Disclaimer: I don't own Half-Life.
Welcome to City 17
Chapter Eight: The Lost Coast
Something tapped against his cheek. Whatever it was, it was cold and wet. Then again, his entire head felt cold and wet, so whatever was hitting him could be warm and dry for all he knew.
"Hey," a throaty voice grumbled as the tapping continued. "You there."
Gordon's eyes flickered open at the rather distinguished voice speaking down to him. Whoever it was, they were talking far too loudly considering they were crouched just next to him. The tapping continued, and he realised it was the man above him slapping his face, hoping to bring him out of unconsciousness.
Holding up a hand to stop the resuscitation attempts, Gordon waited a few moments to catch his breath before heaving himself into a sitting position. Seagulls cried out in the distance, the slowly lapping waves relaxing him somewhat, as ridiculous as it sounded. He checked himself over. Crowbar, revolver, Gravity Gun, no wounds on his head, everything seemed to be-
He stopped himself and looked around. He was sitting on a wooden pier, the water level pathetically low beneath him. A beached ship rested behind a host of towering rocks behind him. A cliffside loomed beside the pier, reaching up into the sky, peaking with a white building with construction scaffolding jutting out all around its surface. The pier on which he was sat led to a cast iron gate and a grassy path behind that. Even further beyond that, just before the horizon, Gordon could see the town he had been admiring from the road.
But no car.
The man beside him - an older man with a sailor's cap casting a slight shadow on his callow face - struggled with something, frowning as he scratched the side of his head.
"Wait a minute now, aren't you…?" He glanced up and down Gordon again, and then smiled. "Ah, you are. You're that scientist chap, Freidman. Fishman. Am I right?"
Gordon curled his lip. "Freeman."
"Ah, you must be here to take on the Combine," he enthused, nodding happily. Although it seemed more satisfaction at having remembered rather than pleasure from his arrival. His smile a faded a little and he shrugged. "Not sure what one man can do, but…" The smile all but disappeared as the man's entire body seemed to get heavier. "…no other reason to visit St Olga at a time like this."
St Olga. Okay.
With a grunt, he picked up a fishing spear and used it to pull himself to his feet. Gordon got up with him, putting his hands around the man without touching him in case he fell.
The Fisherman didn't seem to notice. "I'll take you to where they made their base." he sighed, and looked to how shaky his grip on the spear was. "Or as far as I can, at any rate."
He offered a little smile to Gordon before turning and walking towards the gate at the end of the pier.
"Um…"
"Yes, laddie?"
"My… car. You, um… I… had a car."
He smiled. "Yep, you certainly do. Weak lookin' thing, ain't it? It came down off that bridge there," he said, turning and pointing to a bridge on the other side of the bay that led away from St Olga and to some unseen roads, presumably the ones Gordon had been driving down earlier.
"There are some people in the town fixing it up for ya, don't worry. They," he laughed, "they didn't know where in blazes you were for a few minutes there. I was out fishin' when I saw you floating into the waters. You're lucky I was there. These infernal leeches will clean your bones in a trice, and I don't care what kind of fancy swimsuit you're wearin'."
He looked Gordon's HEV suit up and down, although it seemed less disapproving than it did confused, as though he didn't understand why he would wear such a thing.
Gordon looked out across the water, suddenly a little disconcerted at how dark it got in the middle. "Leeches?"
The Fisherman nodded. "Mm-hm. Vicious. Makes me miss piranhas!"
With a guffaw that indicated the conversation was over, the Fisherman turned and started leading him back to the gate. Confused but okay with leaving the topic alone, Gordon had to slow his pace considerably to stay behind the limping old man.
"Combine showed up yesterday," he began over his shoulder, still walking. "By this mornin' they were firin' off empty shells. Looks like they're plannin' to wipe out the town, so they can have the whole place for a base."
They reached the gate, and the Fisherman rest the spear against a crate. "Here, now, just let me unlock this gate for ya," he muttered absentmindedly, fumbling around in his pockets for the key.
He stopped for a moment to nod up the cliffside and to the building at the top. "That's where they are, up there. Church of St Olga." He looked to Gordon and winked. "You take out that gun and the people of St Olga will give you such a welcome as you've ever known!"
Gordon wasn't sure what to think about that. Rewards never really entered his head during these things.
