-1Disclaimer: I don't own Half-Life.
Welcome to City 17
Chapter Seven: Highway 17
The world opened up in front of Gordon as he opened the door, fresh sea air wafting over him as he stepped out onto the docks beyond. His boots clonked against the wood beneath his feet as he walked, the sound punctuated by the occasional crackle from the mounted machine gun in the distance. The coastline stretched out on Gordon's right.
And it was horrific.
It was as though the ocean had been drained. The docks themselves were bereft of water, old ships and rowing boats left to rest in the dry seabed. The tide was too far back. It looked as though it barely had the energy to move in and out, let alone cause any kind of waves. The sight alone made Gordon ache a little. This was his home, and it was being decimated and drained away to nothing.
His grip on his machinegun tightened ever so slightly. An echoing voice distracted him from his thoughts, and Gordon looked up and around him as who he assumed was Norco spoke.
"Hello, Doctor Freeman. The car's all ready for you. Hop in and I'll lower you down to the beach."
She was sat on the other side of the docks, sat in the control booth of a very large crane. Following the machine to its' dizzying apex, Gordon saw that a thick metal chain held what he assumed was a magnet at the end. It swayed ominously in the almost non-existent breeze. This ride was going to be fun.
The sun bore down on him with surprising intensity, and Gordon was squinting all the way to the buggy that rested on the dock in front of him. It looked as fragile as the title indicated. The barest of rusted metal frames that looked like it was kept together with superglue and a little bit of hope. A hard looking plastic seat (although Gordon hadn't found a comfortable chair anywhere for the last three days) seemed at just the right level that his head wouldn't collide with the top of the buggy frame every time he went over a bump.
Attached to the back of the buggy was the ammo crate Leon had told him about, and Gordon quickly opened it, revealing the green boxes inside. He slid the machinegun inside. Although there wasn't much room, he managed to wedge the boxes of revolver ammo into the crate as well. At least he wouldn't be improvising ways to take down his enemies with a crowbar and Gravity Gun for awhile.
A citizen in front of him, meanwhile, was having a hell of a time blasting away at something on the former seabed below.
"You like that?" he laughed, looking to Gordon for approval. Unsure of the correct response, Gordon just gave him a thumbs up. Apparently, that was all the man needed, returning to his task with more vigour than before.
Gordon tried not to listen to alien, animalistic squeals that were coming from below. It made the idea that he was going to be down there in a few moments slightly easier to deal with.
He slid into the buggy chair, only then realising there was no seatbelt. Lovely. The controls seemed simple enough; clutch, brake, accelerator… gear stick looked okay, although the numbers were barely visibly on the heavily worn rubber handle. Gordon hoped Eli had designed the buggy with American drivers in mind. He wasn't sure if other countries organised their peddles differently, or how they did if they did.
Damn, he hated cars.
The Tau cannon was attached to the right-hand side of the front of the car in front of the… well, 'cockpit' seemed appropriate for this thing. Just within arms reach to fire with one hand in a hurry or to take his time and aim with. From a safe distance and hidden behind something, preferably. He wondered if it was removable.
"Good, here we go."
With a loud clang, the sun suddenly disappeared from the back of Gordon's neck. He clenched his hands on the wheel as he felt himself rise up. He stared straight ahead as he was swung this way and that, the magnet almost swirling as it moved.
Then three words he didn't want to hear.
"Damn magnet's failing."
It sounded offhand, as though she had stepped on some dog crap.
"Hold on."
And then, without a noise, he was suddenly falling.
"Sorry doc!"
He had just enough time as the car tumbled upside down in the air to sigh before it crashed to the decidedly dry sand below. Gordon coughed the cloud of sand away and crawled out of the wreckage, his gloves struggling to find sufficient leverage to pull him all the way out.
With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off in a completely redundant gesture. Then the sand exploded around him, a thigh high yellow and green beast full of teeth and pointy claws erupting forth. It's upward sprouted wings fluttered noisily for a moment before it settled its 'gaze' on him and crawled over.
Gordon cocked an eyebrow at it. "Antlion?" he asked politely.
It brought up a pointy arm-claw-type thing, and Gordon reached for his crowbar. And then the thing exploded into a luminous green cloud, the subtle breeze just strong enough to blow the almost evaporated remains onto Gordon's suit. Looking down, he found it a suitably garish shade of green from the crotch down. It looked like he had soiled himself in a very weird way. Barney, no doubt, would have found it hilarious.
Another creature popped up behind him and another on the other side of the toppled car. He avoided the slashes of one while another burst from the ground. The mounted machineguns from both sides of the dock crackled angrily, sending those Antlions the way of their earlier comrade.
"Get that car upright and get the hell out of here!"
He whipped his gaze around and up to the magnet's control booth, a firm scowl wrinkling his usually mild face. Wordlessly, Gordon turned and brought the Gravity Gun up. With a few bursts (and a few misses), the buggy was once again on all four wheels. Gordon leapt in, tucking the Gravity Gun off to the side so that it wouldn't interfere with gear changes.
He pressed the ignition button beside the wheel and was surprised at how powerful the tiny engine sounded. Grasping the wheel, he shoved it into gear, released the handbrake on his left and accelerated away across the beach. Antlions emerged from the sand as he bounced along, some tapping up to him on their pointy insect legs while some flew at him. He considered reaching for the Tau cannon, but was quickly dissuaded from that when they slammed straight into the framework of the buggy and promptly crushed themselves to death. It seemed that even though they were bigger than Earth insects, they weren't any stronger or tougher physically.
It was good to know.
It was only then that Gordon realised he had no idea where he was going. Glancing around as he sped along to a rocky hill ahead of him, Gordon saw nowhere he could drive. The coast was on his right, and very high walls leading to docks on his left. Looked like the rocky hill was it. But… surely it wasn't. For a start, it seemed to steep, and on top of that there were rocky outcroppings poking out at every opportunity to block his path.
But then he was driving up it. The car crashed and thudded from rock to rock, engine struggling to make it up the deceptively steep hillside. A button caught Gordon's attention on the rather bare dashboard. It was red.
With a shrug, Gordon pushed it.
The engine revved, regardless of where his feet were on the pedals, and the buggy promptly fired on ahead, rocketing up the hill and onto the road that ran across in front of him. Unfortunately, it continued onwards, heading for an old shack on the other side of the road.
Gordon managed to turn the car and move onwards down the road as the speed burst calmed down, the engine quieting to a low rumble once again. He sighed in relief, and made a note to not press that button unless a person he really didn't like was stood in front of the car. Or several.
Looking back, he saw that the road led to a collapsed bridge. It would only have taken him back to the docks, anyway. And so, it seemed the ominously dark tunnel in front of him was the way to go. A light shone from the other end, indicating a nice, simple straight line to Gordon. He revved the buggy. Straight lines sounded nice.
Slamming the handbrake down, he launched away down the tunnel, feeling pretty damn cool as he went. At least in the dark he could pretend he was driving something slightly more respectable than a buggy.
It roared out of the tunnel within a few moments, Gordon's jerky gear changing getting better with each time. The bridge ahead didn't look particularly worthy - considering it was collapsed in the middle and all - so Gordon decided to head down the rocky hill beside him, taking him down to the sandy ground below. The buggy thudded along without complaint, and Gordon's opinion of the seemingly shaky vehicle went up.
Gordon drove along the coast for awhile, turning as landmasses blocked his path and demanded he take some other route. Antlions periodically charged at him, but always ended up either bouncing off the frame or splattering gorily against it (or both). Others missed him and attempted to fly after him. Cautious, nervous glances over his shoulder informed Gordon that Antlions couldn't fly for extended periods of time, although they could go rather high. All things that he take note of for future survival. Or the book he was thinking of writing when this was all over.
'How I survived Black Mesa and City 17 and Learned to Start Loving the Bomb'.
Although he wasn't sure if anyone even knew who Peter Sellers was anymore. It would be a shame if that were true.
The swerving, vague path he found himself on eventually took him up some rocky mounds before bringing him a large, thick outcropping of rock with a house situated at the end. Probably a fisherman's place, though he couldn't be sure. Gordon never really used to visit places like this in his time off. His time off was usually filled with either more equations and theories or running around a track. Rather sad when he thought about it, since it was doubtful he was ever going to get 'time off' again. He wasn't sure if job titles like 'The One Free Man' and 'The Opener of the Way' came with things like vacation time.
