Malign Contingency
- Thread starter Edcrab
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Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
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I'm glad it's going down well 
Here's the last of number 29- it was delayed a bit since I was working on my original fiction (/end shameless pimpage )
Vanguard’s armoury was quite massive- but its stock had been garnered through distinctly communistic methods. Everyone who joined had to hand over their own supplies, putting them towards the war effort.
Zyke’s haggard refugees had gladly surrendered most of their supplies to the war effort, and this had gone down well with the quartermasters. Seeing the influx of pulse rifles and ammunition, they’d failed to spot the bizarre presence of Yuza’s Sentinel pistol and the Mercenary-issue plasma rifle, which the group had carefully secreted.
It all seemed quite pointless to Quarir, as from what he could tell they’d be led back there, outfitted, and then sent on their way.
But for now they ate in the crowded mess hall. It was an odd mix: Combine ration packs- the tasteless yet nutritious sachets circulated as standard- and vegetables and canned goods gleaned from those few Resistance cells that had access to farm plots or secret caches.
Quarir helped himself to a little of everything, noting just how much the ration packs tasted like Domarian nutricubes and how alike the plant life of Earth and Domarius was. The table was currently a mess of empty plastic packaging and dirty plates- but for once it wasn’t due to his eating habits alone, as several others were with him.
Yuza made a face- and not because of her food. “So you’re going to accompany the expedition to take out the Mortar Synths?”
“Yep,” Zyke said simply, helping himself to more raw carrot.
“I was talking to Quarir,” Yuza said flatly.
“And I was talking about Quarir,” Zyke responded calmly.
Yuza ignored the Rot, and stared at Nalore intently. “Well?”
“I’m going,” said Quarir, temporarily lowering a very stale sandwich.
“And do you want to go?”
“Well, I don’t like the idea of risking my life, but it’s about time I did something heroic, I think.”
“I wouldn’t make a joke of this- this is a very serious situation-”
“And that’s why I’m going. Leave it, already. It’s my life to screw with, you know.” He took a large bite of the wedge of bread and chewed it sedately, indicating that the conversation was over.
Yuza looked to Nuri for support. “What about you? You’re going with them?”
“Of course,” came the steady reply, “I’ve got nothing to lose. If we all shared your attitude, we’d never get anywhere.”
Yuza sighed and shook her head.
“I take it you disapprove?” Kat asked gently. “Dare I ask why?”
There was a long pause. They knew that Yuza- as an Enforcer- opposed anything that went against Maintonon’s instructions. But Kat didn’t know of their transdimensional origins- although, it seemed to Quarir, she’d been asking a series of carefully probing questions recently.
“I just don’t think it’s an easy assignment,” Yuza began cautiously, “and I don’t think they’ll cope well. They’re not military sorts.”
“Yes we are,” said Zyke brightly, knowing that Yuza couldn’t correct him. Although he’d never been a soldier, Zichekoam was infinitely more capable than a mere human- and now that Quarir’s nanotech had recovered, the former conman was also back to his own bullet-repelling self.
Sam and Pyotr- who had been consuming about twenty pounds of mushrooms with every sign of enjoyment- finally broke their masticating dumbness.
“They are very competent,” said Sam.
“Indeed,” agreed Pyotr, “we can think of no reason why they should not aid the push of Carns.”
The Vortigaunts went back to demolishing the pile of fungus, oblivious to Yuza’s dirty looks.
“I think it’ll work,” Charlie said brightly. “I mean, we’ve taken Striders down before. Not us personally, sure, but it’s been done-”
“A Mortar Synth is not a Strider,” Yuza snapped. “No one has had any real experience with them.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I’ll have to correct you there,” Kat interrupted.
“What?”
“Although I’m more suited to studying the behavioural traits of Xenian wildlife, I have, more recently, been asked to examine the nature of Synth. My room is packed with their remnants- their exoskeletons do not appear to rot or erode- and from what I have learnt, a Mortar Synth probably has marginally less carapace than a Strider.”
Yuza frowned again. “Since when have you killed a Mortar Synth?”
“We haven’t,” Kat explained. “Once, a group of Antlion guards mobbed a platoon of them- one Synth was taken down, and we stole its remains, wondering if we could learn something about them. All their innards seem to break down very rapidly, but we have a lot of knowledge regarding their possible weak points.”
“That’s it- possible,” Gregory scoffed. “There’s no certainty. You’re wasting your time.”
Quarir glared at the man- despite the fact the rest of Aegis was mingling with the Vanguard residents quite happily, Gregory seemed to insist on following them around. He could see that Yuza was agitated- ultimately she didn’t question the push so much as Zyke’s reasons for supporting it, and she wasn’t happy about finding herself on the same side as a cynic like Gregory.
“Nothing’s certain,” said Charlie, “so we might as well try.”
Gregory snorted, and went back to his salad. Quarir privately hoped that he’d choke on one of the tomatoes.
The meal went on, and they talked of more mundane things for a while. Eventually Charlie left to try and find a toilet- he’d later be very surprised to find that Vanguard’s WCs boiled down to buckets plugged into pipes- and Gregory finally went back to his old patrol group. Kat, too, made her farewells and left with Sam in tow.
“That woman knows something,” Nuri said quietly.
“Everyone’s suspicious,” Zyke shrugged, “I don’t blame them.”
“I suppose,” Yuza sighed suddenly, “that I should mention something, if you’ve decided to stick to this course of action.”
“What’s that?” Nuri asked, deliberately seeking to beat Zyke to the response.
“I have… talked at length with Pyotr,” Yuza responded, sounding somewhat restrained. “He mentioned that my metabolism has been altered by the headcrab- perhaps permanently.”
“Uh,” Nalore edged away from her, “you’re not going to turn into some sort of zombie, are you?”
“No,” Yuza rolled her eyes, “the point I was trying to make was that Pyotr now thinks that the headcrabs will pay no attention to me- that they will not consider me a viable host. The mutagen changed something… on a genetic level.”
“As humans such as Katya Orovjek found,” Pyotr began, “headcrabs stalk their prey by ‘tasting’ the air around them. Because of her most mysterious implants and the neurochemical administrations of the parasite, we do not think that headcrabs will be able to detect the Yuza.”
“What are you planning?” Nuri asked suspiciously.
“Apparently this Barney Calhoun has been planning a separate push for quite some time- and there is a shortcut involved, through the tunnels. After all the mortars, they are thought to be filled with zombies.” Yuza sighed. “I’ve had instructions which are… a little confusing, but I think I’m expected to help Calhoun.”
“Maintonon contacted you?” Zyke blurted.
“That is one way of putting it, yes.”
“What’s that bastard got planned now?”
“I really don’t know.”
“And you don’t care, do you?” Zyke shook his head. “You Enforcers lap up his mysterious contingency bullshit. You eat it up by the ton- you think we should be left in the dark and fed shit, like Pyotr’s mushrooms.”
“Yuza has just agreed to help us all,” Nuri chided him, “you could be a bit more supportive.”
“And these fungi were not produced with offal,” Pyotr added.
“She’s not doing it because she thinks its right- she’s doing it because some damn computer told her to. She’s a joke.”
Yuza’s expression bypassed a frown in favour of homicidal anger. “Don’t push me, Rot.”
“Oh, I’ve pushed you as far as I’ll bother to push you. I’m glad you’re doing the right thing- for the wrong reasons.” With that, Zyke left the table. Yuza, sighing forlornly, got up and went in the opposite direction.
“I hate all this political crap,” Quarir moaned. “It was easier when it was just us and the Arcs. Now we’ve got the Combine and all our own little splits. This is driving me nuts.”
“You are likely to be taken closer to nuthood then, Quarir Nalore.” Pyotr stood up. “We are now to lead you to the Vanguard basement. Strange things are afoot, and we must observe before departing. These are the instructions of Barney Calhoun.”
Here's the last of number 29- it was delayed a bit since I was working on my original fiction (/end shameless pimpage )Vanguard’s armoury was quite massive- but its stock had been garnered through distinctly communistic methods. Everyone who joined had to hand over their own supplies, putting them towards the war effort.
Zyke’s haggard refugees had gladly surrendered most of their supplies to the war effort, and this had gone down well with the quartermasters. Seeing the influx of pulse rifles and ammunition, they’d failed to spot the bizarre presence of Yuza’s Sentinel pistol and the Mercenary-issue plasma rifle, which the group had carefully secreted.
It all seemed quite pointless to Quarir, as from what he could tell they’d be led back there, outfitted, and then sent on their way.
But for now they ate in the crowded mess hall. It was an odd mix: Combine ration packs- the tasteless yet nutritious sachets circulated as standard- and vegetables and canned goods gleaned from those few Resistance cells that had access to farm plots or secret caches.
Quarir helped himself to a little of everything, noting just how much the ration packs tasted like Domarian nutricubes and how alike the plant life of Earth and Domarius was. The table was currently a mess of empty plastic packaging and dirty plates- but for once it wasn’t due to his eating habits alone, as several others were with him.
Yuza made a face- and not because of her food. “So you’re going to accompany the expedition to take out the Mortar Synths?”
“Yep,” Zyke said simply, helping himself to more raw carrot.
“I was talking to Quarir,” Yuza said flatly.
“And I was talking about Quarir,” Zyke responded calmly.
Yuza ignored the Rot, and stared at Nalore intently. “Well?”
“I’m going,” said Quarir, temporarily lowering a very stale sandwich.
“And do you want to go?”
“Well, I don’t like the idea of risking my life, but it’s about time I did something heroic, I think.”
“I wouldn’t make a joke of this- this is a very serious situation-”
“And that’s why I’m going. Leave it, already. It’s my life to screw with, you know.” He took a large bite of the wedge of bread and chewed it sedately, indicating that the conversation was over.
Yuza looked to Nuri for support. “What about you? You’re going with them?”
“Of course,” came the steady reply, “I’ve got nothing to lose. If we all shared your attitude, we’d never get anywhere.”
Yuza sighed and shook her head.
“I take it you disapprove?” Kat asked gently. “Dare I ask why?”
There was a long pause. They knew that Yuza- as an Enforcer- opposed anything that went against Maintonon’s instructions. But Kat didn’t know of their transdimensional origins- although, it seemed to Quarir, she’d been asking a series of carefully probing questions recently.
“I just don’t think it’s an easy assignment,” Yuza began cautiously, “and I don’t think they’ll cope well. They’re not military sorts.”
“Yes we are,” said Zyke brightly, knowing that Yuza couldn’t correct him. Although he’d never been a soldier, Zichekoam was infinitely more capable than a mere human- and now that Quarir’s nanotech had recovered, the former conman was also back to his own bullet-repelling self.
Sam and Pyotr- who had been consuming about twenty pounds of mushrooms with every sign of enjoyment- finally broke their masticating dumbness.
“They are very competent,” said Sam.
“Indeed,” agreed Pyotr, “we can think of no reason why they should not aid the push of Carns.”
The Vortigaunts went back to demolishing the pile of fungus, oblivious to Yuza’s dirty looks.
“I think it’ll work,” Charlie said brightly. “I mean, we’ve taken Striders down before. Not us personally, sure, but it’s been done-”
“A Mortar Synth is not a Strider,” Yuza snapped. “No one has had any real experience with them.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I’ll have to correct you there,” Kat interrupted.
“What?”
