The exploits of Dr. Gordon Freeman

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FCBob

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Alright this is a pretty stupid fan fic so leave now. Don't read on! If you do i'm not responsible for anything that happens.

this fan fic is for all those people who think the whole deal with the half life sags is that Gordon's on crack.

Chapter one: Black mesa, it's darkest secret.

It was a day like any other, but as Dr. Wallace Breen, administrator of Black Mesa Research facility, stood staring at his control panel, he knew different. Today, he knew, would be a truly revolutionary day. Today was the day that all of the tireless labor at this underground facility would finally bear fruit. Today was the day that they would successfully pirate cable. Yes you read right, FREE CABLE. It was a daring plan, but after years of research and discovery, the scientist at the black mesa research facility had found a way to successfully pirate cable INCLUDING HBO! Using a "Border world" situated between the boundary where two universes intersected the were able to setup a relay station that curved dark matter back toward earth interfering with the local cable lines electromagnetic stability, causing it to malfunction sending singnals flying everywhere. All they needed to do know was harness these signals to get crystal clear no questions asked free cable. To do that, they would insert a crystal into a giant reactor that would act as a funel for these waves. The crystal would turn these signals back into an image, creating super high resolution. This would truly be a red letter day.

"Dr. Breen?" Breen was snapped back to reality. "Yes Iaasic, what is it." he snapped. The pressure of having everything go right was wearing on him. "The research associate has arrived and is ready to conduct the first trial run." "Execellent. By the way, what the associates name?" "Gordon Freeman."

"Your late Freeman!" An irratated Eli Vance said. Dr. Gordon Freeman, research associate at the black mesa research facility just stared stoicly at him. "Now Gordon, the administrator has asked us to increase power to 105%. Bit of a gamble, but we need the extra resolution." "Quite right, the Rolling Stones reunion is on tonight and we wouldn't want to miss it now would we." "So inlight of this we'll be deviating slightly from standard insertion procedure." "Yes, but don't worry, the possibility of a resonance cascade senario is highly unlikely." "Gordon doesn't need to hear all this he's a highly trained professional." "Alright, lets let him in now."

Gordon, dressed in his caution orange hazard suit, made his way into the reactor. A voice creaked over the PA system "Testing... Alright Gordon we've been informed your sample has arrived. look to the loading dock for it." Gordon positioned himself behind the crystal and prepared to insert it. "Standard insertion for a non-standard specimen. Go ahead Gordon, push it in." Gordon caustiously inched foward. The crystal crept closer to the concentrated beam of television signals. It made contact with the beam. The ground shook under his feet. Somthing was wrong. Then a beam of energy shot out from the reactor, scorching the walls. "MY GOD GORDON GET AWAY FROM THEIR!" "Turn on the tv quick see if it worked!" "DEAR GOD!" "what?" "LOOK AT THE TV, A RESONANCE CASCADE HAS OCCURED!" the chaos continued in the test chamber, more stray beams began flying everywhere. "GORDON RUN!" then an explosion occured.

Dr. breen stood up from his chair as he felt a rumble beneath his feet. He quickly got on his PA. "Kleiner? what happend." "It's horrible sir. A resonance cascade has occured!" "are you serious man?" "See for yourself." Dr. breen quickly rushed over to the TV set in his office and turned it on. "Dear god...." a biwildered breen said as he fell back into his chair. "how could this happen." Their was free cable alright, but all of it, was in spanish.

Meanwhile in the test chamber, power had been cut off to the reactor and the explosions had ceased. A stunned Gordon Slowly stumbled to his feet. He tried to see straight. He nearly fell over and quickly grabed the wall for support. The resonance cascade had sent TV signals all over the reactor, tampering with his genetic makeup and nerve synapsis. Everychannel in the world, from Sci Fi to action had been pumped directly into his brain altering his perception of reality. He looked at the control room to find it covered in blood when in reality the scientists were fine. "Gordon thank god your alright!" one of the scientist said through the speaker system. "Gordon? Gordon can you hear me?" Gordon walked out of the chamber to find more dead scientists and security gaurds. He picked up a crowbar lying on the ground as he approached an elivator. Something had gone horribly wrong he thought.

Adrian shepard sat in a V-22 osprey on the way to blackmesa. "Alright men, listen up. 30 minutes ago we recieved word from the pentagon that they have traced pirated cable signals directly to Black Mesa Research Facility. The bastards must have been plotting for years to use government money to do this and it's time we adminstard justice." Those bastards Adrian thought as he listened to the breifing. "Your mission, is to destroy all members involved in this capital offense. But bring me the administrator alive. I'll deal with him personally. ehhh, It makes me shudder just thinking of how evil he has to be. Stealing cable from innocent americans." The gunnery seargent spat in disgust.
 
It nice. Touch up on spelling, writing style - spread out teh words, my friend, spread them out! - and you'll do great.

Love to see more!
 
Jintor said:
It nice. Touch up on spelling, writing style - spread out teh words, my friend, spread them out! - and you'll do great.

Love to see more!
Click to expand...

haha yeah, i cringed when i re-read it. It should smooth out as I go.
 
Alright I’ll be honest, these next two chapters are going to SUCK! That’s no joke like the last disclaimer these are pretty bad. Just trudge through ‘em cause I got some good ideas for what really happened in hl2 according to this interpretation of events.

Chapter 2: It's Freeman!
Breen and kleiner huddled over a monitor in one of the many non-descript hallways deep within Black Mesa. “God is it really that bad?” Breen shuddered. “I'm afraid it is. The cascade has engulfed the entire BMRF and is spreading rapidly across parts of New Mexico. At the current rate of spreading, it should turn the towns cable all to Spanish in approximately 45 minutes. What is more alarming are these projections” Kleiner laid some papers out in front of them. “As you can see, the cascade has the potential to engulf the entire world in just under 5 hours.” “5 hours?!” “Unfortunately that is no miscalculation.” “Then we have no choice.” “ I cannot stress how much of a priority it is to get the containment satellite in orbit.” "Do it, do whatever you have to to stop this abomination."

Gordon Freeman crept through the now abandoned hallways clutching his crowbar tightly. Dead bodies were strewn all about. Malfunctioning equipment was common sight. But as he crept around the wreckage he came across a sight that horrified him more than anything else. A headcrab.

“Thank god you’re alright Gordon.” Eli Vance said as he ran toward the hazard suit clad associate. “Gordon you can put that crow bar down now.” Gordon continue to stare at the floor and hold his crow bar at the ready, as if confronting some unforseen foe. “Gordon. Snap out of it Gordon.”

What the hell was it?! Gordon thought as he crept up behind this strange creature. He held his crow bar up, ready to strike if it made itself apparent as a threat. As he brought his right foot around he set it down on a piece of glass, giving him away. The creature turned swiftly but Gordon quickly reacted by striking out quickly, killing the unknown organism. But at the same moment a section of the overhead ducting collapsed revealing two more of these strange creatures. Gordon reacted out of fear by running, and his fears were soon justified as one of the headcrabs lunged for the running Freeman.

“Gordon! What in the world. GET BACK HERE!” Vance shouted to the now hysterically screaming Freeman.

