Half–Life: The Third Half of the Story
"We have to get out of here, the place is going to blow up." Said Gordon Freeman, as he held on to the hand of Alyx.
"I can't, my leg, it's badly hurt. The final boss injured it." Alyx winced as her knee gave way beneath her.
"Damn, this will slow us down." For a moment, Gordon considered leaving her. There was no use in them both perishing, not after everything they had went through, when it was possible that one of them – him – could make it out alive. Someone had to tell the tale of how the aliens had been defeated, or else the human race would never understand how to defend itself in the future.
But could he really do such a heinous thing? She needed help, and he couldn't bring himself to walk away like a coward. Not after all of his heroics.
"I'll help you."
In one quick swoop, he bent down and tossed her over his shoulder. Alyx was taken by surprise and could not stop herself from letting out a whispered yelp. This was no longer the weak and wimpy Gordon Freeman at the start of the story; this was the man that could do everything. This was her hero.
Gordon gripped her legs tight as her thick rump shook next to his head with every laboured step. She was heavy, much heavier than she looked, but he knew this was not the time to give dietary advice.
"Keep watch behind us. Take my blaster pistol. If any of those aliens start chasing us, I need you to shoot them so they stop chasing us."
"I'll try." She huffed as she squeezed the handle of the weapon.
Gordon began to make his way through the enemy base, the walls trembling, sweating, cursing for them to leave before the place ceased to exist. Flames crept out from wherever they could, waving him goodbye as he skipped past them.
He got to a junction and tried to think what direction he had taken before. Was it left? Was it right?
"Alyx, which way? What way did we come from?"
"Ah, uhh, I think it was left! Yeah, it was definitely left."
Gordon nodded and decided to go right, his quick pace had slowed. The final battle had taken a lot out of him as well, but unlike Alyx, he would fight through the pain if it meant his survival.
Up ahead, a box was knocked over and Gordon stopped in his tracks. He growled as the bulbous creatures emerged from the wreckage. "Head crabs!"
Alyx shrieked, but Gordon had already retrieved his shotgun from his pocket. They scuttled towards them, hungry for the sweet taste of a human soul.
He had one shell left, he had to make this count. With one hand wrapped around the waist of the woman, Gordon lifted the heavy weapon at the creatures.
"Find another head to crab on to!"
With a sudden snap of the trigger, shrapnel spewed out at them. The aliens burst and Gordon ran through the flesh–coloured confetti as though he had just reached the finish line of a race.
Gordon tossed the gun, now vacant of shells, and lumbered through the blast door and shut it behind him.
"We're near the train," Gordon Freeman huffed. "Just a little more."
In his tired state, the platform to the train never seemed to end. With each heavy step, fighting for each breath, he felt like he were stuck in an endless nightmare, like a character in a tortorous loop in an art house film rich in meaning but poorly understood.
He couldn't wait to get back home. He couldn't wait to return to normality, to the boring life of a salaryman. To pick up the old mug and enjoy the sip of stale coffee in the morning and admiring the shine of the monitor as it woke up for another day of work.
Finally, they reached the train and he almost collapsed in to it. He let Alyx down a little less gently than she had hoped, and she massaged her knee as she sat on one of the benches.
Gordon rubbed his shoulder. "I need to go to the front of the train and put on the power. Do you still have my blaster pistol?"
"No, I dropped it."
He pursed his lips to prevent any of his true thoughts from coming out. "In case anything gets in, here's my crowbar. Do you know how to use it?"
The young woman went to take it from him, a hint of red on her face as she shook her head softly.
Gordon squeezed her shoulder. "Use the mouse wheel to select and the left button to swing. Or if you're using a controller, press the directional buttons until you equip it and then tap R1 to attack."
The instructions seemed to put her mind at ease. "Thanks Gordon."
He mustered the smallest of smiles then pushed his glasses back up his nose and headed through the train, carriage–by–carriage, until he reached the first one. It was dimly lit but busy, each seat occupied by shadows. Yet there was no mistakening the shape of the furthest shadow away from him.
"Mr Gordon Freeman, I am surprised you are still alive," the shape spoke.
"Your Ultimate Weapon is dead, G–Man."
The shape stayed still. "Yes, it would appear so."
The base around them had began to crumble, the ceiling raining concrete and metal on to the train's roof.
Gordon didn't know what he was going to do. All of his guns were out of ammo, and he'd left his crowbar with the woman at the end of the train. There was just one thing left in his possession, but what use would that be?
G–Man began to approach, his face frozen, hand now wielding a revolver. "Here's where it ends for you, Mr Gordon Freeman. I can make more ultimate weapons.." The gun was now just a few feet from Gordon's head, "..just like I can hire more Salarymans."
This couldn't be the way it went. Not after all the killing. But Gordon didn't know what to do. Yet before his mind could finish drawing a blank, there was a thunderous sound of glass shattering from beside them.
Someone had come in from the storm and through the window!
It happened so fast that the mystery man had dove towards G–Man, taken him to the ground and pounded his face while the shards of the window still fluttered through the air.
"Stone Cold!" Gordon shouted ecstatically, throwing him the cold one he had been carrying.
Austin rose to his feet and without even a glance, caught the beer and ripped open the top, guzzling it down with parched greed.
This momentary pause allowed G–Man to stumble up, his flat face now rippled with mis–coloured bumps. "Who are you!?"
Austin wiped his mouth and greeted him back with a middle finger. "I'm the ticket inspector, Jackass. And if you don't have a ticket, then you're gonna have to get the hell off my train!"
G–Man fired off a shot but Stone Cold ducked, fuelled by the refreshing Coors. He kicked him in the gut and he hunched over, his head slotting straight in to the waiting hands of Austin. The wrestler dropped to the ground and gave him the stunner. The force caused G–Man to propel backwards and through the gap where the window had been.
Gordon had been rooted to the spot for most of the attack, in awe at what had just happened. Stone Cold approached and offered a hand.
Gordon was hesitant at first, but after some consideration, he replied with his own. The pair squeezed, each giving a smirk as the grips grew tighter.
"Stone Cold, you son of a bitch."
After a brief moment of masculinity, the men accepted a draw and Gordon went to the control panel. He flicked some switches and pulled down on the lever, and the sleeping train woke to life with a grumble. Soon, it was racing along the tracks.
Gordon and Austin sat opposite each other, both men tired and weary after the day's events. Stone Cold leaned back, his legs spread, staring up at the ceiling while Gordon Freeman looked back at the wreckage of the base.
"It's going to be a long way back to Madison Square Garden," Gordon yawned.
"All I need is a couple more cold ones and I'll be fine," sighed Austin, as he looked at the man across.
"That was the only one I had."
Gordon shook his head and his face dropped as Stone Cold narrowed his eyes.
The End