“Although I’m more suited to studying the behavioural traits of Xenian wildlife, I have, more recently, been asked to examine the nature of Synth. My room is packed with their remnants- their exoskeletons do not appear to rot or erode- and from what I have learnt, a Mortar Synth probably has marginally less carapace than a Strider.”
Yuza frowned again. “Since when have you killed a Mortar Synth?”
“We haven’t,” Kat explained. “Once, a group of Antlion guards mobbed a platoon of them- one Synth was taken down, and we stole its remains, wondering if we could learn something about them. All their innards seem to break down very rapidly, but we have a lot of knowledge regarding their possible weak points.”
“That’s it- possible,” Gregory scoffed. “There’s no certainty. You’re wasting your time.”
Quarir glared at the man- despite the fact the rest of Aegis was mingling with the Vanguard residents quite happily, Gregory seemed to insist on following them around. He could see that Yuza was agitated- ultimately she didn’t question the push so much as Zyke’s reasons for supporting it, and she wasn’t happy about finding herself on the same side as a cynic like Gregory.
“Nothing’s certain,” said Charlie, “so we might as well try.”
Gregory snorted, and went back to his salad. Quarir privately hoped that he’d choke on one of the tomatoes.
The meal went on, and they talked of more mundane things for a while. Eventually Charlie left to try and find a toilet- he’d later be very surprised to find that Vanguard’s WCs boiled down to buckets plugged into pipes- and Gregory finally went back to his old patrol group. Kat, too, made her farewells and left with Sam in tow.
“That woman knows something,” Nuri said quietly.
“Everyone’s suspicious,” Zyke shrugged, “I don’t blame them.”
“I suppose,” Yuza sighed suddenly, “that I should mention something, if you’ve decided to stick to this course of action.”
“What’s that?” Nuri asked, deliberately seeking to beat Zyke to the response.
“I have… talked at length with Pyotr,” Yuza responded, sounding somewhat restrained. “He mentioned that my metabolism has been altered by the headcrab- perhaps permanently.”
“Uh,” Nalore edged away from her, “you’re not going to turn into some sort of zombie, are you?”
“No,” Yuza rolled her eyes, “the point I was trying to make was that Pyotr now thinks that the headcrabs will pay no attention to me- that they will not consider me a viable host. The mutagen changed something… on a genetic level.”
“As humans such as Katya Orovjek found,” Pyotr began, “headcrabs stalk their prey by ‘tasting’ the air around them. Because of her most mysterious implants and the neurochemical administrations of the parasite, we do not think that headcrabs will be able to detect the Yuza.”
“What are you planning?” Nuri asked suspiciously.
“Apparently this Barney Calhoun has been planning a separate push for quite some time- and there is a shortcut involved, through the tunnels. After all the mortars, they are thought to be filled with zombies.” Yuza sighed. “I’ve had instructions which are… a little confusing, but I think I’m expected to help Calhoun.”
“Maintonon contacted you?” Zyke blurted.
“That is one way of putting it, yes.”
“What’s that bastard got planned now?”
“I really don’t know.”
“And you don’t care, do you?” Zyke shook his head. “You Enforcers lap up his mysterious contingency bullshit. You eat it up by the ton- you think we should be left in the dark and fed shit, like Pyotr’s mushrooms.”
“Yuza has just agreed to help us all,” Nuri chided him, “you could be a bit more supportive.”
“And these fungi were not produced with offal,” Pyotr added.
“She’s not doing it because she thinks its right- she’s doing it because some damn computer told her to. She’s a joke.”
Yuza’s expression bypassed a frown in favour of homicidal anger. “Don’t push me, Rot.”
“Oh, I’ve pushed you as far as I’ll bother to push you. I’m glad you’re doing the right thing- for the wrong reasons.” With that, Zyke left the table. Yuza, sighing forlornly, got up and went in the opposite direction.
“I hate all this political crap,” Quarir moaned. “It was easier when it was just us and the Arcs. Now we’ve got the Combine and all our own little splits. This is driving me nuts.”
“You are likely to be taken closer to nuthood then, Quarir Nalore.” Pyotr stood up. “We are now to lead you to the Vanguard basement. Strange things are afoot, and we must observe before departing. These are the instructions of Barney Calhoun.”
Bob_Marley
Tank
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Tis cool man! Keep up the good work, we need to see more in the future (much more, in the very near future, preferubly )
)
Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
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Took a while in coming, but I think it's finally starting to move again
Hopefully it'll all be over soon- as always, thanks for the feedback!
“City 13,” Barney said levelly, “has just fallen.”
Quarir didn’t have the remotest idea what that meant, but from Nuri’s sharp intake of breath he guessed it wasn’t good.
“But they were doing so well,” Zichekoam spluttered. “Their reports are always talking about their victories-”
“Their reports were sent out for inspiration.” Calhoun shook his head. “They were fighting back- but we have to face facts, they exaggerated their success. It was like we were making our own propaganda- and now that the Combine have flattened them with Synth, we’ve got two problems.”
“The blow to morale and the freed-up Combine forces,” Nuri sighed.
“Exactly.” Calhoun nodded. “With 13 out of the way, they’ll throw everything they can at us.”
“And considering this has worn on for so long, they won’t worry about collateral,” Zyke rubbed his chin.
Most of this was lost on Quarir- but he’d gathered that, once upon a time, City 13 had been a garrison town- home to plentiful military installations and equally numerous soldiers. The vast majority had been executed, relocated or recruited by the ever-hungry Civil Protectorate- but many had managed to stay, forming a sleeper cell which hoarded weapons and ammunition.
They had infiltrated their town’s token Overwatch base to the extent that several officers were active rebels rather than mere sympathisers- and when their small Synth contingent had left, they had risen up, defeating the loyalist CPs with ease, turning City 13 into one gigantic Resistance base.
But as time went on more and more uprisings were quashed, and more and more troops were sent to City 13. Eventually, the bulk of the Combine force had arrived- if rumours were true, it had been operating on another continent- and wiped 13 off the face of the Earth. And City 17, it was widely felt, would be next.
Calhoun, Quarir had decided, was a good man. He wore a Metrocop uniform- like the short-lived heroes of City 13, he had permeated the Protectorate and fought it from within- and always had a pulse rifle in his hand. He certainly looked and acted like a leader of men- from what he could tell, Quarir fancied that he was second only to Gordon Freeman in the Resistance’s eyes.
But that meant little nowadays- many were questioning Freeman’s commitment and even his loyalties; following the suspicious assault upon Black Mesa East and the man’s strange disappearance, some were ladling the blame directly onto their former figurehead. Even after the treachery of a high-ranking Resistance member was revealed, some had made Freeman the scapegoat; feeling that his achievements were utterly nullified by his decision to abandon them, many had gone from being his strongest supporters to his harshest denouncers.
Barney Calhoun, however, always maintained that Freeman would come back. Barney, after all, had survived the Black Mesa incident- the Black Mesa, Zyke had explained, as in the research facility whose scientists had unintentionally set a phase shift in motion that brought Earth and Xen into collision and ultimately revealed their presences to the Combine. If anyone was qualified to comment, many were saying, it was Barney Calhoun. And so they followed him.
“But it’s not all bad news,” Calhoun continued. “Since Gordon took on Nova Prospekt, half the inmates managed to escape.”
“That was with the power outages the prototype teleporter caused,” Zyke recited the Vortigaunt intelligence from memory. “Currently they’re a good-sized force that has liberated the remaining prisoners and is taking on the Forts one at a time.”
“So we’ve got reinforcements of our own coming?” Quarir finally ventured. He’d lost the thread more often than a drunken sewing enthusiast.
Calhoun made a gesture to indicate that this wasn’t entirely good news. “Yeah, but infantry are no match for Synth. That’s why I keep leading these forays for supplies- we need grenades and rockets- explosives to penetrate their shells. Kat keeps talking about structural linkages and crap but I know they’re tough as hell. If civilians turn up with sub-machineguns, trying to act like an army, they’ll be slaughtered.”
Nuri gestured at the scrawled poster that was one of the basement’s many tactical maps. “But you think that if we give them RPGs and show them how to point them, they’ll be able to take the Synth on?”
“Exactly,” Calhoun said again, clearly pleased that his aims were apparent. “If we raid the CP armouries, we weaken them and strengthen ourselves. If we can have a nice load of equipment ready for these guys, we’ll be able to get even with those Combine bastards.”
“And we attack the Mortar Synths as a diversion?” Nuri persisted, not sure she was certain of (or happy with) Calhoun’s scheme.
“I guess so, but that’s not the main reason,” Calhoun corrected her. “Carns and his volunteers- that’s basically you guys- are attacking the Synth to stop them crushing Vanguard before we can evacuate. But we’ll conduct as many raids as we can, to try and spread the Combine thin. We need to cripple the unit that brought down Stone Well before the ones from City 13 can reinforce them. I’ve already sent Yuza to clear the way.”
Zyke grimaced. “What?”
“You know Worborne? The slug that worked at Black Mesa? Head of the biochemistry department?”
“What about him?”
“He said he wants to make amends. The Vortigaunts were saying how he used Katya’s research to create a headcrab repellent- they’re almost certain this chemical of his will stop the headhumpers trying anything funny- and maybe even the zombies.” Calhoun grinned at the idea. “They soaked Yuza with it, and Lamar ignored her-”
Zyke knew Quarir was about to ask who Lamar was, so he hit him surreptitiously to keep him quiet.
“-so now she’s going to head to the Overwatch perimeter and try to raid the compound. The Combine doesn’t bother guarding the old subway that heavily because it’s packed with as many zombies as Ravenholm- and since she used to be a Pathfinder in the US Military, I’m sure it’ll go to plan.”
Worborne’s trying to make amends all right, Zyke projected, and even now Quarir winced slightly at the unexpected visit. But not how Calhoun thinks- he’s covering up for Yuza with huge lies. She must have threatened to shoot him.
Calhoun continued, as he was of course incapable of hearing the telepathic exchange. “The plan is for us to have broken the Combine advance, grabbed a ton of supplies, and breached the Nexus compound in time for the Prospectors to join us.”
This time Quarir managed to dodge Zyke’s fist and get a question out. “Prospectors?”
“What we call the escapees,” the Rot informed him irritably.
“Well, good,” Nuri said slowly.
“Yes,” Zyke agreed, “it’s a damn good plan and I’m sure it’ll work.” Even with that computer-worshipping bitch swanning about, he shared with Quarir mentally. “But why are you telling us like this?”
The basement was big, but it was surprisingly small for a vast facility like Vanguard. Thus, in a few seconds, Calhoun managed to walk to the other end of the room and dramatically pull back an improvised paper drape.
“We might have good recon thanks to the Vorts,” the former security guard explained, “but there’re things that confuse us. We’ve got strange signals all over the place- it’s driving our scanners mad- and there’s talk of some Mad Max wannabe in a car, driving around and killing people randomly.”
“And you’re telling us because…?” Quarir left the question hanging in the air- and he was unprepared for the way in which Calhoun snatched at it.
“Because, tonight, before I tell the group I’m back and before things get any worse… you’re going to go with Carns and ambush the Synth. They’re already here.”
Hopefully it'll all be over soon- as always, thanks for the feedback!
Chapter 30: Combine Convoy
“City 13,” Barney said levelly, “has just fallen.”