Two scientists stood in a nearby hallway fixing some equipment that was overloaded during the experiment. Their concentration was broken by a faint cry coming down the hall. “Oh my.” One of the scientist exclaimed as a man came charging around the corner flailing a crowbar with one hand and letting out a deafening yell. He charged past the two men seeming not to notice. “I believe that was Doctor Freeman.” “It would appear so.” “MIT doesn’t produce the same caliber graduates they used to.” “Indeed.” And with that they continued re-calibrating their equipment.

My god what are these creatures. Whatever they were they weren’t friendly, Gordon concluded. He had to get to the surface, and fast.

Shepard led his squad through a set of labs. “Hold your fire until you have visual contact. Wouldn’t want to waste anymore bullets than we have to on these scum.” Still half an hour after learning what this was all about the initial shock hadn’t worn off. These bastards must of thought they were pretty smart, huh? “There’s one!” the marine opened fire on a fleeing scientist. “Got ‘em.” “You can pirate cable in hell.” Another Marine mumbled as he walked past the body. “Corporal, over here!” Private First Class Miles called from across the lab. “That scientist had this box hiding a door.” Miles informed Shepard. “Check it out, miles your on point.” Shepard ordered. Miles cautiously opened the door, checking for any trap on the door before opening it fully. If these bastards are low enough to steal cable you don’t know what they’ll try. Miles thought to himself before continuing on. It led to some kind of control room with a large safety glass window looking over something on the opposite side. Shepard and his men lowered their guns and walked over to the window peering out into what appeared to be a large silo. In it was what looked to be a satalite launch rocket. “My god, you don’t think this is to…” But the Marine didn’t need to finish. “It makes since that the greedy scum bags wouldn’t stop at Free cable. Looks like they were going for free satellite TV too.” Shepard concluded with a sting of contempt in his voice. The silence was broken by a warning light coming on in the control room followed by a disembodied voice coming over the PA system exclaiming that their was thirty seconds until automatic launch sequence. “Shit shut it down!” “Abort it!” The scientist they had shot earlier crawled forward from the door way. “NO! You don’t know what you’re doing!” The scientist gasped. “Oh we know all about you and your little scientist friends plans for this thing.” Shepard said, leveling his MP-5 and preparing to finish the job. “Then you know that it is critical this satellite go into orbit!” “I’ve had about enough of this bastard. Shepard waste him, miles abort the launch.” One of the Marines ordered. “With pleasure.” Shepard said, peering down the site of his MP-5. “NO!”

Oh my god! Gordon thought as he walked into a dark office complex. He had been making his way toward the surface for about an hour and the sights he had encountered had only worsened. While he had avoid most himself he had seen numerous creatures far stranger than the ones encountered earlier. He gazed around the office and saw many former scientist lying slouched against the wall with those strange organisms attached to their head. He continued his search of the offices for any signs of life or help but his search turned up nothing.

Dwight Mcfarland, resource manager at Black Mesa Research facility typed away at his computer in sector G offices. Ever since the failure of an hour ago he had been busy plotting energy management to the different projects that were now taking place to either contain the cascade or correct the experiments problems. Just then his office door was slowly opened by a man dressed in one of the hazard suits Mcfarland had seen on several occasions during his tram rides to and from the facility. The man held a crowbar in his right hand and slowly pushed the door open with his left. He strangly peered into the room not seeming to take notice of Mcfarland. After scanning the room the man clutched the crowbar with both hands and slowly walked in. Mcfarland, too confused to say anything to the man just stared on dumbstruck.

Jesus, what are those things doing to the scientist. Gordon thought as he crouched down to get a better look at this one. Then something happened that terrified him so badly that he stumbled backwards in an attempt to get away. It moved. The creature, no apparently one with the scientist, proceed to stand up and move toward Gordon. Gordon yelled and started swinging his crowbar wildly at the thing, desperately trying to kill the monstrosity.

The man in the Hazard suit fell backwards, as if startled. Then he proceeded to swing his crowbar through the air then turned and swung for McFarlands desk. Mcfarland, now fearing for his life, instinctively ducked under his desk and waited for it to end. A lamp and some books came crashing down everywhere, as the seemingly deranged man continued is tour of destruction around the office. Then the man exited the office running, yelling as he went. Mcfarland, sensing that it was safe, peered out from under the desk. By this time several other office workers were also peering out to see what all the commotion was about. Mcfarland reached for the phone on his desk and called the nearest black mesa security station. “Yes security. I’d like to report a lunatic. Yes I meant what I said, this man was obviously insane. He was wearing a hazard suit, ID number I-773a.”

“Alright sir, but where really busy today with all that’s been going on. I can’t guarantee when will check it out.” Black Mesa security guard Barney Calhoun said over the telephone. Since this mornings failure they had received several call from scientist wanting them to check out possible fires or help them fix broken equipment. Not exactly what the security guards were for but it was better than the dull monotony they usually experienced on a daily basis. All Calhoun could do for this one at the moment was try to calm him down and discern what the hell was going on. Then something happened. “Hello? Mr. Mcfarland are you there?” The line was dead. Calhoun attempted to redial the number but to no avail. Then there was a distant rumble. “What in the hell?” Calhoun said to himself as he got up from his chair. Then a faint whistle could be heard coming from topside followed by a huge explosion. Calhoun was knocked off his feet and swung his arms wildly trying to grab something to stop his fall. There were two more similar explosions to follow then they started getting more distant until they turned back into slight tremors. Then the same disembodied voice they heard everyday got on the PA system but this time with a new message. “Attention Black Mesa Personnel. The Black Mesa announcement system is now under military control. All personnel report to nearest evacuation staging area for processing.” “Military?” Calhoun said to himself. He got up and retried the phone. Still dead. He made his way to an emergency line on the wall of his security station. It had to be working. He picked the phone up off the reciever. “Hello? Patch me through to the administrator, ASAP!”

Breen, now fully aware of the military’s presence in his facility, rubbed his temple. “Sir.” His personal security guard Richard Veers said. “What is it.” “We’ve just received another call from a scientist reporting that a man wearing hazard suit I-773a had just attacked them.” “I’m terribly sorry but at a time like this I’m hardly concerned with some maniac in a hazard suit when I’ve got a whole division of United States Marines breathing down my neck.” Kleiner had remained silent during this exchange. “Suit I-773a?” He mumbled under his breath. “Veers, run a check through the system files while we still have power and tell me who was slated to operate that suit today.” Kleiner ordered “Yes sir.” Breen inquisitively stared at the wire framed scientist, not knowing what he had in mind. “It appears that a level three research associate by the name of Gordon Freeman checked it out earlier today.” Veers said concluding his search. “Freeman!” Breen said making the connection. “I don’t follow sir.” The security guard said. “Freeman was the one conducting the test today. Now, we have a failed experiment, Marines poised to overrun us, and Freeman is running amuck in my complex!” Breen explained. “You don’t think Freeman was the inside man for these marines do you.” Veers asked. “I don’t think so I know so!” A now furious Breen stated. How could I have been so blind! Breen thought. “Dr. Breen?” “What is it, Isaac?” Breen said. “Allow me to offer a secondary explanation for Freeman. I’ve worked with him long before his employment here at Black Mesa and I have no reason to believe that he would sabotage us like this. Based on the evidence provided I have a theory as to why he is acting like this.” “Continue.” Breen said, curious as to where this was going. “I believe that the experiment failed due to our TV’s not being ready to handle that high of resolution, not because of internal sabotage. Now at the moment the resonance cascade occurred the signal reactor where Freeman was operating in would have become very volatile. There would’ve be stray beams of highly concentrated cable signals shooting randomly all over the reactor. It is my belief that Freeman sustained a direct hit by one of these beams. The result of such a hit would’ve caused massive cerebral scarring and a new sysnaps firing pattern would’ve been burned directly into his cortex. This would cause his perception of the real world to greatly alter. He would only see what he wanted to see, and make up things to fill the gaps, almost a hallucinogen type effect. All those TV signals pumped directly into his brain… No one can really say what is driving Freeman now.” “ What are you saying, Isaac?” Breen demanded. “He is living a movie.”

