Pre Author's Notes:

Updated chapter 1 to flow a bit better. Fixed some grammar and consistency mistakes.

The Frontier's Transhuman

Chapter 1

Anti-Citizens

It is two years after the G-Man's acquisition of Alyx Vance, and three years before the collapse of the Citadel in City 17, leading to humanity's eventual uprising…

"Uhhh, any units hear from the raid team responding to that code 63 in sector 8-92-G, yet?"

"Negative, we lost contact about uh, twenty minutes ago. Biodat signals are offline too. Report it to Overwatch and alert tag units."

"Copy that. Overwatch, this is Defender 2-4. Got a possible code 2, 10-33. Local protection team unresponsive in uh, sector 8-92-G. Possible anti-civil interference. Requesting stabilization team for tag…"

-O-

"Citizen reminder: Inaction is conspiracy. A civilized society demands swift and targeted oversight. Prohibit fellow citizens from threatening the community." The emotionless female voice reverberated throughout the entire district of the old Eastern European city, repeating its routine public service announcement.

Of course, there was no indication whatsoever that the speaker was a real woman speaking into a mic. In fact, the speaker most likely wasn't even human, as evidenced by the voice itself obviously lacking the slightest human inflections or nuances. It sounded just like one would expect a computer to sound… If that computer tried to pretend that it was putting humanity's best interests at heart. The monotonous, programmed tone of the Overwatch AI was extremely unconvincing to many throughout City 17, mostly because of how unnerving it had sounded.

Especially for one person in particular, who had to constantly listen in and report back to it…

"Yeah fuckin' right. Do they honestly believe anyone's actually gonna fall for that shit?" A man scoffed sarcastically under his breath.

That man's name was Dalton Reese, one of the many remaining survivors after the Seven Hour War. Wearing a bullet-resistant vest, black leather boots, and green slacks, he casually leaned down against the balcony railing, tapping the ash off of his cigarette over the edge. His standard-issue Civil Protection stun baton and gas mask were clipped to the same waist belt he kept his pistol holster on, dangling loosely alongside his slinged MP7.

With the mask not covering his face, his scowl was exposed to the world as he basked in the chill of the early afternoon air. His gaze swept over to the abstract Combine infrastructure. Unusual mechanical gray substations were strewn about the city, all of them with messy groups of large slacked connection cables leading back to one massive tower overlooking it all.

The Citadel… the Combine's seat of power on Earth.

After establishing their oppressive regime, the Combine had seen fit to construct an enormous, metallic, skyscraper fortress that was nearly the size of Mount Everest; right in the middle of the city too.

Why?

Because it was to act as the main base of operations for the Combine, as well as establish the office of Earth's current administrator and humanity's representative / traitor, Dr. Wallace Breen.

Or maybe they built the Citadel so the people in control could look down on the poor populace like insignificant ants…

Dalton briefly took the cigarette out his mouth before spitting over the balcony, uncaring of where exactly the glob of saliva landed. "I fuckin' hate this job…" He muttered quietly to himself.

"Do ya though? I mean, have you seen how many idiots they've got lining up to join Civil Protection?"

Dalton turned from his position on the balcony as a slightly younger voice announced their presence behind him. The owner of the voice was another man, dressed in various shades of drabby green and blue, a result of mismatching whatever clothing he managed to scrounge up. Several pieces of armor, likely looted off of dead Combine or stolen from raided outposts, were refitted to his body. One of the pieces on his arm had a crudely spray-painted orange lambda on it, which signified him as part of the human resistance.

The rebel chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck before walking up to him. "Sorry Dalton, no offense intended. Mind if I join you?"

Dalton put the stick back between his lips, taking a long pull from his smoke as he wordlessly gestured to the empty spot on the balcony beside him. Accepting the clear invitation, the rebel leisurely stepped beside him, before leaning forward and plopping his elbows on the railing. For a while, they both said nothing, reflecting as they stared out into the dystopian city and quietly kept to themselves.

But the silence didn't last forever, as after a bout of comfortable quiet, the rebel suddenly spoke up.

"You know, if someone showed me a picture of this city before the Combine took over and after, I'd say this place still looks like shit."

Dalton shook his head and chuckled, eyeing his younger teammate from the corner of his eye. "Blake, I'm pretty sure our alien overlords don't care much for improving the cityscape."

"Could have fooled me with how much they're building around here," Blake said with a grin, before said grin slowly slipped off his face. "It really makes you wonder what the hell they're planning next..." He trailed off.

Oh Dalton wondered plenty alright. He wondered why Earth? Why his family? Why this shitty, dehumanizing, and demoralizing job? It was safe to say that Dalton wondered a lot in life… but wondering never really got anybody that far. In fact, wondering was probably a good way to get yourself killed nowadays. It was a pretty bleak outlook on life, but that outlook is what allowed him to keep living in the first place.

Well, more like surviving, but that's besides the point…

Dalton sighed heavily, letting his cigarette drop onto the ground and grind beneath the heel of his boot. "Yeah, I hear ya. It's some scary stuff they do." He said, clearly speaking from firsthand experience.

The silence returned, although it was less comfortable and more brooding. Neither of the two spoke for a few minutes as they stared blankly ahead - the only sound being that of distant city activity, construction striders, and helicopters. Across the street at another apartment block, the two spotted a stray cat hopping up onto the balcony railing, before attempting to pounce at a few pigeons mindlessly cooing to each other.

Despite the Combine's rule, some things never changed. Life just continued on…

Dalton spoke up suddenly, breaking that silence as he gestured a hand out towards the city. "You know, before all this… I imagined myself going to college and majoring in biomedical engineering." He said in a wistful tone, before letting out a mirthless chuckle right after and shaking his head in disappointment. "Guess that's all pointless now though, isn't it?"

Blake absentmindedly nodded along, before pausing and furrowing his brows as Dalton's words had finally registered in his head. The rebel did a quick double take as he turned to look at him. "You? A biomedical engineer?" He asked incredulously.

Dalton scowled a bit, taking slight offense at his colleagues' questioning tone. "What, you think I want to be some sort of beat cop that patrols the neighborhood, lookin' for people to hospitalize?" He retorted mockingly. "Yeah, I love kicking the shit out of whatever unfortunate soul gets caught in a bad checkpoint scan, before I take my gun out and put a bullet in their head. I love forcing the vortigaunts to sweep piles of trash before my supervisor comes and ruins it to make them start all over again. I love hearing the emotionless fake woman through my comms, threatening me with amputation and permanent off-world service assignments in the event of mission failure. I just love this life!"

Blake took his hands off the railing, holding them up in defense. "Woah, okay. Cool it man. I get it, I'm sorry! I just didn't know… I guess it just didn't seem like something that you'd be interested in."

Dalton blinked at him, before the scowl faded somewhat as he took a deep breath and let out an irritated sigh. "Yeah, I play the part of 'bad cop' pretty well, don't I?"

It was obvious that the role of undercover Civil Protection was weighing pretty heavily on the man. The bags under the eyes and the constant smoking was more than enough evidence. It was completely understandable though. His dreams and aspirations - like many others - were effectively ruined the moment the Black Mesa research facility opened up portals to an alien border world.

The U.S. was no longer the once proud and diverse nation that beamed brightly, but rather, a barren wasteland that had basically been wiped off the face of the globe. Now, all of Earth's survivors have been forced to relocate elsewhere, with most of them being corralled into the many numbered urban cities that were still left standing. At that point, the only thing that all of humanity could collectively agree on, was that life under Combine rule was far from glamorous.

They were all in the same boat after all…

Blake nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders as he looked away. "If it makes you feel any better, I wanted to become an artist," He sheepishly admitted with a faint smile. "Unfortunately, with the way the world currently is… I think that's also a pipe dream of mine now, isn't it?"

Dalton glanced at his comrade from the corner of his eye, noticing the gloomy expression on his face. "An artist? What… like, paintings and shit?" He asked curiously.

"Yeah!" Blake said excitedly, giving him a nod of confirmation. A moment later, that small glimmer of excitement was wiped from his face. "...But with the Combine cracking down on things like individuality and self-expression, all I can really do now is sketches, or tagging lambdas for resistance hideouts and caches."

Dalton could only sigh in response, unable to offer any comforting words of encouragement as he shifted a bit on his feet.

They both frowned, looking back down at the grimy concrete beneath them. A rumbling of thunder sounded out in the distance, with the dull overcast of gray clouds finally starting to lightly sprinkle droplets of rain on top of them. Blake shivered slightly from the chilly atmosphere, before pulling the hood of his sweater up to cover his head alongside his beanie.

"Hey! Are you two lovebirds kissing over here or something?" A third voice spoke up from behind them.

They both turned around to face another similarly dressed rebel, arms crossed over his chest and foot tapping impatiently as he leaned against the wall. He glanced between the two with a stupid smirk on his face, obviously entertaining himself by bothering them.