"Ah!" the Fisherman announced, "here we are."
He brought out the rusty key and slipped it into the gate. After a few moments of muttered cursing and lock-jiggling, he managed to swing the gate open with a piercing creak.
"If you make it back safely, I'll be here, waitin' for ya." As though to prove the point, he stumbled past Gordon and to a small hut beside the gateway. He planted himself firmly on a wooden storage crate. "Get along now, laddie. Destroy that gun, and no dawdlin'."
Gordon considered protesting, that he had other places to be, that he was on a mission. But instead, he sighed. His car was in the shop anyway. He might as well help out while he was here. He nodded and headed through the gate.
"Oh, wait!"
The scientist turned, questioning gaze on the Fisherman.
"My memory," he grumbled, reaching around behind the crate. "Not what it used to be! Right, here you go."
Swinging back around, he pointed a shotgun at Gordon, which scared the living daylights out of him. The Fisherman just stared at him with small, beady eyes.
"Well, go on laddie. Take it. Lord knows I haven't got much use for it."
"Oh." Gordon cleared his throat a little. "I, uh… okay. Thank you." He reached out and gently took the weapon from him. He wondered how much ammunition was inside. Blinking, he checked the revolver. The bullets he had loaded earlier were still there.
"Off you go, son."
"Hm? Oh, right. Yeah. I'll just-" he pointed to St Olga's church at the top of the cliff. "Bye."
With that inspirational and witty speech out of the way, Gordon headed up the cliffside. Luckily, the constant sunlight had dried out the grass on the rather narrow and slanted path. He really didn't want to think about trying to circumnavigate this thing in the rain or snow.
A thunderous bang sounded from above him, and, looking up, Gordon saw a missile launch from somewhere inside the church. White smoke trail billowing behind it, it hurled itself into the middle of the town, crashing through the roof of a faraway building. They didn't explode.
Gordon's blood ran cold. Ravenholm. They weren't firing explosives. They were firing headcrabs. He moved with more purpose in his stride.
As he emerged from the path at the foot of some stone stairs on the right, the crackle of a Combine radio made him duck down. Two soldiers patrolled up the steps, oblivious to his presence. Creeping up behind the soldier closest to him, Gordon fired the shotgun at his head. The blood spattered out onto the steps and his comrade's legs, who whirled around and into a second blast. It knocked him off the steps and down the rocky cliffside below.
Frantic radio chatter echoed down from on high. After pumping the shotgun and sending the shell tumbling over his shoulder, Gordon walked up the steps and to more stairs that went up to his right. A wooden bridge was hastily pieced together at the top of the steps, leading over to another grassy path.
As he reached the bridge, he heard something beeping ominously behind him. Looking back, he saw a grenade gently. Gordon started running across the platform as two more soldiers emerged from around the corner of the pathway he was aiming for.
Leaping as the explosion struck his back, Gordon blasted one with the shotgun just before he slammed into the wall, his glasses knocked ajar. After straightening them out, he charged around the corner, ducking a blow to the head and responding by slamming the butt of his gun into the soldier's mask. The soldier struggled to keep his balance for a moment before Gordon gave him a solid kick to the belly to help him on his way.
Cricking his neck, Gordon paused as he thought he heard someone shouting his name. A woman, by the sound of it. Alyx? He blinked and shook the thought away. She was getting a train direct to Nova Prospekt. It was probably just his imagination. He had been exposed to the HEV suit for a long time. Who knew what prolonged exposure could do to a person?
He scrambled up the path as he heard something from above. Looking up, he saw the sun-cast shadows of two figures abseiling down the side of the cliffside. He whirled around and unloaded several rounds at them. One blast snapped his tether and fell like a rag doll to the rocks below, the spray catching the other soldier in the arm.
The soldier aimed a rifle at Gordon that he hadn't seen before. The muzzle flashed a brilliant blue as it fired, and Gordon dodged to the side to avoid the high powered bullets. It sounded like a nail gun being fired. Yanking out the revolver, Gordon blasted a hole through the soldier's helmet, sending him tumbling down with his comrade, brand new rifle and all.