“No problem, Veers.” Calhoun said into the emergency phone. “This guy, his name is freeman right? Got it, suit number I-773a. Yeah I get it the guy’s nuts spare me the technical mumbo jumbo. All right let me write this down. You want me to tell him to launch the resonance dampening satellite that the military aborted. Good lord that’s a suicide mission last time I checked the security panel the military had complete control over the sector it’s in. Ah, hehe, I like they way you guys are thinkin’. I’ll get on it.” Calhoun placed the phone back in its cradle on the wall and went to retrieve his USP.

Freeman , having escaped the office complex unscathed was moving through the facility towards an old freight elevator to get topside. He walked briskly, keeping an eye out for any of the strange creatures, which now inhabited the facility. He turned a corner but quickly dived back around it, startled by the sight of other Humans. He cautiously peered around the corner. They were clad in military uniforms. I’m saved! He thought and was about to make his presence known when he sighted something else. One of the soldiers roughly manhandled a scientist into view. “Where’s Breen!” The soldier demanded. “What is the meaning of all this.” “I’ll ask the questions here! NOW WHERE’S BREEN!” “This is quite preposterous, we are a government research facility. I don’t have to submit to any of your demands I know my rights!” the scientist protested. “You gave up your rights when you pirated cable from taxpaying Americans. I’m done with this scumbag, dispose of him.” A majority of the Marines left with the scientist in hand leaving just 4 huddled around a table studying a map of the complex. Freeman was horrified. God first aliens now my own government. Whatever the case he need to get by the marines, and he’d fare better with one of their MP-5s in hand. He devised a plan.

“So I’m thinking we take this old maintenance route up to the next sector to bypass this security checkpoint here.” Captain Jimmy Blane told his squad leaders as he tapped his finger on the map. “What about this rail system here.” One Blane’s subordinates offered. “No dice, some of the facility’s security personnel have cut off the main…” Blane was cut off by a crashing noise from across the room. Before anybody could say anything the Marines has instinctively raised their MP-5’s in the direction of the disturbance. Then a man ran across the room and dived into an adjacent doorway. “Another scientist. Stoker, round him up.” Blane ordered. “Yes sir.” Stoker got up from the table and made his way to the doorway the scientist had dived in.
 
Freeman leaped into the door way he had tossed his crowbar in. After recovering from the dive he retrieved his crowbar and listened. Perfect. He thought after listening to the Marines exchange and hearing the sound of approaching foot steps. This sentence is filler do not read. The marine led with his MP-5 as he entered the room. It was dark, and as the marine took his hand off his MP-5 to turn on his NVG’s, Gordon struck.

A dull thud emanated from the room across from the three Marines. “Go easy on the Bastard, Stoker.” One of the Marines joked drawing a few sadistic chuckles from his peers. Then from across the room a grenade flew towards the three marines. One of them spotted it. “GRENADE ON DECK!” The Marine yelled as he dived out of the way, using a corner as a buffer between him and the inevitable shrapnel of the grenade. For the other two their reactions came too late. The shrapnel from the grenades metal case and the ball bearings with in stitched a random pattern into the two Marines, killing them instantly. Freeman walked out from his hiding spot and made a check of the damage. Only two… he thought. He filled in the blanks just in time and brought his confiscated MP-5 up just as the surviving Marine whorled around the corner spraying wildly. Freeman let of a well-aimed burst and ended the spray before it could transverse onto his position in the room. A close call none the less.

Calhoun had been taking the many back service routes to avoid drawing too much attention from the military forces that were now trickling down nearly ever part of the first levels. According to the tracking device on this Freeman’s suit, he was making his way to the surface at a pretty good pace. Fortunately for Calhoun, Freeman was almost in a perfect location according to the last check he made of his position via the computers located in the many security stations scattered throughout the massive facility. The military had made the decision not to shut down the surveillance system to use it to their own purposes. He was in an area near the silo of the aborted containment satellite, but he was situated in a group of labs that formed a pocket were the military didn’t occupy. Even better was its accessibility through an old electrical tunnel that came up in one of the labs floors. It was a tight squeeze, but minor discomfort was much better than the alternative Calhoun reasoned. Finally after what seemed like hours of maneuvering down this hellhole a light was emerging in the ceiling. He positioned himself underneath it and looked up. The vent, as promised in the facilities blueprints, was here. Before making an entrance he peered through the vent, making sure that he was in the right place and not about to pop up in the midst of a Marine squad. Satisfied, he removed the ducting and hoisted himself up into the labs.

Freeman assessed his environment. My god… he thought as he scanned what appeared to be a biological lab. But inside the cages was not the familiar although sometimes strange organisms of Earth, but samples of the aliens running wild in some parts of the facility. They knew about this all along! Freeman thought feeling horribly betrayed. The high ups knew the consequences of stealing cable and wrote us off as expendable! Freeman moved quietly for it appeared the creatures were subdued. Then the clank of metal on metal echoed through the sterile white room, making Freeman jump. Free man snapped left bringing up his MP-5 on a floor drain that had been moved by some unforeseen presence. Out of the floor crawled a man dressed in the Black Mesa security uniform. “Freeman, right?” He said in a conversational tone. Freeman quickly brought a finger to his lips, trying to communicate to this guard to shut the hell up. He then pointed toward the cages filled with the numerous sleeping aliens.

Calhoun aimed his line of sight towards where this Freeman guy was pointing. Empty dog cages? Man this guy’s brain really was on the fritz. Calhoun thought as his face assumed a non-understanding expression. “Listen, a few rooms over is a control room for an ICBM that’s been converted into a satellite launch platform. These military guys aborted it’s scheduled launch and now their all over the silo disabling the rocket permanently. We got to get that thing in orbit if we ever want to stop this madness.” Calhoun explained.

Freeman face assumed a nervous look as the security guard continued to talk. He kept glancing behind him making sure that these extraterrestrial freaks were not coming to. But it was the last sentence in the guards speech that caught his attention. “We got to get that thing in orbit if we ever want to stop this madness.” The guard said. Finally, Freeman thought, somebody had a way to stop these damn things. Freeman glanced at the security guard. He was armed, good. Freeman was gonna need all the help he could get going in. Freeman set off in the direction of the silo and motioned for the Guard to follow.

“Ok, I’ll cover you.” Calhoun told Freeman. He un-holstered his USP and followed Freeman to the lab exit. Once Freeman had cleared the door way Calhoun turned around and replaced his USP back in its holster. Two birds with one stone. Calhoun thought as he made his way back to the electrical route he came in. Now to find a place to hole up and ride this storm out.
 
First part of chapter three, it's uhh.... slightly better.... ohwell respond if you read it I live off feedback.

