Their flashlights swept over the empty silo, reflecting only dust and far too much scattered debris from the updraft. If Adrian didn't have his own respirator on, he suspected he'd be shielding his eyes and maybe trying not to breathe with his nose – between the state of the mine's silo and the helicopter kicking up what filth wasn't already firmly encaked on it, he could tell this was a filthy place only made worse by regular human habitation. Victory Mine. Stupid name, given the circumstances.
Most of the coffee mugs flew from their tables as the helicopter lowered itself into the silo, unhelpfully scattering a whole bunch of paper as well. The pilot, Shen, flatly denied outright the possibility of touching down in the place, leaving Bradford and him to fast rappel out. The only two alive still trained to do that. Adrian hoped that wasn't true when Bradford had said it.
"Bradford to Mother Bird," said Bradford, holding the ear piece in place with one hand while the other still clung to his pulse rifle, "this place is empty, maybe dead. Kelly and them still feeling brave?"
"Rope's still out and they're still game!" came the chipper reply. "No sign of them?"
Bradford glanced back at Adrian, who shook his head.
"Negative. No bodies, no blood. Mattresses are still here, coffee was still in the canteen, but cold. Tunnel and sensors inactive." Bradford paused. "No hoppers, turrets, or ammo, either. They cleaned the place out. Something's not right. Make sure they take it slow down the rope."
Whole place isn't right. Adrian swung around to look at the tunnels. Three of them manmade, long and empty, terminating in either long-collapsed rubble, vast blast doors, or thick wood reinforcements. Then there was "the breach" on the far left – a hole in the concrete, bits of rebar poking through it like teeth through gums. His flashlight beam lingered on the old traffic light next to the breach. Sensors for bug incursions. Bradford said the breach had been there for a few years now, but that didn't give him much comfort. He had half-wanted to see how the sensors worked, a little, up until he saw the way these things worked through the concrete. Given the circumstances, maybe it was best they remained silent.
The center of the silo, from what he could see through the light of their flashlights, looked bare, featuring little more than a ramp down to the elevator and a bunch of busted open crates. Bradford had muttered something when he saw it, asked Adrian to check all the other crates and dumpsters that ringed the silo. Also empty. But what Commie mine wouldn't be, especially after the end of the world?
Heavy boots hit the metal of the mine's floor with a thud. Adrian's light silhouetted Jane Kelly and Gordon Freeman, whose bright orange hair and bright orange combat suit respectively turned into ghostly-hues in the low visibility. Freeman pursed his lips as he swung his weird little gravity cannon around, while Jane Kelly let out a sharp whistle.
"I mean, this place was never that busy, but I've never seen it dead before. We would've heard if this place was attacked." Would we? Jane looked back up to the helicopter, whose dark silhouette began to ascend. "Lily, see if you can't raise the outpost topside, again."
"They're gone," said Bradford grimly. He glanced up to the chopper again before shaking his head. "Lily, head back to base to refuel. Take Alyx with you in case the fuel line acts up again – and the vort-"
A flash of emerald light erupted from the side of the helicopter. A green bubble leapt from the opened doors and descended with impressive speed. Igor the vortigaunt hit the ground with a muffled boom, making Adrian jump back despite himself. The green light disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and Adrian could only barely make out the single blood-red central eye of Igor in the dark.
"We are needed here," Igor said, in a tone that brooked neither question nor argument. Grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, the vortigaunt was needed. Good. I'm sure we could use the firepower.
"Did your people leave signs?" Bradford asked, his tone slightly accusing as his light fixed on the alien. Igor gave his best approximation of a nod. Bradford turned to Adrian, although given the man's own respiratory, fuck knew what he was trying to communicate. Adrian still thought he heard a sigh. "Lily, back to White Forest. Refuel and head back here, pronto. We'll try to find the others. Pickup will be at the main exit from here."