"Ha-ha, very funny, Cade," Blake sarcastically quipped back in reply, rolling his eyes as he and Dalton stood up straight. They both stepped away from the balcony and out of the rain, shards of broken glass cracking beneath their boots alongside the clinking of brass bullet casings. "Did Nat get that thing working yet?" Blake asked as he stepped into the apartment's living room and over the corpse of a Metro Cop.

Why was there broken glass, spent casings, and dead bodies inside of the apartment?

Because Dalton, current Civil Protection officer and undercover rebel, had managed to pick up chatter on the comms that a squad of CPs had been sent to raid one of the apartment blocks in the city's abandoned outskirts and investigate some sort of disturbance inside. What that disturbance was, Dalton had no idea. But it must have been important enough for the Overwatch AI to realize that something was wrong.

Being the first person to receive this intel and a decent human being, Dalton couldn't sit this one out, only sighing to himself in exasperation, before notifying his 'buddies' in his local resistance cell.

What fascination these eccentric eggheads had with dangerous science was entirely beyond him, but if they were leading humanity's fight against global oppression, he'd support the cause in any way he could.

The group had arrived thirty minutes earlier, managing to bypass the locks due to his security clearance and catching the rest of the Civil Protection team unaware. The gunfight was over in less than a minute.

"Fat load of good all that training did for them…" Dalton recalled Cade commenting offhandedly earlier.

Unfortunately, they had arrived just a little too late, and Civil Protection had already managed to dispense their civil justice to some poor squatter living inside. Judging from a small picture frame clutched in his hands, the man used to be a part of the Black Mesa science team. What he was doing so far off in isolation was a complete mystery, but thankfully, they had a technician examining a computer nearby to work on figuring that out.

Said technician - a shorter woman - emerged from behind the corner of the adjacent apartment room, with the wall separating the two having long since been torn open for a sort of makeshift entryway. She had fair skin, blonde hair in a ponytail, and blue eyes behind a pair of slightly crooked glasses, and she wore a blue citizen uniform underneath a slightly dirty lab coat. Natalia, though she may not have looked like much to most in terms of combat prowess, she more than made up for it with her feisty attitude.

"Y'know Blake, I could ask the same about your little friend down there. See if it actually works now," She said, pointing towards his crotch with a sly smile. "But yeah, I think I've got it working. Whatever the hell it is..."

"Ah, that's great," Blake retorted in forced cheeriness. "Hopefully it'll work better than our quote-unquote relationship."

Dalton and Cade both collectively groaned, with the former facepalming before running a gloved hand down his face; the latter shaking his head in disapproval. They could almost feel the palpable atmosphere between the two. An atmosphere, which was sort of inappropriate and unnecessary right now, especially considering the current time and place.

"Can you two at least try and keep it professional for a moment? I'd rather not listen to your relationship drama standing in a room full of dead bodies." Cade said, a sentiment which Dalton agreed with as he gestured to the corpses of fellow Civil Protection officers lying in puddles of their own blood.

"Right, right…" Nat chuckled in amusement with a dismissive wave of her hand as she led the group to the reason why they were there.

The four of them stepped up to some sort of circular platform carefully tucked in an alcove in the corner of the room. The technology had several stolen combine cables running everywhere throughout the apartment, and was hooked up to an old pre-war era computer nearby; it even had a slot for a floppy disk. A stark contrast when compared to the otherworldly alien tech of the Combine.

"So…" Cade began with uncertainty as he ran a hand along the unfamiliar contraption. "What do you make of this?"

"In my professional opinion? I have absolutely no fucking clue…"

"Gee, real insightful, Nat."

"Well fine. Judging by his research notes and whiteboard chicken scratch, maybe it's some sort of… I don't know… amateur dimensional dark energy portal. Was that response exciting enough for you? Did it satiate your curious little brain?" She growled back at Blake.

"Can it you two!" Dalton forcefully commanded, causing their bickering to momentarily come to a halt.

I can't believe I have to babysit these eggheads. Humanity's last bastion of hope… is in the hands of wacky, washed out, scientists and teenagers from an era long gone…

Dalton gave an exasperated sigh as he stared up at the ceiling, almost as if begging for some sort of divine being to drop down and help them. Unfortunately that wouldn't be the case, because if there was one, then they surely wouldn't have allowed the Seven Hour War in the first place now, would they?

Dalton thought about their next course of action. If Nat's assumptions were indeed correct, then the tech would no doubt be extremely valuable to the resistance. Last he'd heard, they were experimenting very heavily in intra-universal teleportation. He unfortunately had his ears talked off one time when he accidentally asked Nat about it, causing her to delve deep into a speech as if she was presenting her doctoral thesis at a TED talk. Something about using the Xen borderworld as a relay, or a dimensional slingshot, or... something of the sort.

Her rambling didn't make a lick of sense to him at all, but someone smarter than him probably would have gotten it easily.

She would have fit in well with the nerds back in Black Mesa.

Unfortunately, the experimentation still had yet to yield any major scientific breakthroughs or helpful results that would aid in humanity's fight. But maybe this would be just what they needed? A possible turning point in human history, and he would be at the very center of it all…

Dalton spun around on his heel with a somewhat confident smile. "Okay everybody! Since this… thing… is obviously too big to safely and quickly move out of here, we're instead going to have to pull as much data as we can from this poor sap." Dalton said, nudging the dead squatter with his boot. "Nat, why don't you see what you can get from that computer and then we'll…"

Dalton suddenly stopped mid sentence as his gaze focused past them, the abrupt pause causing the three rebels to look at the man with confusion evident on their faces. He seemed to be frozen still and staring past them, his eyes widening in sheer, abject terror at something.

"Uh, Dalton, you good?" Nat asked in concern while Blake waved a hand in front of him.

"Not at all…" Dalton muttered as they snapped him out of his stupor. "We've got company…" He gulped, pointing a trembling finger towards the apartment windows.

The other three followed his finger and turned around, before feeling the same fear as him.

Not too far out in the distance was the rapidly approaching form of a flying, half organic, half synthetic creature; the humming of its blue exhaust jets becoming increasingly louder as it got closer. Underneath it was a black container, stamped with the familiar clamp symbol of the Overwatch Transhuman Arm.

The Combine had finally arrived.

It wasn't hard to imagine what was in store for them…

-O-

The quiet droning of the dropship was the only sound permeating throughout, with not a single other unit within uttering so much as a peep as they got closer to their drop point. There was no reason to, and doing so would be a needless waste of energy. That wasn't at all efficient, and if there's one thing the Combine were well known for, it was their efficiency.

That… and their inhumane cruelty, but that went without saying.

The evidence for such was in their soldiers. When the Combine had arrived to enslave humanity all those years ago, they had done it in a measly seven hours. The Seven Hour War is what people had called it.

It was really more like the seven hour slaughter…

The initial Xen invasion had already severely weakened humanity, and the whole species basically became target practice for the Combine, which had arrived at the flat range not even dressed in full kit. They were absolutely ruthless in their siege, beating the death count of every major historical armed conflict combined in under a day.

Wallace Breen, administrator of the now defunct Black Mesa, eventually spoke up for humanity's surrender in order to guarantee the survival of the species. In a way, it worked, and rather than wiping humanity from existence, the Combine forced them to scrape by under an iron fist.

But the Combine had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. A reproductive suppression field was raised, selectively preventing certain protein chains important to the process of embryonic development from forming, so that humanity could no longer procreate, effectively killing off their species in the long run. Civil Protection was established to draw more sympathizers, and to act as a deterrent to any would-be anti-citizen behavior, while many prisoners of war and failed resistances were given unspeakable fates.

If one was lucky, they'd be working in a non-combat oriented role - like the Engineer Core, or Infestation Control. The former was definitely more preferable than the latter of the two, especially considering the higher casualty rate of those working within the Quarantine Zone.

If one was unlucky, they'd be turned into a soldier, meant to give an unyielding allegiance to the Combine empire for the rest of their life, living as a mindless drone.

And if one was extremely unlucky…?

Many would say that free thought is an innate desire that every human is born with. The Combine couldn't care less, and forcefully stripped it from many without a second glance. This led to the creation of Stalkers… soulless husk of what was once a human being, having undergone extensive and brutal surgery. Removed limbs and organs created a dependence on nutrient solutions often found only within the Citadel of which they guard and maintain. The skeletons couldn't even really be called human any more…

Leader-Zero felt a smidge thankful that he hadn't undergone Stalker surgery. He had seen the skinny creatures shamble about the Citadel, and though he wasn't programmed to feel emotion, he couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved at the sight.

The soldier glanced at his other teammates, all wearing different levels of protection on their body. The Combine had just recently begun switching all of their soldiers to start wearing one unanimous set of armor.

The specialized class system of the alien commandos that was implemented since the start of the Combine's rule was slowly beginning to be phased out, and soon, the only difference between units would be the change in color palettes and armaments. Though there were talks about establishing an elite unit around the Citadel for critical operations, and for guarding Dr. Breen.