St Olga's fired off two more missiles. A steep pathway around the corner revealed two more soldiers, both of which Gordon dispatched with a shotgun blast and, after discovering the shotgun was out, a crowbar to the legs. However, the second soldier carried a shotgun, and Gordon snatched it away from him as he fell. He clutched the replacement weapon possessively as he reached the top of the path, revealing the outskirts of the church.
Going through an old stone archway, Gordon couldn't help but think about how idyllic the place would be if it weren't for the Combine. It was a place he could picture going on holiday. Making his way through the dilapidated ruins, Gordon ended up going through two heavy wooden doors and into in a large courtyard. Picturesque terraced houses ran from just beside him all the way to a wall on the opposite side of the courtyard, ivy covered balconies and archways giving the place a sense of history that hadn't really struck Gordon anywhere else.
A well was planted in the centre of the courtyard, although Gordon doubted it was used for water too much anymore. Some steps at the far end of the courtyard led up to some closed gates, and, casting his gaze further to the right, Gordon found himself looking up at St Olga's church. Another wince-inducing bang shook the courtyard, and Gordon made his way to a secluded corridor on the level above him.
Walking through, Gordon was treated to a view of St Olga Bay below from a small stone balcony. He could picture the local priest standing exactly where he was now, enjoying the sun and peace of the waves and the gulls.
Another bang brought his attention back to the church, and he walked through the large wooden doors. Tinted sunlight shone through the stain glass windows, reds and greens and yellows splayed across the broken and dislodged tiles on the floor. Pillars on either side of the main area of the church gave Gordon respite from the sunlight, but not much. Some sunlight crept in through the broken roof high above Gordon, as well as the occasional flecks of dust, highlighted by the sunbeams blasting through.
Gordon walked to the altar, and there, to his right, was the missile launcher. Looking back across the church, he saw the lights shining against the floor and the walls. From where he was standing at the altar, people had become man and wife, christened their children…
He walked around to a metal table behind him, running his gloved fingers over the carefully woven tablecloth that looked as though it were no older than the gun in his hand.
The tears had welled in his eyes before he really knew they were there. It was the explosive shuddering of the missile launcher beside him that brought him back to reality and alerted him to the puddles of water in his eyes that threatened to spill down onto his cheeks.
"Damn it…" he muttered, blinking it away. Time for crying like a baby later.
The launcher didn't really make much sense to him, so there wasn't much chance of him simply finding an off switch. A metallic block within the machine rose up silently, leaving a small gap in the shaft beneath it. After a pause, it slammed down. Another missile launched up through the roof of the church, heading for the town. He nodded to himself, and started looking around. There wasn't much he could see that would be thin enough to-
Ah.
A tall golden staff, one of two it seemed, with an attractive swirling pattern running all the way up from the base to the tip. Gordon assumed it was a candleholder or something. In any case, it looked sturdy enough to stop that thing from slamming down again.
Only problem was, it was kind of heavy.
The Gravity Gun got in the way all the time as he was trying to lift it, which didn't help.
Gordon closed his eyes and shook his head. How could a scientist with a PhD be this stupid this much? It boggled the mind.
Using the Gravity Gun, he brought the golden staff up and inserted it into the gap beneath the metal block. As predicted, it tried to slam down. Upon encountering resistance, it gave up surprisingly quickly. A light behind the machine flashed red, and an alarm klaxon sounded. With a hiss, three tubular compartments beside the main cannon opened up. From inside each, a single venomous headcrab clambered out, as though unsure of what the hell it was doing.
The crowbar had crushed them all before they could get a better bearing on the situation. Combine radio chatter perked Gordon's ears, as did the distant chopping of helicopter blades. Whether or not it was a gunship, Gordon couldn't tell. Two soldiers appeared in the doorway at the far end, and Gordon aimed the shotgun. However, the two merely reached inside and slammed the doors shut.
"…the hell?" he muttered, running to the doors. Locked. Or barricaded. Whatever, he wasn't getting out.
The radio chatter from the other side was mostly incomprehensible (as usual), but something did manage to sift through all the noise:
'Victor'.
What they were saying about it, Gordon couldn't tell. But the helicopter was well and truly above the church now, the occasional shadow darting in and out of Gordon's sight through the openings in the roof. Gaze firmly upwards, Gordon quickly made his way to the altar area of the church.
