N?-LIFE (Rate and Debate)

[Swilly]

No Life
Introduction​

Two weeks passed and it happened again. Chairs, cabinets and small tables were recklessly tipped over like the trees they were once carved from. The elderly man, frustrated with what he thought was long since had its final croak crawled its way back to life from mere non-existence. More precious commodities tumbled over into shards of their broken selves or slithered their way into wooden crevasses. His mind began to mix itself to shreds using anger as the blender to do so. He yoinked a chair down on its luck since it was in the horrible lump’s warpath. With all the withered strength a man far beyond his youth could muster. He slammed the chair onto the lump which responded with scarred yelp, it began to retract its feet to disappear into oblivion.
The man wheezed painfully into yet another false victory. He placed the chair thoughtfully behind himself for which to sit on. He groaned exhaustedly as his joints made cracking sounds that would confuse a small child of popcorn being prepared. He heard footsteps come rushing down the steps with due haste, his daughter emerging from the doorway to see the whole living room in chaos and disarray like a police raid for drugs just occurred. Her face’s muscles contoured through several emotions from the sight of the room. The first face was that of antagonism, her scorn pierced the frail shell of a once caring authority figure who was then just trying to help Humanity get back on its feet. The daughter’s face soon distorted to worry seeing her father tired and pale as if a ghost just played a joke on him.
The daughter spoke in a tone that her father knew all too well, “Dad? Are you alright?”
The father looked at his daughter coming to him in a comforting way and responded wearily, “I’m okay Dakota, just tired…” He slowly sank onto the sofa next to him, trying to rest the body that was running low on fuel.
Dakota sat next to father on the other side of the sofa, so not to get him flustered or annoyed. She nodded and knew he wasn’t telling her something, “What the hell happened here dad?”
Her father looked up with a face of innocence; he knew all too well she would most likely believe him. In a soft tone he confessed his sins to his daughter, “For the past month, a lump has been scouring across the rug…I’ve thought I killed it two weeks ago, but it came back and started knocking over the tables.”
Dakota looked at her father, trying to make what little sense her father was making. She thought in her head he was lying and was just going through an episode of dementia. But her father was weary and tired, and the work on making the XEN relay point safer to use for teleportation. It was also getting harder to keep transmissions with Dr.Issac Kleiner and Dr.Eli Vance to report updates of information and progress on his research.
“C’mon dad…Let me get you some water and then we’ll go do something else.” Her caring tone that only sounded like a daughter talking to her father lifted his up his spirits as he followed his daughter to the kitchen.
In a questioningly curious tone, the father asked Dakota, “When is William coming back?” They continued talking into the night.

 

[Swilly]

Chapter 1
Unforeseen Results​

A lonely pair of boots could be heard marching along. The echoes gave away the young man’s true despair. He walked forward as the boots mocked him by mimicking his feelings of wanting to be surrounded by others. But in a sense of compliance, an average person would also receive the feeling that both his feet and mind were lonely. But sibling rivalries only die during emergencies.
The lonely street was once part of the bustling suburban town centers that plagued the land like the Black Death. The town centers now under attack by the immortal assimilation of materials no longer protected by progress. The young man groaned as he walked into a two story fort of brick, mortar, metal and blood. It was once a gun shop but now it only serves as cache of infinite limited possibilities. He grabbed two boxes of tactical buckshot for his shotgun; it was intended to hunt beasts of similar looks but different tastes. He then yanked some of the AR2 clips required to properly defend himself; He quickly stuffed them into his hoody’s pouch like stuffing a turkey.
Outside, a group of people, or rather people that were once people, gathered and slumped their way towards the gun shop. They slumped their way up to the door and windows, where they began their music of hunger. Their groaning was easily identified with that of headcrab zombies. The young man continued to place crates full of ammunition and weapons into the fifties era Ford truck which was saturated with fuel. He walked over to the passenger side of the truck and placed five plastic cartons of fuel, slamming the door without a care in the world.
The glass shattered back at the front of the shop, the bullet proof glass finally showing its limits much like Humanity has with the Combine in control. The metal bars were the heroic last standers. Far too rusted just like the rebels who just wanted a happy ending. Soon, the hunger of these vile abominations wasn’t being fed and they grew restless, turning their attention to the back of the gun shop where the sputtering of an engine could be heard. They began to bang, trying to get in, with their torment lasting with their hunger. As the door began to lift, their moods changed from restless to frantic, wanting a piece of the tender human meat behind the door.
What those head crab zombies saw would have made a Combine soldier shit himself in full horror. Fuel jets shot out at them and hosed them with fumes of kerosene, it was going to be the Holocaust, but for victims that were truly, inhuman. William grabbed a wrench and threw it at the metal tubing that was spewing its shower of death becoming an inferno with a spark. The zombies began to yell, shouting human words, asking for god to help them. But they weren’t going to get any help, because as William became the shepherd, the zombies became his flock. And a shepherd must always tend to his flock, especially when they became unruly.
As William began to finish packing up he looked up to see one of them made it past before it sparked. As it swung down its elongated boney arms, William responded by tripping its feet out from under it. The head crab wasn’t originally part of the Human body, the balance to sprint and fight effectively as a human was severely retarded, literally. The hunched remains of a head crab zombie was similar to that of an adult with Down syndrome and the inability to show the tell tale signs of pain. They were the scariest retards a man could ever meet. William slammed his foot on the headcrab itself twice; the squeal of the head crab in pain could be heard. The zombie grabbed the head crab as if it were having a migraine. William grabbed his shotgun by its grip and flipped from his back to in-front of him, he placed it at his waist and tilted down toward the zombies host and fired, the buckshot ramming into the soft flesh of the headcrab, yellow blood splattering out as it died, killing the victim with it. Under the newly killed corpse, gold and crimson blood mixed together as it pooled under its owners’ corpses. The mixture just showed how close the two dead things were. William quickly pumped the shotgun and went back to finishing up his task he had set out to complete by then. He didn’t want to look at the twitching body’s face, stripped clean of personality created by looks, the mouth still open from when the host was screaming for its last few seconds of life. The personalities no longer readable much like the soldiers who now defend the alien slave holders that controlled these vile demons.
The host or headcrab that he speaks off was not of Earthen decent, rather it was from another realm known as XEN. The headcrab was a parasite, large to a human’s perspective and definition of a parasite. It had no identifiable eyes or ears. IT had human shaded skin, the skin’s texture eerily similar to human skin. This creature had two stumps for hind legs, merely serving the purpose of charging at a possible victim to mutate for its own revolting continuation of the species. The two front legs were similar in shape to spider legs but with the texture and muscle of a human’s thigh and calf, if that human had fangs on the underside of his/her thigh right before the knee. Betwixt these legs of death would be a few fangs for cutting open the human chest and creating a cavity revealing the internal organs, it was a most gruesome autopsy done by nature not human. The last major indicator that it’s a headcrab is the provocatively placed mouth, within was the beak which was the source of its evil and hunger. With the mouth having a similar shape and texture to a woman’s vaginal lips because the headcrab was truly a freak of nature.
William opened the truck’s door and climbed in, unafraid of whatever was left out there. He had seen it all before, and he was armed now. The truck slowly exited into the alley way, almost like life hadn’t changed. He turned onto the empty street and smiled. His head saying, this is the best kind of traffic ever, as he drove as he laughed and headed west, deeper into the suburbs of Philadelphia.
William plugged in his MP3 into the modified radio. The truck’s body was the only original piece and even that was modified. The wood parts being replaced with scrap metal from Combine buildings and equipment. The windows were double layer thick bullet proof glass. The truck’s hull completely covered on the inside by more Combine scrap metal. The truck’s original metal was repainted in a woodland urban mix.
As he drove along he could hear the impact of shells. Shells, filled with more of those parasitic bastards were now being unleashed in a human free zone. It was odd though, you would think there would be head crab animals, but head crabs were pray to everything except those on the top of the food chain…at least the original food chain. The new modified food chain had a few unnatural additions. His brain continued thinking about this till the beats and thumps of his music murdered all the thoughts.
The scenes on the side of the road were just a blur. William never got his license. He had never gotten around to it, especially with eleventh grade and the drama about relationships, pranks, work, and punishments. He tried his best to ignore it, but some things suck you in against your will; eleventh grade was fairly similar to the Seven Day War, that both sucked you into their respective infinitely large black holes. He never understood why they happened, it just happened. He knew something weird was going to happen; he was warned far beyond the initial incident. That mutual friend that warned him the day of the incident…he was warned not to take the bus home. William didn’t listen, and now he’s been thrust into heroism beyond his old abilities.