Quarir didn’t have the remotest idea what that meant, but from Nuri’s sharp intake of breath he guessed it wasn’t good.
“But they were doing so well,” Zichekoam spluttered. “Their reports are always talking about their victories-”
“Their reports were sent out for inspiration.” Calhoun shook his head. “They were fighting back- but we have to face facts, they exaggerated their success. It was like we were making our own propaganda- and now that the Combine have flattened them with Synth, we’ve got two problems.”
“The blow to morale and the freed-up Combine forces,” Nuri sighed.
“Exactly.” Calhoun nodded. “With 13 out of the way, they’ll throw everything they can at us.”
“And considering this has worn on for so long, they won’t worry about collateral,” Zyke rubbed his chin.
Most of this was lost on Quarir- but he’d gathered that, once upon a time, City 13 had been a garrison town- home to plentiful military installations and equally numerous soldiers. The vast majority had been executed, relocated or recruited by the ever-hungry Civil Protectorate- but many had managed to stay, forming a sleeper cell which hoarded weapons and ammunition.
They had infiltrated their town’s token Overwatch base to the extent that several officers were active rebels rather than mere sympathisers- and when their small Synth contingent had left, they had risen up, defeating the loyalist CPs with ease, turning City 13 into one gigantic Resistance base.
But as time went on more and more uprisings were quashed, and more and more troops were sent to City 13. Eventually, the bulk of the Combine force had arrived- if rumours were true, it had been operating on another continent- and wiped 13 off the face of the Earth. And City 17, it was widely felt, would be next.
Calhoun, Quarir had decided, was a good man. He wore a Metrocop uniform- like the short-lived heroes of City 13, he had permeated the Protectorate and fought it from within- and always had a pulse rifle in his hand. He certainly looked and acted like a leader of men- from what he could tell, Quarir fancied that he was second only to Gordon Freeman in the Resistance’s eyes.
But that meant little nowadays- many were questioning Freeman’s commitment and even his loyalties; following the suspicious assault upon Black Mesa East and the man’s strange disappearance, some were ladling the blame directly onto their former figurehead. Even after the treachery of a high-ranking Resistance member was revealed, some had made Freeman the scapegoat; feeling that his achievements were utterly nullified by his decision to abandon them, many had gone from being his strongest supporters to his harshest denouncers.
Barney Calhoun, however, always maintained that Freeman would come back. Barney, after all, had survived the Black Mesa incident- the Black Mesa, Zyke had explained, as in the research facility whose scientists had unintentionally set a phase shift in motion that brought Earth and Xen into collision and ultimately revealed their presences to the Combine. If anyone was qualified to comment, many were saying, it was Barney Calhoun. And so they followed him.
“But it’s not all bad news,” Calhoun continued. “Since Gordon took on Nova Prospekt, half the inmates managed to escape.”
“That was with the power outages the prototype teleporter caused,” Zyke recited the Vortigaunt intelligence from memory. “Currently they’re a good-sized force that has liberated the remaining prisoners and is taking on the Forts one at a time.”
“So we’ve got reinforcements of our own coming?” Quarir finally ventured. He’d lost the thread more often than a drunken sewing enthusiast.
Calhoun made a gesture to indicate that this wasn’t entirely good news. “Yeah, but infantry are no match for Synth. That’s why I keep leading these forays for supplies- we need grenades and rockets- explosives to penetrate their shells. Kat keeps talking about structural linkages and crap but I know they’re tough as hell. If civilians turn up with sub-machineguns, trying to act like an army, they’ll be slaughtered.”
Nuri gestured at the scrawled poster that was one of the basement’s many tactical maps. “But you think that if we give them RPGs and show them how to point them, they’ll be able to take the Synth on?”
“Exactly,” Calhoun said again, clearly pleased that his aims were apparent. “If we raid the CP armouries, we weaken them and strengthen ourselves. If we can have a nice load of equipment ready for these guys, we’ll be able to get even with those Combine bastards.”
“And we attack the Mortar Synths as a diversion?” Nuri persisted, not sure she was certain of (or happy with) Calhoun’s scheme.
“I guess so, but that’s not the main reason,” Calhoun corrected her. “Carns and his volunteers- that’s basically you guys- are attacking the Synth to stop them crushing Vanguard before we can evacuate. But we’ll conduct as many raids as we can, to try and spread the Combine thin. We need to cripple the unit that brought down Stone Well before the ones from City 13 can reinforce them. I’ve already sent Yuza to clear the way.”
Zyke grimaced. “What?”
“You know Worborne? The slug that worked at Black Mesa? Head of the biochemistry department?”
“What about him?”
“He said he wants to make amends. The Vortigaunts were saying how he used Katya’s research to create a headcrab repellent- they’re almost certain this chemical of his will stop the headhumpers trying anything funny- and maybe even the zombies.” Calhoun grinned at the idea. “They soaked Yuza with it, and Lamar ignored her-”
Zyke knew Quarir was about to ask who Lamar was, so he hit him surreptitiously to keep him quiet.
“-so now she’s going to head to the Overwatch perimeter and try to raid the compound. The Combine doesn’t bother guarding the old subway that heavily because it’s packed with as many zombies as Ravenholm- and since she used to be a Pathfinder in the US Military, I’m sure it’ll go to plan.”
Worborne’s trying to make amends all right, Zyke projected, and even now Quarir winced slightly at the unexpected visit. But not how Calhoun thinks- he’s covering up for Yuza with huge lies. She must have threatened to shoot him.
Calhoun continued, as he was of course incapable of hearing the telepathic exchange. “The plan is for us to have broken the Combine advance, grabbed a ton of supplies, and breached the Nexus compound in time for the Prospectors to join us.”
This time Quarir managed to dodge Zyke’s fist and get a question out. “Prospectors?”
“What we call the escapees,” the Rot informed him irritably.
“Well, good,” Nuri said slowly.
“Yes,” Zyke agreed, “it’s a damn good plan and I’m sure it’ll work.” Even with that computer-worshipping bitch swanning about, he shared with Quarir mentally. “But why are you telling us like this?”
The basement was big, but it was surprisingly small for a vast facility like Vanguard. Thus, in a few seconds, Calhoun managed to walk to the other end of the room and dramatically pull back an improvised paper drape.
“We might have good recon thanks to the Vorts,” the former security guard explained, “but there’re things that confuse us. We’ve got strange signals all over the place- it’s driving our scanners mad- and there’s talk of some Mad Max wannabe in a car, driving around and killing people randomly.”
“And you’re telling us because…?” Quarir left the question hanging in the air- and he was unprepared for the way in which Calhoun snatched at it.
“Because, tonight, before I tell the group I’m back and before things get any worse… you’re going to go with Carns and ambush the Synth. They’re already here.”
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Thanks- I think I might be getting back into the flow Here's the last of the chapter- a few characters are making returns...
Dawn came quite abruptly- at least in Nalore’s eyes- but its progression was so sluggish that he was still at a loss to determine the exact time. “Way too early,” was the best he could manage.
Irregular meals and intermittent sleep aboard rickety vehicles had not only misaligned his biological clock- they’d stolen the winding key and flattened the whole thing with a sledgehammer. Quarir was sure that his nanotech was the only thing keeping him going- he was certain that a “normal” human would have died after all he’d been through.
Although Nuri, always stubbornly resisting logic, was still alive. He was quite glad of that.
For now it was still quite dark, and Nuri leant round the corner and scanned the alleyway. “Looks clear to me.”
Carns nodded. “Right. Wedler, Rebus- you’re with me. Zyke, take your lot round the other side.”
“Got it.” Zyke carefully edged his way through the magnetically-sealed trash units. But, totally annulling the Rot’s stealth, Quarir kept blundering into the garbage in the twilight, and Zyke was sure it wouldn’t be long until someone heard them.
Quarir watched Carns’s squad travel in the opposite direction, circumventing most of the residential block as if flanking an enemy. Which they may well have been, as they weren’t certain whereabouts the CPs had been posted to defend the approaching Synth. Carns and… what’s-his-face and what’s-her-name were armed to the teeth and reeked of competence, as Pyotr might put it, although Quarir had already forgotten who they actually were.
“So why’s it just us four?” Nalore whispered out of the corner of his mouth- but it came out far louder than he’d intended, and he winced under Zyke’s glare.
“Because we’ve got the best chance of survival,” Zyke said flatly. “You, me, and Pyotr are abnormally tough-”
“Or perhaps just abnormal,” The Vortigaunt chirped, indulging in a rare moment of jest.
“-and we’ve got a plasma rifle and a revolver that never seems to run out.”
Quarir frowned. That made sense, but it sounded like a shoddy fantasy-theme simulation to him. Congratulations, you’ve defeated the Wizard of Snot and you now have an Unlimited Combustion Pistol +2… You needed more than fancy hardware- both in weaponry and in internal workings- to overcome the odds they were facing.
“What I actually meant,” he continued, “is why there were a lot of volunteers, but only we were sent out-”
“Because, like I said, we’ve got the best chance of survival. Remember, Charlie was one of the volunteers.” He looked over his shoulder- the other team had disappeared. “But I don’t think it’s just that- I think Carns and Calhoun suspect something,” he continued in a lower voice, “they seem very quiet.”
“We have had to be alert at all times,” Pyotr intoned. “Traitors are an ever-present threat. Once we had great wariness of mankind’s efforts, but we have learnt to trust them, accepting the differences between your individuals.” The ‘Gaunt bowed his head profoundly. “What was the Combine’s reckoning is now ours. We alone can decide our fate, no matter how tries to shape it.”
Again, Pyotr had made a speech that would’ve been pretentious and unnecessarily vague in the mouth of a human but felt… right, from those of a Vortigaunt. As if their species had earned the right to be mysterious.
“I suppose that’s just it,” Nuri sighed. “Choice versus destiny. Good versus evil.”
“Yes, but evil never sees itself as evil,” Zyke said flatly, stepping over a particularily large and malodorous trash container. “That’s why it’s evil.”
“’Cept the chaos factions and the death cults,” Quarir interjected, recalling a few of the Domarian Legion’s darker hours.
Zyke paused. “Yeah, them I guess-”
“And the Sect of Pain, they knew they were evil-”
“I get it, Quarir.”
They rounded the corner- and, already there at the other end of the apartment block, Carns made a complicated gesture and vanished from view.
“It’s clear at their end. Let’s get inside and find that rocket crate.”
Zyke- as the largest and strongest of them- was carrying two of Vanguard’s cherished RPGs. Quarir had eventually realised that this meant they were rocket propelled grenade launchers, rather than one of the role-playing games he’d played religiously back at Ucelsia’s simulation arcades.
They seemed quite high-tech, considering Earth’s usual standards- Zyke had explained about their targeting systems, laser sights that allowed the explosive projectiles to track even the most manoeuvrable of foes. Carns was certain that this accuracy would allow them to hit a Mortar Synth’s purported weak point.
And so there was a stash of almost thirty rockets secreted in this condemned apartment block, one of the many prepared for this kind of situation. The Combine had taken to manufacturing the rockets themselves- originally they’d only used Earth’s technology for efficiency’s sake, equipping their infantry with existing weapons simply because they were plentiful- but they seemed to have developed a taste for that particular variety of mankind’s munitions.