"ETA should be three hours!" called back Lily. "I'll buzz the topside outpost, see what I can see, try to get you some help. Be careful, guys."
The dark shape of the helicopter began to ascend, letting the dust settle and Adrian's ear drums recover – the amount of noise a helicopter could make in an enclosed space made even him grimace. His ears rang in the dark silence.
"Tunnel 24," came Igor's gravelly voice. Adrian swung his shotgun, and by extension his flashlight, to the center tunnel. "We feel-"
The traffic lights began to flash. A single green light, accompanied with a surprisingly lowkey alert – not a siren like Adrian had been expecting, but something closer to an electronic chirp. The five of them formed up at the edge of the tunnel, four guns and one vortigaunt pointed in one direction. God help whatever's on the other end of us.
"Only one light?" asked Bradford, puzzled. "All the ammo and guns are gone, plus the TNT, and we just made a hell of a racket. I would've figured we'd get more than a poke."
A puff of dirt issued from the tunnel's floor, followed by a spindly leg. Then another, and two more. A single creature, looking more like a toothy leaf than the Klendathu nightmare Adrian had privately hoped for, swayed unsteadily about thirty feet in front of them. About the size of a labrador, too. Maybe a small gator. Fuck, I could wrestle this thing! He glanced at Bradford, who held up his hand.
"Something's not right. Look at it. It should be charging. It should *not* be alone."
Adrian looked back at the thing, which sure enough, did not charge. It instead appeared to be fighting the urge to topple over, its four legs swaying back and forth, its toothy maw hanging slack underneath its weird, crested torso. It did eventually begin to cut forward, diagonally and with great effort, finally partially crashing against the wall, one of its forelegs holding against the wall while the rear leg on the same side scrabbled against it.
"Is it … drunk?" asked Adrian, feeling this was a legitimate question at this point. He heard Bradford make a tch sound under his breath.
"Freeman," Bradford said, almost spitting the word, "give it a jolt from your gravity gun."
Freeman stepped forward without hesitation, all business and goatee. He aimed his weird-ass weapon square the inebriated beast, now about twenty feet from them, and pulled the bolt back. A blast of orange light erupted from the gravity gun, sending the creature scooting backwards another few fleet, tipping it on to its back completely.
Its movement pattern completely shifted at the sudden impact. The antlion let out a squeak and its legs began to flail wildly, reminding Adrian far too unpleasantly of the many small and glistening things that liked to live under rocks in the sun, and detested being disturbed. Please let me just shoot this thing.
"A parasite grips it," said Igor, making Adrian look over. What?
No sooner had Igor spoke, the four legs, previously frantically tearing at the dusty air, suddenly synchronized. With a faint splat, the legs seemed to extend, pushing further into the air and then planting in the ground with an uncharacteristic surety. Once all four freshly-lengthened legs found their footing, the rest of the antlion promptly burst in a shower of green and yellow gore, revealing just what Igor had meant.
"Open fire!" called Bradford immediately, as the new, purple, and four-limbed contender charged without hesitation or fear. Adrian's shotgun blast blasted off most of the insectoid face. Freeman's gravity gun blast caused it to stumble. But it was Igor's blast of lightning that caused to skid to a charred and sudden halt, collapsing in a pile of perplexing gore at Kelly's feet. She planted a boot firmly on the corpse and unloaded a shell into its center mass, just to be sure. Flakes of carapace and a fresh splash of goo erupted from the body.
"So, are those better or worse than the usual bugs?" asked Adrian. I mean, it's a definite improvement on the first thing. Antlions are a disappointment. "Do these things usually get parasites?"
"It's from the UFOs," replied Bradford, crouching down to get a better look at the thing. He stroked one of the forelimbs with the barrel of his pulse rifle, clearly admiring the curvature of the blade. Yeah, looks sharp. "And it died a lot harder than an antlion would. Antlions are a lot of things, but sturdy isn't one of them."
