Black Mesa
By Patrick Williams
Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.
Chapter 3 – Office Complex
Sector C – Sewer Access
Gordon Freeman stood before the sewer grate, crowbar held ready for whatever horror was about to greet them. The four other scientists huddled behind him; Gina and Colette in front with their hazard suits, with Bennett and Rosenberg in the rear. They were as ready as they could get for whatever awaited them in the sewer pipe below.
The sloshing noise became louder as the creature approached. A faint groan echoed through the pipe. Suddenly, the noise stopped. The creature must have noticed the open grate, and was pondering its next move. The religious among the group prayed or crossed themselves.
A filthy brown shape slowly peeked out of the grate, and Gordon moved in to strike with his crowbar.
"Wait!" a voice called from behind.
Gordon paused, and looked curiously over his shoulder. Rosenberg was waving his hands frantically. "It's not one of them, help him up!"
Gordon and Gina reached down and helped the brown shape out of the pipe. Their creature was nothing more than a helpless scientist covered in the sewer's muck. A few seconds later, his companion climbed out of the pipe after him. This shape turned out to be a security guard.
After hosing the pair off, they learned that the duo had crawled through the sewer pipes all the way from Sector G. And somebody upstairs had flushed, it seemed.
Graham and Calhoun had never been as thankful as they were when they escaped from the pipe. They had worried that it would go on forever, or lead into a garbage compactor before they could get out. Graham had eagerly climbed up to the open grate and would have lost his head if it hadn't been for Rosenberg's foresight.
Their merry little gang had picked up two more members, as Graham and Calhoun eagerly volunteered to follow along and help in any way possible. They might not have been as eager if they had known that they would be going right back into the sewer pipe.
Black Mesa – Canyon Entrance
The Abrams spread themselves out around the surface complex, guarding every known entrance to the facility below. The Bradleys and Hummers continued towards the steel gate that protected the main entrance through the canyon wall. The tanks stopped a hundred meters from the gate, forming a wall to shield the troops from any potential dangers behind the gate when it opened. The rear doors on the Bradley tanks swung open and the troops onboard poured out. The drivers and gunners remained onboard in case of unexpected danger.
The Hummers pulled up in formation behind the Bradleys and they too emptied their troop loads. The soldiers gathered around the Command Humvee, on top of which stood Major General Thompson. He spoke into a field radio wired into the speakers on the Bradleys.
"Good day and welcome to Black Mesa. You are being called to protect your nation from a grave threat to our national security. Behind that steel gate, this facility has been overrun by biological contamination. This contamination is mutating the staff of the facility into creatures more horrible than you can imagine. Creatures not from this planet are invading our own, and the facility ahead of us is the focal point of their invasion. If these creatures aren't stopped in their tracks, they will overrun our homeland and destroy our way of life as we know it.
We know that the biological contamination has infected the entire facility. You are ordered to assume anyone not wearing a military uniform is hostile, and you are authorized to use lethal force to prosecute them. I know these orders might be difficult for some of you; after all, you're being ordered to kill what might appear to be innocent civilians. But make no mistake; the staff of this facility represents the greatest domestic threat our nation has ever faced. If you are unable to carry out your orders, I'll shoot you myself. Is that clear?"
The assembled troops called out as one. "Sir, yes, sir!"
"Good. Now get your gear prepped for action. Get in there and kick some ass!"
The troops shouted wildly, waving their weapons in the air. The General stepped down off of the Hummer and handed the field radio to one of his Sergeants. The troops were ready.
The troops boarded their vehicles and moved towards the steel gate. Upon their approach, the steel gate began to slide open, revealing a cavernous tunnel leading down into the earth.
The zombies had been waiting behind the gate to be released.
Black Mesa Central Command
The main gate was open, and Breen's work here was done. Now he just had to wait to be rescued.
Several workers and a security guard remained behind in Central Command, assisting the administrator in trying to see what the hell was happening to their facility. They no longer had a reason to stay behind.
Breen entered the control room, cleared his throat, and spoke, "This place is no longer safe. I would suggest that you make your way down to the main gate and meet up with the troops. You will be safer there. I will remain behind and help the soldiers from here."