Something shook the ground beneath the buggy's wheels, if only slightly. A tall metallic construct stood proudly quite a few yards from the house, almost blocking Gordon's path. Wary of Antlions, he pulled over beside the device. It reminded Gordon of the citadel, particularly with the dark blue metal that didn't seem to reflect the sunlight so much as absorb it. Part of the device thudded down to the ground, a cloud of dust permeating into the air with each strike.
A familiar flapping noise came from behind, and Gordon revved up the buggy. Then the Antlion squealed as the tall device let loose another blow to the ground. Looking over at the insectoid creature, Gordon saw it back-pedal, looking frightened and repulsed at the same time. He looked to the device and smiled.
Say hello to Thumpers.
Gordon was tempted to check inside the house, but wasn't sure how far the Thumper's influence extended. He also didn't trust the ominous building to not contain some terrible beast that he had never encountered before and could throw him through a wall or something equally as irritating.
So, Gordon revved the buggy and was away, delicately navigating his way through two tall white picket fences. The sheer normality of it made Gordon ache a little.
He continued on for what had to be a good ten minutes before he came across civilisation again, this one looking far more robust than the house before. A large barn lay in front of the house, which had a wooden ramp leading up to decking that seemed to run all the way around it. Movement through one of the windows attracted Gordon's attention. A Thumper was positioned near the barn. Gordon crunched to a halt beside it, tyres kicking up far more dirt than the Thumper could manage. He slid out of the chair and fetched the machinegun from the ammo crate on the back.
Checking it was loaded, he made his way towards the ramp. The movement inside concerned him, and he didn't need some overeager Combine recruit reporting him in to base. As much as he felt safer in the buggy, he doubted that feeling would last if he were being chased down by a helicopter. Although he felt somewhat soothed by the thought that he had blown one up earlier. Because, really, what could be worse than a helicopter?
Gordon was mindful of his boots as he crept around the house in a hunched position, head far below the windows. Heading around the corner, he came to a small stoop in front of a door.
Some beeps sounded from inside, quickly followed by the low, crackling voice of a Combine soldier. Or CP. Gordon couldn't really tell the difference. Judging by how he hadn't seen a CP for about twelve hours, however, Gordon decided it was probably a soldier. His words were incoherent anyway, completely muffled by either the gasmask or the radio channel itself. It was very possible that it was encrypted from human ears.
He snuck past the door and to the next window. Taking a deep breath as silently as he could, Gordon allowed himself the barest of peeks through the broken old frame. There was only one soldier that he could see, and he had his back to Gordon. He was concentrating on a device resembling a pair of binoculars that had been mounted on a window. They looked out across the water in front of the house, presumably to penetrate the thick mist that prevented anyone from seeing much of anything beyond a few hundred metres.
But surely there was more than just one…
The door opened, and a soldier stepped out. Gordon whirled and fired in a panic. The soldier hadn't even noticed he was there by the time the bullet rushed through his head and spat blood out the other side. He went down like a ton of bricks, slumping to his knees before lolloping over onto the ground.
That seemed to get the other soldier's attention.
After some frenzied and loud commands over the radio, everything was silent. Wind howled, and the waves roared lazily.
Reaching for the dead soldier, Gordon plucked a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. He poked his head around the open door for just the briefest of seconds to throw it.
Apparently, the briefest of seconds was enough time for a Combine soldier to kick someone in the head rather viciously. And so it was with Gordon, tumbling onto his back and losing his grip on the live grenade. It tumbled off the ledge and to the sandy ground far below, landing beside a beached old canoe. Gordon and the soldier brought their machineguns to bear as the grenade exploded, sending chunks and splinters of wood smashing through the air.
Gordon felt the heat and the pain on the back of his neck, but right now, that wasn't really his focus. The soldier was aiming at his head. If Gordon fired on him, he was a dead man. If he didn't fire, he was a dead man.
After a moment's consideration, Gordon balled his arms around his head and rolled away. The bullets thudded painfully against his HEV suit protected arms, threatening to knock them from their shielded position more than a few times before he managed to get to his feet and sprint his way around the house. He almost fell off the smooth, downward ledge he found there. Of course, the beach wasn't that far down. Under any other circumstances, it would have just been annoying if he had fallen down there. But with a Combine soldier on his ass? Best not to make himself a sitting duck.
He decided to make a run for the car. And he was about to do just that when another soldier popped around the corner to greet him. So. One on either side, and the only way out was down and to make himself target practice.
Gordon sighed.
Someone apparently heard him, because the soldier on his right suddenly screamed and fell down to the beach, most decidedly dead. The rattling purr of an Antlion sounded from around the corner, and Gordon headed right for it, machinegun at the ready. He heard the other soldier emerging from behind him just as he sprinted his way around the opposite side, blasting away the Antlion as he went. The house must have been far enough away from the Thumper.
Which had been good news for Gordon a few seconds ago. Now, not so much.
A crowd of Antlions sat between him and his buggy. They seemed to find Combine soldiers more offensive, however, because as soon as his would-be executioner came around the other side of the house, they were upon him. Of course, that might have had more to do with the fact that he had immediately opened fire on them more than any kind of personal qualm.
Gordon took that moment to sneak around the house the long way and slip into the house via one of the windows. The Gravity Gun made the endeavour far more awkward than it needed to be, and Gordon wondered why he didn't throw it through the window first and them climb through himself. Then again, common sense and 'Oh God, it's the End of the World' situations didn't exactly go hand in hand.
He grunted and straightened his glasses as he looked around the room. There didn't seem to be much of a value here. Listening intently, Gordon heard the Antlions enjoying their feast. He would have to make this quick. Walking to the binoculars at the window, he allowed himself a quick peek inside the glowing blue lenses. A blue haze was cast over the settlement he saw, a large multi-storey house blasted open at the top, the innards exposed to the world.
Several citizens stood around two warehouses beside the large house, others hanging around a deck that stretched out a few yards into the water and the rowing boat tethered up beside it. But he wasn't looking at any of that. Something on a balcony of the house had immediately snatched his attention.
Him. Him, standing there and seeming so out of place Gordon just wanted to scream at the others and ask them why they couldn't see it, why they couldn't see the alien-ness and sheer wrong-ness of Him. In any case, He was talking to some short man with a thick moustache and tiny hands, his coat looking far too bulky for him. They didn't seem to be arguing or disagreeing. It just looked like an ordinary conversation, like they were old acquaintances meeting on the street.
Gordon wanted to stay much longer, wanted to watch, to see what He did. Snarling from behind him quickly dissuaded that notion. Gordon whirled around, gun blazing in a wide arc of fire that cleared a dead and injured path through the gang of Antlions that had gathered there. He charged out of the door, past the house and almost fell down the ramp before he reached the Thumper.
Suitably disgruntled, those Antlions that had been in pursuit of him quickly changed their tunes and abruptly turned away.
Frustrated and once more desperately seeking some answers, Gordon slumped into the car and drove off, viciously hitting the gas once he was away. He had become complacent. He had started thinking about rebels and causes and zombies and pretty daughters of old friends and forgotten what was really important here. The world had been destroyed, laid waste, raped, and He knew about everything. He knew what was going on, how it had happened, why it had happened, and how it could be stopped.
And Gordon needed, completely, absolutely needed to know what the hell was so important about Gordon fucking Freeman. So important that he be singled out above all others and saved from that hellhole that was Black Mesa.
Blasting past the scenery, Gordon barely slowed when he saw the Combine van parked outside of another barn, Thumper working diligently as two soldiers approached the Antlions he could hear inside. Rather than stop, Gordon simply gunned the accelerator and mowed them down, sending them hurtling into the air behind him. He continued on, the jostling of the buggy on the even ground doing nothing to dislodge his recovered sense of purpose.
After about half an hour, he realised he had circumnavigated his way to the rebel encampment he had been looking at before. The man who had been talking to Him. He could still be here.
A greying, wrinkled citizen with plenty of fire and excitement in his eyes waved Gordon over.
"Gordon Freeman!"