Quarir didn’t know if the Combine had ever used such missiles before Earth- from what he’d heard, they’d always stuck faithfully to pulse weapon variants and their infamous distortion cannons- but the Hunter-Seeker rotorcraft, themselves inspired by Earth’s helicopters, were covered in rocket launchers. The Protectorate, too, were starting to come equipped with smaller, handheld projection systems- and so their armouries always contained ample stock, ripe for theft.
The door was blocked by rubble- another remnant of some past conflict- so they clambered through a broken window. The room beyond looked devastated to Quarir, but Zyke- again recognising that all-too familiar expression of abject disbelief- assured Nalore that the upper floors were still quite accessible.
“We’re quite glad they attacked this place really,” Zyke said, pushing aside a loose chunk of concrete to demonstrate his point. “The Custer’s Avenue base is so unstable that the Combine would never think we’d still use it.”
“Lovely,” Quarir said weakly, noting how the whole place seemed to sag when the Rot moved the wreckage.
But he’d concede that this was the right place- there was the famous Lambda symbol on the wall, and the building matched their briefing description.
After a particularily uncomfortable journey they’d all rather forget- involving a brief distance that still involved squeezing through rough-walled gaps and clambering over unsteady heaps of rubble- they reached the vantage point Zyke had alluded to.
The upper floor had been destroyed by the past battle, so strictly speaking they were standing on the second-highest floor. Quarir felt quite exposed without the roof- but there were still chunks of wall dotting the place, making for decent cover should a fire fight break out.
“Is that the street they’ll head down?” Nuri pointed to the wide road below them.
“Yeah,” Zyke nodded, “it’s the only place they’ll fit. There’ll be a lot of them- but all we need to do is take down one, to get their attention. After that we can fall back, repeat the process, and that should buy Vanguard enough time to shift everyone.”
Zyke walked over to a jutting concrete peak that looked no different to any other- but he heaved a slab away effortlessly, revealing a green ammunition crate. Ever suspicious, he opened it, but seeing that it was filled with carefully stacked rockets he relaxed.
“Thing is,” Quarir licked his lips, “they’ll just move on to Vanguard. I mean, they know where it is and that it’s big enough to-”
Zyke closed the crate, gently gripped a shoulder and turned Nalore around, so they were facing a crack to their right. On street level, three-dozen Resistance members were visible, hurriedly moving in the direction Carns had gone.
“You didn’t really think it’d just be left to us, did you?” Zyke grinned. “Carns and co. were just scouts. They’ll flank the Synth, kill the guards, and make them think we’ve got a big Resistance cell right here. Mortar Synth can’t fire at close range- they can keep them busy for hours.”
Nuri smiled- both at the prospect of success and Quarir’s revelatory expression. “It’s certainly been well orchestrated,” she said.
Pyotr nodded. “Vanguard has intercepted radio chatter- and we have confirmed the plans. The Combine has had Vanguard’s destruction scheduled for two days: they anticipated the end of the campaign at City 13 and allocated Synth accordingly.”
“I suppose even genocide needs forward planning,” Zyke muttered humourlessly.
They settled down and waited.
As Calhoun had said, the Synth were already on the move- they appeared within ten minutes, lazily lumbering through the double-lane of the road and crushing flame-gutted cars under their pointed feet. There was an APC at the fore of the convoy- but only three Mortar Synth.
“We’d expected more,” Zyke rubbed his chin. “It’s not like the Combine to underestimate us… not since Freeman turned up.” He flipped the ammo crate open and carefully loaded one of the rockets into his RPG, steadying it on his shoulder. Nuri did likewise, taking careful aim.
There was a gunshot- the prescribed signal. It was time to act.
They pulled the triggers.
But the rockets didn’t scream forward, trailing smoke- they leapt out with a pair of lacklustre “pop”s, and hit the ground several metres ahead of the lead Synth. They crumpled like tinfoil, and the APC ran over them with no ill effects.
“They’re duds!” Zyke bellowed. “It’s a trap! Get d-”
A mortar hit home. The floor cracked and they were thrown forward, pelted with shards of concrete and the useless rocket casings.
“What’s going on?” Quarir panted. Gunshots split the air to the accompaniment of shouts.
“It’s a damn trap,” Zyke snarled, “that’s what! Custer’s Avenue can’t be a real cell… they’re an invention! We came here to use ammo planted by a fake base!”
Nuri’s mouth gaped open. “But the radio… and the Lambda-”
“Anyone can use a radio or spray a damn mark on a wall! We need to get out of-”
Another mortar came, but it was mercifully inaccurate. The neighbouring rooftop exploded into dust and ceramic tiles.
“The other Synth are undoubtedly advancing through the west to avoid our ambush,” Pyotr said calmly.
“And they’ll take shots at us whenever they can,” Zyke rumbled. “They’ll take Vanguard whatever we do- they were trying to spread us thin! We took the bait- we have to get back!”
“They’re just Elites,” Carns said levelly, “we’ve taken them before! We’ll make it!” He steadied his Kalashnikov. “We will make it!”
Wedler died then- and Harrison- and others he couldn’t recognise. They went in a hail of pulse fire, and a matter sphere whistled over Carns’s head and claimed two lives in a burst of ineffable particles.
But the Elites were outnumbered- the first wave was gunned down by the rebels’ massed firepower as the group fell back through the maze of alleys. The remainder…
…didn’t follow. They were pulling away- and Elites never retreated. They knew no fear…
Carns had been leading his group towards the main road- Mortar Synth, after all, lacked short-ranged weaponry and would thus be preferable to Elites. Too encouraged to mind how the buildings around him were crumbling under mortars, Carns’s heart sang as they reached the passageway’s end and emerged into the street.
A firebombed car blocked their path- and standing atop of it was the tallest Elite they’d ever seen.
Eye glowing like a furnace, Forty levelled his pulse cannon and let loose two barrels of hell.
Here's the last of the chapter- a few characters are making returns... Dawn came quite abruptly- at least in Nalore’s eyes- but its progression was so sluggish that he was still at a loss to determine the exact time. “Way too early,” was the best he could manage.
Irregular meals and intermittent sleep aboard rickety vehicles had not only misaligned his biological clock- they’d stolen the winding key and flattened the whole thing with a sledgehammer. Quarir was sure that his nanotech was the only thing keeping him going- he was certain that a “normal” human would have died after all he’d been through.
Although Nuri, always stubbornly resisting logic, was still alive. He was quite glad of that.
For now it was still quite dark, and Nuri leant round the corner and scanned the alleyway. “Looks clear to me.”
Carns nodded. “Right. Wedler, Rebus- you’re with me. Zyke, take your lot round the other side.”
“Got it.” Zyke carefully edged his way through the magnetically-sealed trash units. But, totally annulling the Rot’s stealth, Quarir kept blundering into the garbage in the twilight, and Zyke was sure it wouldn’t be long until someone heard them.
Quarir watched Carns’s squad travel in the opposite direction, circumventing most of the residential block as if flanking an enemy. Which they may well have been, as they weren’t certain whereabouts the CPs had been posted to defend the approaching Synth. Carns and… what’s-his-face and what’s-her-name were armed to the teeth and reeked of competence, as Pyotr might put it, although Quarir had already forgotten who they actually were.
“So why’s it just us four?” Nalore whispered out of the corner of his mouth- but it came out far louder than he’d intended, and he winced under Zyke’s glare.
“Because we’ve got the best chance of survival,” Zyke said flatly. “You, me, and Pyotr are abnormally tough-”
“Or perhaps just abnormal,” The Vortigaunt chirped, indulging in a rare moment of jest.
“-and we’ve got a plasma rifle and a revolver that never seems to run out.”
Quarir frowned. That made sense, but it sounded like a shoddy fantasy-theme simulation to him. Congratulations, you’ve defeated the Wizard of Snot and you now have an Unlimited Combustion Pistol +2… You needed more than fancy hardware- both in weaponry and in internal workings- to overcome the odds they were facing.
“What I actually meant,” he continued, “is why there were a lot of volunteers, but only we were sent out-”
“Because, like I said, we’ve got the best chance of survival. Remember, Charlie was one of the volunteers.” He looked over his shoulder- the other team had disappeared. “But I don’t think it’s just that- I think Carns and Calhoun suspect something,” he continued in a lower voice, “they seem very quiet.”
“We have had to be alert at all times,” Pyotr intoned. “Traitors are an ever-present threat. Once we had great wariness of mankind’s efforts, but we have learnt to trust them, accepting the differences between your individuals.” The ‘Gaunt bowed his head profoundly. “What was the Combine’s reckoning is now ours. We alone can decide our fate, no matter how tries to shape it.”
Again, Pyotr had made a speech that would’ve been pretentious and unnecessarily vague in the mouth of a human but felt… right, from those of a Vortigaunt. As if their species had earned the right to be mysterious.
“I suppose that’s just it,” Nuri sighed. “Choice versus destiny. Good versus evil.”
“Yes, but evil never sees itself as evil,” Zyke said flatly, stepping over a particularily large and malodorous trash container. “That’s why it’s evil.”
“’Cept the chaos factions and the death cults,” Quarir interjected, recalling a few of the Domarian Legion’s darker hours.
Zyke paused. “Yeah, them I guess-”
“And the Sect of Pain, they knew they were evil-”
“I get it, Quarir.”
They rounded the corner- and, already there at the other end of the apartment block, Carns made a complicated gesture and vanished from view.
“It’s clear at their end. Let’s get inside and find that rocket crate.”
Zyke- as the largest and strongest of them- was carrying two of Vanguard’s cherished RPGs. Quarir had eventually realised that this meant they were rocket propelled grenade launchers, rather than one of the role-playing games he’d played religiously back at Ucelsia’s simulation arcades.
They seemed quite high-tech, considering Earth’s usual standards- Zyke had explained about their targeting systems, laser sights that allowed the explosive projectiles to track even the most manoeuvrable of foes. Carns was certain that this accuracy would allow them to hit a Mortar Synth’s purported weak point.
And so there was a stash of almost thirty rockets secreted in this condemned apartment block, one of the many prepared for this kind of situation. The Combine had taken to manufacturing the rockets themselves- originally they’d only used Earth’s technology for efficiency’s sake, equipping their infantry with existing weapons simply because they were plentiful- but they seemed to have developed a taste for that particular variety of mankind’s munitions.
Quarir didn’t know if the Combine had ever used such missiles before Earth- from what he’d heard, they’d always stuck faithfully to pulse weapon variants and their infamous distortion cannons- but the Hunter-Seeker rotorcraft, themselves inspired by Earth’s helicopters, were covered in rocket launchers. The Protectorate, too, were starting to come equipped with smaller, handheld projection systems- and so their armouries always contained ample stock, ripe for theft.
The door was blocked by rubble- another remnant of some past conflict- so they clambered through a broken window. The room beyond looked devastated to Quarir, but Zyke- again recognising that all-too familiar expression of abject disbelief- assured Nalore that the upper floors were still quite accessible.
“We’re quite glad they attacked this place really,” Zyke said, pushing aside a loose chunk of concrete to demonstrate his point. “The Custer’s Avenue base is so unstable that the Combine would never think we’d still use it.”
“Lovely,” Quarir said weakly, noting how the whole place seemed to sag when the Rot moved the wreckage.
But he’d concede that this was the right place- there was the famous Lambda symbol on the wall, and the building matched their briefing description.