The group left without a second thought, eager to get out of this place. They actually believed that they would make it out of Black Mesa alive.
Breen smiled as they left. He returned to his office and continued monitoring the situation from behind his expansive desk.
Sewage Treatment Facility CD-204
The seven intrepid sewer explorers finally reached the end of the pipe. It had continued its downward trend for several hundred meters before spilling out into a gigantic vat. The vat was part of the system that brought the waste to higher levels for treatment and recycling. Fortunately, the vat was disabled for the time being.
The group dropped from the pipe into the vat. They swam through the thick muck, looking for a way out of their cylindrical prison. It was Graham that noticed the ropes hanging from the ceiling.
"We can use these to climb out!" he announced, proud of his discovery.
"No, wait!" Rosenberg shouted, but he was too late.
Graham grabbed onto one of the ropes, which in turn grabbed him even harder. Graham realized quickly that this was not a rope, but a tongue. He looked up and saw that the tongue dangled from a slug-like beast leeching onto the ceiling. The tongue began pulling him up, kicking and screaming, towards the gaping jaws of the creature.
Calhoun reacted instantly, drawing his .357 Magnum. He lined up the sight with the creature hanging from the ceiling and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The pistol was jammed. He opened the cylinder and saw that the gun was completely clogged with sewage. He would have to give it a thorough cleaning before it would fire. He looked up and saw that he was already too late.
The creature wrapped itself around Graham's head, and his body convulsed violently as his brains were sucked from his skull. A horrible crunching noise announced that the skull had cracked. Graham's body hung limp from the creature's mouth, a piece of meat waiting to be digested.
Calhoun cursed loudly.
Colette tried to console him. "There was nothing you could have done, Barney. There was nothing any of us could have done."
Rosenberg explained what had just occurred. "We call those things Barnacles. You've seen their attack in heinous detail. They sense victims through that tongue of theirs, and once they've got you there isn't much you can do to save yourself. In the future, we must avoid anything hanging from the ceiling."
Rosenberg's coldness shocked them. He seemed to regard Graham's death as a trivial matter; not caring that a member of their party had just been killed. He wasn't the least bit shocked by the carnage. They wondered how many times Rosenberg had seen this display to become so desensitized to it.
Gordon then noticed the irony of the situation. Behind the tongue Graham had grabbed was a ladder that led out of the vat. He had helped them discover the way out, after all.
Black Mesa – Canyon Entrance
The zombies stumbled out of the hole in the canyon wall, slowly hobbling towards the line of Bradley tanks. There were at least twenty of them. They didn't stand a chance.
The gunners onboard the Bradleys opened fire, mowing the zombies down with their 25mm chain guns. The zombies were torn to shreds by the hail of bullets.
As their smoking chain guns silenced and stopped spinning, the Bradleys rolled towards the gaping entrance. The battle for Black Mesa had been joined.
"All right, troops; move in!" a sergeant shouted over the fray. The anxious soldiers raced towards the canyon entrance. Some of them were shocked at what they had just seen, but none of them let it show. Most of them had assumed that this was a simple drill; that the biological mutation story was an elaborate hypothetical situation. The reality of the threat hit them as they stepped over the bodies and realized the danger they were about to face.
Many of them had doubted their ability to gun down innocent civilians, but they realized now that no one in the facility could be truly innocent. They were all mutating into those monsters. If they weren't stopped here and now, their families and friends back home could be threatened by those monsters, or worse; become one of them. They had to be stopped at any cost.
While many of the troops had been going through a moral dilemma, some had not. Many of the troops saw this as a chance to get some real action for the first time in their careers. They had been training to fight for years, with no reason to exercise their skills. Blowing holes in targets and shooting blanks at each other became repetitive and boring. They were eager for action, even if it meant gunning down hapless civvies.
Sewage Treatment Center CD-204
The group climbed out of the vat and used a nearby hose to clean each other off. They were now cold, wet, and miserable.