Chapter 3: The haze of battle is purple

Kleiner and Breen had evacuated their position near the surface in Breen’s office and headed deeper into the sprawling complex. After coming to grips with the fact that the situation was now in God’s hands, they turned their attention toward another matter, escaping this mess alive. They now stood inside the climate controlled cab of a black mesa transit system car. They were traveling down a newly built part of the facility, designed to allow fast transit from sector D office complexes to a the large reactor in a separate sector known as the Lambda complex that was used in the cable pirating process to access the border world that was used to bend the signals back toward earth. Since this route was so new and so deep within the facility, it offered considerable safety from the menace just a few levels above them. It was silent in the cab. Each occupant; Breen, Kleiner, and Veers, sat staring into space, reflecting on the events of the past 8 hours. Kleiner, always thinking about anything but the situation at hand, had devised a plan even before any open discussion over escape had transpired. However it had one major flaw, it hinged on having the containment satalite operational. They were going to use the Lambda reactor to attempt to bypass the xen relay and locally teleport themselves out of the base using the containmen satalite to defract their energy. It was daring and dangerous, but as of yet it was the only option that had been put forth that showed any promise. The men were tired and desperate and this was a desperate plan.

Intelligence analyst Grant Lemmons starred intently at the satalite reconnaissance photos that had been delivered to his desk just hours before. Explicit orders had been issued to try to make heads or tails of these photos that just seemed to showcase the endless stretches of desert in the New Mexico landscape. The vagueness of these orders had only intensified Lemmons curiosity. He stared at one of the pictures in the package trying to discern something. In the upper left appeared to be an American military base with multiple transport aircraft out on the flight line looking poised to take off. To the south their was an out of place grouping of buildings situated close to a cliff overlooking monument valley. Then the lightbulb clicked. He hurriedly dug through the pile of pictures trying to locate one he had just looked at. When he found it he held it next to the other one and discriminatingly compared the two. What in the hell? Lemmons thought. The planes at the military base he had seen in the first photo were not to be found in the photo he had just dug up that showed the same area. He flipped each over and looked at the time that was recorded on the back of them. Just an hours difference. He continued to compare the pictures then noticed something startling. He held the second photo up to his face and squinted hard. In the grouping of buildings along the cliff a hole had appeared in the surrounding ground, a tell tale sign of a missile silo. He continued to scan. In the second photo some of the buildings appeared slightly askew, one of them even appeared to be smoking. He quickly picked up his phone. “Yes, this is Level 2 MI-6 intel analyst Grant Lemmons and it is quite urgent I speak with the MI-6 director.”

“All see what I can do, the director is a very busy man.” Too busy to concern him self with the revelations of a lowly analyst Secretary Bryant Montgomery didn’t add. He set the phone down on the table and pushed a button on a desk mounted speaker. “M I’ve got a call from level 2 intelligence concerning a packet of photos delivered to their branch earlier today. You want me to put him through?” M, the designation of the MI-6 director of intelligence and special operations, heard the voice come over his end of the PA. M, immediately concluding what the call concerns, hurriedly replied to Montgomery. “Yes damn it! Patch me through to him!” A confused Montgomery attempted to figure out what would evoke this response from the director he had worked with for so long. It was not like him to personally accept phone calls. None the less Montgomery sent the call through to M’s private line.

“Sorry about that chap, now then, what’s your name?” M said receiving Lemmons call. “ Grant Lemmons sir, level 2…” “That’ll do, now then, what have you got.” M interrupted. Lemmons laid it out for him in the course of 15 minutes. He faxed photographs that he had marked on to point out the objects in question. “My conclusion is that the military assets that can be seen in picture one have relocated themselves hostiley in the building groups in the lower right hand corner, although I must say I am curious as to where and what these pictures are of.” Lemmons said, finishing his briefing. “Well your not paid to make those kind of speculations. I am much appreciative of the work Lemmons and I look forward to seeing you produce the same caliber pieces in the future. Good day.” M set the phone down and sat in silence. Fu**! He screamed in his mind. He didn’t know how much the US knew but whatever the case they were now throwing a wrench in his plans for Black Mesa and the repercussions of what they might find were unfathomable. There were hundreds of faxes, documents, and transactions that could link the activities of the complex directly to Britain’s Defense Ministry. It was time he played his ace in the hole, his fail-safe. He got up and walked over to one of the many fine oak cabinets that ringed his office and opened it, revealing yet another phone. But this one was different. It was an American STU-3 communications system housed in a seemingly innocent phone casing. He picked it up and began to dial.

The 6 man black ops team, one of three at the airport, sat waiting in the small airports lobby, wearing business/casual clothing. They were just inside the Arizona border and had arrived at this airport in non-descript civilian dolphine helicopters 2 hours ago with fake manifests after receiving words to prepare for a possible staging of the operation they had practiced so many times before crossing the pond to America. They were all to be under the leadership of the most successful spy Britain had ever produced. His exploits were known well throughout all allied intelligence communities and now he sat in this air-conditioned lobby waiting, calm, cool, and collected. His cell phone began to ring. “Bond.” He said answering the call. “James theirs been a development.” M explained. “It appears that your teams services will be necessary to her majesty’s interests. The facility you have studied has turned into a bit of a debacle you see. Our previous intentions for it can’t be salvaged and all we can do is cover it up.” “And what intentions are those?” Bond interrupted. “I’m sorry James but I’ve already briefed you on everything you need to know. Just run the operation like we’ve rehearsed and I will forever be in your debt.” M said to try and reassure Bond. “I’m never one to protest but this is absurd. Were not talking a few petty lives were talking a nuclear bomb! I need more information before I implement one of the greatest powers known to man. I’m not going to do something that could start world war three!” Bond said sharply. “Damn it Bond you’re an agent in her majesties service! I assure you it will not start world war three. It is quite imperative that you hold your end of this operation up or we could all be in great trouble the likes of which you couldn’t begin to perceive.” M snapped back. Bond was frustrated with confliction. “I hope your right, for the worlds sake. I’ll do it as long as you give me free reign over our actions in the facility.” Bond said reluctantly. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible 007. You see G has orchestrating this whole operation since it’s conception. He’s been our liaison with the facilities administrator and like it or not he is currently in the facility fulfilling his mission parameters.” “You’ve got to be joking M.” Bond said in angry disbelief, feeling screwed over yet again. The man the administrator referred to was code named ‘G’ but was more commonly called ‘G-man’ due to his static wardrobe that gave him a startling resemblance to the g-men of the 1950’s. He was originally from Germany and while he did have a remarkable grasp of the English language his dialect was quite odd. He rolled many of his words and placed unnatural emphasis on certain syllables. He was a shrewd operator who was a virtuoso of field work and was still not afraid to do the dirty work. “I never joke 007, you have your orders. I trust you’ll carry them out with the professionalism I’ve come to expect from you.” M said into the speaker of his STU-3. And with that he ended the call.

Bond made his way out of the lobby and on to the tarmac. All 17 of the operatives looked up from what they had preoccupied themselves in the waiting period and immediately knew to follow Bond out to the helicopters. It was time to rock.