As he reached the archway that would take him through, something smashed down through the rafters. Something heavy and grey. It kicked up a cloud of dust and dented a crater into the tiled floor as it landed. Clutching the shotgun tighter, Gordon backed up slowly towards the altar.
A whining noise quickly precipitated a flash from the cloud that blinded Gordon. Something almost instantly thumped into his chest, throwing him off his feet, over the table and into the far wall. Gordon fell to the carpeted floor with a grunt. His hands were empty, the shotgun knocked from his hands by the first impact.
Blinking away the stars, Gordon saw a soldier quite unlike any he had seen before emerge from the cloud of dust. It was holding the same unknown rifle he had seen the abseiling soldiers wielding, clutched against grey body armour that completely covered his body. Black gloves matched the shade of his Gestapo-like boots, but it was the helmet that was the most disconcerting. A singular orange, glowing eye in the centre of the head. Some complicated gasmask-like muzzle beneath the eye was the only indication that it behaved like a normal human body.
That would be Victor, then.
The soldier brought up his rifle again, and Gordon brought the Gravity Gun around, pulling the metal table to him. The bullets from Victor's rifle left worryingly large dents in the table with every shot, some almost piercing through.
Gordon braced himself against the wall and fired the primary trigger, sending the table hurtling into Victor and knocking him back into the middle of the main church area. While Victor brought himself to his feet, Gordon hurled himself at the shotgun, scooping it up just as Victor opened fire. He dove behind a pillar and ran down the small 'corridor' they created, heading for the doors.
Several glowing blue bullets thudded through the air ahead of him, and Gordon skid to a halt, doubling back and pressing his back to the pillar. Bastard guessed where he was going. Smarter than the average Combine, then.
That same whining flash came again, and Gordon watched a white orb shoot into view beside him. It hit the wall opposite and rebounded towards him. Gordon ducked and watched as the orb ricocheted madly around the room, hitting the pillar behind him and smashing through before finally exploding near the roof, sending a shower of sparks down over Victor.
Taking advantage of the cloud of dust from the broken pillar and the sparks raining down, Gordon whirled around the corner with shotgun cocked. He fired directly at the soldier's body, each blast sending him stumbling back before Gordon pulled the trigger all the way and unloaded two shells into him at once. That final volley threw Victor off his feet and onto his back, lifeless.
The scientist fell to his knees. He couldn't breathe, and the helicopter swirling around overhead wasn't helping his stress levels. That orb had winded him and drained the HEV suit of yet more energy.
The muffled squawk of a Combine radio spurred him to his feet, and Gordon dropped the empty shotgun to the floor beside the inert Victor. The gun t dead soldier had been carrying had been ruined by Gordon's little barrage. Without sparing another glance back, Gordon hefted the Gravity Gun around in front of him, aiming it for the doors.
It took two blasts to knock the doors flipping wide open. He heard a grunt from behind the door, and slipped the revolver from its holster. Edging to the now open archway, he crept to the door.
One soldier on the left was taken out with a single shot from the revolver between the eyes. He whirled around the open door behind him and came face to face with another soldier. Gordon shot him through the neck as the soldier hit him with a few bullets to the stomach.
The HEV suit bleeped. Gordon ignored it and moved on, kicking the gun away from the soldier's dying hands. He went to the archway that gave him a view of the courtyard. The wooden doors that had been his entrance into the courtyard were shut, presumably locked. He had taken one step out from the archway when gunfire rang out from the balcony opposite Gordon and from the ground on his right, bullets riddling the dusty ground and the concrete platform on which he stood. Back-pedalling over the body of the soldier behind him, he took a few moments to catch his breath before his gaze travelled down to the grenades hooked to the dead man's belt.
He yanked one off and pulled the pin, running without hesitation into the courtyard. Leaping forward, he tossed the grenade neatly onto the balcony before landing behind the well, putting it between him and the other soldier. Gordon vaulted to his feet as the grenade exploded, sending dust and wood splintering out into the air. The soldier's vision clouded, Gordon fired two shots, one catching the soldier in the leg and another in the side of the head.
The dust cloud was irritating his throat and eyes, so Gordon clambered up onto the concrete walkway running alongside the church and started moving for the cast iron gates at the far end. He figured he could probably use the Gravity Gun to get out that way. And there was still that helicopter to deal with, the churning of the blades giving Gordon somewhat of a headache. He hoped the pilot didn't have the bright idea of coming above the courtyard, because there wasn't much room here for him to take cover.