Calhoun had cleaned his pistol four times since he escaped from the vat. He was determined not to fail again. He sat in the corner quietly, cleaning his pistol a fifth time.
The rest of the group was coming to terms with the horrible reality they faced. They felt very tired and very alone. It was clear that no one would come to rescue them, and they would only survive by sticking together.
"We need more firepower." Calhoun said aimlessly as he gazed through the cylinder of his pistol.
Rosenberg agreed. "Yes, what we've seen so far is only the beginning. We'll face many more hardships before we get out of this place."
Bennett took charge. "I don't think we should be in such a hurry to get out of here. Our fellow scientists need our help. If we could scrounge up some weapons, we could help them."
"Lunacy!" Rosenberg interjected. "In a situation like this, self preservation is paramount. We're not soldiers. Our job isn't to save lives. Our first goal is escape. We can notify the proper authorities once we're safely out of this place."
"By the time we get out, it might be too late for our friends. How can you turn your back on them so quickly? We can only survive a situation like this by sticking together!"
"We're not trained in disaster response. Only the military can handle a situation like this!"
Gordon stepped in to keep the peace. "Now, now, we can sort this out later. Whatever path we choose, we still have to get to the surface. Are we agreed on that much?"
Both scientists nodded. It was an issue to worry about later. The first cracks in their ad hoc coalition were appearing, however.
They had mostly dried off from the hosing they had received and were as ready to move on as they would get. They hiked through the treatment center, holding their noses as they went. The place stank like nothing they had smelled before. It was a smell so rancid that holding your nose couldn't keep it out. You could still smell it through your mouth. They wouldn't linger here a moment longer than they needed to.
On the opposite side of the chamber was a hallway leading to an elevator. As they approached, they heard the distinctive sound of gunfire in the distance. Calhoun identified the sound as a Glock 9mm pistol, a standard issue for Black Mesa security personnel. Calhoun drew his pistol and raced to the front of the group, holding his hand up to silently tell the group to stop as his other hand aimed the pistol into the dark hallway ahead of them. The gunshots had stopped, but there were footsteps approaching.
Calhoun stood ready, both hands now aiming the pistol into the darkness. The footsteps grew louder. He waited for some kind of identification, a shout or greeting, but received none.
The figure stepped into the light and Calhoun began firing without a second thought. His first .357 round impacted the monster in the gaping mouth on it's chest. The creature continued to hobble towards them, feeling little pain. Calhoun's second shot hit the creature where the head should have been. The head-crab that had conquered the body exploded with puss, and the creature fell to the ground, dead.
"That," Rosenberg explained, "is what we affectionately call a zombie. It's what we mutate into when we're taken over by head-crabs. Not a pretty sight, as you can tell. The alien physiology takes over and turns us into those killing machines. They feel little pain and have a constant craving for flesh. There is no reasoning with them. The shreds of humanity remaining would prefer you kill them and put an end to their agony."
They left the zombie's body where it lay. Farther down the hallway they found a security guard's body, still clutching his pistol. The guard's throat had been slashed, with several deep gashes still gushing blood onto the floor. The group cringed at the site, but Calhoun reached down and retrieved the guard's weapon and ammunition.
"Sorry, buddy," he said as a sort of eulogy, "You fought well, but we need these more than you do." He handed the pistol to Gordon, under protest.
"I've hardly fired a weapon before!" Gordon objected.
"Hey, you went through the hazard course when you were hired. They trained you how to fire a pistol. You just turn the safety off, aim, and fire. It doesn't take a PhD, pal. You, Gina, and Colette are the closest thing to soldiers we have, and your hazard suits will help you handle these monsters better than the rest of us can."
Gordon fumed at the insult, but took the words to heart. Calhoun was right, of course. The hazard suits meant that the three of them were the best hope the group had of making it out alive.
Black Mesa Atrium
The tunnel in the canyon led to a spacious room that served as an imposing entrance for the underground facility. The lobby had several stories of glass-walled offices and conference rooms facing a central atrium several stories tall. Tall trees grew in the atrium, surrounded by a comfortable seat wall. The atrium was naturally lit by a series of glass pyramids open to the sky above them. A large swinging pendulum hung from one side of the lobby. The accident had knocked the pendulum out of its nearly perpetual motion, and it hung awkwardly limp to one side. The layout of the lobby seemed like that of an extravagant hotel or mall. It provided an effective front for the horrible experiments that happened deep below.