"It was newborn," continued Igor, who maintained a safe distance from the corpse. "Bereft of carapace … the hive…" He lifted his head to stare down the tunnels. "It must be destroyed."
"Just like that?" asked Bradford, incredulous. Adrian let his neck shift left and heard it crack. All right, things are getting interesting.
"It's been done," said Jane, although Adrian could not help but detect some nervousness in her voice. "It … took more than four people and a vort. And not everyone walked away."
"It has been done, it will be done, we are in the doing," replied Igor, strolling past the smoking ruin and to the end of the tunnel. The great steel door looked mighty immovable to Adrian, yet a small generator to its left apparently linked to its through some heavy cords. Igor waited patiently by it, like a parent would wait for their children by the door. Adrian shook his head as his eyes watered. Damn it, don't think about 'em. He glanced at Freeman, whose glasses glinted in the faint light. Does he…? Yet he remained silent, instead moving to join Igor while saying nothing. Bradford sighed and motioned for Adrian and Jane – his men – to follow.
"So," said Bradford, now sounding a little nervous himself, "we still doing this extract thing?"
"We will activate the generator," replied Igor. With a flash of green in his palms, he pressed his hands against the top and sides of the generator. It roared into life. The gates shook and rumbled, and began to open. "It is activated. We will recover the extract."
"It is extracted?" asked Jane hopefully. Igor nodded.
"It is not, it is, and it will be. Our sib clear the way. The hive will be in chaos. We will descend to the utmost depths, recover the extract, and destroy the hive. And then…" Igor looked at Adrian, then Freeman. Something in that stare made Adrian go cold. "…and then the Shepherd and the Free Man will remember what they have always known." The gate pushed fully open while the generator continued to grind and rumble. No one seemed keen to pass the threshold.
"And no one will be fatally poisoned," said Bradford, giving Igor the stink-eye as he crossed into the darkness beyond. Adrian moved to join him, in lockstep with the other two humans.
"Not fatally," murmured Igor, so quiet Adrian almost thought it was his own thoughts. He slotted a shell and stepped into the black.
The tunnel stood wide enough for two to stand abreast, although it was not always clear if that was my human design or alien happenstance. Igor and Bradford led the way, his flashlight revealing the smoothness of the cavern walls, occasionally punctuated by sticky webbing that led into smaller side passages, or clung to the floor. Inside or atop, little green deflated shopping bags lay still. Bradford toed one, started to move on, then turned back to explain, likely remembering who he was dealing with.
"Antlion grubs," said Bradford. "Fastest way to piss off a nest is to start killing them. Only something," he said, stooping to pick up one of the limp bodies and thrusting it at them like it was a fresh hunting kill, "did not seem to give a shit."
A single sharp puncture wound through the brown head of each creature. Adrian saw no indication of cruelty – one of the parasite aliens had likely just pushed their sharp foreleg through the creature once and that had been the end of it. Probably a good deal cleaner I'd have done it. Jesus, these larva are huge. From how Bradford and Jane were acting, however, Adrian could tell this was a worrying development. Either whatever did this did not know, or did not care.
Or wanted to bring the antlions to them. Adrian bit his lip. Kill the young just to bait out the adults? He looked to Freeman. The doctor just stood there, glasses glinting, expressionless, looking like the stone-cold killing machine Adrian hoped he was, only bright orange and worse depth perception. Be like Freeman. No questions. They continued to push onwards, boots squishing and scraping against the bodies of countless fallen young. Thank God they don't look like puppies, or something.
The tunnels widened into a larger cavern, the stone floor giving way entirely to webbing. A chasm lined the right side, the opposite edge revealing yet further webbed tunnels, out of reach. Bradford held up a hand as they reached the edge, and the group paused.