 

[Swilly]

Chapter 2
Forced Heroism(Part 1...fricken character limit)​

William dreamed of being a hero, but it hadn’t come out right. He didn’t like it, it was forced. His hands were forced into submission by someone else holding a pistol to his head and there weren’t any cops to help him. His arms relaxed as he patiently drove along the empty road. In the truck’s windshield the ghost reflection of himself taunting his every twitch and slight hand movement. The figure imitating his thin cotton fiber gloves and the olive collars ending shortly thereafter with the beginning of the woodland camo hoody’s sleeve. The hoody’s faded colors showing the olive base color lightly through the brown and tan splotches. His jeans weren’t in any better condition being covered with dirt and dried blood stains. The ends of his jeans tucked into his boots which were originally light brown but had turned into a much darker shade of brown by age. The only pieces of clothes that were clean and constantly changed were his underwear and socks, for very important health reasons.
The reflection also betrayed the light peach skin that William had. It’s light tone contrasting with the thick black nineteen fifties nerd glasses that he wore. He had just gotten them since his eye sight was still getting worse. What the reflection didn’t betray was his lifeless blue-gray eyes, dead from the fighting, the pain, and knowing he controlled his own actions but not his own destiny. His body wasn’t fit nor was it fat, there wasn’t enough food on Earth to make anyone fat anymore. He was in the middle so there wasn’t much to say about his body. The sun seemed to add a glowing effect to his skin and hair with shadows being the only break his pale skin got. His light goatee that surrounded his mouth also glowed lightly however at the point it was at, it was just a small creek surrounding a mountain. The sun also shadowed the scar that ran across his cheek from a nasty whack to the face by a headcrab zombie.
William was only a teenager, seventeen to be exact. His parents had handed him off during a mass civilian evacuation to a group of United States marines. He was only 3 at the time that his parents sacrificed themselves to let him live on, an act any loving parent would do, but rarely happened. William doesn’t remember much from his childhood because he had pre-cached that memory for survival skills and knowledge. What he did know was information and stories told to him by one marine who didn’t surrender and became one of the rebels. That marine was named Adrian Shepard, or Dad to William and his two adoptive siblings Adriana and David. All three of them were rescued by this man when they were young, William being the youngest and earliest rescue. Adriana was the “middle child” and David was the oldest. All three of them were taught the skills to fight but they also learned their own individual skills. For William, those skills were in diplomacy and computers. He had learned at an early age the hypocrisy of sentient beings. Their primal need to survive and discharge their strength, but unlike animals they had a compulsive need to have a reason and when a being didn’t have a reason, the others would look at that one being in disgust. While most meant good like William, they didn’t know how to go about it. Some when for it in the wrong way like Dr.Breen who decided the greater good of humanity was more important than humanity itself.
The truck’s tires spun at that speed where the tires began to appear rolling backwards. The entire truck had been modified; pieces of Combine metal were welded like plates of armor on a knight’s suit. The truck was originally from the nineteen fifties and had been heavily modified. The only un-modified part was the springs which were rare even before the Combine took over. Now it almost impossible and they were actually due for a change, meaning he would have to go to an auto-repair shop and fix everything up. He groaned at the idea of having no chance of rest, his body was aching for night of sleep. He had been awake for 3 days traveling too that last cache of weapons and ammo.
His thoughts were interrupted with an odd sounding alarm. It would beep twice and then take a break but it wasn’t like a police siren. The sound was softer and more subtle for the unwary and over-excited to notice. William didn’t get a chance to ponder because five seconds after he noticed the alarm a spray of bullets began to bounce and ricochet off the body of the truck. The sparks and dents caught William’s unprepared mind off guard, his body tensing up immediately without a chance to warm up forced his arms to start to turn the wheel, forcing the truck to swerve a bit. His eyes widened as he tried to control the adrenaline burst that just shot through his muscles.
His arms twisted the truck’s driving wheel which forced the truck to right itself. William’s mind whirled in circles as worry and anger toyed with each other like two groups of elected officials who just tried to force each others’ hand instead of helping to create a compromise. He began to make turns on streets and a shortcut, trying to lose whatever was shooting at him. He had figured out it was in the air so it was either a Combine gunship or a Civil Protection Hunter Chopper. Both had fan blades to lift up into the air, however the sounds were distinct to each. This fan blade sounded similar to a an electronic burp repeated over and over so it was the hunter chopper. He slammed his foot on the gas and started to finally haul ass.
What sucked about the suburbs was that there were no tunnels that he could slide into to escape the chopper’s crosshair. Another spray of fire rained down on him as he made another hard turn left. It wasn’t the fastest way to his destination but it was the safest, the building became significantly taller as he raced closer to the city’s huge moving walls. It forced the Hunter Chopper to lift up in the air away from him, the farther the better. His truck’s tailpipe sputtered as it gained a shift, the engine switching for a high scream back to a low hum that everyone understood. He started to see rebel calling cards, the greek letter theta sprayed painted in a pine tree shade of green. The spray painted arrows jutted out and pointed in different directions to emergency caches and supplies. William made another hard left and began to travel on a narrow road with no room for maneuverability, the buildings becoming lower giving the chopper a chance to get closer and actually fly past him. It began to drop black metallic balls with red blinking lights on its side. Those balls were obviously explosives and they began to explode behind and in front of him. The situation wasn’t spectacular to begin with, but when you added the explosives with a full cache of ammo and weapons, such as rocket launchers it became exceedingly deadly. The Hunter Chopper continued to float in front of the truck, which gave William a chance to lose it, he made another hard turn left and entered an old neighborhood street, the sound of the chopper became more distant as it tried to turn itself around, its own momentum working against itself. The distance between it and William grew centimeter by centimeter as quarters of seconds flew by. William took this chance to stop the vehicle in a driveway. He open the door slightly with the handle and kicked it open the rest of the way, the door swinging back and hitting his thigh as he was just starting to get out.
“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!” He grabbed his thigh tightly and began mentally whipping himself for his hasty carelessness.
That was going to bruise nicely and then he would have to explain why we was slightly limping to everyone which was always just so much fun. His mental whipping continued as he exited the truck CAREFULLY this time, holding the shotgun with his right hand between the trigger and the pump grip. Once on the ground he ran to the back of it and turned to see that the wooden boards holding most of the stuff was barely holding itself together. He climbed up and into the trunk, searching the spray painted labels for the rocket it launcher containers. He found one and lifted up away from the rest. He carefully placed the stock of the shotgun on the wood lifted it up just as carefully and the slammed the stock into the wood making a loud crack sound as the wood split in half revealing the dark green metallic cylinders of two rocket launchers, he swiped the wood out of the way and grabbed one of the launchers, its thick cylindrical laser sight already gleaming the red light. In each box there was a pre-loaded emergency rocket launcher ready to be fired. William pulled the safety pin and hopped over the side onto the ground, his entire body stopping to listen for the thump of the Hunter Chopper’s blade. The surrounding brush and buildings gave way to a high whistle from the wind, masking over the ambience of gun chatter and explosives. William stood up straight and began to walk up to the end of the drive way, no sounds just wind. His face contorted to a puzzled look as he continued to scan the sky. There was nothing. William began to head back to his truck, when his ears heard the radio chatter that was distinctive to the Combine Overwatch soldiers. He turned around just as the garage door across the barren street went poof in an explosion. Out of the smoke streamed out four to five Combine soldiers, their guns pointed up at William. They began to fire in short controlled bursts, one soldier covering the other like a team. William launched the rocket, using the laser guide to point it to one of the soldiers on the far left who quickly had his entire top half of his body blown off in a bloody mess. His lower body just fell to the ground, one of the soldiers yelled shit as he continued to fire on William. William lifted up the shotgun and aimed at the closest soldier, firing once at it. It flinched back a bit and groaned as it’s human part felt the pain all the while the machine part telling it to keep going. William began to walk back slowly, pumping and then firing again, the buckshot doing less and less as he backed up. A soldier lept out from the front of one of the houses and threw a grenade at William. The cylindrical grenade made a blip sound as its red tracing light flew in the air leaving a fading red trail behind it. Every time it bounced it made another blip. William kicked the grenade at a wall and watched it blow a medium sized hole into the wall. William took his chances and continued to shoot at the soldiers as he desperately ran for the hole. One of the soldiers attempted to cut him off but he quickly had a chest full of buckshot, his entire body lurching forward in pain. William jack rabbited into the hole in the decimated wall, with his ass slamming into the concrete hard. He decided to ignore the pain and looked for the stairs leading upstairs. An old creaky set led up stairs, they were barely holding themselves up. William tilted his shotgun over as he began to reload it, filling it to six and then pumping the shotgun. He tried to quietly walk upstairs, the door creaked open letting sunlight glow through the crack. He carefully placed each foot up, hearing the combine chatter amongst each other about what their next move should be. William rammed through the door and fired into the three of them standing and talking, the one closest to Will grabbing one of his comrades as he fell to the ground, the other began to open fire. William fired again shooting one of them in the head, tearing the entire head to shreds, his arms launching up to his head as the searing painful death came to its finale where his body walked backward into a wall and then fell over. The last soldier made a break for the front door.