G-man carried himself with an air of calmness as he made his way unnoticed through the now chaotic halls of Black Mesa. He was making his way through the outside sections of the lambda complex which were mainly comprised of Administrative buildings. Scientist were hurriedly rushing around, attending to all sorts of task necessary to the revival of the reactor within the lambda complex but none of it concerned G-man. He was transfixed on the task at hand as he made his way to office B-8. He rounded a corner and came upon his destination. Hmm it was still occupied. He noted to him self. Well… not for long. G-man coldly thought to himself.

Jim Cardinal was talking on the phone to a scientist within the reactor. He sat in his office hurriedly trying to make the best use of resources to get this reactor running in time for the Administrators arrival. “I’m sorry Dave you’ll just have to do with out it. Dave we are professionals here there is no need for that obscene language. Don’t you lecture me I spent put my time in as a working man too you know.” Just then a briefcase carrying man who was wearing a suit entered the room. “Hold on for a second Dave I’ve got company.” Cardinal said laying down the phone. “What is it I’m very busy.” Cardinal explained irately to the out of place looking man. “I won’t take long. Please allow me to introduce myself misssster Cardinal.” G-man said while laying his briefcase on the table and opening it. “I am here to prevent any unnecessary complications you see.” “Complications? Your incoherent man. Now if you don’t have anything productive to offer me then I suggest you leave.” Cardinal said, becoming even more irritated at this waste of his valuable time. G-man had nothing more to this insignificant factor into this grand equation. He produced a silenced Heckler and Koch’s mark 23 and leveled it on Cardinals head. “ DEAR GO…” He was dead before he could finish his sentence. G-man allowed himself a sadistic smirk as he admired his handy work. He quickly moved the body under the desk and proceeded to scour through the desk. He pulled a manila file from one of the drawers and opened it up. It contained memos exchanged between the administrator and MI-6 regarding funding. Satisfied, he placed the folder in his briefcase along with the pistol and exited the office seeming not to notice that he had just ended another human beings life.

Shepard and his team had encountered all kinds of odd situations in the time that had transpired since h-hour. The scientists and security guards had displayed all manners of behavior from violent but futile resistance to unconditional surrender. Whatever the case Shepard administered the same sentence to each of them, death. Their had been some strange rumors circulating in other squadrons about a seemingly crazed man that had so far proven unstoppable. Well, Shepard thought, he’ll meet his fate at the hands of his Marines. At the moment Shepard and his men were taking a break fighting and permanently decommissioning the massive rocket they uncovered earlier. They had flooded the first floor of the silo with the water that was originally intended to prevent explosion upon launch to ensure that ignition could not be achieved while they operated in the silo. The rocket was an old Titan II ICBM converted to hold a payload of a satalite. The Titan II was an old and familiar design so it did not take long for the Marines to produce schematics of the rocket to assist in their dismantling. They had just finished attaching hose’s that they were going to use to try to sump the liquid fuel from the rocket, making any attempt to restart the launch sequence fruitless and allowing the Marines to ignore this area and focus on the real task, finding Breen.

Freeman darted from a side entrance to the fifth level of the silo to some boxes that offered defilade from the Marines that now inhabited every part of the silo. He cautiously peered over the boxes to get an idea of what he was up against. Jesus Christ. He thought to him self as he witnessed a horrifying sight. On the cold metal platforms lining the silo were not only Marines, but those god forsaken creatures too. But as he continued to observe the Marines acted as if the monsters weren’t there. Then a startling thought emerged inside the gray matter of Freeman’s brain. What if the Marines are controlling these things? That could mean that not only the government knew the repercussions of pirating cable they intended for it to happen, although what their motivation was Freeman could not quite grasp. Then one of the larger creatures turned and noticed Freeman’s hiding spot. It charged around the boxes and lunged for Freeman, spraying an acidic green slim as it did.

Ben Kietel, Specialist in the United States Marine Corps, coupled the large hose to the rockets ice cold metal surface. To him this was civilian work, not fit for his divine corps. But orders were orders. He turned to his squad mate. “I didn’t sign on for this shit.” “Your preaching to the choir man, government cover ups were not in my job description.” Then from behind some boxes on the other side of the rocket, a sickening cry emanated. This was by a man in caution orange body armor of some sort who stumbled backwards from behind the boxes holding an MP-5, spraying wildly as he did. “What the hell? Kietel, cover my six.” Their squad leader ordered as he moved in on Freeman.

Freeman continued to spray wildly as he franticly attempted to put as much ground between him and that horrifying organism. The toe of his hazard suit boots caught on the perforated metal catwalk causing him to fall and causing his hail of bullets to traverse toward the Marines.

“HIT THE DECK!” Kietel ordered as he slammed onto the ground in an effort to avoid this maniacs gunfire. The other were to late. A random pattern of bullets stitched across the other Marines powered combat vests, rendering them incapacitated. Kietel pressed himself against the catwalk as hard as he could until the sound of gunfire was just an echo in the massive cavern that was the missle silo. “Jesus…” Kietel muttered under his breath as he looked up to spot this hazard suit clad assailant. But he was gone. All kietel saw was a fleeting glimpse of orange as Freeman exited that level into the silo’s service elevator.
 
Shepard nearly jumped with readiness as the deafening noise of gunfire in a sound conducive environment emanated from below his feet. All of his Marines stopped what they were doing and pointed their MP-5’s downward. Shepard looked on helplessly as a man in orange wiped out three marines and darted for the cargo elevator. “It’s Freeman!” One of his Marines yelled. “Who?” Shepard inquired, now tense with adrenaline. “That guy some of the squads have been talking about, his name’s Freeman.” So that’s the bastards name? Shepard thought. It didn’t matter what his name was. He was killing Marines and would soon suffered the consequences. “He’s going for the control room. I want every Marine in this sector covering it. I want that elevator exit covered with mines and I want a perimeter around that room so tight that ever air itself can’t get through. MOVE OUT!” Shepard ordered. It was payback time

Darkness had descended on the New Mexico Landscape as the three Dolphine helicopters raced along at low altitudes. The three British special forces teams had now changed out of their business outfits for something a little more practical. The warriors sat silently in their dark gray suits as they went over their gear one last time before reaching the LZ. They were going to conduct a long rope deployment for insertion, a very dangerous maneuver, but if performed correctly the enemy might not even know the left the helicopter. The helicopters would come in towards the base in a very tight formation to give the appearance of only one helicopter to both eyes on the ground and radar if they had any. One helicopter would leave his rotating beacon lights on in an effort to further the façade that there was only one civilian helicopter traveling the barren New Mexico desert. Once close to the LZ the helicopter would turn of the rotating beacon and pull up to slow the helicopters down in a matter of seconds. The Special ops team would then deploy using long ropes to assist in their descent into Black Mesa. After that the helicopters would reform and regain their speed at which time one of the helicopters would turn back on the rotating beacon giving the appearance to the ground forces that the helicopter never stopped at all. A green light appeared in Bonds helicopter. 007 got up from his seat and swung the side door open, exposing the six men inside to a gust of wind from the dry cold desert air. The other five special ops members followed his lead as he strapped his coiled deployment to the helicopter’s side with a caribeaner. He then slung his Heckler and Kochs G3A3 securely on his back and placed a hand on his side, checking to make sure his trade mark Walther PPK was there. Satisfied he grasp the rope and placed his feet on the helicopter’s side and waited till drop time. The flashing light went out and the helicopter reared back suddenly. Simultaneously all team members of each of the three dolphines began to slide down their ropes toward the facility. They let themselves free fall for three hundred feet as their ears popped excruciatingly. They then yanked the slack end of the rope upwards against the caribeaner attached to their wastes to slow themselves down until they were on the ground. Each of them worked quickly to get the rope out of their harnesses as the helicopters began to pull it away from them. Each of them then collected themselves, produced their weapons, and surveyed the surrounding area. They had landed by a large tunnel that housed a railway that led deep into the earth. Bond produced an infrared flashlight and began to shine it toward the helicopters as they came back around to deliver the package. They conducted the drop similar as before only this time no human cargo was deliverd, just a package. It had a computer controlled brake that was designed to slow the package down at a certain altitude. It came down gently a hundred yards away from the group and they made their way toward it. They removed the protective casing it was in for the drop, revealing a large cone placed on top of a trolley designed to utilize the Black Mesa transit system. It was a Mark IV thermonuclear warhead.