"Hear that?" Bradford pointed to the tunnel directly adjacent to them, across about fifteen feet of dark and empty air. Adrian felt it before he heard it, the same way he could feel the bass at a club before properly parsing the music. A rising scream, like from a kettle, and rapidly increasing in volume. Adrian could not help but notice, perhaps a second too late, that the noise did not come from only Bradford's tunnel.
"Contact!" shouted Bradford, hoisting his own shotgun. Adrian followed suit, just in time for every tunnel to explode with bugs.
Big, green, termite fuckers came first, their wings buzzing as they leapt the chasm. Adrian fired at the first as it leapt, making it burst in a spray of hissing caustic substance that scored the rock and webbing around it. Acid?!
"Watch the acidlions!" screamed Jane in the half-second between its death and the next three jumping from the tunnel. All around them, acidlions joined them on the cliffside, pivoting about face as they jumped or as they landed. They're not jumping to us…
What they were jumping away from made themselves known. With throaty screams, the purple crab bastards leapt from the tunnels. Where the acidlions had floated like fucking feathers from one side to the other, the purple crab bastards threw themselves across like bullets fired from a gun, their sharp legs tearing up the webbing as they went. Adrian could not help that every moment they made came with a clatter of chitinous armor. Not newborn. He hoisted his gun again. The acidlions howled, and, with trumpet-like cries, spat their acid.
Buckshot, lightning, and acid alike met the alien invaders as they attempted their crossing. Igor's lightning stopped one dead and sent it hurtling into an uncertain abyss. Jane and Adrian picked the same target, catching it on each side, and it ploughed, legless, against the edge of the chasm before being sent screaming below. Freeman, meanwhile, simply stood firm and blasted once. Unstoppable force met stupid object, and the purple bastard failed to make its insane jump.
Acid caught a few, sending smoking shards of carapace scattering all over. Shockingly green blood painted the tunnels a shade only naturally associated with energy drinks. Then the first broke through.
The purple bastard howled as the acidlions around it backpedaled with far too many legs for Adrian to enjoy watching. One, forelimbs raised, backed just a smidge too slowly. The purple bastard lashed out with both legs, rearing. The first cut an ugly green gash across the acidlion's head. The second burst it like a rotten melon, showering the invader with acid.
Jesus, that doesn't seem productive. The purple bastard screamed as part of its left foreleg melted off entirely, while the right hung by only a string of alien tendon. It fell into a crumpled ruin while the other acidlions continued to backpedal and spread. Then the next purple bastard landed with a crash. Then another. Adrian came to the realization, by the fourth one, that he was surrounded by the equivalent of party balloons filled with acid and razor blades on one side, and a horde of screaming toddlers approaching his direction from the other.
"Peel! Peel!" Adrian shouted, charging up the slope and past the completely-occupied acidlions. A purple bastard turned to scream at him, he slam-fired it twice in the face just as it reared up to strike. It pinwheeled into the emptiness with a distorted screech. Behind him, the gravity gun reported twice, likely flinging additional varmints off the cliff. Igor kept pace alongside him, flinging green lightning across the chasm. Purple invaders twitched and smoked as the emerald electricity crackled across their bodies, leaving them open to further sprays of acid from the home guard. Adrian saw all of this only in flashes as the adrenaline sunk in.
They crested the ramp, and the path cut around and into another webbed tunnel. Inside, only chaos. Freakish forms battled within a shallow pool of water, mixed with floating limbs and far too much of that sickly, mustard-colored gore that seemed to fill every alien to ever invade the planet. Antlions – regular ones – descended from tunnels above, their own talons flashing in the dark. The animals, heedless, fed themselves into the hungry blender below.
Despite their movements being coordinated compared to the infested specimen before, Adrian could see what they meant when they said antlions weren't known for being durable. For every bug that landed, another lay still with a hole punched through its head. For every antlion that landed a hapless blow on a purple bastard with a muffled thump, another found itself lifted in the air, an invader leaning in for a curse. For every antlion still standing, another lay stiff on the floor … but not for long. The corpses twitched and shifted.