 

[Swilly]

Chapter 2
Forced Heroism(Part 2...fricken character limit D:<)​

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” bellowed out of the bottom of William’s angry throat as he ran at the soldier and knocked him over, shooting the poor bastard in the back of the head. The last soldier’s head exploded with bits and pieces flying through the air like shrapnel, a few landing on William. William panted heavily as he walked out of the front, turning towards the truck, he picked up rocket launcher he threw on the ground at the beginning of the fire fight. He unzipped his hoody down the middle and checked his personal combat vest’s power level which read 12%. He hadn’t heard the soft compassionate, yet robotic male voice that his suit came equip with to read off warnings and power level readings. He grunted as he threw the rocket launcher onto the back of the truck, still walking towards the door of the truck in two actions at the same time. He opened the door to the driver’s side of the truck and climbed in. For a second time he reloaded his shotgun and then placed it on the large shotgun shaped holster next to him which was next to his AR2, the contrasting black metal shotgun and the bright gray metal of the AR2 brought up images of choice between good and evil. William turned the key inside the ignition and set the truck to reverse, pulling out cautiously and timidly. When the truck was completely out of the driveway he turned the while hard to the right and shift the truck back to drive, and just as cautiously as before, began to travel along the route he was given. The day’s light quickly being extinguished by the waters of night. As the truck gained speed the houses, the brush, the shrubs, and everything else that made the unique fighting environment of the suburbs began to blur into painting. The shadows from the environment overlapped the truck and distracted William several times. Shadows were the like triple XL pants; they fit everyone a little too much. William made another right and then a quick left onto the trolley tracks.
His destination was actually located at what used to be a major transportation terminal before the Black Mesa Incident. It was the last station for the Railroad, which was created to help civilians escape from City Zero Four’s clutches into the joint hands of the rebels. Most refugees chose to fight with the rebels, the small few that didn’t join left the station to survive on their own. William remembered a Japanese girl who was too traumatized to fight after watching both of her parents sacrifice themselves to let their daughter escape. All three of them had been together since the portal storms. The people at the base empathized with her, tried to keep her there at the station but she escaped the night afterward. Two weeks later William found her torturing a rebel with blue eyes, that was her justification for killing that poor bastard, because his eyes looked Combine. Her brain had slipped so far down the hole of insanity anything blue eyed people set her off into a raging frenzy. What was even worse was that the man had saved her from antlions and started to take care of him. It was too late though, she had already lost it. She saw William’s blue-gray eyes, her eyes filled with fear and anger as she charged at him with a tire iron. William just shot her in the gut, she began to cry as she hit the floor and started to ask me why William shot her. Begging for an answer William shot her again, making sure her death was quick and painless. He knew there was nothing to help her with. They didn’t have any psychologists, there was no way they were going to help her. He understood the pain that poor girl had felt, but he didn’t need it, he didn’t need a reminder. He closed her eyes and left, letting the memory fade to black and in the back of his head forever.
His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, the constant rattle of the truck tires bumping on the trolley tracks keeping him in check and awake. He sighed as the direction signs for the rebel base came into view and passed by him. His body began to defrag the stress like a computer, his body completely unprepared for the rain of bullets to hit his truck again.
“God damn it! Don’t you Combine have something better to do?!” He blurted out angrily.
His entire body had turned around to see it was a hunter chopper. He couldn’t tell if the black demon from hell was the chopper from before but he didn’t care. As a intersection between track and street came closer he noticed a sliver glint of metal. He hit the gas; it could only be a Combine half track. William was right and the half track moved in front of William trying to stop him. The rebel half track rammed into the Combine half track at full speed, the Combine half track spinning on its rear tires ninety five degrees. The cockpit and left front tire came clean off with the right front tire inverting itself toward the bottom. William’s truck continued moving, continuing to swerve back and forth trying to dodge the Combine machine gun. His truck cutting metal signs right off of their base and flinging them to the side. Combine soldiers were on roofs of garages and homes overlooking the trolley tracks. Explosive barrels being pushed in-front of him and blew up. William watched a barrel blow up next two soldiers from the careless fire of their own allies. They didn’t care how many lives were lost unless the job was done, even if it’s their own men. One of the limbs hit the front shield of his truck, the blood spattered across like an insect with the limb bouncing off into the Hunter Chopper behind him. The top half of the chopper’s windshield became covered in blood as the limb ricocheted off the windshield into the propelling blades, which began to wobble like ruler being held down on a student’s desk. Add that with the wind resistance of the Hunter Chopper moving forward and the wobbling became more violent till it tore itself off and took the other blades with it. Curling off into long strands of shrapnel the Hunter Chopper’s body lurched forward and hit the ground, slamming and hoping back into the air flipping, its tail fin came snapping off as it hit the ground the second time slowing down the crash enough that once the cockpit hit the rails, it was only fast enough to skid across the tracks, sparks spreading out from the crash as it came to a metallic sheared scream of a halt. All of these actions seemed to happen at once with William just watching in awe of the Hunter Chopper’s fall from grace.
In that one spectacular moment everything seemed to come to a resting close. William drove forward into the base, parking behind a line of rebel trucks. His body climbed out the truck with his gear on him, his hands holding the AR2 while the shotgun was folded up and attached to his waist. He watched a few refugees run over to his truck and start to unfold it. William watched them curiously as he slid of his glasses and inspected them, fogging them up with his breath and cleaning them. He began to slide his glass back to his face at an angle with the angled ends brushing through his hair and between the top lobe of his ear and the rest of his head. The glasses were then tilted up right and nudged so the bridge was pressed against the scallion.
“Will! Up here!” an overly eager voice echoed through the station.