The trip to the lambda complex seemed to stretch on endlessly for the three men, but now they were finally rounding the last corner on their way to this chance of escape. The tram began to slow as Breen, Kleiner, and Veers got up from their seats. Standing on the platform however, was an unexpected presence. “Doctor Breen you’ve been a busy man as of late, I take?” G-man said meeting them as the tram came to a stop. “The equipment was faulty, G! It was not my doing. I wanted the experiment to succeed.” Breen explained. “I’m well aware of your attentions Doctor Breen, but none the less my…. Employers… are quite disappointed with this turn of events.” G-man produced the Mk-23 from his breifcase and shot Veers in the head twice. “Luckily, you two are still of some use to me. I hope, for your sake Doctor Breen, that you don’t let your benefactors down a second time.”

The Marines in the control room silently crouched behind pieces of equipment to shield themselves from the inevitable blast of the mine they had place inside the elevator shaft. The mine was not intended to kill Freeman, just knock him on the ground so that when the elevator door opened the Marines could make short work of him. As they kept their MP-5’s trained on the steel door, they watched the numbers indicating the floor the elevator was on slowly creep up to their level. The monotonous drone of the elevator motors whining persisted as the highly disciplined warriors tensely waited to administer justice to Freeman.

Freeman was also nervously watching the floor numbers slowly rise as he hypothesized about what awaited him on the other side of the door. Then, the access vent of the elevator fell down beside him, causing freeman to nearly jump out of his skin. He quickly brought his MP-5 around to confront whatever had caused. The long mutated hands of the type of zombie he had witnessed earlier began to enter the elevator. Freeman looked on in horror as the zombie fell down inside. Freeman reacted out of panic and began to repeatedly press the emergency stop button. The elevator came to a sickeningly fast stop and it’s steel doors parted revealing one of the upper levels of the silo catwalk. Freeman quickly hit the control room floor button on the elevator again and dived out, as the elevator, now with the zombie as it’s only occupant, continued it’s assent.

Mine Unit 2-47a had been kept in storage since it was first ordered by the military along with hundreds of other mines just like it. It had remained in a warehouse for about 13 years but had been finally taking out to be used in a combat situation. It had been deployed with Charlie squad in this raid on Black Mesa and had finally been put to use in its intended role after all these years of storage. It now sat magnetically fixed to the elevator shaft that went up parallel to the missile silo. It was a laser device that constantly detected the reflection of the laser it emitted. If the distance the laser traveled changed then it detonated. The elevator began to come up underneath it. Mine 2-47a was about to fulfill its purpose. The elevator crossed into the lasers path, signaling the detonator to ignite. But all its years in storage had cause the detonator wire to fray and the current couldn’t flow as intended. Mine 2-47a did not detonate.

The elevator came to a stop at the control room, but, to the Marines surprise, no explosion could be heard prior to the elevator reaching it’s destination. This only increased their concentration, as they prepared for the unexpected. Each of them transfixed their view on the steel elevator doors and tightened their grip on their MP-5s. The doors parted, revealing it’s vacant interior. The Marines stared in silence for a moment, as if anticipating Freeman to materialize out of thin air. Then Major Eddy Pope, CO Charlie squad ordered. “ Alright everybody stay put. You two, check it out. Stay alert Marines.” The two Marines he selected cautiously advanced from their cover toward the elevator. The doors closed automatically causing everyone in the room to jump and the two warriors to halt their advance. They then continued to proceed to the door and opened it again. They conducted a visual sweep of the interior then proceeded in. “Well he sure as hell ain’t here, sir.” One of the Marines informed the Major.

Mine 2-47a continued to send electricity along the broken circuit to no avail. This caused it to gradually heat up with the electrical build up in the frayed wire. The temperature kept rising until the mine was too hot to touch. Then a spark flew from one offshoot of the frayed wire to another, causing the C-4 within to detonate.

An explosion rocked the control room as the elevator filled with fire briefly. Due to the nomex in the Marines uniforms they suffered only minor burns from that. But the force of the explosion bent the railing of the elevator track, causing it to lurch to one side. This strained the cable of the elevator, and combined with the heat from the fire it started to give. It continued to fray until stopping it was impossible. It snapped, and the elevator and the counter weight came crashing toward the ground. The two Marines inside were killed on impact.

Pope was furious with rage at Freeman, and wanted revenge so bad he could almost taste it. “MARINES! LISTEN UP! I want three people manning this control room at all times don’t let that rat near hear! I want everybody on full alert, don’t touch anything that looks slightly out of place or you’ll end up like those poor souls. Everybody else, on me. Let’s show that bastard what my corps can do.” They exited the control room via a matenence ladder and prepared to confront Freeman.

Shepard an his squad of four volunteered to stay in the silo and continue disarming operations while the rest of the Marines guarded the control room. They were about to began sumping the fuel when the sickening sound of metal distorting itself could be heard through the silo walls. This was followed by a loud, ground shaking, crash. “What the hell was that?” One of his squad members asked rhetorically. “Everybody stay alert, me and price will man the pump. Everyone else set up a perimeter and stay on your toes.” Shepard ordered. Freeman was out their somewhere, and when it was time Shepard would be ready for him.

Freeman, disoriented after narrowly escaping the maw of the zombie, heard the crash too. It almost hurt his ears as the elevator came scraping down past the level he had jumped out on. The cat walk shook momentarily as the elevator crashed into the ground below. Glancing at the wall he took notice he was on the third level from the top of the silo, and the control room he need to get too. Then he froze in his tracks as he overheard voices just a bare two floors above him. “Everybody stay alert, me and price will man the pump. Everyone else set up a perimeter and stay on your toes.” Freeman slowly turned his head upward to see the speaker. It was a Marine addressing four others. Oh shit. Freeman thought as he saw what they were doing. It appeared they were draining the rockets fuel. Freeman had little time to make his move, if didn’t act he would be unable to get the satellite in orbit and contain this infestation. The loud rumble of a motor echoed through out the cavernous interior of the silo as the Marines started a portable generator they were using to sump the fuel with. Good. Freeman thought. With all that noise he should have no trouble at all. Freeman looked above him to check for any of the alien creatures that had become an all too familiar sight were occupying any territory from here to the Marines. Thankfully, it seemed as if the infestation only resided in the floors below. Freeman set out, to get the satellite in orbit and stop this madness.