Leader-Zero was among the first Combine units privileged enough to begin wearing the newly mass-produced armor and uniforms of the Combine's so-called 'transition period', after the Vault incident inside the Quarantine Zone. It was some sort of mash of a dark gray and blue splinter camo, which also covered the vest surrounding his torso. It certainly looked much better than the cream white hazmat suits that the Combine Grunts wore. At least he was able to somewhat blend in with the urban environment of City 17.

The other units had yet to undergo the transition, meaning the only ones with armor equivalent to - or more than his - were the captain and the Charger stood nearby.

"8-92-G is now terminal restriction zone." The voice of the Overwatch AI could be faintly heard from the headset inside his captain's helmet, shaking Leader-Zero out of his thoughts.

The Ordinal gave an almost imperceptible head tilt towards the rest of the team. "Overwatch is confirming sector lockdown." He said monotonously, the cybernetic and genetic modifications from his higher rank position being extremely apparent due to his mask's vocoder making him sound almost robotic.

A higher rank in the Combine meant a higher authority, at the cost of more cybernetic augmentations and brainwashing, losing more of yourself until you became more machine than man. Though the intelligence of transhuman units varied, there was no concerns about identity to the Combine. They were all faceless robotic cogs in a great machine, universally united under a greater, ever-expanding empire; an act which was necessary to efficiently relay orders down the chain of command.

Were it not for the slight rising and falling of his shoulders as he breathed, Leader-Zero might have actually thought that the Ordinal leading his squad wasn't at all human.

Well, less human than usual…

The drop ship let out a low humming sound before slowly coming to a halt, until eventually, the rumbling and shaking of the container they were in ceased, and the ramp door lowered, allowing Leader-Zero to take point and funnel the team out into the street. Their boots splashed puddles in the streets beneath them, kicking up water as the team formed a secure perimeter around the landing zone. As the dropship closed its doors and flew away, the team pulled security, unbothered by the rainfall that started to pelt their uniforms as they waited to receive their new orders.

Leader-Zero, like always, received no further explanation on what his team's supposed mission was. But then again, the soldiers never received any sort of detailed briefings, because everything was on a need-to-know basis with the Combine. Despite that undeniable fact, he couldn't help but feel a little intrigued when he noticed the team land not within the quarantine zone, but in the abandoned outskirts of the city. His usual routine involved guarding outland outposts, raiding active resistance cells, or clearing out zones overwhelmed by necrotic infestations and antlion nests.

But he had a feeling that this mission was going to be far from routine…

Judging by the abandoned prisoner transport parked halfway on the sidewalk, he could deduce that something went wrong, and his team was sent in as support. But why? He never really got involved with Civil Protection. As far as he was aware, they weren't programmed to be loyal to the Universal Union, nor was their training up to par compared to the likes of even the lowliest of Grunts.

Now wasn't the time for his questions or concerns though. Not that they'd really matter in the first place. He'd get his answers when he got inside the building.

Leader-Zero continued like normal, surveying the area alongside his team while awaiting further orders from their captain. He briefly glanced back at the Ordinal, watching as he reached for his comms. "Overwatch, stabilization team holding for advanced directive at sector 8-92-G. Requesting proximity data on protection units."

Without missing a beat, the monotone AI responded immediately after. "Stabilization team leader, Airwatch reports no activity in location. Local ground protection teams, full communications blackout. Response code: 03-23-20. Maintain priority. Investigate sector and report. Reminder: Failure to treat identified local anti-civil activity will force team recall and recycle."

That last line was delivered with no emotion at all, and yet, it was still the most threatening thing that the Ordinal would hear in his entire life. Cold blooded killing machine or not, no one wanted to hear about possible punishment from a superior. The threat would be more than enough incentive to complete their mission.

Or die trying…

"Overwatch, 10-4. Identify and prosecute." The Ordinal responded with a curt nod, before rising from his kneeling position. "All units, code 10-307. Disperse and scout - check radials, keep sightlines open, and sound on."

"Copy."

"Roger."

"Understood."

While the various other units gave similar answers as they began moving forward, Leader-Zero eyed the Ordinal as he unclipped some sort of device from his belt. The Ordinal stretched his arm out, holding a hand out to his side and causing the device to transform and leave his hand. It unfurled, revealing itself to be a small drone, better commonly known as a Manhack.

Manhacks, simply referred to as viscerators by Combine forces, were flying, gyroscopic devices that kept themselves afloat with three razor-sharp blades that constantly spun at extremely high speeds. Their main functions were to act as small anti-personnel devices by using their razor-sharp propeller blades for both propulsion and attack, as well as acting as reconnaissance to scout dangerous areas.

In Leader-Zero's not-so-important opinion, also not entirely reliable. They were programmed with very little concept of self-preservation, often careening off walls and through objects in their single-minded pursuit of a target. They had to be deployed in large droves to really do some effective damage, and if a situation ever really got to that point, then a team of Civil Protection or Combine should have been sent in instead.

He'd give credit where credit was due though.

The concept of the Manhack was another fine example of the inhumane methods that the Combine used to control the populace. While not designed to kill outright, the deep cuts, scars, and wounds that Manhacks often left on people were highly susceptible to infection due to the conditions in which they live - not to mention their inability to treat such injuries with a lack of proper medical equipment on hand…

The Manhack's single red eye stared into the blue lenses of the Ordinal's mask as it hovered in place, a high pitched whirring sounding out from its propellers as it waited for him to issue it an order.

"Scan for protection team biodat signals - project transmitters." The Ordinal commanded.

Suddenly, a bright blue light emerged from the Manhack, projecting a small hologram of the building's internal layout. Several small red dots stood out from the sea of blue lines, sitting completely still in a room somewhere near the top floor of the apartment block. Five moving green dots blipped just outside of the apartment, representing the stabilization team currently advancing towards the building.

"Sweep directive." With a simple motion of his hands, the Ordinal pointed towards the abandoned building, and without hesitation, the Manhack turned to shoot out across the street; passing the rest of the squad and disappearing inside as it went through the front door to start clearing the halls ahead of them.

-O-

"Are you almost done, Nat?" Blake asked, peering over her shoulder as Cade frantically moved shelves and chairs to do whatever they could to block off the entrance. "We kinda' gotta get outta here as soon as possible!"

"Rushing me isn't gonna make it go any faster, Blake!" Nat growled back in frustration. "I'm trying to be as quick as possible here, but this tech is ancient!"

Dalton rushed to the window, trying to see what the four of them would be up against. "Ah fuck!" He hissed to himself, watching as the captain deployed a Manhack, before ordering it inside. "They just sent in a Manhack to scout ahead. I counted two Grunts, a Charger, a captain, and one of those new prototype soldiers!"

"Seriously? That much firepower?" Cade asked in disbelief, briefly looking up from his jerry-rigged barricade setup. "What the hell are they sending such a team for? Why not a standard Civil Protection patrol?"

"Why are they sending a response team here in the first place?!" Blake tacked on fearfully. "How the hell could they have known?! Weren't we jamming the signal?!"

"The jammer died on us ten minutes ago!" Nat responded, not bothering to look up from the computer monitor. "We were just too preoccupied to notice."

"Seriously, Nat?! I thought you said that faulty, hodge-podge, piece of shit tech of yours would work!" Cade berated, giving her an incredulous look.

Nat let out a deeply annoyed sigh, the scowl on her face being seen clearly through the monitor's reflection. "And it did, at first! But we weren't accounting for the portal experimentation equipment in here. Some strange, periodic bursts of interference have been emitting from the tech scattered around here. It must have punched through the jammer's signal override and decayed it over time!"

"Oh, well that's just perfect!" Cade snarked back sarcastically. "I fuckin' love science and technology!"

"Everyone, just shut the fuck up for a moment!" Dalton ordered, silencing the various voices of argumentative discontent that filled the room. "There's no point in arguing how we got here. It doesn't matter… This is just where we ended up. And judging from the looks of things, we've stumbled upon some sort of gold mine and kicked the hornet's nest." Dalton frowned as he watched the team of alien soldiers make their way through the front entrance down below, disappearing from view. "Besides, even if we do leave now, those bastards will be waiting for us down there for sure."

Blake looked startled, trembling in slight fear. "W-What?! So we're just fuckin' stuck here?!" He asked, glancing around the room anxiously as if looking for some alternate way out of the situation.

Dalton turned away from the window, looking back to his teammates. Blake's quickly rising fear was extremely evident from his body language, Cade kept up a facade of stoicism to hide his unease, and even though Natalia didn't say anything further, it was obvious with the way she pretended to be focused on the screen in front of her that she was also very much in the same boat.

"I'm afraid so… but that doesn't mean we don't have a chance." Dalton reached for his MP7, flicking the safety off. "We're gonna stand our ground and fight our way outta here before more reinforcements show up - together, people!"

Natalia looked surprised by his words, before her expression steadily shifted to one of determination. She grabbed the SPAS-12 leaning against the desk and nodded at him.

"Where do you want us?" Cade asked, pulling the bolt back of his AKS-74U and inspecting the chamber.