A.I just fricken realized that I don't want to torture you guys with having to scroll down till your finger came off....

B.ITS STILL IN EARLY ROUGH DRAFT PHASE...mistakes can be kindly point out ^-^

C.Tell if you like or not, but back it up with support, I don't want people hating because they don't like paradoxes!

 

[Eejit]

More paragraphs please.

 

[Swilly]

Chapter 3
The Revolution Redux
​

Adriana walked forward, her white lab coat overlapping the knee long black khaki skirt with lime green frills hanging off the end of the circumference of her skirt. The sleeves were rolled up and stitched in place so she didn’t have to constantly push the sleeves back up over and over again. Tedious things like the sleeves didn’t last long with her, she would get so aggravated by an action that she would either toss out the cause of it or she would fix it so it wasn’t as tedious and annoying. Her straight black hair blocked her neck from revealing the silver metallic colored necklaces that carried among other things, her random key collection. Anytime she found a key she would grab it and add it to the necklace of keys. There was even one that reminded William of a skeleton key, it had the generic jail or pirate treasure chest key look and feel.
Her entire body spun around toward him, all the loose pieces of accessories and clothing hoping around with her, “So……what happened?” her high somewhat nasally voice ringing in his head. It had a sweet demeanor to it, not a harsh commanding overtone that she sometimes got with people that frustrated her. William didn’t always get that frustration voice but it seemed she usually was careful not use it around him as both of them get pissy when yelled at. His memory began to bring flash backs of moments he pissed her off and began to notice that her clothes changed as she got older and her body molded itself into the teenage form it was now. However, she always had the lab coat on. It was the first time she successfully altered a piece of clothing. Now she wore a tan tank top that was the same shade as her skin, leading William of into his imagination with more pop-ups of awkward moments between the two of them. While half his mind shut itself out because it was way too cheesy for itself to watch, the other watched with inane curiosity and began to imagine the what if pop ups that repeatedly humped their way back into his head.
“Will! What happened?” her voice rang in his head as it annoyingly reminded him to dig up the memories of his trip.
“Well……I killed a bunch of headcrab zombies, standard fare. I was ambushed by a squad of soldiers but I took care of them…ummmm” He began fake pondering trying to reel her in as easy as it was because of her feline style curiosity.
“What? What is it?!” her voice had changed from annoyed to commanding for she knew that he was toying with one of her biggest piece of her personality.
“I took out a Hunter Chopper without firing a shot, using a soldier’s arm. It ricocheted off my windshield into the blades and broke them apart making it crash.” His voice was confident but it was in fact a false confidence. The smile his face rifted into a narrow smile that further betrayed his confidence.
She giggled out of the stupidity of how a mighty Hunter Chopper was taken down. William laughed in his head and just watched her, his eyes and head pointed down at her because of her height. She was short, or as she put it, fun sized. Her reflection stretched and warped along the broken shards of glass that remained defiant in their window sills against the onslaught of nature, and bullets, tan tiles held formation along the underside of the window sills with a few fallen comrades no longer there to hold the line altogether as one. The white granite marble of the floor had seen better days, being scuffed and stained with extremely dry blood, missed bullets showing their final resting place with shadowy craters. The window sills themselves covered in splotches of shine and rust. The window sills’ shiny splotches still reflecting the surrounding area including Adriana and William.
William stopped observing the trolley junction and quickly asked, “How are Dakota and David?” His voice placing the emphasis on the first name he muttered.
Adriana shrugged and plainly said, “They are fine, Dakota’s father is seeing things again apparently. He smashed up the entire living room area.”
William face palmed as he imagined the scene of empty carnage. Everything cleaned up and nice like it was just refurbished. All the chairs pushed against the walls and the large place mat of a rug rolled up into a long pure gold burrito. The lamp completely replaced with a new lamp and the busted chair thrown outback behind the over grown shrubs to become coal.
His head perked downward toward the trolley’s exits in the direction of the city, a rebel running with his gun waving trying to get everyone’s attention. He was mumbling but William understood the word Combine, and everyone else did too. He gave Adriana his shotgun and handed off as much buckshot as he could to her.
“W-w-wait! What’s going on?” her voiced sounded distant since she dozed off for second.
William picked up the buckshot that fell to the floor and pushed them into the pocket where the rest were, patting her back roughly, “Combine! Go get David!”

 

[Vegeta897]

Adriana fanart plox.