After a particularily uncomfortable journey they’d all rather forget- involving a brief distance that still involved squeezing through rough-walled gaps and clambering over unsteady heaps of rubble- they reached the vantage point Zyke had alluded to.
The upper floor had been destroyed by the past battle, so strictly speaking they were standing on the second-highest floor. Quarir felt quite exposed without the roof- but there were still chunks of wall dotting the place, making for decent cover should a fire fight break out.
“Is that the street they’ll head down?” Nuri pointed to the wide road below them.
“Yeah,” Zyke nodded, “it’s the only place they’ll fit. There’ll be a lot of them- but all we need to do is take down one, to get their attention. After that we can fall back, repeat the process, and that should buy Vanguard enough time to shift everyone.”
Zyke walked over to a jutting concrete peak that looked no different to any other- but he heaved a slab away effortlessly, revealing a green ammunition crate. Ever suspicious, he opened it, but seeing that it was filled with carefully stacked rockets he relaxed.
“Thing is,” Quarir licked his lips, “they’ll just move on to Vanguard. I mean, they know where it is and that it’s big enough to-”
Zyke closed the crate, gently gripped a shoulder and turned Nalore around, so they were facing a crack to their right. On street level, three-dozen Resistance members were visible, hurriedly moving in the direction Carns had gone.
“You didn’t really think it’d just be left to us, did you?” Zyke grinned. “Carns and co. were just scouts. They’ll flank the Synth, kill the guards, and make them think we’ve got a big Resistance cell right here. Mortar Synth can’t fire at close range- they can keep them busy for hours.”
Nuri smiled- both at the prospect of success and Quarir’s revelatory expression. “It’s certainly been well orchestrated,” she said.
Pyotr nodded. “Vanguard has intercepted radio chatter- and we have confirmed the plans. The Combine has had Vanguard’s destruction scheduled for two days: they anticipated the end of the campaign at City 13 and allocated Synth accordingly.”
“I suppose even genocide needs forward planning,” Zyke muttered humourlessly.
They settled down and waited.
---
As Calhoun had said, the Synth were already on the move- they appeared within ten minutes, lazily lumbering through the double-lane of the road and crushing flame-gutted cars under their pointed feet. There was an APC at the fore of the convoy- but only three Mortar Synth.
“We’d expected more,” Zyke rubbed his chin. “It’s not like the Combine to underestimate us… not since Freeman turned up.” He flipped the ammo crate open and carefully loaded one of the rockets into his RPG, steadying it on his shoulder. Nuri did likewise, taking careful aim.
There was a gunshot- the prescribed signal. It was time to act.
They pulled the triggers.
But the rockets didn’t scream forward, trailing smoke- they leapt out with a pair of lacklustre “pop”s, and hit the ground several metres ahead of the lead Synth. They crumpled like tinfoil, and the APC ran over them with no ill effects.
“They’re duds!” Zyke bellowed. “It’s a trap! Get d-”
A mortar hit home. The floor cracked and they were thrown forward, pelted with shards of concrete and the useless rocket casings.
“What’s going on?” Quarir panted. Gunshots split the air to the accompaniment of shouts.
“It’s a damn trap,” Zyke snarled, “that’s what! Custer’s Avenue can’t be a real cell… they’re an invention! We came here to use ammo planted by a fake base!”
Nuri’s mouth gaped open. “But the radio… and the Lambda-”
“Anyone can use a radio or spray a damn mark on a wall! We need to get out of-”
Another mortar came, but it was mercifully inaccurate. The neighbouring rooftop exploded into dust and ceramic tiles.
“The other Synth are undoubtedly advancing through the west to avoid our ambush,” Pyotr said calmly.
“And they’ll take shots at us whenever they can,” Zyke rumbled. “They’ll take Vanguard whatever we do- they were trying to spread us thin! We took the bait- we have to get back!”
---
“They’re just Elites,” Carns said levelly, “we’ve taken them before! We’ll make it!” He steadied his Kalashnikov. “We will make it!”
Wedler died then- and Harrison- and others he couldn’t recognise. They went in a hail of pulse fire, and a matter sphere whistled over Carns’s head and claimed two lives in a burst of ineffable particles.
But the Elites were outnumbered- the first wave was gunned down by the rebels’ massed firepower as the group fell back through the maze of alleys. The remainder…
…didn’t follow. They were pulling away- and Elites never retreated. They knew no fear…
Carns had been leading his group towards the main road- Mortar Synth, after all, lacked short-ranged weaponry and would thus be preferable to Elites. Too encouraged to mind how the buildings around him were crumbling under mortars, Carns’s heart sang as they reached the passageway’s end and emerged into the street.
A firebombed car blocked their path- and standing atop of it was the tallest Elite they’d ever seen.
Eye glowing like a furnace, Forty levelled his pulse cannon and let loose two barrels of hell.
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It'll all be over soon... the entirity of No. 31 is below!
Bruised, stained with blood and dust from their mad flight to safety, the four rebels ran for their lives. They had to get back to Vanguard- to help in its defence- although they suspected that it was already too late.
Mortars still fell, but Quarir had started to suspect that they were being fired on the move- if that was even possible- simply due to their sheer inaccuracy. This residential sector was sparsely populated, but the Protectorate was showing no regard for collateral damage.
RPGs on their backs, assault rifles at the ready, they moved on. Quarir had removed the plasma rifle from his backpack- he was now at the stage where he frankly didn’t care if anyone asked tough questions- and he felt significantly safer with the chromed device in his hands.
“Tunnels,” Zyke said, “head back to the tunnels.”
“There’s a danger of collapse-” Nuri protested.
“Yeah? Well there’s a danger of mortars-to-the-face if we don’t get out of here soon. We need to reach the forces at Vanguard without bumping into any more Combine.”
“We have been telling the Resistance at Vanguard to evacuate,” Pyotr began, “but many are refusing. They feel that their ‘best bet’ is to remain and fight.”
“But there’re at least ten Mortar Synths on the move!” Quarir blustered.
“We have explained that- and still they remain. They do not believe how dire their situation is- many rejected Barney Calhoun’s order.”
“Well the many are idiots,” Zyke snapped. “Our only hope is to get the hell out of Vanguard before it’s too late.”
“But what can we do?” Nalore winced when he realised how much he sounded like Dasther or Gregory. “We can’t make them leave- where do we go, even if we get back to Vanguard?”
“I never thought I’d say this,” Zyke breathed, “but I think Yuza might be some help. She’s an Enforcer, so she’ll reach the Nexus okay- she’s hard as nails. All she needs to do is take out one of the Overwatch relays- at least, according to Calhoun- and then people like him will know how to open the compound gates. Then we can take the fight back to the Combine.”
“Barney Calhoun continues to lead his push to the Citadel,” Pyotr interjected. “He has encountered mixed successes. He hoped that more rebels from Vanguard would follow him- but to their shame, they have not been supportive.”
“Typical, isn’t it?” Nuri frowned. “The one chance we get, and it’s the Resistance itself who screws it up. The Combine don’t need to bother- we can beat ourselves well enough.”
The left the street- and they saw Vanguard. The huge bastion of the Resistance took a mortar hit as they watched- but the concrete monolith barely cracked. What was of most interest was the encircled APCs, and the gunfight taking place on all levels. If they got caught in the crossfire…
“Here’s a tunnel,” Zyke said suddenly.
Quarir looked. “Uh, it’s just a big pile of rocks.”
“We can shift them. See this one?” Zyke patted a truly gigantic slab. “Help me move it.”
“What? It’ll weigh a ton-”
“C’mon, you sissy!” Nuri said teasingly.
Quarir took up one end and heaved. His long-suffering bionics whined with the effort and coloured fireworks went off behind his eyes, but the slab rose slowly. With a final push, they sent it slamming onto a patch of clear ground.
“God damn,” Quarir wheezed.
“I was taking most of the weight, you wimp,” Zyke grinned, and stepped down the subway’s stairs. “We’ve still got time. Let’s go help Calhoun.”
“The Vorts have told you already- they’re coming!” Zyke shouted from the gantries. “Can you picture that? Ten Mortar Synth, firing in volleys. Vanguard will be flattened!”
Someone piped up. “It can’t be that bad out there if you got back-”
“We took the tunnels! Half of you have left- why are the rest of you so dumb?”
Quarir saw a couple of people slink off- hopefully towards the ramp and the outside world.
A mortar hit- only the second in five minutes- and Vanguard barely rattled. “If that’s the best they can do, we can take it!” someone sneered.
“We’re talking ten of them!” Zyke roared. “Get that! Ten!”
The subway had been a picnic- just a long, empty tunnel they traversed easily, although Zyke had to bulldoze his way through the collapsed exit. Their entrance had caused quite the stir, although they’d just lied and claimed it had been made through explosives, and that the man who said he saw Zichekoam lift a boulder with his bare hands was hallucinating.
“We can hold out perfectly here.” Dasther had made himself apparent- he was standing on the catwalk parallel to Zyke’s. “If we go outside, we’ll face the CPs without cover.”
“And if we stay inside, we’ll face a constant rain of high explosives,” Kat said steadily.
“You know, they’ve all got a point,” Gregory voiced uncomfortably. “I saw what the Synth did to Stone Well…”
Kat nodded. “And they’ll bring Striders in. We won’t survive their distortion cannons.”
“Right,” Charlie shouted from the floor. Quarir couldn’t help wondering why he was still here…
“If you’re so willing to die, I suggest you leave us be and go yourself,” Dasther snapped.
“Oh, I intend to- Sam and I will depart within the next three minutes,” Katya continued calmly. “I just hoped you’d all see sense, and that we could go together. I wanted to make one last effort to persuade you.”
“As it is, we feel that our knowledge should be made available to all,” Pyotr- or it could have been Sam- shouted. The two Vortigaunts were standing on the broken crane that dominated the factory floor.
“Indeed,” said the other. “We swore not to interfere, but the consensus is thus- we are to mention that Dasther was the Resistance leader who instructed the residents of Ravenholm to remain where they were.”
“He ordered them to stay, ignoring the reports of gathering Synth.”
“Dasther is already responsible for a thousand severed ties. Do not make him responsible for more.”
“We are leaving. We recommend that you do so. That is all, for now.”
Pandemonium reigned.
Forty walked on.
Dropships and Gunships flew overhead in their droves- Scanners flying beneath them like fledglings- but he preferred to advance on foot. He had it on the highest authority that the Domarian was nearby… besides, it meant he could murder anything that got in his way. He had, for example, just slaughtered thirteen rebels in a very satisfactory bloodbath.
Freeman, he was told, would arrive soon- and this was his primary reason for walking. He did not question how his Benefactors knew this- only that it meant he could soon fulfil his purpose.
Freeman was everything.
“You’ve ruined everything,” Dasther snarled. “You’re sending them to their deaths-”
“Then at least it’ll be their choice,” Zyke said levelly. “I have a past myself- I can’t judge you- but I’ll tell you this: you’re an idiotic bastard. Now shut up and get out of here!”
He shoved him, and Dasther almost fell. The man shot Zyke a venomous glance, and moved away- but not towards the ramp.
Despite what he’d said, Pyotr was still in Vanguard, standing on the factory floor with the group. Katya and Sam had moved on- barely pausing to exchange greetings- and the place was emptying rapidly.