Cautious about running over the man's feet, Gordon pulled over and slowly came to a halt beside him. Switching off the engine, he looked to the man expectantly. He tried to ignore the adoring stares he was getting from every single person scattered around the camp.
"Hurry, get in the basement. We're expecting gunships at any moment." He smiled cockily, as if the Combine was going to be sorry now that Gordon Freeman was here. All it did was scare him. "Colonel Cubbage will be glad to see you made it!"
Small machinegun clutched in his hands, the man took off past Gordon, heading for the tall house Gordon had spied from across the water. There didn't seem to be any front door, but some stairs led down to a small nook hidden down the right-hand side of the building, presumably leading to the basement.
Gordon glanced back to the car, reluctant to leave it if some flying war machine was on the way. With a speed that irritated him for some reason, three citizens had already gathered around the vehicle, pushing it towards a fairly big garage on the other side of the clearing. They all looked at him like hopeful children as they went, desperate for approval.
With an unsure frown, he gave them a thumbs up. They chattered amongst themselves excitedly, seemingly happy about the gesture.
No-one had ever wanted his approval before. Most of the time it was a struggle to get people to pay attention. The word 'disconcerting' didn't quite cover it.
"Dr Freeman! This way!"
He looked back to the citizen who had become his tour guide, still stood in the small passageway that would take him to Colonel Cubbage. Was that who He had been talking to?
Nodding, he followed along, pursuing him around the corner and into the dingy, wide basement. Only a few old light bulbs lit the place, murky shadows shading every corner. At the far end of the room, the portly man with the moustache and small hands held up a rocket launcher for all to see. 'All' being two clueless looking citizens and a Vortigaunt that wouldn't stop staring at him.
Standing in front of a large map and beside a table with the same kind of radio equipment Gordon had spied at Leon's outpost, a boasting, exaggerated English accent emerged from the man's lips.
"This steerable rocket launcher is out best bet for taking down a gunship."
Everyone took that moment to notice he had entered the room. Looking around, Gordon saw that his tour guide had since abandoned him.
"Ah, hello!" the man boomed. "I'll be right with you. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Using the laser guide," he elaborated, pointing to a lens at the end of the launcher, "you can steer your rocket past the gunship's defences and prevent it from shooting down your rocket. This will only anger it at first-"
The rebels exchanged worried glances.
"-but, if you can survive long enough to make several direct hits, you'll be rewarded with a prize worthy of any mantelpiece." He had since taken to petting the weapon like an ailing dog, and promptly cleared his throat when he noticed people staring. "Now, who's going to be the lucky one to carry it into combat?"
He lifted the weapon into the air like a mythical object. Silence permeated the very walls. There wasn't even a peep from outside. To be honest, Gordon didn't really care about the damned rocket launcher. He had other questions, so he came forward to ask them.
"Ah. Gordon Freeman. I couldn't have asked for a finer volunteer." He stuffed the rocket launcher into Gordon's open arms before he could say much of anything.
The man did a grand little bow for him. Now that he was closer, Gordon was positive the thick, ginger moustache was fake.
"Colonel Odessa Cubbage, at your service."
Gordon took a breath.
Then the klaxons sounded. The rebels looked to each other and then quickly vacated the basement, heading up some stairs to the lighter floors above. The distant cry of 'gunship' rang from outside, and Gordon's demeanour darkened considerably.
Cubbage, meanwhile, looked like he had soiled himself. "…damn. Let me just send a warning to Lighthouse Point, and then I'll be right up to lend a hand!" A decisive finger swooped into the air.
The derisive snort was hard to hold back, but a rebel beat him to it before vanishing up the stairs. Gordon turned his back on the Colonel and made to follow.
"Remember, use the launcher's laser guide to steer your rocket past the gunship's defences."
He glared at him. "I know, you already said."
The Colonel looked taken aback by the response, as though surprised Gordon could even speak. "Ah. Well, yes. Quite. Just so you do, dear boy."
Gordon didn't even bother watch him return to the radio as he thundered up the stairs.
Something exploded outside, and Gordon heard the choppy, high pitched blasts coming from the gunship.
This floor didn't really have any significant vantage points. However, he did find some crates with several bright orange rockets lying haphazardly around it. After tucking as many as he could under his arms, Gordon made for the next flight of stairs and to the second floor.
The wall and most of the ceiling was missing. The balcony he had spied the Man and Cubbage chatting on lay in front of him, tempting him outside. Fires licked the air just out of sight, blocked by the ledge of the balcony.
Clearing his throat, Gordon loaded a rocket into the front of the launcher and put his glasses to the eyepiece. He quickly found that looking through the sight was somewhat difficult with the rather thick spectacles on. And considering he was mostly blind without them, well… that would make shooting this thing down interesting, to say the least.
The white beast of a helicopter roared past, oblivious to his presence. It glistened in the sun as it's thick bullets sprayed all over the base. Gordon stepped out onto the balcony and brought the rocket launcher up. Hell, he had taken down helicopters before. Well, a helicopter, at least. He could blow up an alien one.
Hopefully.
He fired and stumbled as the small missile blasted off from the launcher, leaving a thick white trail behind it. Luckily, the gunship had been in a pretty straight line with him, so there wasn't much fancy navigating to be done before it collided rather viciously with the thing's side.
Gordon loaded another rocket.
The gunship roared in pain and surprise, it's otherwise smooth course knocked awry by the force of the blast. It's erratic, violent movements giving it the air of something quite pissed off, it flipped around so that it's nose was facing towards him.
He fired again, just as the creature did the same. The rocket exploded halfway to the gunship, tumbling down to the ground before exploding against the roof of the garage.
Gordon scowled. His car was in there. This thing was gunning for his car.
His. car.
He threw himself off the balcony and into the room as the gunship strafed past, a constant stream of fire following him. Those projectiles, whatever they were, could blast through the walls like paper. Without a way to recharge, he wasn't too keen on seeing how much of them the HEV suit could take.
Two rockets were left, resting idly on the wooden floor beneath him. He snatched one up and shoved it into the launcher. He got to his feet from the kneeling position he had been in and darted to the balcony, aiming the launcher in the direction the gunship had been heading. It had begun a gradual turn, cannon blasting away before it had even begun pointing at the base again.
"Someone's eager," he muttered.
Gordon fired and watched the rocket careen towards the gunship. It noticed as well, cannon whirling around to meet it. With a slight tip of the wrist, Gordon guided the missile up and around the fire. Smiling, he sent it spiralling towards the gunship, the bullets it fired off missing over and over again. Finally, the missile exploded against the front of the beast, sending it groaning and tumbling backwards.
Several rebels whooped loudly from below. Gordon couldn't help but agree. He went back inside and fetched the last missile. Poking his head out of the gap in the wall, Gordon watched the gunship recover itself. Except this time, it didn't seem interested in him. It was focusing on something on the ground below. Setting his attention down, Gordon's blood ran cold as he saw his tour guide rebel lying beside a smoking, burning old pickup truck, heavily bleeding leg preventing his escape.
Looking around, Gordon couldn't tell if any of the others had spotted him. But the gunship had, and a line of fire was gradually making it's way for the rebel, kicking up dust and dirt like an underground monster as it approached him.
Not a thought passed through Gordon's head as he leapt from the balcony, dropped two floors and hit the ground with painful speed, his ankles almost giving out from the impact. He was sure something was broken down there, since his HEV suit was beeping and warning him about something or other. Ignoring it, he ran and skidded to a halt in front of the semi-conscious citizen, standing in the line of fire.
He aimed the rocket, and pulled the trigger. It barely had time to realise it shift it's focus from the rebel to the rocket before it smashed headlong into the monster, finally cracking the smooth white shell and sending it spiralling out to sea, roaring the entire time. Explosions burst out all over the creature before it finally shattered just above sea level, the final popping explosion sending fragments of the beast out in all directions. Some semi-circular part of it came whirling out towards the base, smashing against the top of the pickup truck before rebounding off the wall of the house and landing smoking on the ground beside Gordon.
Gordon barely noticed it, and had spent most of his time knelt beside the bleeding rebel.
"Are you all right?"
The man didn't seem to be lucid. He just stared up at Gordon with eyes of varying width and depth.
"I'll take him, Doctor Freeman."
