Combine Nightmare

[drunkymonkey]

The Combine troops kicked down the door of the house and filtered in one by one. Their ever-deadly pulse rifles at the ready, they began a sweep of the semi-detached bungalow. It had been a home for a group of rebels, known only as ‘The Combine Nightmare.’
The lead soldier, a sharp-witted Combine, checked the bedroom. Inside were a few scattered magazines of pornography (which was meant to be banned under the ‘Evils of Desire’ Act) and an old TV, still showing the face of Breen. Still spouting endless propaganda.
The leader sniffed, and through his mask, spoke in a muffled voice. “Nothing here, what about the other rooms?”
“Nothing here, boss,” called a voice from the bathroom.
The other soldiers gave similar answers. They had found nothing.
“They are still here,” said the leader, marching into the living room, “I can feel them.”
“Yes sir,” said his inferiors in chorus.
The leader looked around the room quickly, but sighed when there was no rebel scum to be conveniently found behind a sofa. It was the typical human scum lounge. The kind of room whose designer took special care to make an absolute certainty that no interest or enjoyment should be taken from the room. The leader took particular notice of the carpet. It looked resolutely dirty. It also had yellow stains on it.
“Lift up that carpet,” he ordered to his men. This was done quickly, which was a regular occurrence. His soldiers knew what incompetence meant. It usually meant being taken to Highway 17 and playing ‘Chicken’ with the ant lions.
Underneath was a trapdoor; it radiated deceptive innocence. The leader chuckled menacingly, and shoved the group out of the way.
“They’re mine,” he smiled, and he opened the door.
There was silence; it was a silence where disappointment seems to take on a new meaning, one of suicidal tendencies. Even the air seemed scared to what was going to happen next. You could hear a pin drop, except pins were banned, under the ‘No pins’ Act that Breen had passed when he was particularly bored and felt like annoying the masses, who would shake their fists menacingly before being ushered away by the iron fists of the Combine.
“There’s nothing there, sarge,” sighed one of the soldiers.
“I can see that Private, you didn’t really thing that I thought there were rebels down there, did you?”
“Er, no, sarge.”
“Because that would make your brain even smaller than it already is. Of course there are no rebels down there, goes without saying.”
“So why did you look Sarge?”
“So I could teach you a thing or two. Now stop asking questions and lets head out of here.”
It was at that moment that the door opened, just a touch. It was hardly noticeable, was it not for the fact that a grenade flew through the gap, and landed by one of the soldiers’ feet. It ticked away happily, it’s red light spelling out impending doom.
“Aw man,” he said, before being blown out the window and hitting a lamppost full force.
The leader ducked under a table on instinct. “The rest of you, find cover!”
Then suddenly, the wall to the house was blown clean off, allowing the invaders safe passage. They charged in, and threw their remaining grenades, sending furniture flying. The TV in which Breen was dictating from was blown up, crashing into one of the other soldiers. A stray bullet hit the last Private square on the head, killing him instantly.
“Feck,” said the leader of the Combine, reloading his weapon, and then he peeked over to fire, but saw…nothing.
He looked right. He looked left. It was a shame then, that he didn’t look up, because a very angry man with an MP5 was hanging from on hand to a lamp, and with the other, he pulled the trigger.
The leader received the bullet in the head, which caused him severe pain and caused him to die instantly, slumping to the ground limply, and landing face first into the yellow patch. Not even a helmet could muffle that smell. Not that it mattered; the soldier was dead.


Is it teh good?

 

[G Man]

Well - I know the feeling of noone replying to fanfics so i will post, I think its cool - a good plot and interesting characters so keep going!
G Man

 

[drunkymonkey]

Well - I know the feeling of noone replying to fanfics so i will post, I think its cool - a good plot and interesting characters so keep going!
G Man

I killed off all the characters lol. Hehe. But I'm going to keep going anyway.

The four humans came out of the shadows they had launched their attack in. They surveyed their surrounds critically, before taking the guns that the Combine had equipped so uselessly.
The three men and one woman were dressed in the standard rebel outfit, with differences. The material they wore was jet black, and instead of hats, they wore gasmasks, supposedly all disposed off after the seven hour war. The guns that they carried were pistols that converted into sub-machine guns, very much like the gun that the rebel idol Alyx Vance had.
'We better scarper,' said the apparent leader, already walking towards the door. He froze in mid turn of the knob. A familiar and hated sound hit his eardrums, and he readied his gun anxiously.
'Manhacks,' he said standing back, 'take cover.'
The elite rebel team hid behind a table that hadn't been decimated during the grenade blasts, and waited for the man hacks to burst into the room. The door started splintering, and they could just see the bright read glow that was attached to every manhack.
'Don't shoot yet,' said the leader, 'wait until they come through!'
Soon enough, the manhacks cut a big enough hole in the door to charge through, advancing dizzily towards the determined rebels, who were already greeting them by piling round after round of their Pis-guns into the metal armour. But more and more manhacks were piling in, and it looked bad. The woman of the group sighed deeply and took from her belf a sphere with a blue neon ring around it. Just bounced it on the ground and it exploded in an electrical flash. The manhacks appeared to lose control, and their razors stopped. One by one, the contraptions, nicknamed 'Bunker Bastards' by the rebels, fell to the floor like plastic, defunct toys. The rebels dove through the now decapitated door and ran away.