There was gunfire from outside- and there would be casualties- but there were far more rebels than there were CPs. They would triumph.
“Well,” said Gregory- who had sent his old Aegis friends ahead- “looks like logic won out.” He paused, and then nodded, seating himself upon a toppled pillar. “Well done.”
Zyke grinned. “We can congratulate one another once we get to Barney.”
Three mortars hit, in quick succession. Vanguard shook, and a large shard of concrete clanged into the metal of a walkway.
“Looks like we’ve timed it alright,” Quarir murmured.
“Ah, I wouldn’t stress over it.” For once, Gregory smiled. “What have we got to worry about?”
“Oh, plenty, I should think.”
The Zealot dropped down from the gantry way and pulled Gregory’s head from his shoulders.
Gregory’s body tumbled to the ground, and his skull was tossed aside like a blood-trailing ball.
The Zealot straightened up. He was unmarked- his armour still shone, his robe was still a dark, unfaded red. He smiled.
Quarir flew backwards over the pillar, propelled by a psionic bolt of intense strength.
“I wanted more from that,” the Zealot said disappointedly, “not much of a fighter.”
Another bolt arced forward and struck the assassin’s chest. “Want that?” Zyke bellowed. His woollen glove exploded into glowing fibres, and psychic energy danced between his fingers. “Right here, right now, I’ll take you-”
“That’s mine,” the Zealot said irritably, waving a hand.
Zyke’s gauntlet exploded in a crackle of twisting energy, consuming him in blinding fire. He keeled over with a sigh, the charred remains of the booby-trapped amplifier bleeding sparks just as he bled his lifeblood.
“You left more than that behind!” Nuri snarled, incandescent with anger. She emptied the .357 at his head.
“Yes: that’s also a part of me,” the Arcadimaarian informed her smugly, unscathed.
And then she saw- the Zealot had caught the bullets- caught the bullets- in his gauntleted hand. He smiled, and clicked his fingers. The revolver he’d infused so long ago glowed white-hot- Nuri sank to her knees, gasping, but she couldn’t drop it. Every nerve cell in her body screamed in agony, but she couldn’t relinquish her grip.
“Pathetic,” the Arcadimaarian sneered. “An alliance of backward, mindless primitives-”
There was a thunderous sound, and the Zealot grunted in pain- Pyotr had discharged every ounce of his bioelectric being at the assassin. Green sparks poured off the Zealot’s armour, small bolts of lightning dissipating from every metal plate, and he turned to the Vortigaunt, his face a mask of blind hatred.
The .357 fell from her hand, but it had been too much for Nuri- she passed out. Quarir, too, safe behind the fallen pillar and free of his would-be killer’s slowly suffocating influence, groaned and groggily rose to his feet. Pyotr noted this and felt that he’d made a difference.
Nalore watched what happened next, and he’d never forget it. The conversation was all he could hear, despite the constant barrage of mortars.
“Your wordiness betrays your failures,” the Vort said heavily. “You maintain a masquerade of competence when you are cripplingly reliant on outside influences. You indulge your own weaknesses yet belittle the strengths of others. We have seen great power in these civilisations, but we see only nihilism in yours. You are a non-being, unworthy of consciousness.”
“And you… are dead.”
Pyotr’s body spun backwards, propelled by a scything arc of pure energy.
“Pyotr!” Quarir gasped. “He killed Pyotr!”
“So what?” Dasther sniffed, lingering beside the retreating masses. “There’re hundreds of Vorts, and they’re all the same-”
Without looking, Quarir drew his arm back and punched Dasther in the face. Not realising his own strength, he sent the man spiralling into unconsciousness.
“We have to help them!” he cried to the rest of the group, oblivious to the stunned rebel- but the squad were already moving away, aware of greater problems- the building was crumbling around them. “C’mon!” Quarir pleaded, “What are you doing!?”
“We have to go,” Charlie pulled at his shoulder urgently, “don’t make them waste their lives-”
I’ll be fine. Get Nuri out of here.
“What?” Nalore demanded, and Charlie said something, thinking he was being addressed, but Quarir didn’t hear him.
I’ll be fine. Do it! Zyke’s voice echoed through his mind.
Quarir hopped over the barrier of concrete and grabbed Nuri, desperately trying to drag her to safety. “I can’t leave you too. You won’t be that heavy, I could-”
Zyke had stood up, but his posture was… different, somehow.
The hell you can’t! We don’t need more than one stupid heroic gesture! Get them all to safety! The Combine’s the threat, not this bastard! Run!
The Zealot turned to Zyke and grinned wickedly.
“Oh, back for more?” The Arcadimaarian laughed. “I could’ve sworn that I killed you.”
“You did,” Zyke growled- and it was a growl, his voice thick with feral menace.
Tears in his eyes, Quarir ran up the passage, carrying Nuri with him. Silently- aware that Nalore was already grieving for his friend- Charlie hefted Dasther up and followed him, dragging the man over gravel. Knowing that he’d best face the outside world with a weapon, Charlie grabbed an odd looking, silver-cased rifle from the floor and balanced it precariously on Dasther’s leg.
Debris fell like rain, dust swirling through the tunnels. The mortars had become a rhythmic heartbeat of artillery fire.
“You’re quite the freak,” the Zealot taunted Zyke, flexing his fingers, light crackling between his open palms.
“Maybe I am am,” Zyke stuttered, “but but as I’ve always always said said…”
His skin tore, his clothes shredded, his arms lengthened- Zyke changed. Fingers became flesh rending claws, his legs rippled with muscles and his face twisted suddenly, horribly, into a truly nightmarish fang-lined maw.
“I’m a POWERFUL ONE...”
With a cry of pure, demonic rage, the Rot, in what was to be his last incarnation, hurled himself at the Zealot.
Chapter 31: Sacrifice
Bruised, stained with blood and dust from their mad flight to safety, the four rebels ran for their lives. They had to get back to Vanguard- to help in its defence- although they suspected that it was already too late.
Mortars still fell, but Quarir had started to suspect that they were being fired on the move- if that was even possible- simply due to their sheer inaccuracy. This residential sector was sparsely populated, but the Protectorate was showing no regard for collateral damage.
RPGs on their backs, assault rifles at the ready, they moved on. Quarir had removed the plasma rifle from his backpack- he was now at the stage where he frankly didn’t care if anyone asked tough questions- and he felt significantly safer with the chromed device in his hands.
“Tunnels,” Zyke said, “head back to the tunnels.”
“There’s a danger of collapse-” Nuri protested.
“Yeah? Well there’s a danger of mortars-to-the-face if we don’t get out of here soon. We need to reach the forces at Vanguard without bumping into any more Combine.”
“We have been telling the Resistance at Vanguard to evacuate,” Pyotr began, “but many are refusing. They feel that their ‘best bet’ is to remain and fight.”
“But there’re at least ten Mortar Synths on the move!” Quarir blustered.
“We have explained that- and still they remain. They do not believe how dire their situation is- many rejected Barney Calhoun’s order.”
“Well the many are idiots,” Zyke snapped. “Our only hope is to get the hell out of Vanguard before it’s too late.”
“But what can we do?” Nalore winced when he realised how much he sounded like Dasther or Gregory. “We can’t make them leave- where do we go, even if we get back to Vanguard?”
“I never thought I’d say this,” Zyke breathed, “but I think Yuza might be some help. She’s an Enforcer, so she’ll reach the Nexus okay- she’s hard as nails. All she needs to do is take out one of the Overwatch relays- at least, according to Calhoun- and then people like him will know how to open the compound gates. Then we can take the fight back to the Combine.”
“Barney Calhoun continues to lead his push to the Citadel,” Pyotr interjected. “He has encountered mixed successes. He hoped that more rebels from Vanguard would follow him- but to their shame, they have not been supportive.”
“Typical, isn’t it?” Nuri frowned. “The one chance we get, and it’s the Resistance itself who screws it up. The Combine don’t need to bother- we can beat ourselves well enough.”
The left the street- and they saw Vanguard. The huge bastion of the Resistance took a mortar hit as they watched- but the concrete monolith barely cracked. What was of most interest was the encircled APCs, and the gunfight taking place on all levels. If they got caught in the crossfire…
“Here’s a tunnel,” Zyke said suddenly.
Quarir looked. “Uh, it’s just a big pile of rocks.”
“We can shift them. See this one?” Zyke patted a truly gigantic slab. “Help me move it.”
“What? It’ll weigh a ton-”
“C’mon, you sissy!” Nuri said teasingly.
Quarir took up one end and heaved. His long-suffering bionics whined with the effort and coloured fireworks went off behind his eyes, but the slab rose slowly. With a final push, they sent it slamming onto a patch of clear ground.
“God damn,” Quarir wheezed.
“I was taking most of the weight, you wimp,” Zyke grinned, and stepped down the subway’s stairs. “We’ve still got time. Let’s go help Calhoun.”
---
“The Vorts have told you already- they’re coming!” Zyke shouted from the gantries. “Can you picture that? Ten Mortar Synth, firing in volleys. Vanguard will be flattened!”
Someone piped up. “It can’t be that bad out there if you got back-”
“We took the tunnels! Half of you have left- why are the rest of you so dumb?”
Quarir saw a couple of people slink off- hopefully towards the ramp and the outside world.
A mortar hit- only the second in five minutes- and Vanguard barely rattled. “If that’s the best they can do, we can take it!” someone sneered.
“We’re talking ten of them!” Zyke roared. “Get that! Ten!”
The subway had been a picnic- just a long, empty tunnel they traversed easily, although Zyke had to bulldoze his way through the collapsed exit. Their entrance had caused quite the stir, although they’d just lied and claimed it had been made through explosives, and that the man who said he saw Zichekoam lift a boulder with his bare hands was hallucinating.
“We can hold out perfectly here.” Dasther had made himself apparent- he was standing on the catwalk parallel to Zyke’s. “If we go outside, we’ll face the CPs without cover.”
“And if we stay inside, we’ll face a constant rain of high explosives,” Kat said steadily.
“You know, they’ve all got a point,” Gregory voiced uncomfortably. “I saw what the Synth did to Stone Well…”
Kat nodded. “And they’ll bring Striders in. We won’t survive their distortion cannons.”
“Right,” Charlie shouted from the floor. Quarir couldn’t help wondering why he was still here…
“If you’re so willing to die, I suggest you leave us be and go yourself,” Dasther snapped.
“Oh, I intend to- Sam and I will depart within the next three minutes,” Katya continued calmly. “I just hoped you’d all see sense, and that we could go together. I wanted to make one last effort to persuade you.”
“As it is, we feel that our knowledge should be made available to all,” Pyotr- or it could have been Sam- shouted. The two Vortigaunts were standing on the broken crane that dominated the factory floor.
“Indeed,” said the other. “We swore not to interfere, but the consensus is thus- we are to mention that Dasther was the Resistance leader who instructed the residents of Ravenholm to remain where they were.”
“He ordered them to stay, ignoring the reports of gathering Synth.”
“Dasther is already responsible for a thousand severed ties. Do not make him responsible for more.”
“We are leaving. We recommend that you do so. That is all, for now.”
Pandemonium reigned.
---
Forty walked on.
Dropships and Gunships flew overhead in their droves- Scanners flying beneath them like fledglings- but he preferred to advance on foot. He had it on the highest authority that the Domarian was nearby… besides, it meant he could murder anything that got in his way. He had, for example, just slaughtered thirteen rebels in a very satisfactory bloodbath.