He looked up at the female medic, grubby face smiling shyly at him as she politely tried to jostle him out of the way. Gordon was fine with that. His knowledge of medicine was precarious at best.
"Thank you," he said.
A gruff voice blasted out from behind him, and Gordon had to stop himself from jumping as he faced the grinning rebel. "No, thank you, man! That was awesome!"
Feeling awkward, Gordon cleared his throat. "Um… yes. I'll just…" he pointed back to the house, over the man's shoulder, "…yeah."
The rebels that had gathered let him go, content to help out with rebuilding the base. Their desperate voices rang out behind him as he went.
"Hey, I'll get your car out for you, Dr Freeman!"
"I'll help!"
"Kiss-ass."
He sighed, still heading for the basement.
Cubbage was on the radio as he stepped inside, although he had only just seemed to give up on that particular endeavour. Gordon tossed the rocket launcher to a comfortable looking couch in the corner of the basement.
"Well… that's that." Cubbage looked to Gordon with a look of unconvincing weariness, as though he had been the one to just face off against the gunship. "I gather you disposed of that gunship, Doctor Freeman. Your reputation, sir, is well deserved."
"Well. Thanks for that." It came out rather pointedly. It was time to discuss the business of Cubbage talking to Him on the balcony earlier on. And he would be damned if he was going to get brow-beaten into leaving before he got his answers.
"Uh…" the Colonel (although Gordon doubted that rank) looked to the Vortigaunt in the corner before continuing on. "I shall have someone open the gate for you immediately so that you can drive on. I understand Doctor Vance is in great need. Use extreme caution when approaching the bridge. Radio silence from that outpost leads me to believe it has come under Combine control. Still, you're clearly the right man for the job." He grinned. "You'll make it through if anyone can!"
Gordon opened his mouth to speak.
"Farewell."
"Thank you, but-"
"And please tell Doctor Vance that Colonel Cubbage regrets not having been able to rescue him in person." He gave a little bow with the statement, as though that would make him seem all the more gallant and heroic instead of the little coward Gordon was quickly suspecting him to be.
"I have some questions," Gordon said quietly, his voice almost a growl.
"Oh? Um…" he stopped to clear his throat. "What about?"
A scowl knotted Gordon's brow. What the hell was this guy trying to pull? Did he honestly think Gordon would stay for anything else? His friend, mentor… his father figure was being held captive, and Cubbage thought Gordon would waste his time with anything less than-
And that was when Gordon realised what was important.
As though sensing this, a gravel-laden voice muttered, "The Freeman must now hurry on." The Vortigaunt didn't move forward as it spoke, content to wait in the corner as it spoke to Gordon. "The Eli Vance is held in distress most dire."
The scientist's glare never left the diminutive Colonel in front of him, whose false moustache had started to peel at the sides from his sweat.
"Is there reason for delay?" the alien continued, sounding more naïve than Gordon believed it was.
He looked from the Cubbage to the Vortigaunt and back again, jaw set in anger at the position he was in.
He shook his head, hazel eyes firmly locked on Cubbage as he spoke. "No. There isn't."
"W-well…" Cubbage managed, "you're welcome to rest for a while before you leave, old chap."
"Thank you," he said, deathly quiet. "I think I will."
He turned with only the barest of nods to the Vortigaunt, heading for the couch in the corner. Planning to sleep for about half an hour and then be off, Gordon sat down and promptly found himself in a HEV induced coma.
Images swirled around him. The Black Mesa Test Chamber, Barney's greying temples, Alyx's-
But something harsh and grey cut into the pleasant images swirling around Gordon's subconscious. A corridor, not unlike the hundreds he had walked, run and crawled down in Black Mesa. Dressed in the cobbled together clothing reminiscent of the rebels, a man lay dead against the wall beside him, bleeding horrifically. And stood in front of him, with his back to him-
His back to him?
It certainly looked like Him, but Gordon couldn't be sure. But over his shoulder, standing in His line of sight…
A soldier. The same camouflage fatigues and gasmask as the dozens of soldiers Gordon had fought and killed at Black Mesa. Just as Gordon's face wrinkled in disgust, he could practically feel the hate seething from the soldier. The Man started to turn towards him, and Gordon wondered yet again if it actually was Him, or some figment of his subconscious mind reacting to actually having sleep again.
But the fact that he was actually thinking these thoughts indicated it wasn't a dream state. Didn't it?
As the supposed Man's face started to emerge from the shadows, Gordon awoke with a start. His HEV suit blithered on about increased levels of something or other, but he didn't care. He was still trying to catch his breath. Blinking, he heaved himself out of the couch. Cubbage was at the table beside the radio, looking over a map with the Vortigaunt. Not wanting to speak to the man again, Gordon pushed himself up and left the room.
True to their word, the rebels had taken the buggy from the garage and had parked it in front of some large gates beside the house that had somehow gone unnoticed by Gordon until now. After briefly trying to find some peace on the pier to sort through his thoughts, a hastily shouted reminder from Cubbage pushed him on his way.
He walked back to the car and dropped himself in. A rebel rest against one of the road barriers, looking for all the world as though he medically required a cigarette.
"How long was I down there?" he asked, trying to make it sound like a normal question.
He failed miserably, judging by the look on the rebel's face. "Um… a few minutes?"
Gordon closed his eyes and sighed. A few minutes. He had been running on adrenaline and fake morphine for a day and a night now, and all his body could come up with was a few minutes sleep?
"Thank you," he murmured, returning his attention to the road. A rebel stood on the other side of the road yanked a handle down on a control panel beside him, and the gates opened up in front of Gordon with a shaky metallic groan.
"Drive safely," he said cheerily.
He directed the scowl straight ahead. Was that meant to be funny? Slamming down the clutch, Gordon worked the rest of the controls with matching ferocity until he was away, alone on the road once again. The steady thrum of the engine was more comforting somehow. The blocked off tunnel ahead of him was not.
However, a rather unsteady looking downward slope of rocks on the left took Gordon into a grassy path that widened and thinned as he drove through the surprisingly deep canyon. The grass gradually gave way to sand before the canyon opened up into a grand ravine, a tall bridge running across in front of Gordon, collapsed at the left-hand side.
Something exploded out of the sandy ground ahead of him as he passed beneath the archway of the bridge.
Ah, Antlions. How I have missed you.
The vicious little bastards predictably rebounded and splattered against the car, coating him fresh green blood. And the dirt and sand had just started to make it fade, too. He splashed over the shallow remains of a lake as he approached what looked like some old loading docks. Although he doubted many people had approached them in a car from this angle before. A crane with the incredibly huge magnet attached caught Gordon's eye. Since there didn't seem to be any ramps for vehicles, it looked like it might be a solution to a possible upcoming problem.
Two Combine soldiers ran in the distance, sprinting with purpose towards a deactivated Thumper beside some hastily erected wooden ramps that would take them up to the docks. Antlions slashed and hurled themselves at the soldiers, the pair barely managing to hold their own. Gordon moved the buggy until he was confident he was on a straight line, and then gunned the red turbo button.
Nobody, Combine and Antlion alike, had any idea what hit them. Gordon came to a skidding halt beside the Thumper as more Antlions unearthed themselves behind him and Combine radio chatter crackled from above. He climbed up the ladder to a small control panel and slammed a palm down on the button. With a few beeps, a light flash green in front of him, and the Thumper slammed down into the ground. The familiar distressed squeals of the Antlions signalled their retreat, and Gordon allowed himself a smile at his handiwork.
Bullets ricocheted above his head, sparks fluttering over him like rain. Gordon slid down the ladder and underneath the ramps.
Gordon added another note for inclusion in his book; when tempted to take time to smile at your accomplishments - DON'T. The ammo crate of the car had ended up close enough to him that he could reach inside and pull out the small machinegun, which he now realised from markings on the side was an MP5. Interesting what one's eyes were drawn to when they were hiding underneath a dried out pier.
Sunlight bore down through the gaps in between planks above him, and Gordon saw a shadow pass over a crack on his left, lingering there for the moment. He positioned himself beneath it and opened fire, blasting up through the planking and tearing several new holes in the soldier there.