G-man walked behind Breen and Kleiner, concealing his pistol from the views of any outside parties. They were still outside the actual reactor complex of Lambda but were close enough to pass scientist who were working on getting the reactor online in the event that the now grounded satellite did reach orbit. “I hope you understand what a failure here could mean for my employers, Dr. Breen. Thankfully they had the wisdom to prepare for this event. It was almost inevitable judging by your incompetence, Dr. Breen.” G-man explained to his hostages. The rage was slowly building inside Breen. He did not accept any notion that he was even remotely responsible for this catastrophe and being talked down to by what he viewed as nothing more than a than 2 bit gun toteing British Lackey. God, Breen thought. Why did I ever agree to this crazy plan. “However before this facilities demise I must first tie up a few loose ends. It has also come to my attention that you have found a way to escape the facility and I’m quite sorry dr. Breen but I believe I will be utilizing that resource, not you. But if you do manage to survive my employers are quite interested in working with you in the future. Now I believe that a few days ago you received a transaction from my employers to begin your experiment. I will require that memo along with the fiscal year ’00 report on US scientific funding.” G-man informed him. Breen stared forward, refusing to make eye contact with the MI-6 spook as he plotted his next move in this intellectual chess game. Breen knew that those memos were his only cards left in his hand, and after expending them he would become useless to G-man, and base on his previous actions, those useless to G-man did not live long lives. Breen had to come up with a plan, and fast.
 
The silo was beginning to fill with the acrid smell of exhaust fumes from the combustion driven pump. Shepard coughed from the carbon monoxide fumes that were building around him. They had only just begun sumping the massive fuel tank, and while it would take them about a day to drain the entire tank they didn’t need to drain much to prevent the rocket from reaching orbit. Shepard was on edge after the mysterious explosion he heard earlier. Reinforcing his fear was the fact he could no longer see any of the Marines through the control room window overlooking the silo. He kept one hand on the hose and the other on the trigger of the MP-5 slung over his shoulder.

Freeman kept himself out of view of the Marines by keeping the rocket between him and the devil dogs as he ascended the two floor via ladders silently. He brought his MP-5 up on the first Marine, who was leaning up against the Pump unit. He quickly though out a rough plan. He moved back around the rocket, out of sight from the Marines and went to work. Grenades were out of the question due to the mass amounts of volatile substances being moved around through the area, and while the carbon monoxide in the air would prevent something as small as the explosion in the chambers of the warriors MP-5’s from igniting the fuel, it would do nothing to stop a grenade from sending the whole silo up in flames. He produced a grenade from his hazard suit that he had removed from the body of the same Marine he got the MP-5 from. He moved back to his previous position were he had a clear shot at one of the marines. Holding the MP-5 with one hand and the grenade in the other, he went to work. He let off a short burst from his MP-5 that ripped into the unsuspecting devil dog. He shortly followed this by chucking the grenade with the pin still left in toward the other four. Freeman worked fast and ran on the catwalk around the other side of the rocket.

Shepard spotted the grenade as life left Pope’s body. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” Shepard frantically ordered as he himself darted for the nearest side exit of the silo. Freeman came around the opposite side of the rocket and let out a prolonged burst of fire from his MP-5 catching two of the retreating Marines in the hail storm of bullets. Shepard dived in the door just as Freeman’s gunfire caught a wire holding a stack of petroleum filled barrels in a pyramid stack. The barrels crashed down onto Shepard, knocking him on conscious. Private first class Henry Till, now the only one in fighting condition in Shepards squad, squated down with his SPAS-12 combat shotgun fixed on where he last saw Freeman. He slowly stood up, scanning around the rocket for any sign of Freeman. Freeman was doing the same. The scientist edged closer to the cat walk railing, confident he had this remaining Marines location pinned down. He swung around the rocket spraying wildly toward where he believed him to be only to find his bullets were striking nothing but air. The bullets ricocheted of a section of the silo’s metal side just a few yards to the right of Till. Till, now knowing exactly where Freeman was, acted. He sprinted around the left of the rocket, catching Freeman facing the other way. Till depressed the trigger. Freeman turned just in time to witness the Marine send a load of buckshot straight for his midsection. The force of the impact sent Freeman tumbling backwards. His body flew into the metal rungs of the silo’s matenence ladder as his body tumbled down this opening in the catwalks all the way to the flooded bottom of the silo. Till slowly walked over to the ladder opening and looked down just in time to see a flash of caution orange as the weight of the hazard suit dragged Freeman under water.

That's the first part of chapter three, hope it was better than the other two chapters.
 
Thou shalt space out conversations.

That is all.

(great work, btw)
 
I have to say...Wow. :O

This is wonderfully original. I really like the humor. But I've only had the stamina to read the first two chapters.

I would like to introduce you to a special friend, FCBob. Two keys past the L on your keyboard is the ENTER key. Get to know it, to love it. It can also be your friend. It can turn a large block of impenetrable text from:

Jim Cardinal was talking on the phone to a scientist within the reactor. He sat in his office hurriedly trying to make the best use of resources to get this reactor running in time for the Administrators arrival. “I’m sorry Dave you’ll just have to do with out it. Dave we are professionals here there is no need for that obscene language. Don’t you lecture me I spent put my time in as a working man too you know.” Just then a briefcase carrying man who was wearing a suit entered the room. “Hold on for a second Dave I’ve got company.” Cardinal said laying down the phone. “What is it I’m very busy.” Cardinal explained irately to the out of place looking man. “I won’t take long. Please allow me to introduce myself misssster Cardinal.” G-man said while laying his briefcase on the table and opening it. “I am here to prevent any unnecessary complications you see.” “Complications? Your incoherent man. Now if you don’t have anything productive to offer me then I suggest you leave.” Cardinal said, becoming even more irritated at this waste of his valuable time. G-man had nothing more to this insignificant factor into this grand equation. He produced a silenced Heckler and Koch’s mark 23 and leveled it on Cardinals head. “ DEAR GO…” He was dead before he could finish his sentence. G-man allowed himself a sadistic smirk as he admired his handy work. He quickly moved the body under the desk and proceeded to scour through the desk. He pulled a manila file from one of the drawers and opened it up. It contained memos exchanged between the administrator and MI-6 regarding funding. Satisfied, he placed the folder in his briefcase along with the pistol and exited the office seeming not to notice that he had just ended another human beings life.
Click to expand...
To:
Jim Cardinal was talking on the phone to a scientist within the reactor. He sat in his office hurriedly trying to make the best use of resources to get this reactor running in time for the Administrators arrival. “I’m sorry Dave you’ll just have to do with out it. Dave, we are professionals here there is no need for that obscene language. Don’t you lecture, me I've put my time in as a working man too you know.”

Just then a briefcase carrying man wearing a suit entered the room. “Hold on for a second Dave I’ve got company.” Cardinal said laying down the phone. “What is it? I’m very busy,” Cardinal explained irately to the out of place looking man.

“I won’t take long. Please allow me to introduce myself Misssster Cardinal.” G-man said while laying his briefcase on the table and opening it. “I am here to prevent any unnecessary complications you see.”

“Complications? You're incoherent man. Now if you don’t have anything productive to offer me then I suggest you leave.” Cardinal said, becoming even more irritated at this waste of his valuable time.

G-man had nothing more to this insignificant factor into this grand equation. He produced a silenced Heckler and Koch’s mark 23 and leveled it at Cardinals head.