 

[Swilly]

Adriana nodded as she sprinted to the end of the station’s sky-bridge and made a right. William charged his suit up with two Combine batteries that were sitting on the floor. The male voice chimed, stating that he was at fifty-three percent. He jogged down the stairs, grabbing his AR2 by its handle grip and pulled it out in front of his body, his free hand now grabbing the second grip behind the clip/shield. The gunshots became louder while the distinctive Combine radio chatter blatantly and more frequently going off as he got closer to exit. At the end of the platform, his body lurched forward, his hand flying out and latching to the platform’s edge as gravity majestically swung and pulled his body to the ground. His boots hit the ground, making thump that was only louder in his head. His entire body shuddered downward a bit like a vehicle’s tire bouncing for it a speed bump. His upper body shifted forward slightly as his feet instantly stepped forward of each other quickly. He held the AR2 up, aiming through its sights as the sunlight hit his eyes, blinding him for a moment with a sharp pang of pain. Once the initial shock of sunlight had worn off he spotted a group of Rebels using anything as cover, one had her back to a small rusted substation box. Her head poked out over the sides before she pivoted around the corner and fired. A refugee was kneeling behind a bulky wooden crate juts lifting up the SMG 2 just above the crate and firing short bursts. Five Combine soldiers were opposite them, using the brush, crates and barrels as cover. They were beginning a flanking maneuver, using the two soldiers with AR2s as suppression while the other 3 with SMG2s and a SPAZ12 shotgun ran along a line of light cover.
William shuffled forward with firing the AR2 in extremely short bursts with the gun’s body kicking back into his shoulder following each of the loud metallic base-drum created by the ionized metal from the clip being released. The flanking soldier with the shotgun stopped between two crates and began to fire at William. William stopped moving and focused on that particular soldier. A bullet hit the soldier’s leg and made him slip of his foot onto his back in single pivoted motion. His arms slid onto the palms of the soldiers hands as the soldier tried to pick up his body from the ground. As his body rose, two shots went through his upper and lower chest, his body just falling back down as blood pulled below the new corpse. A hallowed thump rang out from William’s right, he turned his head to see the rebel behind the substation had used the grenade launcher; the yellow shell flew over William spinning like a perfect football toss. The white band in the middle of the shell spun to fast to show the scrap marks. It landed just in front of a group of barrels, blowing them open and punting each one in different directions. While the barrels did block most of the shrapnel and damage produced by the grenade, the barrels themselves became lethal projectiles knocking the soldier onto his back, his head slamming hard enough into the ground to create an imprint in the concrete. The other suppressing soldier jumped up and his AR2 began to inhale like super vacuum on speed before launching its anti-matter ball at William. William fell onto his, dodging the ball, it bounced off the ground above William and hit the refugee on the head. The refugee’s body began to turn pure black as his cells began to explode individually, his body defying gravity and actually falling in a Matrix style till it disappeared from existence. The ball ricocheted off the brick walls of the station and crashed into the two Combine soldiers who were continuing the flanking maneuver. Their bodies going through the same horrific process the refugee just went through. The rebel took another shot at the soldier as he requested for backup, only getting halfway through the location because two bullets pierced through his soft black metallic gas mask. One bullet went through the seam of his mask to back of it and the other crashed through his left baby blue colored eye goggle, his body limply falling back being instantly killed by both bullets. William let the AR2 automatically reload itself and he moved back to where the refugee used to be.
The surviving rebel ran over to one of the dead soldiers and took the AR2 from the dead soldier’s hand along with ammunition the soldier had contained within his gear pouch. The rebel sprinted back to her spot of cover behind the substation. The entire action she just performed seemed to fly out and snap back like an experienced kid with his favorite yo-yo. The moment her back clung to the substation the echoed sound of Combine drop-ship engines became within ear shot. William watched the skies as three flat tan specks with rectangular black shapes attached floated gracefully through the sky. As the specks became closer, the drop-ships’ body became flatter and began to resemble a squished whale shark with dark and lighter tan splotches that reminded him of those old psychiatric splotches that supposedly look liked objects. Two stubby arms stuck out of the side while another two stuck of the corners of the tail end. The curves and smoothly polished body contrasted greatly against the dark, rigid, and elongated pentagonal prism that was the capsule that carried the Combine soldiers. A dark evil pill bottle prescribed to be an overdose of power. The distance and detail became sharper and crisper as they closed in on the intended landing, the best part being the AI controlled machinegun next to the gateway into battle. The right Combine drop-ship opened fire on the two of them.
William hollered at the poor girl who was obviously scared, “Go get help! I’ll distract the gun!”
She nodded as he went over the top and ran forward to the next piece of cover, the gun trail of bullets close behind his feet. The rebel sprinted inside without a single bullet in her direction. William sprinted back to the crate, bullets slicing through the air like a dive bombing bird. Plumes of smoke rose from the engines as the drop-ships opened the doors, the soldiers jogging and hoping out of the gateway and moving forward using the cover to protect half of their bodies. Fifteen soldiers in total leapt out of their pods. He poked the top half of his head up only to see bullets whiz past his head.
“Ho-holy shit!” His eyes were wide with surprise; they had known exactly where he was, the different squad leaders squawking like humans going after a separated wolf. William sighed as he prayed for a blessing even though he wasn’t going to get one. His body sprang up from his cover, firing almost immediately at the different groups, his left foot pivoted at the twelve o’clock position with right foot at the five o’clock position, both legs jutting out of his waist at a hundred seventy degrees with no slouching at the knees. His body jabbed his brain with pain from the recoil of the AR2. The Combine soldiers responding by getting to cover and returning opposite fire, their bodies bent and gracefully hunched over their weapons, the flashes of their muzzles lighting up the scene with its own artificial light. The flash eradicated shadows for seconds, too fast for the naked eye to notice but slow enough for the mind and sub-conciousnce to know multiple bullets had been fired. The black steel helmets glowed yellow for those few moments of influenced splashes of violent yellow paint. William could hear the bullets whiz by, his body choked with too much adrenaline to move. His body was rigid from tensed muscles, the upper body taking the brute force of the gun. The AR2’s muzzle flashing in-front of him, creating a blue prime bang with yellow fringes around it, the reflective nature of the AR2 made it replicate the light with flashes just as bright. In fractions of five seconds, these details made themselves apparent, everything slowed down to William as his body became high of his adrenaline pumping, making everything so fast around him that it actually slowed down. He fired his last burst from the small coin quarter sized clip of his gun and watched as the bullets hit a soldier in his left shoulder, blood spurting out from the pressured impact. The soldier flinched backward, his left leg catching the weight of his body while his right hand flew over to grab his shoulder. The second bullet hit his right shoulder at the right angle from behind that forced his body to rotate gracefully again so his back was to the last bullet, which punctured through his neck. The soldiers dropped the gun and grabbed his throat as his body collapsed over the side of the concrete maintenance platform onto the tracks below him, his body limply twitching as he bled out and died. William ducked down, the adrenaline rush finally beginning to wear off and every action and opposite but equal reaction slowly sped down to their intended velocity.
William was panting heavily, the right side of his gut and left soldier screaming like a man on fire in pain. The combat vest wasn’t full proof; sometimes bullets still penetrated the shield it projected. A groan of extreme distress leapt out of his mouth as the pain continued to taunt his brain. He looked at the suit’s power meter seeing it was at twenty percent, the voice warning him of his heart rate quickening and that it was applying morphine, the health bar reading out twenty three percent. He clicked a button and the stats read out on the bottom left fringe of his left half of his glasses. His upper body tilted to the side over the left of the thick wooden box. The Combine soldiers were backing up, which surprised him. His logic then realized there must be more rebels. He turned his head back and watched as David and the female rebel he’d sent before the first wave landed came running out, their guns going off sporadically.

