theotherguy
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and so...there is a new chapter! Cheers guys, I will now start to finish my story (in about 10 chapters)
-Chapter 34, Benefactors-
The Citadel stood in the center of the city, its black hulk looming over everything, all but surpassing the clouds. It was now, on this day, taller than any other Citadel on Earth: surpassing even the fabled Citadel of Black Mesa. Now, its construction was complete. It was big enough to produce the entirety of the Combine forces that it needed without the aid of teleportation, it was tall enough to sustain a direct connection with the Home World, and it went deep enough into the Earth to mine all but the most rare and unnecessary minerals. The Citadel was a monument to the pure power and invincibility of The Combine.
But at the very top floor of the Citadel, high enough to see all of City 17 below, and much of the countryside beyond, there sat a human. Dr. Breen was looking out of his picturesque windows at the citizens below, tiny, mere specks, these citizens milled about unknowingly. These were citizens he ruled; this was a world that he ruled. Dr. Breen had what many a delusional warlord had dreamed of since the dawn of history: he owned the entire world. But what did he do to earn this position? He had not commanded any armies, he had not killed anyone directly, and he had not coerced any politicians or started any countries. The only thing Dr. Breen did to get into a position of power was to agree to give Earth to The Combine by starting the resonance cascade.
But Dr. Breen, in his delusional state of mind, believed that what he was doing was right. The people of Earth needed to leave the sustenance of the planet, and reach for the stars; and with no better way but to be guided by an older, more experienced species? The Combine would have somehow come to Earth and killed them all anyhow…all Dr. Breen was doing was shuttling the process along a bit, and giving the human race a much better position in the hierarchy of The Combine. Breen did not thirst for power; he never asked to rule the whole world. All he wanted was what was best for the people of Earth; he just wanted humanity to conquer the stars.
But, a wave of regret came over him as he looked down at the specks of citizens on the ground below. They hated him…and he knew that they did, too. He knew that he must have been perceived as a traitor to humanity, a figure of absolute evil hanging over them at all times. Therefore, the people were nothing but ignorant rabble. In time, they would come to his way of thinking; in time they would all see the stars and the worlds that The Combine has laid out for them like a scrumptious gourmet on a platter. Humanity was just too infantile to loosen the grasp on mother Earth, and go out into the world. Dr. Breen was simply misunderstood.
Just then, the intercom beeped behind him, and he turned around to answer the call. He pressed a button on the intercom device, and answered it. “Yes?” he asked. A gruff male voice came back through the speaker, “The worker you asked for questioning is in custody and is ready to be brought into your office, Dr. Breen.” Breen pressed the intercom again, and spoke into the speaker, “Wonderful,” he said in a fake tone of excitement, “bring him in!”
The gruff male voice acknowledged, and Dr. Breen heard a huge metal clank from the door on the right side of his office. There was a sound that was somewhat like a train moving along, and then out of the doorway appeared an elite combine soldier dressed totally in white, with a white flak jacket and a white gas mask with one red glowing eye. With him was a large metal pod, which was moving along a track on the ceiling, swinging back and forth. Visible in the pod was the disheveled body of a slave, thinned by starvation.
The pod glided along its track until it came directly in front of Dr. Breen. The face of the slave was broken and miserable, and he was looking out Dr. Breen’s windows without out any expression in his void eyes. “Excellent.” Dr. Breen remarked. “Could you leave us?” He asked the elite combine soldier. The soldier gave a little nod, and backed away into the shadows, leaving Dr. Breen alone with the slave in the pod.
Dr. Breen got up from where he was sitting, and calmly walked directly up to the pod, mere feet away from the face of the slave. “My friend,” he said calmingly to the seemingly mindless body that was locked in the pod. “You have been brought here because I got word that you knew something about the resistance…certainly, you were not taking part in any such resistance, eh?”
The slave shook his head furiously. Pleadingly, he replied, “I had no such business with them, sir, honest! I just overheard something…that’s all!” Dr. Breen nodded empathetically, putting on the greatest act of false compassion that he could muster. “Well, why don’t you tell me then, my citizen, what you have overheard?” He asked slowly and reassuringly.
The slave looked back and forth, and breathed shallowly, and then replied, “Dr. Breen, please, they told me that if I told you what I knew, they would let me out of this place…and I would have a better life…” Dr. Breen, now in a slight tone of impatience, persisted, “I can assure you, friend that your life will be much different for telling me the details that you know. Such…attention to duty does not go unnoticed by…our benefactors.”