Freeman, he was told, would arrive soon- and this was his primary reason for walking. He did not question how his Benefactors knew this- only that it meant he could soon fulfil his purpose.
Freeman was everything.
---
“You’ve ruined everything,” Dasther snarled. “You’re sending them to their deaths-”
“Then at least it’ll be their choice,” Zyke said levelly. “I have a past myself- I can’t judge you- but I’ll tell you this: you’re an idiotic bastard. Now shut up and get out of here!”
He shoved him, and Dasther almost fell. The man shot Zyke a venomous glance, and moved away- but not towards the ramp.
Despite what he’d said, Pyotr was still in Vanguard, standing on the factory floor with the group. Katya and Sam had moved on- barely pausing to exchange greetings- and the place was emptying rapidly.
There was gunfire from outside- and there would be casualties- but there were far more rebels than there were CPs. They would triumph.
“Well,” said Gregory- who had sent his old Aegis friends ahead- “looks like logic won out.” He paused, and then nodded, seating himself upon a toppled pillar. “Well done.”
Zyke grinned. “We can congratulate one another once we get to Barney.”
Three mortars hit, in quick succession. Vanguard shook, and a large shard of concrete clanged into the metal of a walkway.
“Looks like we’ve timed it alright,” Quarir murmured.
“Ah, I wouldn’t stress over it.” For once, Gregory smiled. “What have we got to worry about?”
“Oh, plenty, I should think.”
The Zealot dropped down from the gantry way and pulled Gregory’s head from his shoulders.
---
Gregory’s body tumbled to the ground, and his skull was tossed aside like a blood-trailing ball.
The Zealot straightened up. He was unmarked- his armour still shone, his robe was still a dark, unfaded red. He smiled.
Quarir flew backwards over the pillar, propelled by a psionic bolt of intense strength.
“I wanted more from that,” the Zealot said disappointedly, “not much of a fighter.”
Another bolt arced forward and struck the assassin’s chest. “Want that?” Zyke bellowed. His woollen glove exploded into glowing fibres, and psychic energy danced between his fingers. “Right here, right now, I’ll take you-”
“That’s mine,” the Zealot said irritably, waving a hand.
Zyke’s gauntlet exploded in a crackle of twisting energy, consuming him in blinding fire. He keeled over with a sigh, the charred remains of the booby-trapped amplifier bleeding sparks just as he bled his lifeblood.
“You left more than that behind!” Nuri snarled, incandescent with anger. She emptied the .357 at his head.
“Yes: that’s also a part of me,” the Arcadimaarian informed her smugly, unscathed.
And then she saw- the Zealot had caught the bullets- caught the bullets- in his gauntleted hand. He smiled, and clicked his fingers. The revolver he’d infused so long ago glowed white-hot- Nuri sank to her knees, gasping, but she couldn’t drop it. Every nerve cell in her body screamed in agony, but she couldn’t relinquish her grip.
“Pathetic,” the Arcadimaarian sneered. “An alliance of backward, mindless primitives-”
There was a thunderous sound, and the Zealot grunted in pain- Pyotr had discharged every ounce of his bioelectric being at the assassin. Green sparks poured off the Zealot’s armour, small bolts of lightning dissipating from every metal plate, and he turned to the Vortigaunt, his face a mask of blind hatred.
The .357 fell from her hand, but it had been too much for Nuri- she passed out. Quarir, too, safe behind the fallen pillar and free of his would-be killer’s slowly suffocating influence, groaned and groggily rose to his feet. Pyotr noted this and felt that he’d made a difference.
Nalore watched what happened next, and he’d never forget it. The conversation was all he could hear, despite the constant barrage of mortars.
“Your wordiness betrays your failures,” the Vort said heavily. “You maintain a masquerade of competence when you are cripplingly reliant on outside influences. You indulge your own weaknesses yet belittle the strengths of others. We have seen great power in these civilisations, but we see only nihilism in yours. You are a non-being, unworthy of consciousness.”
“And you… are dead.”
Pyotr’s body spun backwards, propelled by a scything arc of pure energy.
“Pyotr!” Quarir gasped. “He killed Pyotr!”
“So what?” Dasther sniffed, lingering beside the retreating masses. “There’re hundreds of Vorts, and they’re all the same-”
Without looking, Quarir drew his arm back and punched Dasther in the face. Not realising his own strength, he sent the man spiralling into unconsciousness.
“We have to help them!” he cried to the rest of the group, oblivious to the stunned rebel- but the squad were already moving away, aware of greater problems- the building was crumbling around them. “C’mon!” Quarir pleaded, “What are you doing!?”
“We have to go,” Charlie pulled at his shoulder urgently, “don’t make them waste their lives-”
I’ll be fine. Get Nuri out of here.
“What?” Nalore demanded, and Charlie said something, thinking he was being addressed, but Quarir didn’t hear him.
I’ll be fine. Do it! Zyke’s voice echoed through his mind.
Quarir hopped over the barrier of concrete and grabbed Nuri, desperately trying to drag her to safety. “I can’t leave you too. You won’t be that heavy, I could-”
Zyke had stood up, but his posture was… different, somehow.
The hell you can’t! We don’t need more than one stupid heroic gesture! Get them all to safety! The Combine’s the threat, not this bastard! Run!
The Zealot turned to Zyke and grinned wickedly.
“Oh, back for more?” The Arcadimaarian laughed. “I could’ve sworn that I killed you.”
“You did,” Zyke growled- and it was a growl, his voice thick with feral menace.
Tears in his eyes, Quarir ran up the passage, carrying Nuri with him. Silently- aware that Nalore was already grieving for his friend- Charlie hefted Dasther up and followed him, dragging the man over gravel. Knowing that he’d best face the outside world with a weapon, Charlie grabbed an odd looking, silver-cased rifle from the floor and balanced it precariously on Dasther’s leg.
Debris fell like rain, dust swirling through the tunnels. The mortars had become a rhythmic heartbeat of artillery fire.
“You’re quite the freak,” the Zealot taunted Zyke, flexing his fingers, light crackling between his open palms.
“Maybe I am am,” Zyke stuttered, “but but as I’ve always always said said…”
His skin tore, his clothes shredded, his arms lengthened- Zyke changed. Fingers became flesh rending claws, his legs rippled with muscles and his face twisted suddenly, horribly, into a truly nightmarish fang-lined maw.
“I’m a POWERFUL ONE...”
With a cry of pure, demonic rage, the Rot, in what was to be his last incarnation, hurled himself at the Zealot.
Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
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And this is the first half of the last ever chapter! (Discounting the epilogue, of course...) :O
“Barney’s just outside the Nexus compound,” Charlie said. “I heard it on the radio- Kat and Werner and Zosia and Ruth and everyone else trying to set up a new frontline behind his group. I don’t know how well-”
Charlie trailed to a halt- as if Quarir’s hush had interrupted him.
“It’ll all be all right, you know,” the young rebel said quietly.
Quarir sighed. “How can it be all right, Charlie? Dmitri, Pyotr, Nuri, Zyke- everyone’s just… just…” Quarir went silent.
“Nuri will be fine,” Charlie said. He nodded towards her- she was propped up behind a large peak of rubble. Gunfire- City 17’s classic tune- rang around them unceasingly, and the mortars provided background.
The Resistance had overcome the CPs- not that Quarir seemed to care. Vanguard now had a perimeter of semi-safety, a line where the wounded could be treated and the weary could buy some rest. Dasther was strewn across some stretcher- but only the most professional medic could treat him without frowning.
“I’d kind of like to know,” Charlie began, “what’s going on. That guy wasn’t Combine. At least,” the Resistance member copped out of his confrontational tone, “I don’t think so.”
“You know what, Charlie?” Quarir looked at him. “I don’t care anymore. The guy was a Zealot- he’s an Arcadimaarian. The Arcadimaarians are the Domarian Legion’s sworn enemies- and I’m a Domarian, not a human. I’m here because my ‘boss’ sent me here to reverse my criminal record.”
“Ah. That explains this, then.”
“That’s my plasma rifle!”
“Yeah, I picked it up- you dropped it.” Charlie handed the weapon back. “I knew you were an alien or something, man. I mean, Nuri didn’t go for me- that can’t be natural.”
“Uh…”
“I mean, you three didn’t look alien,” Charlie conceded, “although Zyke’s shape shifting… thing… was a hint, but you acted weird.”
“Charlie, Nuri isn’t a-”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Quarir wiped a hand across his eyes. “You seem to be taking it all in your stride.”
“Hey, I grew up hearing about what Earth used to be like- so I’ve lived with aliens since I can remember. Combine control has been all I’ve known- at least you guys look like people.” Charlie sat down. “Thanks, you know. For the help. ‘Cos this ain’t your war, or anything.”
“It is, Charlie. I think it always was.”
“A lovely sentiment, Nalore.”
Quarir stood bolt upright.
“The Resistance member known as Barney Calhoun is two kilometres to the northeast,” Maintonon told him. “You must head three kilometres to the west.”
“Yes,” said Pyotr, “the Uclasion Artefact, as ever, speaks in terms of pure logic.”
Quarir and Charlie goggled. “Pyotr?”
“No, wait,” Quarir shook his head, “this is Sam. Pyotr was-”
“Incorrect, Quarir Nalore. I am the Vortigaunt you know as Pyotr- we cannot be harmed through psionic means,” the ‘Gaunt intoned. “Any form of telepathic attack is twisted throughout the Vortessence. A thousand minds take the burden. A mere Arcadimaarian could never breach the wall of our spirit.”
The two men spoke at once. “What do you mean, Ulcasion Artefact?” Charlie began.
“So where’s the Zealot?” demanded Quarir.
“The Uclasion Artefact is the entity that rules Quarir Nalore’s people, Charlie Harris.” Pyotr cocked his head. “And the most-despised Zealot is currently battling the Combine Elites with every sign of enjoyment.”
“Pyotr,” Quarir walked up to the Vort and stared him in his primary eye. “Don’t take this personally- but I need to know. I need to know what you know- I don’t want any of these mysteries, I don’t want any mention of secrets, I don’t want some bastard in a blue suit to pop up and I want to know if Maintonon has-”
“Quarir Nalore, you must understand that there are some things that no mind should have to take alone. Some things that no one must ever learn of. Our greatest philosopher put it thus: ‘cy-glang talar teth’luar’.”
“And I don’t want any damn philosophy quotes…!”
“Quarir Nalore, time is of the essence. Trust in our nature and trust in the strategies of the Artefact. We must head in the opposite direction to that of Barney Calhoun’s forces and congregate at the opposite corner of the Nexus compound. I shall carry Nuri Daekkler.”
Quarir felt Maintonon’s presence return. “You would do well to listen to the Vortigaunts, Nalore.”
Charlie blinked. “What the hell is happening now?”
“And kindly tell that Earth-dweller to be silent.”
Atop Vanguard’s smoking rooftop, a blue-suited bastard watched them leave.
Forty picked the nearest Elite up with one hand- his way of getting their attention. “Confirm what happened here!”
The Elite acted as if he wasn’t being suspended two feet from the ground. “An unidentified entity attacked our squadron during our attempted raid…”
That is correct, said Forty’s advisor, it was an Arcadimaarian. His support ship dares to occupy Union space. It is one light-year from this planet.