 

[Swilly]

David’s right hand grabbed a grenade off his waist and flicked the pin of it, the red light blinking on to signify it was counting down. His arm swung straight out, catapulting the grenade into the air. It was a graceful gymnast trying its best to stick the landing, or in the case of a grenade, reach its target. It vaulted off the ground, the red light flickering faster and faster. It was right above a group of 3 soldiers when its time hit 0.
The soldiers reacted, one of them yelling, “Foul serve! Foul ser-AAHH!”
Their bodies violently hit the ground, the shrapnel cleaving through their armor. The cover they were using were a group of three or more boxes. All three were blown to fragments which careened into the rest of the soldier dinking off the soldiers as they continued to fire, two of them shuffled to cover the now open gap. The radio chatter became more frantic as they realized they just lost control. David ran up to William and patted him on the shoulder as a group of two rebels moved up the small trench, crouching down as low as they could so the Combine wouldn’t see them. The others continued to keep the soldiers as busy as possible. David fire a burst, into a soldier’s chest, his body collapsing onto thick wooden box, staining it with his blood as he slid off it to RIP on the concrete. A soldier burst from his cover in rage, his synthetic battle cry rang out among the soldiers as they started to yell for him to get back. He fired his grenade launcher, blowing up the substation and in the process killing two rebels. One caught in the grenades explosion while the other had a huge chunk of her arm and throat sliced out by the substation’s shrapnel. At the same time the Combine soldier who blew up the substation was shot in the front leg, tripping him over and ramming his head into the concrete getting struck out cold. Two soldiers burst out from their cover, one dragging his comrade while the other launched his anti-matter ball at David and William. It flew over William’s head and bounced down, hitting right between his legs and ricocheting an inch her two from his head. It flew up in the air for a bit before the ball became unstable and collapsed in on itself. The two rebels that were flanking the Combine soldiers, open fired on them catching the closest soldier off guard and shooting him through the side of his chest and right arm. He collapsed backwards onto the barrel he was using for cover and sat there as he slowly bled out. The soldiers that were attempting to rescue their comrade continued, the supporting soldier, maintaining his fire at David. David was pinned.
“Welcome to the party Dave!” William shouted up to David.
David laughed and panted heavily, “Yeah…You started without me you little shit.”
William laughed to himself and tried to pick himself up, however without the adrenaline, all he could was groan and feel the bullet wounds scream cynical feelings of pain. David took a glance at William and shook his head as he waited for the soldiers damn AR2 to have a completely new clip. David growled as his patience began to thin out. After another minute he finally bought the bullet and pivoted out from his cover and fired a burst into the soldiers head and gut. By that point the one soldier recovering his sleeping comrade had done so the other had just begun moving back to cover, when David fired a burst into his head. His body tripped over itself and hit the ground, his finger on the trigger held it back; firing it till it was out of bullets. Directly in the line of fire were the rebels that had flanked the Combine soldiers. They were both caught off guard with one of the getting hit in the shoulder and falling onto the tracks roughly in pain.
William whacked David’s leg when he pivoted back, “Watch it Dave! You just pinned our own guys!”
David glared and bluntly shouted, “You think I don’t see that?! We now only have me and that other rebel over there!”
William nodded, “At least there is only two left…”
David mumbled softly to himself, “At least…”
The rebel who just watched his buddy get hit in the shoulder bellowed as he went over the top onto the concrete platform and slammed into the soldier who was covering his own buddy. The soldier stumbled forward and subsequently fell over as his body was riddled with the SMG2’s bullets with the soldier limply falling onto his knees and resting on top of his now dead buddy. The last soldier started calling for backup when he fell off the platform and broke his ankle and neck, internally killing himself by accident. The cleanest kill out of all of the soldiers both for soul and physical. Or it was for the rebel fighters anyway.
David knelt down next to William, put his right hand on William’s shoulder and started to inspect the wounds with the left hand which became a computer mouse looking over a touched up final copy of an artistic piece. The hand was enveloped by a second membrane of reflective black plastic that covered his entire body except his head and neck. The hand panned and held William’s body in place with the support of the hand on the shoulder with that hand being the background base of the program where the drop down menu stuffed with options and tools. David zooming his head in and identifying the splotches of imperfection on his magnificent picture.
William watched patiently and painfully because he was the picture and David was the artist. Dave’s thin silvery gun-metal gray framed glasses reflected the setting sun and its thick Victoria era dress of colors as it Can-Can’d to the end of the stage to be replaced with sultry clothed singer in her silver chain-mailed dress. The rest of his orange-yellow armor diffusely reflected and refracted the sun light; causing parts of William and the surrounding ground to have a subtle hue that flawlessly matched the evening sky. Contrasting the scraped and bruised orange paint was pure ionized steel, fish-bowling the duo’s surroundings. The burgundy cushion that surrounded David’s neck went well the color pallet of his dark tan skin which was then abruptly interrupted by small patches of purple blemishes that blended in seamlessly with his shade of tan. A goatee was growing from David’s upper lip and chin, while William was headed for a rough beard. The hair color was that dark window black that they saw all too often now and days. His arm patted William on the good shoulder, which William appreciated greatly, as the morphine wasn’t able to fully halt the pain.
David plainly said as he stood up, “I’m going to go search the soldiers for a vile,” afterwards sighing in minor aggravation because he knew only two out of the fifteen soldiers would probably have vials.
William nodded and smirked, “I wish I could help, but…you know…I don’t want to get up just fall face flat.”
David chuckled, “Is that a wahmbulance, I hear?” at which point both of them started mimicking paramedic sirens using the sound wah instead. They laughed quietly as David began moving over to the dead soldiers who were piled upon one another while William grunted in pain for laughing to hard. He slid his body slowly and cautiously. He wanted to watch David and make sure that he was prepared for the vial. It wasn’t he didn’t trust David; it was David liked to make jokes a lot, even at the worse possible times or used to at least, lately he’s gotten better at it.