The tunnel the soldiers had entered led to the ground floor of the atrium. From this point on the tanks were useless. The hallways of the facility were far too small for them to be of any use. A Bradley parked itself in the center of the atrium to act as a resupply point while the rest continued to patrol the surface complex.
A gentle tone announced that an elevator from the upper levels was arriving. The troops instantly reacted, forming a semi-circle of shotguns aimed at the elevator's door. It slowly slid open, revealing three Black Mesa employees and a security guard.
"Oh thank god, it's y—" the guard wasn't able to finish his sentence as the troops opened fire; the shotgun blasts tearing through their targets, leaving a bloody mess on the wall behind them. The security guard remained alive enough to look up at the soldiers curiously before the life left his eyes. The soldiers entered the elevator and rode it up to secure the upper levels.
The troops fanned out along the ground floor of the lobby in nine-man squads, sticking close to the outer walls, wary to venture into the open space of the atrium, where there was little cover. Each squad had a sergeant in command. They moved through the side offices and meeting halls along the lobby, clearing them of anything not wearing a military uniform. Most of them were deserted, but several were already hostile.
A head-crab heard the approaching soldiers and crouched behind the door of one of the many dark offices. The point man barged in, waving his MP5 sub-machine gun and its attached flashlight from side to side, looking for threats. He hadn't even noticed the small head-crab crouched on the file cabinet to one side. The head-crab leaped onto the troop's face, and the terrified soldier began firing off MP5 rounds wildly around the office. The dark room was lit by the soldier's explosive strobe light. The troops behind him scattered for cover, looking to their sergeant for instruction.
"Take him out!" he ordered without a second thought. The sergeants had been briefed on most of the species they might encounter. He would be doing them all a favor by killing the poor bastard before he began mutating.
The soldiers opened fire on their comrade, the bullets puncturing his head and the head-crab attached to it. The office beyond was bathed in a mixture of yellow alien blood and red human blood, and was once again dark. The soldiers decided not to linger, moving on to the adjacent office without any attempt to recover the body.
In a meeting hall in one of the upper levels, a squad had encountered a new creature. It looked, acted, and even sounded like a reptilian puppy. It barked happily at the troops, wagging its short scaled tail. The troops were hesitant to open fire, and the creature approached warily. The sergeant radioed to his superiors for instructions.
The muffled response was quick and direct. "Open fire, sergeant; repeat, open fire! The houndeye is hostile and considered extremely dangerous! Don't let it get near your men!"
The sergeant looked at the adorable creature skeptically. The houndeye didn't look like it could hurt a fly. One of the troops reached out to pet it. The houndeye panicked and began making a high pitched squealing noise. The soldiers clamped their hands to their ears, trying to keep the painful noise out. As they did this, the houndeye unleashed its attack. It screamed, sending a powerful shockwave that threw the soldiers about like rag dolls. The outer glass wall of the meeting hall shattered as troops were blown out into the atrium and fell several stories to their deaths. The survivors quickly scrambled to their feet and opened fire with their MP5s and shotguns. The creature exploded in a yellow mess.
As the troops secured the lobby, more soldiers prepared to make their entrance. The soldiers on the ground level were told to evacuate the central atrium as the glass pyramids on the ceiling exploded, showering the ground with shards of broken glass. Soldiers rappelled down through the roof, swinging onto the top level of the lobby. Their target was Central Command, where they would set up their temporary headquarters. From there, they could monitor the entire facility and coordinate their assault.
The squad moved quickly, racing across the level towards the double doors that led to Central Command. More soldiers arrived on the elevator from the lower levels to help clear their way. As a security precaution, the heavy doors to Central Command bolted shut during an emergency. The doors could only be opened from within.