He dared a quick peek out of the side of the pier, looking up and hoping there wouldn't be a gun pointed at his face waiting for him. Finding none, he swung himself around and back out into the open, clambering up onto the ramps and hurtling up onto the docks themselves. A small storage warehouse in front of him blocked his view of another higher level just behind it. Two soldiers ran past on the upper level, firing away as they went. Gordon ducked behind the warehouse as the bullets chipped away at the white brickwork.
Gordon ran around to the other side and quickly backtracked when he saw the second soldier positioned on the upper level in line with him. The bullets smashed through the wooden planking beneath Gordon's feet as he narrowly managed to get himself back under cover again.
His foot tapped against a barrel as he considered his options. He looked down to the rusting blue object, and smiled. Tucking the MP5 under his arm, Gordon swung the Gravity Gun around and plucked up the barrel, holding it in front of him as a shield. Moving around the corner and crouching as much as possible, he slowly started making his way forward, the bullets clanging noisily against the metal of the barrel.
He waited until he was at the end of the warehouse, with the smallest of gaps of open air between him and the ladder that would take him up to the level above. Aiming up, he fired the barrel at the soldier in front of him. Seeing it coming, he managed to duck out of the way. His comrade on the far left was distracted enough for Gordon to yank his machinegun out and blast a few holes in his head and neck, taking him out of play.
Clambering up the ladder, Gordon paused as he reached the top, the Combine soldier who had neatly ducked the barrel now pressing his own MP5 to Gordon's temple. He grabbed onto the soldier's arm and let himself drop down, bringing him tumbling down to the small 'corridor' of space between the warehouse and the ladder. Gordon managed to land on his feet beside the soldier, who landed on his side, his grip on the MP5 holding steadfast.
Slamming his foot down on the weapon, Gordon whipped out the crowbar and slashed the jagged end through the soldier's mask. A grunt was all the soldier could offer before he collapsed back into unconsciousness. The flat, empty tone that emitted from his radio indicated that perhaps it was somewhat worse than unconsciousness. Gordon tried not to look at how pallid and near-white the flesh was beneath the mask, instead concentrating on climbing up the ladder and reaching his next destination.
Said destination seemed to be another pier at the far end of the one on which he stood, the two linked together by a raised drawbridge. A large warehouse on the other pier would presumably allow him access to some area beyond and hopefully to a road. His gaze travelled to another bridge on his left ahead of him, and he increased his pace. The concrete bridge took him to the base of the crane he had spied earlier.
He clambered up the not inconsiderable height of the ladder without thinking, vertigo only kicking in when he reached the top and stepped out onto the platform running around the crane.
Wow. That was… pretty high.
His grip on the walkway's guardrail tightened considerably as he walked around it, looking for the way to get into the cockpit of the crane. A ladder almost smacked him on the forehead as he walked. Climbing up, Gordon became aware of a mechanical whining noise coming from the other pier. The warehouse gate was opening as several soldiers piled out, impatiently ducking beneath it before it was fully open.
They sporadically took cover behind the three shipping containers that had been left to rot on the dock, taking pot-shots at him with their (rather inaccurate at long range, Gordon realised) MP5s. The bullets ricocheted and sparked wildly against the metal of the crane as he clambered into the control booth. Sitting himself in the chair, he suddenly found himself surrounded by levers on both side. Fortunately, the glass seemed thick, so he was safe to practice for a few minutes. At least until the soldiers lowered the bridge and came to get him.
Ah, so… that lever moved the crane from left to right, this lever lowered the magnet up and down, that one activated it…
He smiled as he realised something. Industrial magnet. Metal shipping containers.
This was going to be sweet.
Swinging the crane around and enjoying the sheer power it gave him, Gordon snatched up the container that was furthest to the left, catching it at one end. The magnet groaned loudly as it lifted the container with seeming ease, the soldiers hiding behind it staring up in a panic as they realised what was coming. Whirling the crane around to the right, Gordon dragged the container along, smashing it against the other two and crushing half a dozen soldiers between the three of them. He continued going until both of the containers had tumbled down into the gap between piers.
So. That was that. Soldiers done with. It was a little frightening, actually. How easy it had been to take half a dozen lives. Although killing in general had been much easier than he had thought it would be. It made him wonder why people needed to train to become good at such things. The whole thing always seemed so simple to him. A duck here, a slash or a bullet there…
He blinked and got back to work.
Disturbing musings later, Gordon.
Magnetic grasp still firmly on the remaining container, he threw it along until it crashed into the bridge, which up to this point had been standing upright. After swaying precariously in the air for a moment, the bridge tumbled, slamming down into place with an almighty bang that he was sure couldn't have gone unnoticed.
With that in mind, he swung the crane around and concentrated on fetching his car. Hopefully it wouldn't be so far away that he would have to go back down and drive to a more convenient location.
It didn't take too long to lift the car up and place it delicately on the pier, and before long he was heading back down from the crane and making his way across the bridge. As he stepped in front of the open gateway of the warehouse, more gunshots sent him stumbling back and onto his rear, an embarrassing manoeuvre he realised he hadn't executed in some time. Rubbing the bruised muscle, he was somewhat glad for that fact.
The car was in the line of fire, but if he could reach it…
He lifted the MP5 and gripped it tighter. Running out, he ducked his head and fired wildly into the warehouse, making a leap to reach the vehicle before they could respond in kind. The buggy had been placed across from the entrance, providing quite a bit of cover for him. Gordon tossed the smaller gun aside, and reached for the mounted Tau cannon.
Gordon was fairly sure the soldiers had no idea what had hit them, judging by the fact that only one of them managed to get a shot off before being blasted halfway across the warehouse and through a large crate.
Upon further exploration of the now thoroughly wrecked warehouse, Gordon found another gate on the left wall, but a control booth at the far end opened that up for him. Lightly jogging back to his car, Gordon allowed himself the brief pleasure of simply listening to the sound of the waves and wind around him. Strange.
He put his MP5 back in the ammo crate and slipped back into the buggy. Moving slowly at first, he navigated the car through the warehouse and out the other side before gunning it up the ramp he found there. It took him out into a courtyard, shipping containers stacked up on the left and another warehouse on the right, this one rather open ended. A ramp inside the warehouse led to some rather large and fragile looking windows. The way forward, Gordon guessed.
A resounding bang echoed through the air, and Gordon watched a red flare shoot up into the sky before fizzling out countless miles above him. Three soldiers suddenly appeared from some stacked barrels and crates just beside the entrance to the warehouse at the far end.
But Gordon knew they were weren't meant to be his killers. They were a delay tactic before the gunship arrived. He moved as fast as the buggy would allow, lining up the jump and gunning the turbo before ducking his head on the way over. Even with his eyes clenched shut, he could feel the car leave the ground and hurtle through the air before smashing through the windows, landing on the road on the other side with an expected series of vicious jolts.
Whipping his head up, Gordon adjusted his askew glasses and his course before heading off down the only direction available to him; the right. Gunshots rang out behind him; or more flares, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was away again, and at speed. The faster it got him to Eli, the better.
But then that metallic groan filled the air, and Gordon knew what he would find bearing down on him even before he cast his gaze upwards. A gunship, travelling overhead. The road took him up and around to the right, bringing him to a long since destroyed bridge that linked two sides of a rather deep ravine. Down below, the dark waters were still, but still no less deadly from this height.
The gunship seemed to be heading for the bridge. Gordon gunned the turbo again, and the engine roared in disapproval at being pushed to the brink two times in a row. It flew across the chasm just as the gunship ploughed through, the back of the buggy catching on the side of the white metallic beast and sending it twirling to the ground. The speed at which it hit the ground sent it tumbling end-over-end before it finally wound up on its side against the rock face beside the road.
Gordon groaned quietly and once more adjusted his glasses. Another cry from the gunship propelled him onward. He grasped onto the frame of the car, yanking himself out before collapsing onto the road, tired and in pain. The gunship was coming around for another pass.
On the road ahead that bent around the cliff-side to the left, old cars from years gone by had piled up, blocking the way even if his car hadn't just been forcibly crashed.
He picked up his hobbling pace as the gunship started firing, ducking down behind a rusted green car for cover. The force of whatever bullets the gunship was using nudged the car along in front of him, and Gordon had to crawl back to avoid getting pinned underneath. Another roar from the gunship signalled it whirling around, putting enough distance between itself and Gordon that it would be able to get a long bout of firing in before it passed over him again.