David looked like a knight, a sci-fi knight. His Hazardous EnVironment Suit was a relic from a science facility a few miles away from them. As David took his exit from the scene to scavenge medical supplies, two more entered in on it.
“Dakota! Will’s over here!” Adriana blurted out which made William chuckle a bit because it sounded similar to that voice you make when someone didn’t want you to hear it.
“Alright, I’m coming!” a echoed from the station, her accent giving her away as a former Brit.
A tall woman followed Adriana, her gloved hands with her light peach fingers holding his shotgun tightly. William smiled and waved his arm weakly in the air. She ran faster when she saw William slumped like that, a small smear of blood following his body from its original spot. She knelt down beside him and surrounded his body like Saturn’s rings. He lifted up his hand onto her back and rubbed it softly with his injured shoulder. The woman noticed and reeled her arms back and began inspecting William like David, however she unzipped his hoody and slid it off his body carefully starting from the arm that worked to slurping it off his injured arm slowly. William watched silently, the stock block of a glock black shaded PCV now showing on top of the gray t-shirt that he wore normally. She was forced to turn off the PCV and take it off his body, the straps being on his shoulders forced her to lift the injured arm, William couldn’t help but groan loudly as pain rung like an annoying telephone in him only when you answer, the other line hangs up on you. She brushed her long blonde hair out of her face for a second, laying the vest neatly next to William.
“What’s going on Dakota?” William looked up at her with a straight puzzled look across his face.
“You’re badly injured…the one bullet nicked something important or else the health meter wouldn’t be below 20,” her voice was soft but somehow logically cold.
William blushed slightly as she pulled his gray t-shirt off which was covered in sweat and was making a wrinkled old man sort of face. The smell it created made Dakota throw it off towards the PCV like trash. He didn’t blame her, he would’ve been worse; he wouldn’t have taken it off. A light metallic clank emanated from the back of his right ear.
David snickered, “Oh yeah, show it off Will.”
William chuckled softly, “Just for you David, free of charge.”
“Here, I found two of ‘em off the soldiers over there…” David said with a quaint smile on his face as he handed two cylindrical bottles. The vial itself looked liked a grenade, the edges having a larger diameter than the center chamber. The opposite ends were linked together by a single metallic bar. It had a symmetrical M16 style look, the metal just hiding the small point on the underside of the vial. The magical green substance reminded William of what radioactive goo looks like without the glowing bit. He was never able to figure out what was in it but he figured it was a bacterial enzyme that drastically quickened the beginning healing process. The process however was extremely painful when you were injected purely through skin. They were originally designed for the Combine soldiers’ uniforms to absorb it into the skin slowly over a period of time. Taking the dose raw meant not as much of it was used and your body would slowly build a resistance and more would have to be injected. Too much of the vial at once and your body becomes infected and eats itself inside out within hours. However, so many people die before that even becomes a worry that they only discovered this disease by luck.
William closed his eyes as he felt Dakota push the first vial in the center of chest between to the two wounds. William’s eyes quickly became blood shot as his skin began to grow back at an almost parasitic rate. Veins were sewn naturally back together by an unnatural substance. William shoved Dakota away roughly as his body lurched onto his hands and knees as his body compulsed, his jaw open as if he was an alligator waiting for a mouse to come out of the ground. However instead, the left over bacteria was ejected from his body through his stomach up through the chute of his throat and onto the rail line trench below. The ejected material looked like blood but that was only because the raw bacteria ate red blood cells to complete its task, using the DNA as the blueprint to rebuild that particular section. He groaned loudly as the last of the bacteria left his body. He coughed hoarsely, his lungs relishing in the reflowing oxygen that was drowning his airways. William attempted to remove the peculiar distastefulness of his own vomit from his mouth by gathering it in wads of spit and releasing it onto the ground. Dakota observed William with a telescopic lens for an eye before she handed him a bottle full of water.
“Here…” she banally stated with a commanding under-tone.
William lifted up his upper body to look up at the bottle and ripped it from her hand, chugging a small bit and swilling it over and between the canyons of his teeth, spitting out what was left of the vomit. He then hastily chugged the bottle till it was empty, releasing his breath similar to a coitus sigh of pleasure after dealing with a short dry spell. The corner of his lips perked of fulfilled happiness. It was a quick fix, like most things organic; all William could get were quick fixes. Remnants of our former hypocritical society were everywhere, quick fix heavy with a side of long term. Old billboards advertising getaway retreats that only lasted little more than a week; no one took the time to soak it in. He wasn’t any different but he climbed to hell and back trying to be, ultimately reaching the eve of the peak and then getting knocked off by reality.
He shook his head back and forth for a few seconds, his hair swirling and changing shape as the air was forced through it. William walked over to the dead soldiers and sighed, he didn’t feel hatred instead he felt remorse. To them, what they were doing was right, having their own reasons. Some believed those reasons and others went for it to escape the craptacular life of being a civilian under Combine Overwatch control. Each city had its own underground railroad but it was still a week long venture that was unpredictable and sometimes horrifying. He definitely did not consider the rebels any better, some uses mislead suicide bombers as away to disrupt the Combine Overwatch while others didn’t accept outsiders and would turn refugees away. However, the Combine was final, you were either alive or dead, and you can’t blame the soldiers. It’s their job to follow the orders given to them, they owed the foot and clothes to their commanders and when you have a debt, you need to pay it off.
He began to repeat a poem that he remembered. It was a sort of prayer for all who had fallen after a fight; neither side was exempt, only the living are.