The hive has got to go. Flashlights shining, Adrian suppressed the urge to scream something manly and instead paused, pulled a grenade from his belt. He gave Jane and Bradford meaningful looks while Freeman and Igor watched the cavern entrance. They pulled the pin as one, and pitched them into the frenzied melee.
The ground shook as a plume of water, fragments of rock, and giant bug parts flew in all directions. Adrian winced as something pinged against the lens of his respirator with a sharp *crack.* Igor immediately took point, bellowing, his bare legs swiftly becoming inundated with gore. A single purple invader, only one leg still fully intact, thrashed from beneath the mustard-colored water. Igor gave it a swift blast of green lightning, accompanied with a snarl.
"Follow, Freeman!" shouted the vort, and the orange doctor careened after him. Adrian and Jane advanced, shoulder to shoulder, shotguns coughing as they finished off what remained of the melee, but in between every blast they could hear loudening screams from every tunnel. We've only carved out a corner here. And claws don't run out of ammo.
The doctor and vort clambered out of the damp wreckage of the cavern first, pulling themselves up into another webbed tunnel. Adrian yanked himself up after them, grabbing hold of the disturbingly strong and pliant fabric before turning to help Jane and Bradford up, giving them both a nod, and a wink even though no one would see it through the mask.
Dead grubs littered the tunnel before them like discarded packets of chips. A single dead purple invader lay similarly crumpled in the corner, its head caved in by some tremendous force. Bradford sucked in a breath from behind Adrian.
"Antlion guard. Or a guardian. They'll give these things a run for their money."
"Slay them not, should we encounter them," cut in the gravely voice of the alien. "It will ruin the extract."
"And if they're dead already?" asked Bradford. The vortigaunt did not answer, instead looking to the web-coated ceiling of the tunnel walls.
"Major carnage had made its mark upon the hive. Take care where you place your feet."
Adrian opened his mouth to reply, but the universe got there first. One moment Gordon Freeman stood there like a stone wall, the next a hole opened beneath him with a ragged gasp of torn fabric. Well, there goes the One Free Man. He didn't even yelp, the bastard. This guy can talk, right?!
"Freeman!" cried out Jane, making Adrian flush a little at the emotion. She crouched by the hole, flashlight weaving frantically in the dark below. Adrian approached a little more lackadaisically, which was downright speedy compared to Bradford's pace and obvious lack of concern.
Freeman looked up at them, blinking, having apparently landed in a manmade tunnel not far below them. Wonder how big these tunnels and caverns were back when only humans were digging? Adrian could see the hint of cross-beams and supports at the edge of the hole – it looked like the bugs had been digging on top of existing supports. I'm guessing the explosions and constantly getting torn at by sharp purple claws weakened what they had going here.
"Freeman, you okay?" asked Jane, while Adrian tried to play it cool. Freeman didn't say anything, only frowned and looked into the blackness beyond in his own tunnel. He looked back up at them and shrugged.
"The Freeman is not to proceed alone!" cried the vortigaunt. Adrian saw Bradford stiffen at that. "We will-"
Fuck it. Adrian didn't ask for permission. The screams behind them were getting louder, and the doctor wasn't about to leap nine feet back up out of the ground. Bradford plainly didn't give a shit, he wasn't about to send a lady down into a dark hole to be violated by alien bugs and/or a handsome physicist … and he needed the vort with Jane. I think I can trust a vort to keep her and Bradford alive.
Trying to feel like the stone-cold badass he imagined he looked like, Adrian sat down and scooched into the hole. Bend your knees! The impact still made him wince, not helped by Bradford's shout, but he'd taken harder falls and worse dressing downs. He looked back up at three faces above, man, woman, and alien.
"I've got the doc, sir," said Adrian stiffly. "Follow the vort. We'll meet up ahead." He fixed his gaze on Igor, shifted to a steely tone. "Won't we?"