 

[Azner]

Like it

 

[drunkymonkey]

Down on the street, the black clad rebels sprinted on, using every shadow they could find as elaborate protection against the eyes of the Combine. Down 'Street 7', they spotted a Combine patrol sauntering down, their rifles in their holsters.
'Ahh, can you smell that fresh air?' said the apparant leader. He sniffed dramatically. This gave a horrible static sound on his helmet.
'Not really sir,' said a brave private, who had only recently been augmented and hadn't learnt quite yet not to contradict your commanding officer unless you liked the idea of being food for the Hydra.
'What do you mean, not really?'
'Well, we're wearing gas masks sir. And those oxygen sucker things-'
'The Earth Oxygen Receiving System.'
'Yes sir, them sir. They sort of take the small away, sir.'
'Private, I was merely making conversation. Would you rather we played a game? How about I Spy, huh?'
'Well, I'd prefer to do that instead of imagining oxygen sir.'
'Fine, okay!' said the leader, who looked disheartened, 'I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... S.'
'Strider.'
'Damn.'
'Alright, my turn sir. I spy, with my augmented eye, something beginning with... EB.'
'Hmm, that's a tricky one.'
'You'll never get it sir.'
'Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that!'
'Hehe.'
The rebels eyed this process with some confusion. They normally spent their time shooting Combine, they didn't bother to stick around listening to what they were saying. It seemed to the four that killing them was a great way to put them out of their misery.
'OOOH I GET IT!' said the leader happily, pointing to a red and white container, 'explosive bar-'
For some reason, and a reason only known by the Lambda logo wearing rebels who had been watching the conversation, the explosive barrell blew up, sending the whole squad of Combine flying everywhere.
'Why the hell were they standing nexct to a frigging exploding barrell?' asked the female of the group.
'Cos they're idiots,' said the smallest of the group, who looked very much like a rat.
'Shut up Eddy,' said the leader.
'Sorry boss.'
'Susan, they stand next to explosive barrells because... well, I heard that the augmentation process has its... drawbacks. Chief to these is the iron clad stubborness of standing next to things that blow up in unexpected ways, leading to immediate death.'
'Alright boss,' said Susan.
'They stand on bridges with very poor supports too,' said the last of the group, a 6 foot man, with muscles that Hulk Hogan would squirm at.
'Well spotted Clive,' said the Boss.

 

[Basse]

very good!

and hulk hogan references are always gold

 

[Azner]

GOOD!....put humor and action into it=VERY GOOD HAHAHAHHAHA..wheeze HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA...ETC

 

[drunkymonkey]

'Eddy, will you stop that?' asked Boss, waving his pulse rifle about angrily. The rat like man shrugged bitterly and stood back up, stopping his search through the combine soldier's pockets.
'You never know what you might find sir,' said Eddy, 'those soldiers can be rich buggers.'
'What do you need money for in a war zone? What's to buy?'
'Well, I wanted one of those Combine soldier cuddly toys actually.'
'Why?'
'Well, I'd like to sleep with one.'
'Aha,' said Boss, turning away from his despicable inferior. 'Alright men, and ladies,' after Susan gave him an angry look, 'one day ago Gordon Freeman entered Nova Prospeckt. One day ago, he disappeared. He is probably dead. Alyx was with him. She is probably also dead. It's not nice, sure, and it's a blow to morale, but what do you expect? This is City 17. It's safer here, as long you you allow yourself to be utterly brainwashed, and even then, you're going to die anyway. At least we have a chance. It isn't a very big one, granted, and we don't have much choice if the Combine discover our antics, but that's why we have hope. You listen to Dr. Breen talking about instinct and how dangerous it is, and you listen to a man that thinks humanity should not be tolerated.'
'The git's got no personality,' muttered Clive.
'Yes, thank you Clive, good analysis there.'
'I never wanted to be a rebel you know.'
'I'm sorry but that's irrelevant isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'I thought so. Shut up for a minute. Anyway, if we're going to die anyway, we might as well do it crushing the enemy. What's the worst that can happen?'
'Being captured and receiving Combine surgery,' said Susan.
'Well yes, but that's a small price to pay for the good of man, isn't it?'
There was a short, embarrassing silence.
'It is,' continued Boss quickly, scratching the back of his head.
'So, what we doing then?' asked Eddy.
'Well, we're quite clearly on the run, yes? We're on the run from lots and lots of things. Most of them are very unpleasant and want to eat you, or do something utterly horrible to you. From now on, we have makeshift bases, the apartment is now out of bounds. I really don't know who tipped the Combine off, but they sure came down like a tonne of bricks. But I think they weren't really expecting us to be there. There would have been a strider or two there, backing up the soldiers and man hacks. I reckon Breen and his cronies will be very surprised at the whole thing. But now, we need to attack outposts. Hit and run. It's pointless "capturing" them, and "holding" them is equally silly. We'll just be bombed to Hell. No, what we need to do is raid bases, and run off and raid another one. We'll hide away in rebel outposts between invasions.'
'Sounds like a plan,' said Susan.
'Not a particularly very good one,' said Eddy.
'Shut up.'