Dalton eyed their fortifications before pointing at the alcove in the corner. "The door swings in, so I want Nat behind the door's blind spot, and you in the adjacent room to support her. You two will ambush them once they make entry. Me and Blake will draw their fire from the kitchen in the back."

Nat and Cade glanced at each other, before the armed technician silently nodded and hurriedly moved into position. Cade meanwhile, stepped up to Dalton before holding up a fist. Dalton smirked, before giving him a friendly bump and patting him on the back as he followed Nat. "Break a leg over there, Cade."

"I sure hope I don't!" Cade called back over his shoulder, injecting a bit of lightheartedness into the situation and causing Dalton to chuckle a bit.

Dalton turned back to the still trembling Blake. Not an unusual sight for him, as it wasn't the first time the two were in a rough spot.

Hopefully it wouldn't be the last...

He placed a gloved hand firmly on his shoulder, forcing the rebel to focus on him. "Listen to me Blake, We've been through some pretty rough spots before. I'm not gonna lie to you like you're some naive child, but it's looking really rough right now. If we're going to pull through, I need you one hundred percent focused right now."

Internally, Dalton wondered if he was sounding confident enough with his impromptu pep talk. The 'reassuring' words that he came up with on the spot were more meant for him, rather than his teammate standing in front of him.

"I've seen how you are when things get like this," He continued on regardless. "You make really irrational and oftentimes stupid choices. I don't mean to make you sound like you're worthless or something, but it's precisely why I'm the one undercover, and you're not. Please, I'm begging you, don't do anything crazy this time. Okay?"

Blake narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw and looking down at his feet with uncertainty. After a moment, he closed his eyes, attempting to steady his breath and remain calm and collected. Dalton felt bad for him, his expression softening as the young man in front of him tried his best to stop his rather justified panic.

"O-Okay," Blake breathed out, though it nearly came out as a mumble with how quiet he was. "I trust you-"

From the other side of the door, they could hear the muffled sound of high pitched whirring, followed by several heavy boots stomping on old floor planks as they echoed throughout the hall. "Overwatch, stabilization team advancing to CPT last known active biodats." A heavily synthesized voice spoke up from the other side of the door, before the handle jiggled as the soldiers tried to open it.

Damnit, when did they get up there so quickly? Dalton mentally cursed. He heard Blake inhale sharply beside him, tensing up and tightening the grip on his MP5.

"Well, looks like this is it, Blake," Dalton said in a hushed tone, meeting his terrified eyes. "It's do or die now…"

-O-

"Confirmed obstruction." One of the Grunts said, repeatedly bashing his shoulder against the door, trying to budge it open, but to no avail. The rest of the stabilization team was standing in the hall behind him, stacked outside of the apartment door and waiting to make entry.

"Copy. Echo-One, peel back." The Ordinal commanded before turning to the imposing form of the Combine Charger nearby. "Wallhammer, take point."

"10-4, Wallhammer has lead. Clearing obstruction."

The massive, armored soldier stepped forward in front of the old wooden door, which looked rather small in comparison to him. Each heavy pounding of the Charger's boots against the floor beneath him was followed by a loud clinking from his armor plates, which bumped against the protective padding that covered vital parts of his body.

The Charger lowered the Heavy Shotgun from his high ready position, leveling it down to the door's handle as he pulled the trigger and activated it. A bundle of three fuse-like coils emerged from the top of the shotgun as it charged, the Tau Cannon attachment quickly rotating in place with a distinct hum as it glowed a bright blue.

A moment later, a thunderous boom sounded out as a burst of blue light briefly flooded the hallway. The shotgun had easily forced through the wooden material of the door like it was paper-mâché, kicking up dust and sending splinters of debris flying everywhere from the point of impact. The lock was no longer a problem now, as evidenced by the gaping hole left in place of where the handle used to be.

If anyone was inside, then they definitely knew of their presence now.

Hopefully the shock and awe of it all would be enough to carry them through. A swift, headstrong, brute force response was the approach that the Combine had often used, and the Chargers were specifically designed for just that. Any attempts at punching through a Charger's armor were met with minor results. Perfect for a fight against underequipped groups of ragtag rebels, especially considering how far underdeveloped they were compared to the might of the Combine.

It was probably why they had Leader-Zero near the back of the stack with the Ordinal. Overwatch would be understandably upset if they lost a set of their new prototype armor that had yet to be effectively tested. But a tried and true, mass produced unit like the Charger was expendable, just like he was.

The soldier underneath the armor didn't matter at all to them…

"Wallhammer, clearing." The Charger said, before unceremoniously kicking the door in, sending several chairs, a table, and a shelf falling to the ground. Immediately upon opening the door, the sight of several dead Civil Protection scattered about the room greeted his gaze. The Charger wordlessly eyed the corpses from the doorway for a brief moment, searching for any possible signs of life.

Nothing…

"Ordinal, protection units are flatline. No confirmation on contaminants. Beginning viscon sweep for possible hostiles." The charger tilted his heavy frame through the tiny doorway, stepping through the shelves and onto several old books. He was barely in the room before several pellets of twelve gauge slammed against the pauldron covering his left shoulder, causing him to stumble to the side. "Argh- proximity!" The charger cried out, swiveling his head to the left and bringing his left forearm up; deploying a blue force field shield in the direction of the gunfire. "We have loud contaminants! Spikes confirmation, wall up!"

"Copy," The Ordinal responded, standing outside the door as he quickly reached for his comms. "Overwatch, protection team is down. We have confirmed active hostiles in the sector. Wallhammer is engaged and under fire. Advise preparations."

"Overwatch acknowledges anti-civil activity. Weapons free, prosecute on sight."

"Affirmative, contain and control is underway." The Ordinal responded, before turning to the Manhack still hovering over his shoulder. "Viscerator, identify and prosecute. All units, stay low."

The Manhack gave a low beep of confirmation, before flying towards the door. The blades clumsily hit the doorframe, chipping off bits of wood as it spun around in an attempt to stabilize itself and correct its flight path, before making its way inside. Once finally inside the room, its vision settled on the rebels that fired on the Charger, before zeroing in on them and making a beeline straight towards the shooters.

The charger inside the room shielded himself from the barrage of shotgun pellets and AK fire, before flinching as he suddenly began taking fire from the kitchen at the other end of the room. A volley of bullets shot off in his direction, with a few of them even managing to hit the Manhack - which let out a series of alarmed beeps before it shattered into pieces.

"Ordinal, viscerator is off grid!" The Charger announced, watching the Manhack crash into a wall.

With the Manhack down, the rebels attention focused solely on the lone Charger in the room, with the majority of their rounds harmlessly embedding themselves into his padding, or spalling off his plating and ricocheting into the walls; a testament to the Combine's technological superiority in ballistics protection.

Despite that, there was no telling how long the Charger would last by himself without some sort of support. "Wall assist, Wall assist!" He requested, and Leader-Zero could almost sense a hint of agitation in his voice as he hastily backed up into the corner.

One of the Grunts reached for a yellow grenade clipped onto his belt, before raising it high so that the rest of the team saw it. "Deploying extractors."

The Ordinal spared him a brief glance, giving a curt nod as he acknowledged the action. "Copy, standing back."

The Grunt thumbed the center priming button, releasing the spoon and handle as it popped off and clattered against the floor by his feet. The center mechanism expanded outward slightly, making the grenade more spherical in shape as a red light and loud rhythmic beeping emitted from it, the fuse counting down the time until detonation.

The Grunt briefly exposed himself in the doorway, underhand tossing it deep into the room. "Extractors away!"

"Oh shit, grenade! Dalton, there's a grenade by your foot!"

"Fuck! Get down-!"

The grenade's timer finally reached zero, cutting off their panicked voices as a small and deafening explosion sounded out. Shrapnel erupted outwards from where the device had landed, momentarily covering the kitchen near the back in a small cloud of smoke and dust. The concussion of the blast made the entire building shake vigorously, the floor vibrating as the whole structure rumbled. The windows rattled loudly as pieces of broken glass crashed down, along with paintings, furniture, and other miscellaneous items.

"Damnit! Nat, we just lost Blake and Dalton!" yelled a rebel from the other room. "Cover me, I gotta reload!"

"Are you kidding me?!" A female voice shouted in response.

No longer under fire from two different angles, the charger could now focus on dealing with the other problems. "Flash, flash, flash!" He called out, and instantly, a bright flash of light erupted from the shield still aimed at the rebels that took him by surprise.

"Fuck!" The female rebel yelled, suddenly blinded and doing her best to rub the bright spots of light burned into her retinas. "Cade, I'm blind here! Back me up!"

"Hostile is scrambled and experiencing extreme panic. All units, take advantage." The Charger called out from inside the room.

The Ordinal turned towards the two Grunts with him. "Echo-One, Echo-Two, push forward."

"Copy that, Echo-One is forward pressure."