The time of your release has come
Rejuvenate your kindred with Happiness
Rejuvenate your comrades with Anger
Rejuvenate your nature with love
Rejuvenate your wisdom with Fear
Rejuvenate your Society with Sadness
Rejuvenate our belief in infinitely limited
Rejuvenate the Vortessance as every being would
You’ve been released from this mortal realm

 

[Swilly]

He had closed his eyes weakly, almost sleepily, he didn’t notice the vortigaunt behind him, a pleased look in his eyes as the front and two flank eyelids were lifted up halfway giving a the specific look. William wasn’t surprised, that specific refrain was from the wisdom of the Vortigese culture. William however could not flux shift, which was the vortigaunt tongue of speech which required a mental ability humans didn’t possess. The Vortigaunt closed his eyes and began to flux shift the same refrain as it should’ve been correctly stated. Calm surrounded everyone obviously created by the being because only vortigaunts could do that on purpose. The being’s olive baby smooth skin radiated from the refracting light because of its amphibian textured layer of thin film above its skin.
William shut his eyelids together as he stood there silently, looking at the dead, listening feverishly to the sounds of the vortigaunt as it called to the power that seemingly surrounded only those who could control it. William felt a gloved palm laid itself on his shoulder as softly human skin came deceivingly on his body. The light peach skin gave Dakota away quickly, she handed him a new shirt and all his equipment. William retrieved his cloths and equipment just as the vortigaunt completed the ritual. William put the t-shirt on quickly and then opened the woodland camo’d army coat. A reminder of the 7 Hour War, William wore it as a symbol of not only who and what he fought for, but what saved him from Combine control. The shirt made him feel safe and protected like when he was a child being protected by the soldier who wore the exact same coat that he was wearing at that moment. He zipped up the PCV and turned it on, a group of miniscule needles stuck into his spinal cord. However, the needles were so small that you didn’t feel it. That’s how it registered health, administered first aid and powered its basic functions. He smirked as he heard the robotic male voice again, as it began to checklist its own functions to tell the user they were either on or off. The vortigaunt opened its eyes to see William fully equipped and nodded.
“We must press on with the invasion or we will fall victim to our own procrastination…” rung from his voice, in human speech the vortigaunts were always grungy, like black blue’s grungy. It was that rich creamy voice that made you just smile when you heard a laugh come from it.
Dakota had her hand up to her chin thinking, her fronds of blonde hair framing the defined features of her face with her soft blue eyes that changed their look with her emotions, like eyes should. She wore lab coat as well, except she fit with her lab coat unlike Adriana, her black and red stripped shirt screamed European but she was actually English with French heritage, or rather, an English couple adopted her from France. She wore rough jeans like most rebels however she manually washed them whenever she could. It didn’t help much since there bleach stains where blood used to be splattered and scattered all over the front end of her jeans. The untouched portions were dark navy blue fibers with the cuffs frying slightly unlike William’s jeans which was frayed and had a simple stitch to stop further damage. She was in fact a cleaner portrait with few smudges marks to differ on character. She saw humanity as a failing experiment but she wanted to help it come to a less painful halt, he didn’t.
“I’ll go…Vortigaunt, what’s your name?” William asked sternly, warning the entire group that anyone who tried to argue against it would be denied that argument.
Adriana saw this and was too lazy and strung out on stress to bother. David also knew William wouldn’t change his mind, he always saw William as the Jesus with a shotgun type. William turned to see Dakota’s look, which wasn’t there. It surprised William, he was expecting her to fight back, she didn’t want him to go but there was no stopping him. The last time she tried he snuck out and went on his own.
“My brethren call me by the name of Azriealiana, but you may call me Azreal, Brayton.” The vortigaunt looked at William piously, which threw William off.
“You’ll be coming with me…” was bluntly said as if everyone expected, because William knew they wouldn’t. He was going to go Combine prison and help the humans trapped there to escape. They still needed more men and women to fight with refugees not coming as frequently because of the Combine crackdown on the Underground Railroad that led civvies outside the cities.
“But may I inquire as to why?” Azreal’s deep inquiring voice commanded for a wise answer and William didn’t have one.
“Because, where we are going, I won’t find many health packs or batteries…” William’s blunt statement didn’t surprise anyone; he never stretched the truth when it was serious. He immediately hugged Dakota tightly, she didn’t hug back, she was worried but somehow she knew he would survive. The entire group understood that.


FINALLY Chapter 3 is over DX

 

[Swilly]

Chapter 4
Sleep Mr.Brayton​

The man came in William’s sleep like a shadow anomaly in a photograph. William’s dream swallowed by an endless black void, he had seen this void many times before, every time the same thing happened. A warning or a explanation of why something happened. This time around, it was a preview, to something William didn’t quite fully grasp. A delusional series of images of a dark passage way with flooded muck and flickering lights. Another series of an explosion, the distorted waves of energy pushing out concrete debris and a bloody fog with limbs completely disintegrated in the explosion. The final image was of the vortigaunt, carrying a human in its two long arms, squeezing the dying body in its three long fingers. The shadow created by the vortigaunt hid the head and most of the upper torso, but it didn’t hide the shoulder patch furthest from it, and it didn’t matter because William knew it was an image of his future. The entire time this man showed a series of images, he spoke, in an odd cryptic voice that made it seem this man wanted to sound archaic, placing an emphasis where it didn’t belong and the opposite of this was true.
“A soldier dies a soldier’s death,
But it does not make a sound…
You are no soldier Mr.Brayton however…
However you fight and act like one”
This man appeared at least in his late 40s however, William thought he was older, like many say, appearances are deceiving. His eyes were robotically turquoise and calming but expectantly terrorizing. His pale taunt skin wrinkled in the most prominent places, he looked human but he just didn’t seem human. Always in a navy blue business suit, dark maroon tie against a white shirt. The black shoes camouflaged with the endless black void that enveloped them. The second series of pictures of the explosion began to flash by like an ultimate version of Microsoft PowerPoint created it.

“But you will not…Well…
Let us not dwell on the future
The past doesn’t get enough.
At least enough isn’t spent on the truth,
And that’s why you turned some heads,
Volunteering yourself as a…candidate…”​

He had a briefcase with him always; black in nature but something worse than that. It was the unknown; whatever was inside was beyond anyone’s guess and the only clue was the symbol upon his treasure chest. A vibrantly bright decayed leaf yellow circle with the symbol of simply drawn lines representing a bunker or base with its roof aslant, these weren’t painted; instead it used the black briefcase to contrast the yellow paint creating the image. The man always had it, was never seen without it, he may show up out of the corner of your eye but when you turn there’s nothing there. He makes you have the feeling that you’re being watched because he can and strives for you to feel that way. The last series of pictures betraying what William’s timely end would be.

“I’m asking you to just be prepared,
Time is not of the essence, it’s a bonus.
Mr.Brayton, I understand your point of view in all this,
However…I had made it quite clear what you were walking into.
Shepard knew as well, he also understood that
Freedom is only an Afterthought.
After you accepted, he had made it…
Quite clear that he did not want you involved in this.
But, I tend to ignore such nay-sayers.
Good luck Mr.Brayton, may Shepard be your sheep.”​

The visions disappeared, the man began to step back, a wall of light sliding up in a rectangle. A tight mocking smirk spread across his gaunt face, his scowling eyes of victory blasting into William’s thousand yard stare. They both knew about the animosity between the two of them. He turned away from William and strutted into the light, flashing William one last shot of authority at William. William shot the moral authority back at this man, even if he didn’t have the moral authority; he had a gut feeling they were mutual. The darkness slid down rigidly against the rectangle of light. Once it was dark, his mind was freed but his body wasn’t, he stared into the endless void. There was something human about it or it was about him. Humans saw an end, it was easy to see or make an end, it was what they specialized in. Creating ends, endings lasted forever; it was beginnings that never existed. The only true beginning was the beginning of universe, after that, it’s an infinite cycle of decay and endings. The romantic notion of beginning was wrong; it was always wrong and will always be wrong. The only thing that didn’t decay was time, and humans were always trying to beat time. Who lasted the longest, who made it from point A to point B in the shortest amount of time, but what significance did it have? Beyond someone demonstrating their skills of training and not having a life like him, what did it do? What has physical fitness ever done but try to inspire ego trips, same with intelligence. We focused so much energy and being the smartest, strongest, richest, highest and the best drinkers all they did was laugh and stand tall for what they lacked in their life. They had no life, no one can define life so why they insult others who have a different life. Why don’t they care, because thinking means insanity and no one likes to be insane but the sane people so in truth the insane people are those that don’t think about it. They just want a beginning and end opposite the one set forth in front of him, but he liked it in there…if only he could control it and bend it to his liking, maybe he could give a beginning to a world that he controlled and could tell a story to point out his fellow beings flaws. However, that was inquiring too much from this man. William wished he could just be awake, he didn’t like sleep because it brought to many questions that left you clueless in the aftermath. An entire fleet of ‘what if’ bombers screaming past, and leaving nothing but uncertainty in its wake. So many humans strive for freedom and an unstructured life, but what would get done? One free man accomplishes more than two so why did this man that visited William have more than one under his control, including William.