The squad's engineer stepped in, lighting his blowtorch with the cigar he had been smoking. The blowtorch made short work of the metal doors, carving a rectangular hole around the edges. The door gave way with a powerful kick, and the squad poured in.
They found the command center empty, and stumbled across a single survivor in an adjacent office. This man was their inside contact, and he had been expecting their arrival.
"You could have knocked, you know," Dr. Breen said, with a playful sideways grin.
The sergeant rolled his eyes and retrieved his radio. "This is Gamma squad; we have secured Central Command."
Sector D – Administration Center
The group stepped off the elevator, disappointed that it hadn't gone all the way to the surface. Instead, it had deposited them in one of the many office complexes of Black Mesa. A facility like Black Mesa generated a lot of paper work, and a good portion of the facility was dedicated to generating and filing it. These offices were classified "Level 4." There was information within these walls that few present were cleared to see. It was a shame that they couldn't take more time to explore.
Rosenberg explained the situation. "These offices are adjacent to the warehouse facility. The warehouse has freight elevators that can reach the surface. We're almost there!"
A shout from down the hall brought the group running. It was most definitely a human shout. They rounded a corner and saw a scientist trying to pull something out of a ventilation shaft. Another scientist was stuck in the shaft, being pulled in deeper by some unseen threat. The group raced to the rescue, but before they could help, both scientists were pulled into the shaft, screaming. The screams were cut off by the sound of cracking bones. Gordon and Calhoun held their weapons ready, but whatever had attacked the scientists was scurrying down the shaft now.
"Any idea what that was, Dr. Rosenberg?" Gina asked.
"It appears the zombies are adapting and learning new methods of attacking. This is most disturbing. I didn't think they had the capability to learn so fast."
They continued on through the offices towards the warehouse facility. This level was every bit the wreck that Sector C was. The ceiling had collapsed in at several places, and there were water leaks everywhere. Clearly, they had severely underestimated the effects of the resonance cascade. The offices were littered with dead bodies. If there were any monsters around, they were hiding from the group as they made their way through the office complex.
They began to relax as they moved, thinking they might just be past the worst of their journey. They allowed themselves to become lax, unsuspecting of the trap that lay ahead of them.
The group found the zombie in the middle of its meal. The monster had killed a scientist and torn his body to shreds. It scooped up pieces of the scientist handfuls at a time, shoveling the meat into the inhuman mouth that had formed in its chest cavity. The jaws hungrily slurped on the meal. The repugnant sight turned the stomachs of the scientists.
Calhoun tapped Gordon on the shoulder. Gordon nodded, and the pair raised their pistols, aiming them at the zombie's artificial head.
"Die, you bastard!" Calhoun shouted as they opened fire.
Most of their bullets hit their mark. Gordon's shots were understandably less accurate than Calhoun's, but Gordon's hand-eye coordination was superb nonetheless. Gordon had little experience firing weapons, but he was a quick study.
The zombie crumbled to the ground. It was only after their pistols fell silent that they heard the footsteps approaching behind them. It was an ambush.
Three zombies approached from the hallway behind them. Four more zombies appeared in the hallway ahead of them. The zombies must have been hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike. They were displaying a level of intelligence no one assumed they were capable of.
Calhoun began firing at the three zombies coming from the rear, and Gordon began firing in the opposite direction. The bodies began piling up on both sides, as Gordon and Calhoun emptied their weapons at the wave of zombies coming at them. Gordon lined up his next shot and pulled the trigger. The pistol didn't fire, but made a clicking noise, announcing that the clip was empty. Gordon fumbled through the hazard suit's storage units, trying to remember where he had put the spare clips.
"Barney, I need some help over here!" Gordon called as he attempted to remove the empty clip from his nearly useless pistol.
"I'm a bit busy myself, Gordon!" Calhoun called back as he too fumbled to reload his weapon. The zombies were getting dangerously close.
Gordon couldn't get his weapon loaded. He looked behind him at Calhoun, who was having almost as much trouble getting bullets into the cylinder of his .357. The zombies were only a few feet away now.
A sound rang out in the hallway ahead of them that brought them all hope; a 12-gauge shotgun blast. Unless the zombies had learned to fire weapons, help was on the way.