The Grunts dashed towards the doorway, rushing through to assist the Charger, before the first was immediately blasted away. The rebel, while blinded and at a major disadvantage, was still capable of fighting back. She fired the last shell out of her shotgun, managing to hit the first Grunt square in the chest. The Grunt yelped out in pain, staggering backwards slightly into the Charger's shield, before collapsing face first against the floor.

If the red blood painting his hazmat fatigues weren't enough to discern, the flatline sounding out from his mic signified that he was instantly dead.

"Echo-One has expired, Echo-Two is responding with full active!" The second Grunt called out, stepping over the body of his teammate and sending a burst of dark energy from his Pulse SMG, dropping the rebel as her shotgun clattered against the floor.

"Shit, Nat!" The last rebel called out, having finished his reload just a tad too late to save his partner. He peeked around the broken wall, trying to get an angle on the Grunt. Unfortunately for him, the Grunt had already placed himself firmly out of sight within the room, just around the wall's blind spot.

"Hostile is overwhelmed and at low motivation. Escalating force and sending all spikes to primary target." The Grunt taunted him, holding the trigger down on his SMG and suppressing the rebel's position.

The constant spraying of dark energy achieved the Grunt's intended result. Preventing the rebel from getting any more effective shots off back at them, and forcing him to cower in cover.

The Charger eventually dropped his shield, letting the force field quickly dissipate as he stepped out from the corner. He put both hands on his Heavy Shotgun, locking his shoulders as he leveled it in the direction towards the adjacent room that the last rebel hid inside.

The glowing blue fuse-like coils of the Heavy Shotgun's Tau Cannon emerged from the top once more, quickly rotating as it charged the weapon for another, even more devastating shot. Although this time, the Charger breathed heavily, growling in clear agitation and sounding more akin to something like a wild boar as his voice was processed through his mask's vocoder; giving off a much more intimidating aura as he pulled the trigger.

The blue muzzle flash briefly lit up the room as the Heavy Shotgun kicked back from the recoil, the Charger standing firm as the shot punched through the concrete wall with ease and subsequently hit the rebel behind it. Said rebel let out a blood-curdling shriek as he crumpled to the floor, sprawling on his back and exposing himself just a bit out of cover as he dropped his AK in favor of grabbing the stump where his left leg used to be; futilely trying to stem the bleeding.

The rebel looked back and forth between his missing limb and the massive spray of blood currently seeping into the dirty carpet, the true gravity of his current situation quickly sinking in. Blinking the pained tears out of the corner of his eyes, he held up a shaky hand towards his attacker, as if to beg for his life. His gaze met the empty blue lenses of the Charger's mask with several adrenaline fueled emotions in his pleading eyes.

Shock, fear, hopelessness…

All of which were completely ignored as the Charger's Heavy Shotgun charged up with another hum.

Realizing what was about to happen, the rebel attempted to reach for his AK to fire back in one last show of resistance... but unfortunately for him, he was already at a major disadvantage, and the Charger fired directly into the rebel's head. His skull blew up into smithereens, decorating the carpet beneath him in brain matter as the headless corpse slammed lifelessly against the floor.

The apartment was quiet for a moment, the only sound permeating throughout being the rapidly fading echo of the Charger's killing shot.

The Ordinal and Leader-Zero still remained outside in the hall, having heard all of the action go down inside. After a second, the Ordinal finally turned to their last man, giving a simple order.

"Advance directive."

Leader-Zero nodded at him, before the two made their way inside.

-O-

Blake's eyes opened blearily before letting out a slight cough, his mind still recovering from... something.

He raised a single hand up to cup one of his ears in an effort to stop the tinnitus induced ringing he was hearing. He'd have done the same with his other hand, but it seemed to be stuck under something, and he was too disorientated - his vision still swimming - to know what exactly.

What the hell just happened? He thought for a moment, before his eyes widened, and the events of today flooded back to him in an instant. Wait… the raid, the Civil Protection, the Combine!

As the picture became clear once more, so did his vision, and Blake realized he was currently trapped under the slumped over form of Dalton in an extremely wrecked kitchen. He had to physically strain himself as he struggled to lift his teammate up without carelessly shoving him off, but once he did, Blake was finally able to get a good look at himself. He was caked in dirt, soot, and sweat. But thankfully, he wasn't missing any limbs or bleeding.

The same couldn't be said for Dalton though, judging by the extensive damage that the man sustained to his legs.

Jesus Christ… Blake winced at the sight. That grenade shredded him up pretty good.

"Aaand… hostiles neutralized." The vocoded voice of a Combine Grunt drawled out from the other side of the room, followed by several footsteps as the rest of the Combine squad made their way inside.

Ah shit, Nat? Cade?! Damnit!

His silent mourning was interrupted as a quiet groan could be heard from the body in front of him. It was Dalton, slowly waking up from his state of unconsciousness. Blake quickly moved to help his wounded teammate, carefully leaning him up against the wall.

"Ugh… Blake...?" He quietly breathed out, his voice coming out hoarse and rough. "Agh, I can't feel my fuckin' legs man…"

"Yeah… I…" Blake whispered, before pausing as he tried to figure out the best way to break it to him. "...I wouldn't look at them if I were you."

"Mildly concerning when you put it like that…" Dalton said casually, giving a mirthless chuckle. The shock must have been preventing him from screaming his head off if he was handling such grievous wounds so well. "I've really led us all astray this time, haven't I? So much for my brave plan… we didn't even get a heroic last stand..." He muttered bitterly, his unfocused gaze lazily turning to look over Blakes shoulder at nothing. "...We never should have come here…"

Blake frowned, resting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "You did what you thought was best, Dalton. That's all anyone could have asked of you…"

Dalton's eyes turned to focus on him, a single brow quirked up on his face as he flashed him a toothy - albeit blood stained - smile. "And here I thought that I was supposed to be the one comforting you…?" He chuckled dryly. "I guess the roles are reversed now, huh? Eh, I suppose it's fair…"

The sound of approaching footsteps caused Blake's fear to spike tenfold. The Combine had all but confirmed themselves that Nat and Cade were as good as dead. There was no one else alive but them, and the Combine were thorough in confirming their kills. He didn't want to die in some filthy, rat infested, Eastern European apartment kitchen! He was still young, and he had his whole life ahead of him! Plus, the Combine did absolutely much worse to live prisoners.

If they were even considering taking him in alive…

He racked his brain for a possible solution, and when nothing came up, his eyes frantically roamed around the kitchen. Thankfully, before a sense of despair could start kicking in, his eyes settled onto Dalton. More specifically, the white gas mask hooked onto his teammate's belt. Quickly snatching the mask from his belt, Blake began clipping it over Dalton's face.

"Blake, what the hell are you doing…?" The wounded man asked quietly. "We're about to be killed…"

"You're basically already dead, man… I'm sorry! But I still have a chance out of here. You've got to play along and help me. Please!" Blake begged.

With the mask now clipped over Dalton's face, Blake couldn't read what his friend's expression was beneath it. The soulless, tinted lenses stared back at him as Dalton stayed silent for a moment, unnerving him greatly as he thought he died right then and there.

Thankfully, after a moment, Dalton let out a heavy sigh, slightly vocoded from the mask as he reluctantly gave in and agreed. "Damnit, kid… fine. If you think it'll work, go ahead and try..."

-O-

After entering the apartment with the Ordinal, Leader-Zero had been ordered to sweep and clear the adjacent room, to make sure that there were no more rebels waiting to jump out and surprise the rest of the team. He immediately complied without question, stepping over the Charger's handiwork and doing a quick check up and down. Leader-Zero looked through everything. Hiding spots like under beds, in closets, inside fridges, etcetera. If a human could fit in it, odds are, a rebel was probably hiding in it.

Ambushes, guerrilla warfare, and espionage were really the only few methods of combat that the Combine actually had trouble countering effectively.

"Echo-Two, check silhouettes." He heard the Ordinal commanding the Grunt back in the other room.

"Roger, standby for code bravo." The Grunt replied casually. Now, Leader-Zero thought that it would have ended there, but it didn't. Not even five seconds later, the Grunt shouted, "Contact!" and Leader-Zero heard the rest of the team flick the safeties off on their weapons.

Leader-Zero did the same, rushing back into the room and shouldering his Pulse Rifle up alongside the rest of his team. They were all positioned in a semi-circle, weapons trained on two figures standing in the doorway leading to the ruined kitchen.

The first was a rebel - looking relatively unharmed despite the amount of carnage they went through earlier - and the second, a badly wounded Civil Protection officer. Both of them were extremely battered up and covered in soot, with the rebel appearing to sweat heavily in anxiousness as he pointed a pistol to the officer's head with a trembling hand.

"Stay the fuck back!" The rebel yelled, face set in a furious snarl with a hint of desperation. "I walk out of here or he fuckin' gets it!" He warned, shoving the muzzle of the pistol against the officer's temple, conveying that he was serious about the threat.

"Hold fire, hold fire!" The Ordinal commanded. "Activating code 10-108. Friendly confirmed, compliance confirmed."