Climbing up onto the preciously hollow sounding bonnet of the car, Gordon started looking for anything he might use. An old pickup truck with propane tanks piled up in the back seemed to be his only option. Why had he left the damned rocket launcher with Cubbage?
He jumped down from the car as the gunship turned again. He was between two cars, a green one behind and a blue one in front of him. The gunship seemed to have spotted the pickup full of propane as well and opened fire. They exploded instantly on impact, the chain reaction of all of the canisters exploding almost instantaneous. A small red car that had been wedged beside the truck was flung through the air by the explosion, twirling towards him through the air.
Gordon didn't even have time to move before it came crashing down on his head.
Then there was darkness.
Unlike his little nap at Newland Odessa, this blackness was not accompanied by any visions or voices, no swirling images of test chambers and old friends. Just nothing.
A tiny squawk brought him back to the land of the living. Blinking his eyes open, Gordon found a crow staring down at him curiously, tilting it's head as though he were the oddity. He wasn't sure why a crow was so near the coast. He didn't particularly care, either. A cursory look around revealed he was lying in the gap between the green and blue cars. Well, there wasn't much of a gap anymore. The impact from the red car must have pushed them together. There was a small crack between the two which allowed sunlight in, and as well as the crow that was no perched on the blue car, staring down at him.
Well, his stats were still working. The HEV suit was approaching seventy percent. Which wasn't too bad, considering.
With some difficulty, Gordon pulled the Gravity Gun around. He couldn't hear the gunship or any soldiers around. The gunship had probably thought him dead from flying red car. Gordon wondered how long he had been out. Judging from the fact he couldn't feel a bruise on his head, it was long enough that the HEV suit had time to heal the not insignificant blow to his head. He berated himself for further delaying his mission to get to Eli. Although, being hit by a car was a good excuse for tardiness, he had to admit.
Wedging the Gravity Gun beneath the blue car, Gordon pressed the primary trigger. With a flash of light and a metallic clang, the car shifted a metre or so. The crow launched itself from the car, squawking angrily. After a few more blasts, Gordon's legs were free, and he heaved himself to his feet.
As suspected, no Combine forces of any sort. He nodded. Good.
Walking back around the corner he had come from, Gordon found the car was still there. Toppled on it's side, but still there. Satisfied, he got to clearing the road and the way to the tunnel he could see ahead. After the helpless stress of being hunted by a flying machine he had no chance of stopping, blasting inert cars was somewhat therapeutic. It took him about ten minutes to clear everything, and another five to get the damned buggy the right way up - it kept moving away from him when he blasted it with the Gravity Gun, and he had to get at just the right angle to it to topple back onto it's wheels.
Sliding back inside the car, Gordon set off, allowing the sounds of the engine and road to wash over him. The wind pretty much blanked out any other sounds, and he was grateful for it.
The road twisted and bent around the cliff-side, most of the road barriers thankfully intact. Some abandoned cars occasionally blocked the way, but a blast or two from the Tau cannon fixed that little problem. Eventually the road took him past an old, rather large house, although Gordon wasn't particularly sure as to what it's purpose might have been before the Combine moved in.
As it was now, it was being used as an ambush point by several soldiers who thought it would be fun to collapse the cliff-side wall on top of him with explosives. A quick blast from the turbo got him past that little obstacle, and, with no wish to stick around and play 'who can kill each other fastest' with the soldiers, he hurried on up the road, ducking his head down to avoid the bullets being blasted his way. He wasn't that worried about them radioing ahead; it wasn't like they weren't on red alert anyway. He doubted that many of the Combine forces had actually believed him dead. Although if they had… well, more fool them.
Discretion proved the better part of valour as he continued on down the road, eventually crossing a bridge only to come to a stop before a force field blocking the road ahead. Tracking the power cable running from the top of the force field frame via a small gap beside it, Gordon eventually went around several gas station booths and garages before finding a Combine transport van powering it. He used the Gravity Gun to dislodge the cable, which, unsurprisingly, several Combine soldiers inside the van and a small house behind the garage took objection to.
Fortunately, the van was parked beside several petrol dispensers, and a few well aimed shots from the revolver sent the entire complex up in flames. Gordon used the turbo to hurl himself through the black, billowing smoke, the dust from the cloud fogging his glasses a little, but nothing too bad.
His neck was starting to ache, but he wasn't sure why. Probably stress. He rubbed it as best he could as he drove, although it did little to ease the annoying pain.
Five minutes of driving around more twisting, winding roads, Gordon found himself with a clear path up to a large railway bridge crossing the water in front of him. Down below the bridge on the right, a small settlement had been erected. Two bungalows on the left and the right, and a tall multi-storey affair behind the house on the right. But a grassy path was able to take him straight up onto the two track bridge, and, even though the car had a little trouble with the rails, he was comfortable enough as he started to cross it.
Except, of course, for the force field he smashed into while paying more attention to the view from the bridge. And there was no handy little gap beside the frame this time to allow him to find the source. The cable seemed to be dangling down off the side of the bridge, anyway.
So, underneath seemed to be way to go.
Gordon reversed the buggy up off the bridge and down the grassy slope once more, parking it behind a still standing pane of fencing. Hopefully that would stop any curious Combine soldiers from taking it for a little joyride. After snatching up and loading the MP5 and the revolver from the ammo crate, Gordon made his way down to the settlement, hoping he would be able to find a way to cross the bridge and turn off the force field generator without risking life and limb.
"Yeah," he snorted, heading for the closest building to him.
The familiar beep and crackle of Combine radios made him slow his pace considerably, and he ducked into the small storage shed just in front of the door on the side of the flat. MP5 pressed close to him, Gordon counted to three before whirling around, weapon pointed at the door. He slowly crept forward, mindful of his boots crunching against the dry underbrush.
Then the door flew open, and a soldier unlike any Gordon had seen before stared back at him with shotgun raised. The orange lenses of his eyes combined with the black and grey of his uniform made Gordon instantly think 'angel of death'. The red skull printed on his sleeve didn't dissuade from that concept.
Gordon had only a second to take this in before the soldier fired, the force of the blast hitting him almost point blank in the chest and sending him painfully onto his back. Most of the spray had hit the HEV suit, but one had sliced into the side of his neck, and he could feel the warmth of the blood as it saturated the tight collar. Rolling out of the way of the next blast, Gordon managed to get inside the shed before the next spray sent a cloud of dust and sand into the air.
He could hear more soldiers coming, the distinctive tinkle of their zips and chains accompanying their every footfall.
Looking down, Gordon saw a red petrol can. A quick jostle confirmed it still had a fair amount inside. Gravity Gun in hand, Gordon picked up the can and whirled around to meet the shotgun wielding Combine. Several more soldiers had gathered around him, one just about to move around the other side of the shed and trap him.
Gordon fired at the shotgun soldier, knocking the weapon from his hand and splashing petrol all over him and his comrades. It landed with a hollow thud behind them, and Gordon blasted it away with the MP5. Sparks flew, and with a sudden flash of orange and yellow, the soldiers were engulfed in flame. Although not enough to kill them, it was enough to distract them, and that was all Gordon needed. He had mowed them down with the MP5 before the flames had even begun to die out.
He left them to burn there, the distinctive smell of burning flesh curiously absent. Although not one to look a gift horse in the mouth when it came to such things, Gordon couldn't help but wonder why.
After a quick exploration of the other houses yielded no more enemies, Gordon found a sizeable gap in some floorboards in the left-hand side flat. It dropped down to a grassy ridge, which, as Gordon saw when he poked his head down below, led to a door in the side of the base of the bridge. That would seem to be his way ahead.
With shaky, skinny arms being all he had to support him, Gordon slowly lowered himself down, landing in an awkward heap.
A deep, guttural panting came from behind him, and Gordon whirled around, the noise bringing back horrific memories of dark alleyways and screaming, hellish creatures. And there it was. A poison zombie, wailing and stumbling along towards him, weighed down by the countless venomous headcrabs living on it's body.