The slave nervously looked back and forth again as if trying to see if anyone was watching him, and said, “Alright, since you promised…I will tell you what I know, Dr. Breen.” Dr. Breen smiled, “Outstanding! I knew that you would come around. Now, just tell me what you know…”
“Well,” the slave said timidly, taking his time between words, and breathing shallowly, “There was this Vortigaunt, see, and I know that we’re not supposed to contact them, but I kept hearing this voice in my head, and after a while, I realized that it was coming from one of those Vortigaunt things!”
Dr. Breen motioned with his hand, and turned around, facing the windows as the slave spoke, “Go on,” he encouraged. “Well,” continued the slave, “At first; I really didn’t understand what he was going on about. He was talking about time, and vortices and a bunch of other stuff…but then, he said something that I recognized, he said, if I can recall, ‘the Gordon Freeman, I see him through my eye, he returns, to set us free! The Gordon Freeman has come to set us free a second time!’”
Dr. Breen spun around as if he had been struck by a bolt of lighting, and managed to stammer, “G-Gordon Freeman you say? Why…why…that’s preposterous, Gordon Freeman…is dead…isn’t he?” The slave shrugged. “That’s what I said; Dr. Breen and I took it to the guards, and told them that I knew it was so! I don’t know if such a thing could be true, Freeman is supposed to be dead, and these crazy Vortigaunts…you know?”
Dr. Breen repressed the intense anger he was feeling by laughing it off. Chuckling heartily, he placed his hand on the metal pod of the slave, “You did the right thing.” He said to the slave, “But Gordon Freeman? Please, it’s just another one of the things that the Vortigaunts say all the time. Just don’t worry about it, Gordon Freeman is not coming back to wreak havoc on us again, I can assure you…” But Dr. Breen was not so assured of this fact himself.
The slave smiled nervously, “Oh, of course not, Dr. Breen, just some more of them alien lies!” Breen threw his hands in the air, his eye twitching furiously as he said, “That’s right!” Dr. Breen picked up a remote that controlled the pod, “As for now,” he said, pushing the button, “I’d like to thank you for your…services; and you will be immediately placed in the intense labor ring just a few floors down from here; you’ll get the finest treatment.”
Surprised, the slave looked like he was nearly about to cry. “But…but Dr. Breen! You promised that I would be able to leave this place!” Dr. Breen nodded, “And you will! As soon as your genetic modification is complete, and your mental labor in the upper floors is also complete, you will be sent to the Nova Prospect Correctional Facility!”
The slave screamed as his pod began to move, “No! No, Dr. Breen! You promised! Do you see what they do in the upper floors? I have seen it! The people there, they are not people at all, they are like living dead, with no faces and no feet, lobotomized, living only to serve! I do not want to be one of them…you…you promised!” The door slammed shut on the slave’s pod as it exited, but Dr. Breen could still hear the poor soul’s maniacal screaming.
Dr. Breen had no time to think about what sending the slave to Nova Prospect meant; he had more important issues on his mind. He had had a very bad past few days. First he got reports of his assassin getting killed in Ravenholm, then he had heard of the silent revolution going on outside of the city walls in the farm country beyond; and just a few hours ago he heard of a strange illegitimate entering the city; but paying them 300,000 credits to enter, claiming to be one of Breen’s agents.
And now… there was this: A report of Gordon Freeman of all people, returning? Gordon Freeman, the fellow that Dr. Kleiner had requested to be in the test chamber on that fateful day of the resonance cascade at Black Mesa, Dr. Breen’s old place of work; the man who had thwarted his attempts from the beginning, killing the Niniliath. How could Gordon Freeman possibly still be alive? Xen was thrown into chaos shortly after the killing of the Niniliath, and of course there were those horrible “portal storms” here on Earth. It was absurd…completely ridiculous that Gordon Freeman could still be alive, let alone here in City 17.
Dr. Breen shrugged it off. Gordon Freeman certainly wasn’t alive…it completely defied logic. And he most definitely was not out there on the streets of City 17. Yes, it was just a myth; the sort of thing Dr. Breen took seriously when he was yet a young, naive ruler, but now seemed trivial.
He had a plan, however, to catch and question the man who had paid 300,000 credits to get into the city. He would send out patrols for him. He couldn’t be to far from the train station by now…the patrols would easily find him.