Leader-Zero had no idea what the rebel was hoping to accomplish at the moment. He was surrounded, his path completely blocked off by the team of highly trained, alien commandos. Unless he somehow survived an act of autodefenestration from the top floor of the apartment building, there was no way out of this other than death or capture.

The rebel warily eyed the soldiers as they stared at him, visibly and audibly gulping as they trained their weapons on him, remaining completely silent as they refused to utter a single word back in response.

"W-Well...? Aren't you gonna-"

He was cut off by a flatline as several rounds of dark energy pierced through his hostage and hit his body. A brief expression of shock was seen on the rebel's dirt covered face, before he fell over backwards, hitting the floor with a solid thud as the body collapsed on top of him. Both figures - the rebel and the Civil Protection officer - lie completely still.

Leader-Zero turned to the source of the fire, spotting the Ordinal as he slowly took his finger off the trigger and lowered his Pulse Rifle, barrel still radiating heat from the shots. A chilling laugh came from behind the captain's mask, and despite his heavily synthesized voice, Leader-Zero could sense just a tiniest bit of emotion leaking out from him.

Amusement…

"Friendgame effective," The Ordinal announced matter-of-factly, apparently satisfied by the fact that his act of deception actually tricked the naive and inexperienced rebel into lowering his guard for a moment. "Overwatch, sector 8-92-G is sanitized and socio-stable. Stabilization team holding position. Lightviz at 65. Audibles at... 3." He reported back coldly, showing just how completely indifferent and desensitized he was to killing a supposedly allied officer without a second thought. Any pretenses that a faint echo of humanity might have laid dormant and lingered within his programmed mind were immediately dropped after such a display.

The rest of the units also lowered their weapons, returning to a lax status now that the threats were contained.

As the Ordinal stepped aside to listen to the Overwatch AI, Leader-Zero turned to assess the damage.

A dead Civil Protection team, a Grunt, and four rebels. The place was a complete and utter mess, with bullet holes, scorch marks, toppled furniture, and blood staining the old and peeling pre-war era wallpaper. A couple of windows were cracked and broken, shards of glass shining from the lightning caused by the storm that was brewing outside earlier. The heavy rainfall constantly pelted against the apartments windowsill, leaking water onto the floorboards as gusts of wind circulated through the room.

To Leader-Zero, the situation was… suboptimal.

This next bit was the part of the job that he despised the most. Cleaning the aftermath.

Usually after a firefight, a cleanup crew was sent in to dispose of bodies, but considering the valuable technology and dangerous weapons still lying around, they'd need to remove the bodies themselves.

At least he didn't have to do any reports, and the Charger could help with most of the heavy lifting.

The mission did leave him slightly confused though.

This wasn't a major checkpoint or outpost of some sort to the Combine. Just some random apartment block in the abandoned outskirts of the city. And rebels definitely wouldn't just randomly attack a squad of Civil Protection, especially those in the middle of conducting a raid. Not unless they were trying to get to someone or something really important.

But who or what?

Judging by the large amount of stun baton bruises on one of the bodies, the Civil Protection had already gotten to the who first, and had mercilessly beaten him to death before meeting their own untimely demise at the hands of the rebels.

Now how about the what...?

The Ordinal's voice cut in, drawing his focus as he was abruptly pulled from his thoughts once more. "Understood, transmission clear. Overwatch is requesting all units refresh and resolve. Cognitive dissonance will not be tolerated."

The remaining Grunt stopped staring at the summarily executed rebel and his hostage, slightly alarmed as he turned to face the Ordinal. "Memories included?" He asked, and Leader-Zero could hear a sense of worry in his tone.

The Ordinal stared back at the Grunt, almost challengingly. "Affirmative, memories included. Update is live, acceptance is mandatory." He ordered in a flat tone, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

Not that Leader-Zero would argue about a direct order from a higher up.

In fact, Leader-Zero welcomed the order. He'd been having far too many stray thoughts entering his head recently. Who, what, when, where, and why were all pointless questions that shouldn't have been on the mind of a soldier like him. Those thoughts were pointless, and got in the way of his orders, which were ultimately more important. When commanded to shoot, he would pull the trigger without a second thought. The Combine programmed him to be that way.

To be an efficient killer…

That's why when the order was given, he was the first to comply.

"Copy, accepted. Updating cognitive suppression biodats. Update complete in T-minus three seconds..." Leader-Zero finished the process in hopes of shedding his humanity once more.

Wait…

Shedding his humanity?

But, why? Did he truly want to do such a drastic-

"Dissonance resolved. Leader-Zero, awaiting further orders."

The Grunt looked back and forth between the newly refreshed prototype soldier and the captain, the latter of the two silently staring at him as the charger voiced his compliance nearby. Despite being under the Ordinal's scrutinizing gaze, he took a moment to delay the order.

Leader-Zero saw the Grunt in front of him hesitate, clearly wanting to refuse the order… but knew he couldn't. Leader-Zero knew it, the Charger knew it, and even the Ordinal knew it. A refusal to follow orders was a sign of disobedience.

A show of resistance...

And if there's one thing that the Combine didn't like, it was resistance.

Sensing that disobedience would only end badly for him, the Grunt lowered his head as he hesitantly agreed. "Copy… Echo-Two is-"

He was cut off as a loud shot rang out alongside a metal clang, causing the team to jump in surprise and whip around quickly to face the source of the fire.

The rebel who had taken the Metro Cop hostage was still stuck underneath his corpse, but unlike the officer, the rebel was still alive and kicking, apparently playing possum and waiting for the right moment to weakly point his pistol up at the them. The other units in the room immediately unleashed a barrage of sustained fire upon him, decimating him and the corpse he hid behind as their bodies were ripped to shreds.

With the amount of rounds fired into him, Leader-Zero doubted that he'd be faking it again.

"Arrrgh! Heat leak on bodypack!" Everyone snapped their heads to the Grunt, who's panicked cries drew some concern for his safety… before that concern quickly shifted to their own safety as his words had finally registered in their minds. The valve cap on the Grunt's gas tank had been shot off, causing a large flame to viciously hiss and expel out as the seal was compromised, exposing the chemicals inside and allowing it to react to the air around them. The Grunt flailed around wildly in a vain attempt to unstrap the rapidly burning hazard from his persons. "Thermal limit exceeded! Biodat critical, expiration imminent! Assist, assist!"

"Ripcord, ripcord!" The Ordinal urgently called out, before turning to get as far away from the Grunt as possible, leaving him to his certain doom.

"No, no, no!" The Grunt frantically begged, still struggling as the erupting flames quickly burned bigger and brighter, to the point that Leader-Zero could almost feel the heat through his helmet. "Get it off me! Get it off! Gahhh-!"

For some reason, Leader-Zero decided to glance back at the Grunt for just a moment, a decision which he'd quickly come to regret as he was momentarily blinded, raising a hand in front of him in an attempt to shield his eyes from the explosion's harsh glare as the gas tank eventually combusted; the spewing flame erupting into a bright orange flash that fully encompassed the upper half of the unlucky Grunt.

Unfortunately, Leader-Zero - like the other remaining units - couldn't back away in time due to the size of the cramped apartment room, and the ensuing explosion easily knocked them all off their feet.

He could barely hear the other units cry out in pain over the loud boom, but he could clearly hear the high pitched flatline of their heart rate monitors sounding out as they were launched about the room, their bodies unceremoniously crumpling to the floor and sprawling out lifelessly; unmoving.

He felt the wind get knocked out of him as collided harshly against some sort of control panel nearby, smashing into it as it absorbed the full weight of him and his gear, before he landed on a circular platform tucked into the corner of the room. In his disoriented state, he was able to pick up on some sort of alarm tone that sounded out, drawing his attention to the tech he had just slammed into.

The control panel was now sparking badly, and the cables connected to it now sported some extensive cuts and punctures, exposing the internal wiring inside. Overwatch would be severely disappointed if they found out that highly sensitive equipment was damaged by him. Luckily it wasn't theirs, so at least the punishment would be light.

Hopefully…

Unless the technology just so happened to be a mission critical device that was necessary for accomplishing his team's objective...

Speaking of his team, Leader-Zero looked back towards their bodies - covered in bits of debris from the decrepit and crumbling apartment. He was alone now, trying to see through the lingering smoke that engulfed the entire room. "Overwatch, we have no sector containment! Stabilization team is flatline, Leader-Zero is final team unit, requesting backup!" He coughed out.

The only response he received through his headset was static, which didn't exactly bode well for him at the moment. Something was disabling his comms and preventing him from communicating with anyone else.

Several rings began to surround the platform he was on, at first slowly spinning counter-clockwise before picking up in speed. He was trapped, but suddenly too exhausted to really try and get out. He attempted to push himself up, before giving up part way through as he felt pain flare up through his lower back.

Electricity could be seen arcing all around parts of the machine, and not a moment later, a blue beam affixed to the ceiling overhead began shooting into a port above him. Was this some sort of teleporter? He'd heard reports from other soldiers that they used a similar looking device back in Nova Prospekt for prisoner transport.

