Barney sat in a empty room. Cold gray concrete walls fit magnificently with the ominous, black jacket and white mask-clad figure in front of him. The figure looked like a ghostly alien robot, but underneath was a human- a traitor- like Barney apparently wanted to become.

"Your name?" the robotic voice asked emotionlessly.

"B-*ahem*- Barney-I mean Bernard Calhoun," he replied.

"Come ON, Barney! Don't act nervous, don't act nervous, don't act nervous," he said in cadence in his own head.

The Metrocop gave one short laugh.

"What kinda name's Bernard?" he mocked.

Barney wanted to punch him, but he controlled himself and just shrugged, "Dunno. Just one my dumbass parents gave me."

The Metrocop nodded approvingly at the insult to Barney's own parents. He typed Barney's name into the computer. Barney's pulse was racing and his heart was thumping loudly in his chest. He tried to control his own breathing, but to very limited success. For a moment that lasted eternity, Barney wondered frantically what he would have to do if his name didn't come up in the computer like it was supposed to.

"Apartment block 15?" the metrocop said, "What a dump."

Barney used every fiber of self-control in his body to night audibly sigh with relief that his name was put into the system successfully.

Instead, Barney relaxed his face and replied coldly, "Why do you think I'm here? I wanna get outta that hell-hole and into a decent apartment. Let all of the other dumbass citizens rot in their shit dens."

The words coming out of his mouth felt foreign. His own vocal cords and lips didn't even feel like his own. It felt as if someone had implanted a new speech system onto Barney's own body, and these external invaders were mutinous to their host.

The Metrocop laughed, "I hear that. But you realize this job requires…appropriate punishment…of those dumbass citizens you mentioned. I don't want another fuckin' pussy on my squad- flinching at it instead of enjoying it."

"Psssh," Barney scoffed defiantly, "Me? Yeah fuckin' right. I can't stand another damn minute with those….that filth! Always bitchin' and moaning about this or that. Believe me I won't have any problem giving them….what they deserve," he finished vaguely with a smirk.

In his own mind, Barney meant it as "giving them what they deserve- freedom from the combine," but he was sure the stupid CP supervisor took it "What they deserve- a beating."

The CP laughed approvingly, "Hell yeah. I beat these two dumbass citizens just an hour ago for mouthing off about their food rations. Ungrateful maggots."

And then Barney faced a crisis of body. His head was screaming at him to play along and survive, but his heart was longing for Barney to jump up and choke the life out of the CP, all while yelling at him for being a traitor to the human race.

His mind won, and Barney's neck muscles bent reluctantly down, than sprang back up and his already traitorous vocal cords let out a grizzled laugh. The CP typed a few more things before a machine spat out a paper, which was handed to Barney.

"Here's your assignment, codes and apartment number. Equipment's down the hall on the right. I'll have A168 train you. Be back here at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow."

Barney nodded stoically and took the paper. He stood up and, unsure of what to say, just nodded and mumbled, "Alright then."

"Okay B736- and remember: Don't fuckin' let me down."

Barney nodded obediently before walking down the hall into the equipment room. Once inside he leaned against the wall, clamping his eyes shut tight and exhaling deeply.

"Fuckin' A!" Barney whispered to himself, "Pull yourself together, Calhoun. You're gonnna need a much thicker skin than this to get through this."

He stepped into a body scanner, punched in his CP codes from the paper and stood there while the scanner measured his proportions. It than spat him out yet another piece of paper, staying that CP uniforms would be delivered to his apartment. He then went into the next room, was given a helmet, stun-stick and a pistol with extra clips of ammo as well as some more papers. Barney then dragged his feet back to his new apartment.

His new building was nicer, but far from luxury. It was fenced off, with a computer terminal outside of the fence for people to enter their CP codes to get in. The building had a food ration machine in the small court yard outside. Barney walked in the building and up two floors to his room. The room was small- only about the size of his dorm at Black Mesa- but it was nicer. It wasn't extravagance, but it was clean, furnished with furniture that didn't look like people probably died on it, and didn't smell disgusting. The walls were appropriately stark white and gloomy, giving the overall look of the place that of a dim hospital room.

As expected, uniforms were waiting on his bed. A stack of green pants, black socks and t-shirts in both black and gray sat underneath a bulky, long-sleeved CP armored vest. Two utility belts were on the side, and two pairs of leather combat boots sat on the ground at the foot of the bed.

Part of him wanted to take the pile of clothes and burn them, or at least throw them onto the floor. However, a morbid part of him wanted to see them on. He reasoned that it would help him come to terms with his new traitorous position, but even he couldn't quite accept this excuse. He put on the entire getup, and after zipping his boots he moved to the bed and put on the heavy CP jacket. He didn't know if it was this heavy naturally, or if it was the weight of the coming future pressing on his chest. He looked at himself in the mirror- aged 26 but looking weary long beyond his years.

He sighed, closed his eyes and prayed to whoever was listening.

"Whoever can hear this- please forgive me!" he whispered.