A group of security guards with shotguns burst into the room, and the tide of the battle changed instantly. The remaining zombies were blown apart by shotgun blasts. In a matter of seconds, the only bodies left standing were full-blooded human.
Sector D – Cafeteria
Their saviors escorted them through the office complex towards the cafeteria. What had once been a place to relax and eat was now a fortress. Tables had been overturned to form a wall around the kitchen and serving area, where a group of survivors were huddled. The outer wall of tables was patrolled by shotgun-brandishing security guards. A table was moved out of their way so they could enter the makeshift fortress. A scientist stepped forward to welcome them.
"Welcome to our little camp. My name is Eli Vance, and I suppose you could say that I'm in charge here. I sent out the guards when we heard your gunfire down the hall. I'm glad we did. Your hazard suits will prove to be invaluable."
The members of the group introduced themselves, and Vance continued explaining their situation.
"We've sent out search parties and brought back every survivor we could. We plan on waiting out the disaster down here. There's enough food and supplies in the kitchen to last us for weeks. We found a cache of weapons down here, and we have enough ammunition to take over a small country. Now we have your three hazard suits which will help protect our search parties."
Gordon cut in, "You're assuming that we want to stay here with you. We had actually planned to go to the surface."
Vance replied, "You're fools if you don't stay here with us. Believe me, I share your concerns. My wife and daughter are out there somewhere. But leaving this place now would be suicide, and I wouldn't be any good to them dead. Someone is bound to investigate this tragedy and rescue us in due time. Until then, the best thing we can do is to stay put and keep each other alive."
Gina added her opinion, "We can't count on that. The military might not even know what happened."
Colette agreed, "We have to get to the surface and make sure they know we're down here."
Vance shook his head resignedly. "You can go to the surface if you'd like, but we could use your help down here. As you found out yourselves, these monsters are everywhere. We can only hold them off if we stick together."
Bennett took his turn, "I agree that sticking together and helping our fellow scientists is a noble cause, but I think we can do more good by getting to the surface. We can meet up with other survivors there and plan rescue missions."
Rosenberg did not feel the need to share his point of view. He was shocked that these educated men and women could be so foolish as to want to stay down here. Their only chance of survival was to escape from this place. Rosenberg held his tongue for fear of offending his colleagues. If they wanted to waste their lives on some foolish crusade down here, then so be it.
Calhoun also stayed quiet. These scientists could probably talk the monsters to death, he thought. The only course of action that made any sense to him was escape. He was no hero, after all. He just wanted to live to see another day.
Vance realized that he was getting nowhere. "I can see that I won't be able to convince you to stay here with us. You can head for the surface if you wish, but I suggest you at least have a good meal with us before you leave."
There was no arguing with that. The group relaxed and ate a full meal from the cafeteria's kitchen. As they ate, they continued debating the proper course of action. The debate became heated at times, but level heads prevailed and it was decided that the group would head for the surface with Vance's blessing. Vance would send them on their way with the only gift he could afford to give. Gordon, Gina, and Colette were given 12-gauge shotguns and plenty of ammunition. Calhoun turned down the shotgun offer, asking only for ammunition for his trusty .357 Magnum. Bennett and Rosenberg refused any weapons. They had no interest in fighting. They would leave that to their armored companions.
The group rose to leave just as the next wave of monsters attacked.
Black Mesa Central Command
As Major General Thompson strode down the hallways around Black Mesa's atrium, soldiers stopped what they were doing to stand at attention in his presence. The General was flanked by his usual team of sergeants and military advisors. They struggled to keep up with the fast pace with which the General moved.
The squads had sounded off by the numbers and announced that the lobby and atrium had been completely cleared. The General hadn't wasted a moment, heading straight for his hew headquarters in Central Command.
Central Command had been transformed into a mobile command center. The facility's security system had been adapted and routed into military computers. The facility's announcement system had also been compromised to suit their purposes. In the event that radio contact was lost with troops in the field, the announcement system could be used to regain communication.