Although it most certainly wasn't this… crude.

With the device clearly being hacked together with miscellaneous junk parts, there was no doubt that it was a highly unstable and amateur copy - most likely not even tested yet. And yet here he was, smack dab in the middle of it. An unwilling lab rat going into the great unknown.

It wouldn't be the first time for him…

The room rumbled a bit as the process sped up. Vases slid off drawers, and the extremely broken and wildly swinging lamp that was rattling on the ceiling finally jostled free from its screw mounts, plummeting to the floor with a resounding crash.

At some point during all of this, a bright orb of light had formed around the teleporter's rings, encircling it clockwise. It glowed in a large multitude of fluctuating colors that mixed, leaving behind a unique trail of blues, greens, and purples. It looked ethereal, majestic even.

So much so that Leader-Zero held out a hand to try and touch it, causing him to pause as he noticed a major change happening to his body.

A bright aura had fully encompassed him, producing a weird tingling sensation as gravity suddenly stopped working correctly. His body became weightless as he started hovering up, the orb spinning around him more erratically until at some point, he had to close his eyes, with the only thing he could make out being blinding light.

There was only one response to this situation that Leader-Zero felt was appropriate.

"Shit…"

Seconds after muttering that single swear, Leader-Zero disappeared in a flash, never to be seen on Earth ever again. Technically the same could be said for the run-down apartment room he was in. Except that instead of simply just teleporting with him, the unstable teleporter had parted by exploding inwards, taking a chunk of the building with it and leaving a massive spherical shaped hole in the side.

Peace returned to the abandoned outskirts of City 17, the only sound being that of the ambient thunderstorm pouring overhead.

Life had continued on like normal…

Domain of the Gods

Hmmm... how peculiar…

This was the single thought that ran through Illusion's head as she stared down blankly at the game board before her.

Eons ago, when the stars shone far fewer in the sky than they did now, the gods of light, order, and destiny, vied with the gods of darkness, chaos, and chance; to see who would control the world. This struggle did not take place in a fierce battle of epic proportions, but with a simple roll of the dice.

Or rather, many, many rolls…

Again, and again, and again, they rolled the dice. For both sides, there were many marvelous victories, and just as many stinging defeats. However, there was still no resolution to their prolonged competition. They were all essentially deadlocked into a never ending stalemate, where neither side had made any further progress forwards or backwards.

Who knew that betting a competition on a game of random chance wasn't the most smartest idea in the world?

After countless games, the gods finally tired of playing with just the dice, seeing that it wasn't getting them anywhere, and that they were simply wasting time. Not that time was something that truly concerned them in the first place.

They were gods after all.

Upon all of them quickly coming to the same realization, they decided to shake things up a bit. How? You may ask. Simple - they created another world for their game, in turn, also creating a myriad of creatures to be used as their playing pieces alongside it.

Humans and elves, dwarves and lizardmen, goblins and ogres, trolls and demons, et cetera, et cetera. Pieces all formed by them with some sort of care and attention, to be used in this world to help advance their goals, or to simply entertain and amuse them. Pawns, in the grand scheme of things. One thing that never changed though, was the use of dice, meaning that the fates of these pawns was still left up to random chance.

Was it unethical for both sides? Maybe, but no one could tell them otherwise, seeing as they were deities, and this was their game.

At least, Illusion hoped so…

"I know that we're playing a game, but this one is not quite as amusing to me," Void muttered irritably, crossing her arms as she stared down at the board with a sneer. The reason for this was because just moments ago, a brand new piece had abruptly appeared onto their world's game board in a flash of brilliant blue light.

The appearance of the piece took all of the Great Gods by surprise, its shine glaring so brightly that it had many of them raising an arm to shield their eyes and even forcing some of them to outright turn away.

Once the light subsided to a more reasonable level, they all turned to stare at the piece. For a few seconds, there was a mixture of calm and curiosity, before the room erupted into furious uproar. Accusations began being thrown around, baseless with their lack of any actual proof or evidence.

"I bet that it was Life who summoned this piece here!" Fear accused, pointing a finger towards the goddess at the other side of the table with narrowed eyes. "It's obvious that this is your meddling!" She snarled.

"Mine?" Life asked incredulously, calmly holding a hand up to her heart in offense. "What reason could I possibly have to bring an unknown piece into the game without any forewarning? Let alone one that appears to defy the rules we've set in place."

"I have to agree with her," Death spoke up, coming to the aid of his fellow order-aligned goddess. "If Life were to have really summoned a new piece to the board, don't you think that she would have done so less… blatantly?"

Void scoffed nearby, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance. "Oh please, blatant? As if she could talk. Look at our knight in grimy armor over here!" She said, gesturing towards the piece on the board. "He's constantly defied all odds, even in the face of certain demise. Abundance himself hasn't even been able to touch him! It doesn't get any more blatant than that!"

Time placed both his hands on the table, leaning forward over it slightly and growling at Void. "Are you accusing us of rigging this game, Void...?" He asked slowly.

"Oh no," Void responded sarcastically. "I'm merely making an observation…"

Illusion stared at the piece in silence, slightly tilting her head and trying to make sense of it as everyone squabbled around her. She couldn't for the life of her understand why, but something told her that the piece was special in some way. Why was that?

Why?

She was pulled from her thoughts as a resounding bang sounded out, the table shaking slightly as Truth slammed both of his hands down against the surface. "Settle down everyone, settle down!" He admonished, giving everyone except her a stern warning look. "We are not children here! We are primordial beings! So please, start acting like it!"

While tiredly holding his head up with a hand under his chin, Abundance merely gave a pointed glance at Illusion, raising a singular brow up at her childlike appearance. "Yes, well, that only applies to seven out of the eight of us." He commented brusquely, completely unfazed by Truth's recent upbraiding. "Also, what gives you the right to talk down to us like that? Who died and made you the leader here?"

"I made myself the de facto leader for the moment, considering that I was one of the few level headed enough to not start arguing." He shot back.

Fear rolled her eyes at him, letting out a deep sigh as she pulled her chair back in and sat back down. "Okay, I'll admit, I did resort to pointing fingers rather quickly there…" She grumbled. "But I was starting to get heated with how bad this day has been going, and now, this unexplained anomaly from out of the blue? How are we going to deal with this?"

"She raises a good question," Death said, pointing a finger at her as he nodded his head in agreement. "What exactly is our response to this little surprise of ours?"

"Bah, you all can quit complaining," Truth said, shrugging their concerns off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll deal with it."

Unfortunately, judging by Truth's resolute tone, it sounded like Illusion wouldn't be able to find out more about the mystery piece. Of course, this would disappoint her. A shame really, particularly because a new wildcard would have most certainly made for more interesting entertainment via their possibly spectacular adventures. They had the potential to be something amazing depending on the path they chose in this world.

Still, it was so disappointing to see such potential wasted, being dismissed without so much as a second thought...

Truth went to pick up the piece…

…

*Ahem* Truth went to pick up the piece...

...

The other gods watched as Truth glared down at the offending object, before beginning to use visible effort. He nervously chuckled in embarrassment as the others eyed him weirdly, wondering if he was making a fool of himself on purpose. After a few more seconds of straining himself, Truth had to plant a foot against the table's edge as he began forcefully yanking his arm back.

And yet, the piece would not budge…

"What in the blazes is this blasphemy?!" He asked with furrowed brows, clearly frustrated by the whole situation as he continued to pull harder and harder. "This should be impossible!"

"Have I finally started affecting you?" Time asked jokingly.

"Funny," Truth replied back in a deadpanned tone. "We all know that your time is not a concern to us higher beings."

"Time…?" An unfamiliar male voice asked, cutting in and echoing throughout the room, causing all eight Great Gods to pause. A wave of cold chills washed down their backs as the temperature dropped significantly, forcing them all to shiver as a sense of looming dread filled the air. They all looked over at one another, staring back in confusion and surprise as they realized that none of them recognized the voice nor its owner.

"Who goes there?!" Truth shouted, glancing around the room with narrowed eyes as his fellow gods and goddesses did the same. "Show yourself!"

"Hm, time… it is such a delicate and fickle thing… is it not?" The voice continued, still ignoring Truth's questions.

"You are testing my rapidly dwindling patience!" Truth growled out in warning. "If you won't bother to reveal yourself, then tell us why you have decided to intrude into our domain!"

Suddenly, the room that they were in had vanished in the blink of an eye, becoming nothing more than a simple black void. All the gods turned to look at Void, the goddess frantically shaking her head with wide eyes as she quickly understood their thought process.

Void, the goddess of her namesake, was not in control of the void that the group had found themselves in…

"I'm afraid that I can't allow any of you to... remove... such a delicate piece from play..." The voice that spoke up from behind Truth was slow and raspy, but still commanding enough that it demanded attention.

Everyone's head snapped in his direction, causing Truth to immediately turn around defensively.

Footsteps echoed loudly in the suffocating silence of the void, slowly and deliberately, as a pair of unnaturally glowing green eyes emerged from the darkness; like a predator stalking its prey.