Reassured, Breen sat back at his desk.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
-Chapter 34, Benefactors-
The Citadel stood in the center of the city, its black hulk looming over everything, all but surpassing the clouds. It was now, on this day, taller than any other Citadel on Earth: surpassing even the fabled Citadel of Black Mesa. Now, its construction was complete. It was big enough to produce the entirety of the Combine forces that it needed without the aid of teleportation, it was tall enough to sustain a direct connection with the Home World, and it went deep enough into the Earth to mine all but the most rare and unnecessary minerals. The Citadel was a monument to the pure power and invincibility of The Combine.
But at the very top floor of the Citadel, high enough to see all of City 17 below, and much of the countryside beyond, there sat a human. Dr. Breen was looking out of his picturesque windows at the citizens below, tiny, mere specks, these citizens milled about unknowingly. These were citizens he ruled; this was a world that he ruled. Dr. Breen had what many a delusional warlord had dreamed of since the dawn of history: he owned the entire world. But what did he do to earn this position? He had not commanded any armies, he had not killed anyone directly, and he had not coerced any politicians or started any countries. The only thing Dr. Breen did to get into a position of power was to agree to give Earth to The Combine by starting the resonance cascade.
But Dr. Breen, in his delusional state of mind, believed that what he was doing was right. The people of Earth needed to leave the sustenance of the planet, and reach for the stars; and with no better way but to be guided by an older, more experienced species? The Combine would have somehow come to Earth and killed them all anyhow…all Dr. Breen was doing was shuttling the process along a bit, and giving the human race a much better position in the hierarchy of The Combine. Breen did not thirst for power; he never asked to rule the whole world. All he wanted was what was best for the people of Earth; he just wanted humanity to conquer the stars.
But, a wave of regret came over him as he looked down at the specks of citizens on the ground below. They hated him…and he knew that they did, too. He knew that he must have been perceived as a traitor to humanity, a figure of absolute evil hanging over them at all times. Therefore, the people were nothing but ignorant rabble. In time, they would come to his way of thinking; in time they would all see the stars and the worlds that The Combine has laid out for them like a scrumptious gourmet on a platter. Humanity was just too infantile to loosen the grasp on mother Earth, and go out into the world. Dr. Breen was simply misunderstood.
Just then, the intercom beeped behind him, and he turned around to answer the call. He pressed a button on the intercom device, and answered it. “Yes?” he asked. A gruff male voice came back through the speaker, “The worker you asked for questioning is in custody and is ready to be brought into your office, Dr. Breen.” Breen pressed the intercom again, and spoke into the speaker, “Wonderful,” he said in a fake tone of excitement, “bring him in!”
The gruff male voice acknowledged, and Dr. Breen heard a huge metal clank from the door on the right side of his office. There was a sound that was somewhat like a train moving along, and then out of the doorway appeared an elite combine soldier dressed totally in white, with a white flak jacket and a white gas mask with one red glowing eye. With him was a large metal pod, which was moving along a track on the ceiling, swinging back and forth. Visible in the pod was the disheveled body of a slave, thinned by starvation.
The pod glided along its track until it came directly in front of Dr. Breen. The face of the slave was broken and miserable, and he was looking out Dr. Breen’s windows without out any expression in his void eyes. “Excellent.” Dr. Breen remarked. “Could you leave us?” He asked the elite combine soldier. The soldier gave a little nod, and backed away into the shadows, leaving Dr. Breen alone with the slave in the pod.
Dr. Breen got up from where he was sitting, and calmly walked directly up to the pod, mere feet away from the face of the slave. “My friend,” he said calmingly to the seemingly mindless body that was locked in the pod. “You have been brought here because I got word that you knew something about the resistance…certainly, you were not taking part in any such resistance, eh?”
The slave shook his head furiously. Pleadingly, he replied, “I had no such business with them, sir, honest! I just overheard something…that’s all!” Dr. Breen nodded empathetically, putting on the greatest act of false compassion that he could muster. “Well, why don’t you tell me then, my citizen, what you have overheard?” He asked slowly and reassuringly.
The slave looked back and forth, and breathed shallowly, and then replied, “Dr. Breen, please, they told me that if I told you what I knew, they would let me out of this place…and I would have a better life…” Dr. Breen, now in a slight tone of impatience, persisted, “I can assure you, friend that your life will be much different for telling me the details that you know. Such…attention to duty does not go unnoticed by…our benefactors.”