"We have. We will. We meet now." Igor turned his gaze upwards, back towards the cavern they had so recently vacated. "They come. We will convene at the point of resonance ahead! Descend to the upmost depths – do not head upwards! Come!" The vortigaunt promptly abandoned the hole, and Jane followed. Bradford remained. Adrian was glad he could not see his face.
"You see the guardian – it's a big green glowing thing. Moves fast, hits hard, sounds loud. Big hardened beak for a head." Bradford straightened, glanced behind him. The sounds of combat echoed from the flooded cavern. "Do not kill it, if you can help it. I'm all for blowing this place, but I'd prefer to grab the extract first. When the vorts say we need something, they're usually right."
"That's why I jumped in the hole, sir," said Adrian. Bradford paused for a moment.
"Come back to me alive, marine." The commander hastened to follow the others. No words for Freeman, eh? That might have been a blessing. Adrian turned to his new physicist partner and nodded. The doctor nodded back. No smiles, no frowns, just the steely glint of glasses and the sound of steel shifting in their arms. They proceeded abreast as the tunnel sloped downward, and the darkness deepened. When Adrian's light caught on a silhouette huddled against the tunnel wall, his heart skipped a beat.
A skeleton. Not notable, in and of itself. Most people had one. Normally they stayed inside. Yet, between the dark, the close quarters, and now a skeleton…
The combat high was fading, and now Adrian flashed back, back to another tunnel. Explosions sealing the entrance behind him. A skeleton. The dark. Vast shapes prowling in the yawning black…
Adrian's breath quickened, and so did he, as if he could outrun a memory. The tunnel terminated in a small shaft, which itself mercifully terminated in a small drop. Heeding Igor's advice, Adrian let himself fall, remembered to bend his knees again, and barely paid attention to the orange physicist he was supposedly escorting. His flashlight shone on old lockers, discarded mining helmets and picks, signs in a language he didn't understand but made him think of bread lines. He could almost pretend, for a moment, he was sneaking away from some tour guide in an old Soviet mine. Well, now I do wish Jane had come with.
Instead, he had Freeman. Freeman, who had turned his head curiously to one of the light blue metal lockers, which emitted the occasional chirping sound. The doctor swung the door open to reveal the first living antlion grub either of them had ever seen.
"Huh," said Adrian, standing at the doctor's side. Despite possessing an impressive ring of small teeth in its mouth, the grub appeared otherwise uninterested in moving or attacking, instead chirping inside its little locker nest. "I mean, it's still disgusting."
Freeman apparently agreed, since he promptly unhooked his crowbar from his belt and, with a disturbing lack of hesitation, punched the crowbar through the tiny being's head. It fell limp, squirting green everywhere. Adrian looked at him. The doctor looked back, and suddenly Adrian thought he could see what Bradford saw. He's a born killer, isn't he? He missed his calling. True, it was just a grub. But Adrian's first instinct hadn't been to waste the thing.
They left the dressing room and the silent and deflated corpse behind. The dark crept in again, and Adrian found his breathing growing faster and heavier. Night vision goggles, damn it. Last time I had the goggles. The vaguely-human environment of the last room gave way once more to pitch-black tunnels. Adrian shone his light upward to reveal yet more webbing – and the unmistakable silhouette of human bodies suspended amidst a handful of other, still-living grubs. He was right. The chirping began to grind his nerves, but in truth they were already shot.
Adrian lit the tunnels up. He couldn't tell if he was yelling, only that he needed to kill every grub he saw, every antlion he saw, every motherfucker he saw. The buckshot tore away the webbing, sending grubs and corpses tumbling. Adrian's flashlight fixed for a moment on the face of the body and saw only a half-torn jawline of exposed and rotten teeth. A grub landed next to him. He stomped on it frantically, felt its organs explode out its mouth and rear as he put his weight down. The cantering of armored feet echoed from further down. Adrian looked up to meet them, eyes wild.