He considered fighting it, he truly did. But instead, Gordon turned and ran, slamming the door behind him and wedging a chair up against it. How much good that would actually do, Gordon didn't know. Rather than waste time waiting for the monster to come along and test the theory, Gordon moved on through a small archway on his right. It took him underneath the bridge, the concrete walkway allowing him an unabashed view of the crashing water on the supporting pillars below.
Gordon hoped this walkway went all the way to the other side.
Unfortunately for him, the walkway led to a small room with a narrow stairwell, which, after zigzagging up a few times, led him to a horrific sight.
The underbelly of the bridge was, as Gordon feared, made up of a crisscross of metal girders woven together like an angular web. And the bridge looked like it was about a mile long, if not longer.
This was certainly going to be fun.
A walkway went around the tower he had stepped from and extended out to beneath the bridge. It seemed to run all the way to the other side of the bridge. He smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
Walking along happily, Gordon nevertheless was rather wary of the edges, having no desire to go for a long dive followed by an even longer swim. The entire bridge echoed and roared with every crash of the waves below. He couldn't see very far out; a low mist had settled on the water near the bridge, blocking his view of anything within a few hundred metres.
His attention was brought crashing back to the walkway in front of him when it suddenly dipped down.
And down.
And down.
Something had managed to dislodge the section of the walkway ahead of Gordon, letting it dangle precariously down at the water below. And the rest of the walkway was too far away for him to jump. He looked over at the massive framework beside him. It steadily curved upwards, making a sort of hill with its' apex in the middle of the bridge. A small platform had been built there, and a helpful little storage shed along with it.
Gordon slowly wormed his foot through the vertical zigzagging girders in front of him, sliding out until he was crouched with a firm grip on the metal bar diagonally above his head.
One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other…
A metallic groan shook the bridge, quickly followed by a sort of clattering sound above. Gordon slipped a little, and with the loudest 'Whoa' he had managed in some time, he fell down onto the metal bars in front of him. His head dipped down the gap between girders, treating him to a full on view of the very fatal drop beneath him. The MP5 flew from his grip, tumbling for an incredibly long time before splashing inaudibly into the water.
It was a train. He realised that as the clattering went on for quite a while before eventually dissipating and fading away.
He stared down into the abyss below, his glasses clinging to his face through some miraculous will of their own.
No-one would know if he fell right now. He would simply… be gone. The Combine wouldn't find his body. They wouldn't care. All they would find were dead bodies left in his wake and a parked car, waiting at the other end of the bridge. His friends would never find out what happened, except perhaps through spies and hearsay.
All the more reason to get up, he supposed.
Even though they didn't need it, Gordon pushed the glasses against his face and carefully climbed to his feet. With a caution he hadn't taken for a long time (so far it had been 'fall over and everything will somehow be all right') Gordon slowly began to navigate his way along the enormous climbing frame he found himself on. He had never been fond of those as a child; especially the ones where you had to swing from your arms. Having no upper body strength whatsoever might have had something to do with that, mind.
By his reckoning, it took him about an hour to get across. Or, at least, it felt that way. After every near-fall he had waited for a few minutes to catch his breath. And with about five of those such stops along the way…
Well. It had taken him awhile.
But he was on a rather solid walkway now, a fact that he noted with no small amount of relief and satisfaction. He slowly slid his arm down his side and pulled out the revolver. After checking that everything was as it should be with the weapon, Gordon made his way onwards to the open archway in the stone support structure beside him. A large green crate next to him had a rocket launcher silhouette printed on the label.
Good to know.
The concrete walkway in front of him yielded little more results, and (crucially) no soldiers. After another archway straight ahead of him, Gordon saw another that led into a dilapidated old room. On the right but far out of reach of the path on which he was standing, a metal latticework walkway ran around the side of the stone tower in front of him, with a ladder running up to another walkway quite a few feet above. Thick windows there indicated that that was the way to go.
Thumbing back the hammer on the revolver, Gordon made his way into the room ahead of him. The yellow lighting in the two storey room did little to enamour him to the place. Waves crashed outside as he made his way around the fencing in the middle of the room, being especially wary of the floor above him. He hadn't heard any Combine radio signals yet, or any sign of life whatsoever. Maybe this was an unmanned station.
As he stepped out through a doorway and onto the metal walkway, he quickly reconsidered that evaluation, mostly judging from the MP5 that had been shoved in his face.
Darting his head to the side, Gordon just ran straight into the soldier, shoving him and the accompanying soldier behind him back awkwardly. Hand going for his crowbar, he whipped his body up in an uppercut that slashed upwards through the soldier's helmet. Reaching over the inert soldier's body, Gordon brought the revolver to bear and blasted the tackled soldier between the eyes.
Ah. There were the Combine radios.
He heard the beeping and distinct crackle of Combine communications above him, coming from the room above that he had spied earlier. He nudged the soldier's bodies overboard before continuing on around the corner, bringing him to the ladder he had spied from the pathway earlier. Latching on, he clambered up with one hand still firmly grasped around his gun.
No-one waiting for him on the walkway above. Interesting. He slowly made his way around the corner, and found several rather large (if thick) windows on the wall beside him, with an open, inviting doorway after them at the end of the walkway. Gordon frowned, sighed, and started running.
The gunfire erupted almost instantly, although, much to Gordon's surprise, the bitter sound of glass shattering was nowhere to be found behind him. Stopping before the doorway, Gordon turned and saw that the very thick glass was, in fact, bullet-proof. Lucky. He whirled around the doorway and fired a shot off, not really expecting to hit anything.
A single soldier leapt out of the way, giving Gordon enough time to check whether there were any more in the room before he ducked his head out again. The bullets rained down on the wall, dirt and chunks of brick peppering the floor.
And then the alarm sounded above him. Gordon looked up, and heard the distinct metallic noise somewhere between a groan and a roar that heralded the approach of a gunship. Knowing his luck, it would be the one that had given him the enforced nap and left him for dead. And it would, no doubt, be pissed off that it had been wrong. Scowl firmly set on his face, Gordon came around the corner again and fired off two shots, the first missing but the second hitting the soldier in the left shoulder. Another shot got him through the mouthpiece of the gasmask.
Turning, Gordon saw a small doorway on the wall beside him and another behind. Poking his head through the one next to him, he found himself on the floor above the yellow-y room; an escape route for later. The other doorway yielded a stairway running up and around the tall, square passage, taking him up to another room with a crate hastily jammed in the doorway.
If only they knew how useless that really was.
He put his gun away and brought out the Gravity Gun. Aiming it at the box, he brought it in front of him and entered the room. Bullets rained into the crate, but he fired before they penetrate. It hit someone dead on, cracking and smashing all over the now unconscious Combine soldier. The other seemed a little surprised at having just watched a floating box enter the room and then slam itself into his comrade. Gordon took the moment to blast the MP5 from the soldier's stunned hands, sending it bouncing against the thick windows behind him.
He came at Gordon with a right hook, which he ducked easily. Slipping the crowbar from it's sheath, he swiped it through the soldier's legs. The soldier was on his back in an instant, and Gordon finished the job with a revolver shot to the head. Gordon checked the gun as he walked to the control panel in the corner of the room. He was out of ammo. Not that it would have done much good against the gunship, but still… the thought that a gun was loaded was enough to reassure him sometimes.
The panel seemed simpler than he had anticipated. A button with a green light above it, and another with a red. The red light was shining irritatingly in his face, so Gordon slammed his palm on the other button. With a few tiny clicks and beeps, the green light shone happily as the red faded. Glass exploded around Gordon as the now officially arrived gunship opened fired on him. Gordon promptly started running.
He skipped several steps at a time as he thundered down the wooden steps and out into the upper floor of the yellow room. Sliding down beneath the gap in the guardrail there, Gordon let himself drop to the floor below. He poked his head out of the archway and checked the skies on either side of the pathway. No gunship to be seen. Taking a few steps back, he hopped up and down on the spot before launching into a full on sprint.
The gunship didn't seem to notice his mad dash until after he had been through the first archway and was almost inside the second. It didn't matter at this point. There was a rocket launcher crate with (presumably) plenty of spare rockets, and with the archway providing plenty of cover, he would be free to-
A few well placed shots from the gunship resulted in a thundering crash from within the room ahead of Gordon, a cloud of dust billowing out as he ran straight into it. Coughing and swiping at the air as he entered, Gordon slowed to a halt and could only be deathly still as he saw the rocket launcher crate, buried in rubble far too heavy for him to move. He scowled.