The slave nervously looked back and forth again as if trying to see if anyone was watching him, and said, “Alright, since you promised…I will tell you what I know, Dr. Breen.” Dr. Breen smiled, “Outstanding! I knew that you would come around. Now, just tell me what you know…”
“Well,” the slave said timidly, taking his time between words, and breathing shallowly, “There was this Vortigaunt, see, and I know that we’re not supposed to contact them, but I kept hearing this voice in my head, and after a while, I realized that it was coming from one of those Vortigaunt things!”
Dr. Breen motioned with his hand, and turned around, facing the windows as the slave spoke, “Go on,” he encouraged. “Well,” continued the slave, “At first; I really didn’t understand what he was going on about. He was talking about time, and vortices and a bunch of other stuff…but then, he said something that I recognized, he said, if I can recall, ‘the Gordon Freeman, I see him through my eye, he returns, to set us free! The Gordon Freeman has come to set us free a second time!’”
Dr. Breen spun around as if he had been struck by a bolt of lighting, and managed to stammer, “G-Gordon Freeman you say? Why…why…that’s preposterous, Gordon Freeman…is dead…isn’t he?” The slave shrugged. “That’s what I said; Dr. Breen and I took it to the guards, and told them that I knew it was so! I don’t know if such a thing could be true, Freeman is supposed to be dead, and these crazy Vortigaunts…you know?”
Dr. Breen repressed the intense anger he was feeling by laughing it off. Chuckling heartily, he placed his hand on the metal pod of the slave, “You did the right thing.” He said to the slave, “But Gordon Freeman? Please, it’s just another one of the things that the Vortigaunts say all the time. Just don’t worry about it, Gordon Freeman is not coming back to wreak havoc on us again, I can assure you…” But Dr. Breen was not so assured of this fact himself.
The slave smiled nervously, “Oh, of course not, Dr. Breen, just some more of them alien lies!” Breen threw his hands in the air, his eye twitching furiously as he said, “That’s right!” Dr. Breen picked up a remote that controlled the pod, “As for now,” he said, pushing the button, “I’d like to thank you for your…services; and you will be immediately placed in the intense labor ring just a few floors down from here; you’ll get the finest treatment.”
Surprised, the slave looked like he was nearly about to cry. “But…but Dr. Breen! You promised that I would be able to leave this place!” Dr. Breen nodded, “And you will! As soon as your genetic modification is complete, and your mental labor in the upper floors is also complete, you will be sent to the Nova Prospect Correctional Facility!”
The slave screamed as his pod began to move, “No! No, Dr. Breen! You promised! Do you see what they do in the upper floors? I have seen it! The people there, they are not people at all, they are like living dead, with no faces and no feet, lobotomized, living only to serve! I do not want to be one of them…you…you promised!” The door slammed shut on the slave’s pod as it exited, but Dr. Breen could still hear the poor soul’s maniacal screaming.
Dr. Breen had no time to think about what sending the slave to Nova Prospect meant; he had more important issues on his mind. He had had a very bad past few days. First he got reports of his assassin getting killed in Ravenholm, then he had heard of the silent revolution going on outside of the city walls in the farm country beyond; and just a few hours ago he heard of a strange illegitimate entering the city; but paying them 300,000 credits to enter, claiming to be one of Breen’s agents.
And now… there was this: A report of Gordon Freeman of all people, returning? Gordon Freeman, the fellow that Dr. Kleiner had requested to be in the test chamber on that fateful day of the resonance cascade at Black Mesa, Dr. Breen’s old place of work; the man who had thwarted his attempts from the beginning, killing the Niniliath. How could Gordon Freeman possibly still be alive? Xen was thrown into chaos shortly after the killing of the Niniliath, and of course there were those horrible “portal storms” here on Earth. It was absurd…completely ridiculous that Gordon Freeman could still be alive, let alone here in City 17.
Dr. Breen shrugged it off. Gordon Freeman certainly wasn’t alive…it completely defied logic. And he most definitely was not out there on the streets of City 17. Yes, it was just a myth; the sort of thing Dr. Breen took seriously when he was yet a young, naive ruler, but now seemed trivial.
He had a plan, however, to catch and question the man who had paid 300,000 credits to get into the city. He would send out patrols for him. He couldn’t be to far from the train station by now…the patrols would easily find him.
Reassured, Breen sat back at his desk.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