Three purple invaders howled and charged. To Adrian, time slowed. With only three shells left, Adrian knew he had no time to reload and didn't bother. He fired once, shearing off a good chunk of one's torso. He slam-fired once, and then twice, and the first beast went down in a spray of green. Then, heart in his mouth, he dropped his gun, letting the mounted flashlight face towards his foes, and pulled his pistol and knife free.
Freeman's gravity gun jolted in his arms, knocking the second invader back, but failing to tip it. The third reared up before Adrian, arms splayed, legs slicing. Adrian darted back, barely avoiding the blow, and then fired three neat shots into the creature's forehead. It flinched as its face dented but remained unpunctured. It did not retreat. Adrian, breathing suddenly steady, kept firing, and with each muzzle flash the silhouette of the creature closed the distance, as if some kind of stop motion.
Flash. Ten feet. Flash. Seven feet, some blood drawn from the bulbous right eye. Flash. The gravity gun reported again and the other invader screamed. Flash. Click. Adrian dropped his pistol and readied his knife into his right hand.
Adrian ducked the first slash and returned with a poke of his own, aiming for what he hoped were the joints where foreleg met disgusting alien body. He felt some kind of impact across his chest, a sensation of odd warmth, and his mind gave in completely. No screaming, just a grunt as he hurled himself, body and soul, against the creature, tipping it against all odds.
Its torso's arms scrabbled against his own chest, frantically trying to push him away as he stabbed, stabbed, and stabbed again, his knife finding the hole his pistol made and widening it by every jagged second. The creature screamed like a demented eagle, although whether in rage or pain or something else, Adrian did not know. Its legs thrashed beneath it, but Adrian kept it pinned on its side, his unyielding wrath and panic matching its otherworldly fury. With a final grunt, he planted the knife hilt-deep into its eye, at which point the creature threw him off with a jerk.
It stood unsteadily, its legs clacking against the stone. Adrian did not. He lay prone, his free hands now questing to his chest, although he wasn't sure why. He felt burning in his throat, his stomach. The purple invader screamed again, and his time he didn't have an answer when it advanced.
The purple invader took two steps forward before its head jerked to the right at a complete 90 degree angle. To its credit, it still took another two steps before realizing, my mistake, sorry, it was dead and sank to the floor, each leg going a separate direction. After another second or two, a rock rolled to Adrian's feet, freshly-indented. Gordon Freeman stood behind the corpse, gravity gun still smoking. It glowed orange again, and Freeman picked up another rock, checked behind himself, and let it drop. Adrian took his hand.
"Thanks. Sorry." Adrian sucked on his dry lips beneath his respirator. Should I say something? Did he realize I lost myself for a second there? He looked to the doctor. No smiles, but there was a frown. Concern. "For a second I thought … Black Mesa. I thought I was…"
Gordon Freeman nodded, then drew his gloved hand to Adrian's chest. The frown deepened as he rubbed Adrian's blood between thumb and forefinger. Adrian looked down as Gordon helpfully shined his light on Adrian's chest.
The cut had been made with surgical precision. Those legs really are sharp. He wasn't bleeding bad, but the fact the repurposed Combine armor did about as well as silk against scissors was a tad worrying. Shallow cut. Nothing to worry about.
Except, he did worry. Something felt wrong. Beneath the armor, beneath the skin, beneath everything, something stirred, something sick and twisted and hungry. Something burned in his blood. Unsteadily, Adrian retrieved his shotgun and pistol, slotted in the shells and magazine, returned to Freeman. Gordon pursed his lips, clapped a gloved hand to Adrian's shoulder.
"I'm all right," said Adrian, although his voice came out thick. I'm not all right. They stumbled on through the dark, and every step grew heavier. It's just a scratch.
They descended deeper into the hornet's nest, the screams of the purple invaders echoing from above and below. And within Adrian, something yearned to answer their call.