Tension grew thicker among the eight gods that were assembled around the grand table as they stared intently with bated breaths, their eyes locked onto the shadowy stranger as they finally revealed themselves, coming to a stop before them.

Standing before the gods was someone that none of them had ever seen before in their entire extended existence. A middle-aged Caucasian male with a tall, thin physique, pale skin, prominent widow's peak, black hair shaped in a military-style crew cut, and vibrant green eyes. He was dressed in a simple light blue suit with a white undershirt and purple tie; complete with a black briefcase in his right hand to fully top off the bureaucratic businessman look.

How unremarkably bland…

But the man in the suit was anything but bland. There didn't seem to be anything unusual about his physical appearance, which in the presence of the Great Gods, was the most unusual thing about him.

The small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips evidenced that he also took some sort of satisfaction in the amount of power he held.

Sinister is how Illusion would describe him now.

"Who are you?" Truth repeated his earlier question. "What do you want?"

The mysterious man let out a soft chuckle of amusement, before something unexpected happened.

He suddenly multiplied, projecting several images of himself into existence by his mere will alone...

All of his projections split off from him as they clasped their hands together, thumbs rubbing against their knuckles as they surrounded the gods and their grand playing table. "It is not a matter of what I want," He responded, speaking in a calm and collected tone that his images repeated in sync, dominating the void as his presence leaked authority. "It's about what my... employers... want."

As he finished his sentence, the separate images of himself became clear, dissipating without leaving behind a trace.

"What I am is not of concern to any of you, unlike my employers, who have… authorized me to speak on their behalf…"

As if the man wasn't strange enough, he had a certain accentuated low-key moroseness to his tone, bordering on cryptic. Illusion also noticed that he had an odd habit of placing unusual emphasis on certain syllables, making unneeded pauses, and awkwardly changing the pitch of his voice. She noted that he also had a tendency to elongate consonants, especially the "S". His speech was distinctly rhotic, giving the impression that he was uncomfortable and unused to their language - making him a further oddity; to the point that she started to believe that his uncanny human appearance was a faulty facade for something more.

Something that their minds couldn't comprehend…

"...And what exactly do your employers want?" Truth asked cautiously, humoring the stranger to see where it went. Illusion was all for testing the waters, but in this current situation, with this unknown individual? It was questionable at best and downright dangerous at worst.

"Ah, that is the question... isn't it? I'll admit, I am rather surprised at your willingness to not outright... dismiss them. Regardless, it is rather simple. You see, they would like to participate as well."

The gods in the room all glanced at each other. Who was this man, who had the gall to step into their territory and speak to them in such a way? And all for such a simple request? There was obviously much more to him than meets the eye, but Illusion felt that his true motives would forever remain an enigma, just like he and his so-called employers.

"They do realize that they'll have to abide by our rules, yes?" Truth asked their supposed representative, making sure that they knew what they were really getting themselves involved in.

"They are well aware of how this… game… of yours is played," He let out a noise that sounded almost like a scoff at the word, sounding completely disinterested in their pastime activities. "I am not one to purposefully involve… myself in petty and pointless squabbling concerning such trivial matters… but my employers, on the other hand, are quite different... in that regard."

Suddenly, without prompting, the void they were in had shifted once more, before they stood in some dilapidated room; the dirty paint peeling off from the damaged walls and the picture frames hanging crooked from some sort of scuffle. Illusion looked outside the shattered windows nearby, spotting dark gray clouds swirling in a storm that formed above a city that she had never seen before. The raindrops hit the window sill, splashing onto the wooden floorboards below as thunder rumbled out, drawing her attention to a massive tower behind clusters of giant walls out in the distance.

"No, no, no!" A voice frantically shouted, causing her to jump and turn back to the room. Her eyes quickly settled on its owner, a man in a mask, dressed in some strange white garbs. And the reason for his panicking? A bright orange flame spewing out from some sort of container strapped to his back. He appeared to be flailing wildly, while his more armored allies wearing similar masks did their best to get away from him. "Get it off me! Get it off! Gahhh-!"

He was cut off as the container finally burst, causing Illusion to flinch as he was instantly engulfed in flames.

In an instant, the sound around them had stilled. There was no ear deafening explosion, no raindrops splashing, and not even any wind howling. Time around them had completely frozen, something that Illusion didn't even need to look at Time for to know that he wasn't responsible for it. They all looked at the suited man, a smirk briefly flashing across his face before he got serious again.

"As I said before, my employers wish to be included…" He trailed off, slowly stepping up to one of the armored figures frozen in time, his green eyes staring critically at the glowing blue lenses. A soldier, Illusion assumed, judging by his distinct blue and gray armor and uniform. "All they ask is that they be included… with their own piece. I'm certain that such an arrangement is… most agreeable, yes…?" He asked, turning back to look at Truth expectantly.

Truth frowned at the mystery man, saying nothing for a few seconds. "I... suppose that such a request is acceptable." He reluctantly agreed.

"Wise choice, Truth. So nice to… be on board for the ride, as they say, hmmm?" He joked, letting out a dry chuckle as he dusted off the figure's shoulder piece. He let the briefcase in his hand somehow disappear, before gingerly pressing the tips of his fingers together. "Now ordinarily, this… candidate… would not be my first choice regarding such matters, especially considering that his background does not at all align with the interest of my employers. But with that being said…" He paused to take a deep inhale. "...Other hires are currently indisposed of or occupied, at the moment. So I have taken it upon myself to decide - regardless of any objections, of course - that this individual will do… for now."

Illusion found herself staring into the bright blue lights of the mask with an unreadable expression, trying to see the eyes that were hidden behind it.

What was so special about him? Was he human? Was he something more? Something powerful? Something weak? Something to entertain? Something to reach their secret goals?

"But why him?" One of the gods questioned. She furrowed her brows in confusion as everyone turned to look at her… before hurriedly slapping her hands over her mouth as she realized that it was her that had asked the question.

She couldn't help it! Her curiosity was growing by the second, and it only piqued when the mysterious stranger revealed the supposed piece that would be joining their game board.

Illusion watched as the mysterious stranger eyed her silently, his thoughts unknown as he stared at her for a long moment. Without a word, he turned to walk away, seemingly dismissing her question as he stepped through the armored soldier, causing the projection to fade away. Their surroundings had vanished, returning them once more to the void.

The gods all had to squint their eyes as a blank door of bright white had seemingly formed in front of him.

The man briefly rolled his shoulders as he adjusted the tie on his suit. "It will become clear in due time, or it may not..." He said cryptically, briefly tilting his head back in their direction. "That will be all for now. I will see you all, up ahead..."

Not a moment later, he stepped into the light and disappeared. The door shut behind him, and the void eventually faded away, leaving behind no evidence of his sudden arrival or unsettling departure. All of the Great Gods said nothing as they stared at where he once stood, half in confusion and half in concern.

Truth turned to look at Illusion, as if silently asking her what he had just agreed to.

Unfortunately, she didn't have any good answers for him, instead opting to shrug her shoulders, before picking up the pair of almost forgotten dice on the table nearby. She vigorously shook her hand, the dice clacking in her palm, before releasing them out toward the board.

The game had been changed, a new piece introduced, and the dice had been cast...

SUBJECT: LEADER-ZERO

STATUS: TRANSFERRED AND DEPLOYED

UNDER EVALUATION ; RESULTS PENDING

Author's Notes:

I forgot how awesome Half Life: Alyx was until I replayed it again. Still an absolute masterpiece of a game to an already amazing franchise.

Second fanfic on this site after lurking for a long time, and funnily enough, it's about the bad guys once more. They always look cooler, don't they? Shadow Company, the Combine, Stormtroopers. I've actually worked on this a bit way before my Gate fanfic, so it's nice to finally see it come to fruition with a beginning chapter that I'm extremely satisfied with.

Even if it is pretty lengthy at just over 15,000 words...

Speaking of Stormtroopers, this fic was heavily inspired by Deathtrooper, from ErrorPleaseReload. In terms of Goblin Slayer Crossover fics, Deathtrooper always stuck with me, and holds a very special place in my heart. I'm obviously not gonna make it one to one, but the idea of a cybernetically enhanced, brainwashed, future soldier from a hopeless dystopian world being transported to a medieval, D&D, fantasy setting like Goblin Slayer is extremely interesting and appealing to me.

If any of you are curious as to what our protagonist - Leader-Zero - looks like, he's on the cover art - but if you want a better look, Google 'TheParryGod Transition Period Overwatch Soldier.' The model is obviously meant to represent the Combines transition from the Quarantine Zone commando units seen in Half Life: Alyx, to the standard OTA soldiers we see in Half Life: 2.

I'm gonna be upfront here and also disclose that I might get quite a bit wrong about the Goblin Slayer universe, don't hold it against me please. But I'm gonna try my best with being creative here.

Lastly, don't expect a constant stream of updates. Life always finds a way to make things suck, and motivation plays a big part in the writing process.