“This entity bested an entire squadron of Elites,” Forty said thoughtfully.
And thus you must kill him, Project Forty. Dispatch the Arcadimaarian before Freeman arrives. The Domarian is of secondary import!
“I think I get what’s going on,” Charlie said excitedly, “you’re trying to lure them away from Calhoun! It’s a double bluff! Make them think that Barney is the decoy when really we’re the decoy and he’s the real attack…”
“I don’t get what’s going on,” Quarir muttered. “Zyke is dead, and you’re all acting like it’s one big-”
“Many are dead, Quarir Nalore,” Pyotr croaked. “Do not belittle them with untimely grief. The Freeman will return within the hour- and once our task is done, the Freeman shall complete his own.”
“You know something, don’t you?” Quarir shoved an angry finger where the Vortigaunt’s nose would’ve been. “You’ve always known something-”
“Freeman’s coming back?” Charlie looked ecstatic. “How do you know?”
Quarir frowned. “Just tell us, Pyotr…”
“If you things would just die, it’d make my job far easier.”
Quarir felt a blow on the back of his neck, and he sank to the ground.
“It would be less enjoyable,” the Zealot admitted, adjusting his gauntlet, “that much is true, but it would be over so much quicker...”
“Ah,” Pyotr nodded. “The non-being returns, as predicted.”
“Shut up, abomination. I shall deal with you later- even if I have to pull your limbs off one by one. I did, after all, find close combat with the Rot quite exhilarating. Fortunately this human isn’t shielded like yourself-”
Charlie flew backward into the wall.
“-but he’s no fun at all. Oh, and to address the female- I know you’re feigning unconsciousness. That is not an original tactic- ultimately you’re all laughably incompetent.”
The Zealot whirled round, light leaping from his fingers, and Nuri slumped further forward with a sigh.
He bent down and grabbed the dazed Quarir by the throat. “At last,” the Arcadimaarian breathed, raising a fist that was burning with the heat of a sun, “it ends now, primate. You are my prize, despite Freeman’s promising ability. I am perfection, and you are nothing to me…”
Pyotr placed his hands together, and the Zealot raised a fist. “Don’t try a neural discharge again, creature. I can easily redirect it into your companion- and wouldn’t that be ironic?”
The Xenian watched him coolly. “This is merely a Vortigaunt claw-symbol, entropic one. It is ‘gl’halima’.”
“Oh?” The Zealot moved his fist lower, and Quarir’s fringe began to singe. “A rude gesture… how enlightened.”
“To a degree,” Pyotr looked past the Zealot. “‘Gl’halima’ roughly translates into ‘comeuppance’.”
A hand, encased in white armour, grabbed the Arcadimaarian’s wrist.
“You,” Forty hissed, his voice warped by unbridled madness and his machine-driven killer’s instinct, “are exactly what I have been searching for.”
Chapter 32: Malign Contingency
“Barney’s just outside the Nexus compound,” Charlie said. “I heard it on the radio- Kat and Werner and Zosia and Ruth and everyone else trying to set up a new frontline behind his group. I don’t know how well-”
Charlie trailed to a halt- as if Quarir’s hush had interrupted him.
“It’ll all be all right, you know,” the young rebel said quietly.
Quarir sighed. “How can it be all right, Charlie? Dmitri, Pyotr, Nuri, Zyke- everyone’s just… just…” Quarir went silent.
“Nuri will be fine,” Charlie said. He nodded towards her- she was propped up behind a large peak of rubble. Gunfire- City 17’s classic tune- rang around them unceasingly, and the mortars provided background.
The Resistance had overcome the CPs- not that Quarir seemed to care. Vanguard now had a perimeter of semi-safety, a line where the wounded could be treated and the weary could buy some rest. Dasther was strewn across some stretcher- but only the most professional medic could treat him without frowning.
“I’d kind of like to know,” Charlie began, “what’s going on. That guy wasn’t Combine. At least,” the Resistance member copped out of his confrontational tone, “I don’t think so.”
“You know what, Charlie?” Quarir looked at him. “I don’t care anymore. The guy was a Zealot- he’s an Arcadimaarian. The Arcadimaarians are the Domarian Legion’s sworn enemies- and I’m a Domarian, not a human. I’m here because my ‘boss’ sent me here to reverse my criminal record.”
“Ah. That explains this, then.”
“That’s my plasma rifle!”
“Yeah, I picked it up- you dropped it.” Charlie handed the weapon back. “I knew you were an alien or something, man. I mean, Nuri didn’t go for me- that can’t be natural.”
“Uh…”
“I mean, you three didn’t look alien,” Charlie conceded, “although Zyke’s shape shifting… thing… was a hint, but you acted weird.”
“Charlie, Nuri isn’t a-”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Quarir wiped a hand across his eyes. “You seem to be taking it all in your stride.”
“Hey, I grew up hearing about what Earth used to be like- so I’ve lived with aliens since I can remember. Combine control has been all I’ve known- at least you guys look like people.” Charlie sat down. “Thanks, you know. For the help. ‘Cos this ain’t your war, or anything.”
“It is, Charlie. I think it always was.”
“A lovely sentiment, Nalore.”
Quarir stood bolt upright.
“The Resistance member known as Barney Calhoun is two kilometres to the northeast,” Maintonon told him. “You must head three kilometres to the west.”
“Yes,” said Pyotr, “the Uclasion Artefact, as ever, speaks in terms of pure logic.”
Quarir and Charlie goggled. “Pyotr?”
“No, wait,” Quarir shook his head, “this is Sam. Pyotr was-”
“Incorrect, Quarir Nalore. I am the Vortigaunt you know as Pyotr- we cannot be harmed through psionic means,” the ‘Gaunt intoned. “Any form of telepathic attack is twisted throughout the Vortessence. A thousand minds take the burden. A mere Arcadimaarian could never breach the wall of our spirit.”
The two men spoke at once. “What do you mean, Ulcasion Artefact?” Charlie began.
“So where’s the Zealot?” demanded Quarir.
“The Uclasion Artefact is the entity that rules Quarir Nalore’s people, Charlie Harris.” Pyotr cocked his head. “And the most-despised Zealot is currently battling the Combine Elites with every sign of enjoyment.”
“Pyotr,” Quarir walked up to the Vort and stared him in his primary eye. “Don’t take this personally- but I need to know. I need to know what you know- I don’t want any of these mysteries, I don’t want any mention of secrets, I don’t want some bastard in a blue suit to pop up and I want to know if Maintonon has-”
“Quarir Nalore, you must understand that there are some things that no mind should have to take alone. Some things that no one must ever learn of. Our greatest philosopher put it thus: ‘cy-glang talar teth’luar’.”
“And I don’t want any damn philosophy quotes…!”
“Quarir Nalore, time is of the essence. Trust in our nature and trust in the strategies of the Artefact. We must head in the opposite direction to that of Barney Calhoun’s forces and congregate at the opposite corner of the Nexus compound. I shall carry Nuri Daekkler.”
Quarir felt Maintonon’s presence return. “You would do well to listen to the Vortigaunts, Nalore.”
Charlie blinked. “What the hell is happening now?”
“And kindly tell that Earth-dweller to be silent.”
Atop Vanguard’s smoking rooftop, a blue-suited bastard watched them leave.
---
Forty picked the nearest Elite up with one hand- his way of getting their attention. “Confirm what happened here!”
The Elite acted as if he wasn’t being suspended two feet from the ground. “An unidentified entity attacked our squadron during our attempted raid…”
That is correct, said Forty’s advisor, it was an Arcadimaarian. His support ship dares to occupy Union space. It is one light-year from this planet.
“This entity bested an entire squadron of Elites,” Forty said thoughtfully.
And thus you must kill him, Project Forty. Dispatch the Arcadimaarian before Freeman arrives. The Domarian is of secondary import!
---
“I think I get what’s going on,” Charlie said excitedly, “you’re trying to lure them away from Calhoun! It’s a double bluff! Make them think that Barney is the decoy when really we’re the decoy and he’s the real attack…”
“I don’t get what’s going on,” Quarir muttered. “Zyke is dead, and you’re all acting like it’s one big-”
“Many are dead, Quarir Nalore,” Pyotr croaked. “Do not belittle them with untimely grief. The Freeman will return within the hour- and once our task is done, the Freeman shall complete his own.”
“You know something, don’t you?” Quarir shoved an angry finger where the Vortigaunt’s nose would’ve been. “You’ve always known something-”
“Freeman’s coming back?” Charlie looked ecstatic. “How do you know?”
Quarir frowned. “Just tell us, Pyotr…”
“If you things would just die, it’d make my job far easier.”
Quarir felt a blow on the back of his neck, and he sank to the ground.
“It would be less enjoyable,” the Zealot admitted, adjusting his gauntlet, “that much is true, but it would be over so much quicker...”
“Ah,” Pyotr nodded. “The non-being returns, as predicted.”
“Shut up, abomination. I shall deal with you later- even if I have to pull your limbs off one by one. I did, after all, find close combat with the Rot quite exhilarating. Fortunately this human isn’t shielded like yourself-”
Charlie flew backward into the wall.
“-but he’s no fun at all. Oh, and to address the female- I know you’re feigning unconsciousness. That is not an original tactic- ultimately you’re all laughably incompetent.”
The Zealot whirled round, light leaping from his fingers, and Nuri slumped further forward with a sigh.
He bent down and grabbed the dazed Quarir by the throat. “At last,” the Arcadimaarian breathed, raising a fist that was burning with the heat of a sun, “it ends now, primate. You are my prize, despite Freeman’s promising ability. I am perfection, and you are nothing to me…”
Pyotr placed his hands together, and the Zealot raised a fist. “Don’t try a neural discharge again, creature. I can easily redirect it into your companion- and wouldn’t that be ironic?”
The Xenian watched him coolly. “This is merely a Vortigaunt claw-symbol, entropic one. It is ‘gl’halima’.”
“Oh?” The Zealot moved his fist lower, and Quarir’s fringe began to singe. “A rude gesture… how enlightened.”
“To a degree,” Pyotr looked past the Zealot. “‘Gl’halima’ roughly translates into ‘comeuppance’.”
A hand, encased in white armour, grabbed the Arcadimaarian’s wrist.
“You,” Forty hissed, his voice warped by unbridled madness and his machine-driven killer’s instinct, “are exactly what I have been searching for.”
Agent G-Man
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Oh god I can't wait for the next chapter!
Agent G-Man
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I have an idea Edcrab. How about you turn the fic into a comic, using poses, GMod, screenshots, that kind of stuff?
Bob_Marley
Tank
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Aww man, that was sooo good. I dont want it to end... but I know it must.;(
Edcrab
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Hmm... it would take twelve years, but that's a pretty damn neat idea you've got there Agent G-Man. If I ever find myself with enough ability to make a few character models, I'd definitely consider it
I'm working on both the end of the final chapter and the epilogue- so next time I post an update, MC will be finished :O Thanks, as always, for your constant feedback guys
I'm working on both the end of the final chapter and the epilogue- so next time I post an update, MC will be finished :O Thanks, as always, for your constant feedback guys
Agent G-Man
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Yes! conventional comic art! I suggest these ideas because I'm having trouble visualizing what the characters look like, the settings, a lot of that.