Then the church window above him exploded outwards, showering him in multi coloured glass. Victor landed with a dull thud in front of him, his visible scars apparently having no effect on his ability to leap long distances.
Gordon whipped up the revolver and pulled the trigger just as Victor clasped a vice-like hand onto the gun. It went off in Victor's face, slicing diagonally upwards through the grey helmet and leaving an open scar that revealed a mess of green and black wires tainted with dark, thick blood.
Victor didn't seem to notice. Latching another hand onto Gordon's wrist, he tossed him across the courtyard and through the wooden support frame above the well, including the quaint little roof that had been built on top. Dust, splinters and chunks of tile merged with the mist from the earlier grenade explosion.
Although, to be honest, Gordon couldn't really tell. Because his glasses had fallen off. He swiped a blind hand out into the blurriness in a wide arch. After sifting through broken wood and tiles, he came across the shape he wanted. Gordon slipped them on and blinked a few times to adjust again.
Victor was already striding around the well to come and get him.
This guy had made him lose his glasses.
No-one made him lose his glasses.
Gordon pulled out the crowbar and struck a blow at the soldier's head. His head jolted to the side, but came back almost instantly as if nothing had happened. A black fist soared through the air, and Gordon ducked around behind the soldier, administering a baseball swing to the back of his head.
It had the same effect as the first blow, except Victor turned around far more slowly this time, as though that particular attack had pissed him off more than the others. Gordon managed to avoid a few more lightning fast swipes at his head, hopping away until he had his back to the stairs leading up to the iron gates. He countered another missed blow with a downward swing at the head.
This time, however, Victor snatched the weapon before it even made contact. In a somewhat futile gesture, Gordon tugged at it a few times to try and jostle it free of his grip. Victor responded with a jab to the chest, sending Gordon up into the air and to the metal gates. He gasped for breath as Victor strode forward, never breaking into a run as he stormed over to him.
The soldier whirled the crowbar in his hand until it was the right way around and brought it back for a strike. Getting to his feet, Gordon paused when he heard a strange beeping noise coming from behind him.
And it was getting faster.
Having seen enough action movies with Barney to know what came next, Gordon ducked the downward slice of the crowbar and dove out of the way of the gates. He looked back and watched as Victor tilted his head over to stare at him before the gates blew. Gordon lost sight of Victor in the ensuing ball of smoke and dust, but he assumed he was thrown across the courtyard, if not killed. Getting to his feet, Gordon edged to the side of the entrance and waited.
Sure enough, two Combine soldiers emerged. Latching onto one from behind, he managed to grab his MP5 and lay waste to his comrade before the soldier administered an elbow to Gordon's stomach, sending him stumbling back. The soldier brought his gun around, and Gordon grabbed on, aiming it up towards the ceiling. Gunfire ran out above his head, bullets shooting off into the high ceiling of the archway above.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon could see Victor emerging from the smoke sans crowbar, marching for him as though nothing had happened. He was still struggling with the soldier when Victor arrived, killing the soldier with vicious backhand that twisted his head around. Gordon didn't even have time to register his confusion as the same fist came through the air, aiming for his head.
He ducked in time to feel the gloved hand brush against his hair, and he went for an archway on his left. It brought him out onto the scaffolding that he had spied from down below. Wooden planks had been placed rather precariously on the thin metal girders beneath him, and he could feel the wind jostling the planks this way and that.
And then the helicopter came. Looking over his shoulder, Gordon saw Victor hopping down into the construction area.
Oh, good. The gang's all here.
A green crate in the corner drew his attention, and Gordon went to it as fast as the death trap of a walkway beneath him would allow. It was a rocket launcher. Slamming it open, he ignored how his instincts were screaming at him for putting his back to Victor and whipped out the launcher and a rocket. An ominous shadow appeared over him, and Gordon swung around, using the launcher as a club to Victor's midsection.
But Victor managed to clamp a hand over that weapon as well. Without much effort on his part, Victor yanked him up and over him, slamming Gordon down and crashing through the floorboards. Tumbling down to the water below, he threw out an arm, managing to hook it through one of the metal scaffolding girders on the level beneath. That was probably his last 'get out of jail free' card. If he got thrown around again, he would be dead.
