so, they could simply ride one to the surface. Michael had found an S.P.A.S. 12 from a fallen security guards corpse. However, it was low on ammunition, so Michael had hung it around his arm using the custom strap.

          "Shit, the door is jammed shut." Observed Michael as he saw the condition the control panel was in. It was twisted and dented, and hanging out of its hole. A few wires were still connected to it.

          "If I remember correctly," said Eli, "these doors open automatically should they suffer any impact. The reason for this is, the klaxons would activate, a security team would assemble, and the doors would open exactly two minutes after the impacts. This was meant often as a simple training exercise to test security reaction at any given time to any threat."

          "The crowbar." Commented Michael.

          "Exactly."

          Eli tossed the crowbar into the blast door.

          "You coulda just hit it."

          "Yes, well, I wanted to have enough impact to trigger the alarm system.

          Within two minutes, the doors opened. "Easy enough." Said Michael.

          The second blast door was missing its lower end. The trio crawled through.

          "My God, am I glad to see you!"

          A lone scientist was on the end of the tram platform. The walkway was in shambles, ready to fall as soon as extra weight was added.

          "Damn, we can't access the tram." Cursed Walter.

          But they did not need to wait. A tram came riding through. Its occupants were two security guards. They waved.

          The men waved back.

          "Jump to them!" shouted Walter.

          It was an easy jump. The tram platform remained connected but unstable. The scientist was hauled over by the guards.

          "Hey how-" started Mike, but he then stopped as he heard a low whine, like the sound of propellers on a helicopter.

          An Apache helicopter came flying through the other end of the tram access. It was a tight ride inside the corridors used for the tram railway. In the wide room of the tram departure, it was no problem maneuvering.

          "We're saved." Breathed Walter, amazed.

          But they were not. Much to everyone's surprise and horror, the Apache launched two salvos of missiles at the tram. Fire enveloped the transport, killing its occupants. The tram collapsed and fell to the floor with a loud CRACK.

          "Oh my god!" screamed Eli. The scientists quickly leaped back inside and began sprinting down the hallway.

          In utter shock and confusion, Mike stood still, wondering why the Apache, their savior and hero, had just killed two of his fellow comrades and a highly educated and useful scientist. The Apache turned, ready to fire at Mike. He drew his SPAS-12 shotgun, but it was already too late.

          Luck prevailed for Mike. The Apaches end clipped the tram railway, sending it in spirals. Losing its maneuverability, the cockpit of the helicopter flew up. The Apache's pilot tried to pull the ship to the left, but reversed. The propellers slammed against the wall, ripping and tearing itself apart. The helicopter crashed and burst into flames.

          Mike stared at the floor, still in shock at what he had bore witness too. Voices shouted from behind them, calling Michaels name. He shouted acknowledgement to them, and turned away from the chaos.

          "Red Team, move behind the crates! Blue Team, I want you to have a vintage point on the bridge! Green Team, I want you with me having a birds-eye view of this room. Move now people!" barked Captain Garrison.

          The plan was simple. Three teams composed of four of Garrisons squad would be in perfect ambush point. The room that they were in was a large storage room. Intelligence showed the targets approaching from the north, so they would be entering from the truck entrance. The light-post overhead provided minimal cover, but an excellent sniping position. The bridge's entryways had been blasted, so Blue Team would use grapples to transport on and off the walkway. Unfortunately, it also gave little cover, so Garrison was relying on Red Team behind the crates. The crates however, were not that thick and easily penetrated.

          When the teams were ready, Garrison settled down and relaxed. It would be a few hours until the trio got here. His troops would be uneasy, but that was OK. The light-post was not very sturdy, especially with four bodies on it. It would be bad for shooting. But Garrison was confident in Red Teams abilities.

          Overall, Garrison would have liked a better spot. But planning was not his highpoint.

          Killing was.