Central Command was an impregnable fortress. Turrets were set up around the lobby, equipped with automated machine guns programmed to fire on any target not wearing the urban camouflage pattern used by the troops. Sandbag bunkers with apertures for .50-caliber machine guns were built around the door to Central Command and teams of soldiers guarded the positions. Central Command was one of the few safe locations left in Black Mesa.
One of the General's aides found a strange computer console and called to his superior. "Sir, what do you make of this?"
Thompson walked over and looked at the console. It showed a digital map of the facility, zoomed in on three flashing yellow dots. A text box over the dots read "H.E.V. Suits Detected in Sector D: Cafeteria. WARNING: Suits out of designated range Sector C: Anomalous Materials. Automatic tracking engaged."
The General turned to an aide. "Get Breen in here. Now."
A few minutes later, Dr. Breen arrived at Central Command with an armed escort.
"General, what is the meaning of this?" Breen demanded, "I was told I would be free to go as soon as you arrived. Your soldiers won't let me leave!"
"We're not through with you yet, Doctor," the General grinned. "As long as this facility remains hostile, we need you here to consult. For starters, you can explain what this console is telling us."
Breen examined the tracking station and was shocked by what he saw. They were supposed to be dead! "My God!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't have thought it possible. General, these dots represent Gordon Freeman, Colette Green, and Gina Cross. Those are the three scientists who were working at Ground Zero. They somehow survived the disaster, no doubt thanks to their hazard suits."
Thompson's mind whirled, considering the possibilities. He had read about these hazard suits, but he hadn't believed the specifications until now. If the suits could survive such a disaster, they would be most useful in their unfolding operation. With the experiment over, the General doubted the scientists had much use for the suits anyway. He would put them to far better use.
Sector D – Cafeteria
The attackers were unlike anything they had seen yet. The attackers were humanoid with a reptilian skin. Their heads featured a single large red eye. The creatures wore a shock collar around their necks, no doubt used to discipline those that disobeyed orders. Electricity arced between their body parts. The sight was eerily familiar to Gordon.
"I've seen these before. When I went to that other dimension, they were there!" Gordon reeled in horror.
Rosenberg calmed him down. "Now, now, Gordon; those are merely Vortigaunts. They're little more than the alien worker class. They're weak minded and easily killed. Their only attack—"
Rosenberg was cut off as a beam of green electricity ionized the air inches from his head. He dropped to the ground, hiding underneath a table. He continued speaking to Gordon.
"Their bodies pulse with electricity. They can build up an electrical charge and release it at targets. Keep your head low, Gordon!"
Gordon picked up his shotgun and joined the security guards at the outer wall. Gina, Colette, and Calhoun were there already, firing their weapons into the mass of attacking Vortigaunts.
Despite what Rosenberg had said, these slaves did display a degree of intelligence. They surrounded the makeshift fortress and spread their beams equally around the wall. The slaves were outmatched, however. Their electrical beams couldn't penetrate the table wall. The plastic tables were horrible conductors, and their attack was powerless to harm their targets beyond it. The security guards quickly realized this and used it to their advantage. They peeked out above the wall, firing pot shots at the slaves and diving back behind cover before the slaves could shoot back. It was like an alien shooting gallery of sorts. Gina, Colette, and Gordon became adept at firing their new shotguns before the wave of attackers was finally beaten back.
When the last Vortigaunt lay dead, Vance shouted at the group, "The lift to the warehouse facility is directly down the hall. Run, before another wave comes!"
They needed no further encouragement. They said their quick good-byes and left the fortress. Gordon looked back at Vance as he left, and for a split second there was a moment of revelation between them. Both realized that they would see each other again. They were walking down different paths, but they would intersect somewhere down the road.
Gordon turned and walked towards the lift.
Black Mesa Command Center
"Sir, the targets are definitely alive. They're freely moving into the warehouse facility as we speak."
Thompson gazed at the hazard suit console and confirmed that fact. The three yellow blips were moving together up the lift towards the warehouses. They were almost to the surface.
Thompson turned to one of his aides. "Sergeant, get a team ready. We're going to have a little surprise waiting for them."