The arm he had used to latch onto the girder also had a rocket grasped in its hand, and Gordon managed to throw his leg up and struggle into a standing position as the helicopter came down to see where the hell he had gone. He heard it charge up the mounted machinegun on its belly, Victor's footsteps on the planks above not going unnoticed either. Gordon loaded the rocket and aimed for the helicopter's rotor.
Victor landed, and Gordon fired. The dull thud of the rocket launching was cut off by the crisp bang that came from the airborne vehicle as Victor leapt from his girder at Gordon. He slapped the launcher away and down below, ignoring the explosions that were littering the helicopter as it still struggled in vain to stay aloft. An iron grip latched around Gordon's neck and slammed him into the support strut behind him. Gordon saw stars, wrapping his hand around Victor's wrist as though that would make some sort of difference.
So. This was his death. Not a bad one, as soldiers and heroes go. At least he saved the small town of St Olga. He was sure Alyx could save Eli by herself. She seemed capable.
It sure would have been nice to get to know her better, though. And Barney still hadn't bought him that beer, damn it. But when those were the only two things left unfulfilled in his life, he guessed he couldn't complain.
The helicopter exploded as Victor brought back his fist for the killing blow. Something came whipping past Gordon's head and dove straight into Victor, pulling him away from Gordon and all the way to the cliffside behind him. Gordon gasped for breath and blinked away the spots, clutching a nursing hand around his throat to ease the pain in his subconscious if nothing else.
It was a helicopter blade. Or part of it, at least. The explosion must have sent it flying and… well, there it was.
Victor was motionless against the wall, only kept upright by the blade that now protruded from his belly, that same dark blood trickling down his grey armour and dripping down into the chasm below.
Breathing harder and sweating more than he had in some time, Gordon took a few moments to rest against a support strut behind him, staring at the dead body stuck to the wall opposite him. He had no desire to tempt fate by climbing past Victor and back into the courtyard to retrieve his crowbar. Hopefully he could come and fetch it later on.
After wiping the grimy sweat from his brow, Gordon looked around for a way down. After a little dynamic crawling through the underbelly of the scaffolding, he found a cargo lift, although it looked a little ratty. It just made him smile. What else was new? Everything he had been given except the HEV suit was ratty. And even the HEV suit was running out of power at an insulting rate.
He clambered down into the elevator, the latticework metal rattling beneath his boots. It was then that Gordon realised there wasn't a release lever or handle. So how the hell was it supposed to work?
With a jolt and a metallic clang, the elevator started moving. Confused, Gordon looked down and found his Fisherman friend standing at a rather large lever beside his little shed. How had he not noticed that before?
It took only a few seconds for him to reach ground level, and Gordon climbed out of the elevator, nodding gratefully to the Fisherman.
"Thank you."
The Fisherman grinned and slapped him on the arm. "You did it lad. Come on with me to St Olga. We'll celebrate this victory with a feast!"
His stomach grumbled. A feast sounded good.
"I, uh… hope you like leeches."
That didn't.
"Uh… no. Thank you," he said quickly, adjusting his glasses. Then, by way of clarification, he added, "I don't like seafood."
The Fisherman didn't really seemed surprised by this reaction, a resigned shrug his only response. "I guess you got other places to be. I've been told your car's ready for you, so I'll take you over to St Olga and you can get on your way."
Gordon nodded. "Thank you. I, uh…" he pointed up to the church. "I left my crowbar up there, could I just go up and-"
"Certainly, laddie! I'll need some time to find another oar, anyway."
He nodded and turned to head back up the cliffside path. Then he stopped and turned around, frowning. "Oar?"
"Yes, laddie." Another grin broke out, but Gordon didn't really feel like sharing this one. "We're gettin' to St Olga by rowboat!"
A sigh escaped the scientist's lips. Airboats aside, Gordon wasn't really a big fan of boats and the like.
He wondered if he should bring it up now or later that he got seasick very easily.
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(A/N: Hey everybody, sorry this took so long, I've been very busy with other fics and real life issues. But I should be a little more regular with updates from now on. I just want to assure you that I am in no way abandoning this fic. Updates are coming, and I fully intend to finish this story. Thanks for reading, and please review!
Next Chapter: Sandtraps)