Touché, gunship.
The stairs were still available, though, and Gordon quickly made his way up them and to the metal walkway they led to. He promptly stopped when he came to the wonderful view of the underbelly of the bridge. Before, he had had the luxury of his enemies not knowing he was coming. So he could take his time, slowly make his way across and not worry too much about being shot while he walked the proverbial tightrope.
He watched the gunship swirl around in the air beside him and turn to face him.
Now? Not so much time.
Grasping his glasses with one hand, Gordon took a breath and vaulted over the guardrail. He hit the closest girder with a clang, but somehow managed to keep his balance.
Another roar from the gunship pushed him onwards. And upwards, it had to be said. His breathing belaboured as he clambered up to the midway point, Gordon could do nothing to defend himself as the gunship opened fire. The majority of the 'bullets' clanged loudly against the girder 'web' beneath his feet, but two got through, one smacking into his thigh and the other his belly.
Gordon screamed in pain as he was thrown backwards by the power of the weapon. His HEV suit beeped in protest at the sudden impacts, and Gordon couldn't help but agree. Landing with a thud on a girder behind him, his momentum sent him tumbling over the edge, only a last minute swing of his arm saving him from a rather long, rather painful fall.
The pain was excruciating. He couldn't remember ever being hit that hard, not even at Black Mesa. Although right now all he could think about was the pain, so maybe that was screwing with his judgement a bit.
Rotor chopping menacingly through the air, the gunship swerved around for another pass. Groaning, Gordon pulled himself up and onto the metal bar above. Gulping air in greedily, he looked to the platform. Nearly there. Caution to the wind, Gordon started running for all he was worth. A few slips aside, he managed to reach it without incident. The gunship opened fire as he lurched into the small storage shed there, the thin glass of the tiny windows exploding onto him and over his shoulders.
The cutting pain of the shards against his face didn't really register; Gordon was content to cradle his belly for the moment. His leg seemed to be healing faster. Or at least, the pain was subsiding quicker. Whether the HEV suit had healed it yet was another matter entirely. He waited for a few moments while his bellyache slowly started to fade. His HEV suit had lost a disturbing amount of power from those hits. Probably better not to have it happen again.
He poked his head out of the doorway and saw the tail end of the gunship disappear behind the shed.
Now or never.
With a huffing noise that sounded disconcertingly like an old man, Gordon heaved himself out of his crouching position and started running for the other end of the bridge. The first girder he stepped on gave way beneath him, yawning down into the chasm below. Gordon managed to latch onto the next girder over, swinging beside it. He uttered a silent curse as the gunship once more found him and started wading towards him, cannon at the ready.
It opened fire as he clambered to his feet, and he leapt onto the platform, the concrete blocking the blasts as the gunship travelled beneath him. Gordon saw the dangling girder and was struck with an idea. He brought the Gravity Gun around and pointed it at the straining bolts that were holding the girder to the rest of the 'web'. The gunship was almost completely beneath him now.
He blasted away at the girder with the primary charge, eliciting flash after flash from the golden crystal embedded at the end. The gunship flew beneath, the weapon on it's front unable to turn upwards and take any shots at him. Gordon stood and fired one more blast at the girder. With one, final groan, it fell, tumbling down and onto the gunship. Predictably, it bounced against the white metal surface of the gunship before crashing into the rotor engine at the back.
A horrific shriek sounded from the beast as the blades were torn apart. Groaning in a manner so very much unlike the angry cries Gordon had heard from it before, the gunship struggled to stay aloft, and, much to it's credit as a violent killing machine, tried to turn and take just a few more shots at him before it crashed into the cliff side at the far end of the bridge.
After a pause of only a few seconds, the gunship exploded. Gordon remembered the poisonous zombie stood around waiting for him there. It probably hadn't been wanting a gunship landing on it's head, but what the hell.
Breathing and limbs shakier than before, Gordon slowly scaled the rest of the bridge with little difficulty, winding up back at the cliff side after another twenty minute trip. The scorched remains of the gunship had since tumbled off the path. There was no trace of the zombie, although some Antlion remains concerned him a little. Keeping a keen ear out for any of the trademark fluttering of the nasty creatures, Gordon crept along the path and followed it around the cliff side until it brought him out behind the multi-storey house.
A Combine radio made him duck, and a gunshot made him press his back to the wall. However, after several more sounded along with the squeals of Antlions, he figured he was safe. Peeking around the corner, he watched as roughly half a dozen soldiers did battle with considerably more Antlions. They didn't seem to be winning.
Gordon crept around the back of the house and the flat beside it, moving along as quickly as he could with no thought given to stealth. With the gunshots and screams coming from the clearing, he figured it didn't really matter how much noise he made at this juncture. He looked to the fencing his car waited behind, and, after a glance at the warring sides at the far end of the clearing, he decided to run for it. The Gravity Gun bounced along behind him as he went, hitting his legs every so often. No-one seemed to notice him go. The sound of battle behind him, Gordon started up the engine and accelerated onto the rail bridge.
A parked trail of containers and tankers took up the track on the left, but the right was clear. Increasing his speed, Gordon smiled as he once more found himself on the open road.
Then a train honked it's horn. And, out of the mist in front of him, a thin (but no less intimidating for it) train thundered down the rail towards him. Gordon slammed the buggy into reverse accelerated. The train caught up in no time, tickling the front bumper as Gordon reached the beginning of the trailers that took up the other track. With a jerky turn, he managed to wedge the car behind the oil tanker there. He watched with a mix of relief and fascination as the train breezed past. As he waited, he reached to the ammo crate at the back and loaded up the revolver again. The trailers for that train had been very thin as well. He had seen a similar type being sent on their way to Nova Prospekt at the City 17 station, as well.
"It used to be a high security prison, it's something… much worse than that now."
He tried not to think about Alyx's shaky voice as he blasted his way down the track and to the other side of the bridge. The tunnel ahead was cut off by a force-field. Part of the stone barrier on the left-hand side had been wrecked, leading down a grassy verge to a ramp of a broken bridge. He had to use the turbo to get up into the tunnel beyond, but the buggy made it.
It wasn't long before he was out in the open air again on a long left turn of a road. Down beneath him on his right was quite a sight. A small town had been tucked away in the corner of the cliff side, completely hidden from view as he had emerged from the tunnel. Gordon wondered if the Combine had managed to sink it's claws into that place as well.
He brought his attention back to the road and noticed he was approaching a large bridge that would take him into the town. Two small lumps in the middle of the tarmac piqued his curiosity as he drove. Gordon turned a little so the buggy wouldn't end up bouncing over them like a quad bike.
Suddenly, the lumps bounced from the ground, revealing themselves as metallic shapes that were almost - but not quite -the size of soccer balls, a worrying blue field of energy fizzling around them. The car rocketed towards them, and they latched on soundlessly. Gordon lost control of the car as they tugged him towards the barriers on the bridge. This wasn't good. At these speeds, the car was likely to-
Before Gordon could even consider jumping for safety, the buggy was crashing through the barrier and tumbling down to the shallow water down below.
Gordon had never liked going to the beach.
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(A/N: Hi all. Sorry for how long this took to update. I've been working on a Doctor Who story at the same time, which has actually really helped get the creative juices flowing on this story again, so hoorah for that! I was also reluctant to continue because after starting with the next chapter, there are aspects of the storyline that have their origins in the 'Sidelines' story I'm writing with BlindAcquiescence.
Unfortunately, Blind seems to have disappeared off the internet for the moment, so I was left with either waiting for him to come back and then finishing that story (which comes to 13 chapters) before updated again, or just continuing on. I've written the bits in such a way that you don't have to read 'Sidelines' to understand them, but some of the build-up is lost without it. So yeah, I'm soldiering on with this, mostly because I don't want readers to think I've abandoned the story and then abandon it themselves.
Speaking of BlindAcquiescence, Gordon's little dream sequence at Cubbage's outpost is a nod to 'Shephard's Epic', which I hope he comes back and finishes, because it's simply awesome.
Of course, all reviews and (coherent) criticisms welcome!
Next Chapter: The Lost Coast)