“ DEAR GO…” He was dead before he could finish his sentence.

G-man allowed himself a sadistic smirk as he admired his handiwork. He quickly moved the body under the desk and proceeded to scour through the desk. He pulled a manila file from one of the drawers and opened it up. It contained memos exchanged between the administrator and MI-6 regarding funding. Satisfied, he placed the folder in his briefcase along with the pistol and exited the office seeming not to notice that he had just ended another human beings life.
Click to expand...
That said, this is quite entertaining. I'll be back to read the rest once my eyes have recovered. :rolling: In reference to your Writer's Corner post, you certainly aren't a bad writer, but the "New paragraph for new speaker" rule is one that all of your readers would greatly appreciate you following.

Keep up the good work, and remember...the ENTER key is your friend. :)
 
Part 2 is finally here, after days of procrastination I finally got to work on it in marathon session of writing interrupted by some serious NES playin’. Also I made a mistake that I can’t edit in the first part of this chapter in the last paragraph where it says life left pope’s body. Yeah… don’t ask me why I put pope their, it should be life left price’s body.

Bond leaned against the rails of the tram, scanning the tunnel ahead for possible threats. He and his band of highly trained killing machines had gotten to work immediately, splitting up to accomplish the task at hand. The first 6 man group had taken an overland route through the facility to commandeer some kind of transportation and bring it to a large freight elevator that networked with a series of other elevators to provide access deep into the largely underground facility. Bond and the two other 6-man teams had taken the task of escorting the nuclear warhead along the rail system to its destination. One crew would operate the tram and protect it, while the other team would scout ahead to prevent any holdups. A firefight around this cargo was something everyone was willing to go out of their way to avoid. For now things remained tensely quite. They had yet to make contact with the enemy that they knew nothing about. Bond leaned up and readied his G3A3 as the tram slowly came upon a Black Mesa Transit System stop. He peered down the iron sights as it came in to view only to discover something horrifying. Bodies. Blood was spattered in-between the grotesquely strewn corpses. But what startled the special ops members the most were the uniforms the bodies wore. Bond, noting that the recon team had stopped at this disgusting sight, ordered the tram to be stopped. He quickly hopped onto the platform and made his way to the nearest body. It was a United States Marine.

G-man flipped through the portfolio containing the fiscal year ‘00 US scientific funding. Breen and Kleiner stood uneasily against the office wall, contemplating their fate. Breen’s eyes desperately scanned the room looking for anyway to escape the sadistic spook to no avail. “Well Dr. Breen, if you delivered this well before your debacle we could've spared ourselves these unpleasantness. I’m satisfied, now lets get on with this shall we Dr. Breen?” Kleiner and Breen were running out of options fast. They were seemingly helpless, and becoming more desperate by the minute.

Freeman careened backwards from the unexpected impact, crashing into the cold metal matenence ladder. His head whipped back hard into the ladders rungs, temporarily disorienting him as his hazard suit covered body tumbled several floors down into the flooded lower levels. The coldness of the water stunned him further. By the time he regained control he was several feet underwater and his HEV respiration system was kicking in. His first impulse was to swim back to the surface but he quickly restrained himself, knowing it would mean certain death from the Marine above. Now fully aware of his surroundings and confident he was alive, he began to compile a fuzzy picture of what had happened. Son of a bitch I’ve been shot! He thought, panicking as he made this connection with the events of the past 20 seconds. He detached the sealed hazard suit glove from his right hand and began frantically checking himself for a wound. His feverish search ended and he began to calm down as his hands felt the pock marked chest plate of his HEV suit. The hazard suit had been designed primarily to protect it’s operator from high radiation levels, doing so by emitting it’s own contained magnetic field which was “inflated” by ionized hydrogen particles, or plasma. However the suits designers had also made it to withstand great physical abuse, using a lightweight high density polymer which had easily absorbed the buckshot spray of the Spas 12 for it’s outer shell. It was not entirely impenetrable, however. Had the Marine struck freeman with the steel jacketed 5.56 round of an M-16, it would’ve been all over for the doctor. He spun around, suspended in the water, searching for his next move in this dangerous chess game. He found it in the blast vents of the silo. While during normal operation they wouldn’t open fully until launch, they doubled as an air vent until that time came. Freeman speculated that he could follow this vent a few floors up. What he would do from there, even he did not know. All he knew was that that satellite had to get in orbit, and to Freeman, any other option besides success wasn’t an option.

“Till!” Captain Pope ordered as he and his Marines began to climb down from the catwalk above Till. Till, out of the still present adrenaline, spun around with his weapon ready, but let his guard down at the sight of fellow Marines.

“Well Captain, a little late I’m afraid.” Till said, his pride of getting the kill blinding him to the fact that he was talking down to an officer.

“Can it Private, now what in gods name happened.” The captain inquired the body of a dead Marines came into sight.

“The Bastard put up a hell of a fight, got a Price and Shepard. But he’s no match for my Corp. Caught him with a load of .00 and that was all she wrote. He’s down their in his watery grave now.” Till gestured towards the flooded lower levels.

The rage slowly built inside Pope at Till’s stupidity. Still he tried to keep his cool as he made his next inquiry to confirm what he believed had happened. “Tell me Private, what did that rat have on?”

“Just some weird lookin’ orange space suit, I don’t really see why it matters he’s dead.”

Pope’s rage boiled over. “Why it matters, private, IS BECAUSE FREEMAN ISN’T DEAD! That ‘weird looking orange space suit’, as you so eloquently put it, is a civilian hazard suit. IT’S ALMOST THE EXACT SAME THING AS OUR POWERED COMBAT VEST! A SHOTGUN BLAST IS ONLY GONNA SCRATCH IT! You really are thick aren’t you private?”

“Sir I…”

“THAT WAS A RETORICLE QUESTION MARINE! NOW STAND DOWN AND LET THE REAL WARRIORS GO TO WORK. Alright listen up Marines! Scour the lour levels. Don’t even let a fly come up. I want Freeman’s head on a platter. AND NEVER, EVER, ASSUME ANYTHING! NOW MOVE OUT!

Free man squeezed through the narrow air vent as he made his ascent. Up ahead he noticed the water ended in the vertical tunnel, which meant he would be able to go no higher. He found a floor vent in the side of the metal confinement of the duct and began to wedge it open with his crowbar. Water spilled onto the floor of the lab the vent led to. He threw his MP-5 and crowbar in ahead of him and pulled himself through. He glanced at the wall to check the painted numbers indicating the level he was on. Just five floors to the control room which he desperately sought. He made his way to the door that lead out of the lab. Just five floors. He thought to himself. He cocked his confiscated MP-5. Just five floors.

Corporal Tim Hedrick and Private Daryl Sullivan entered the main corridor of the third floor, the lowest floor that they hadn’t flooded. The hallway was clear, yet they remained alert. Judging by the way Freeman had handled previous encounters with Marines Hedrick and Sullivan didn’t want to be caught off guard. They were approaching the first side door in the hallway.

Freeman approached the automatic door and was pleased to find that it was still functioning. It slid open and Freeman quickly jogged into the passage.

The Marines collided with a man in an HEV suit who had ran out of the room. All three of them reeled backwards readying their weapons system only to find that in the collision a grenade had been jarred loose from one of the Soldiers vests. “****!” Sullivan yelled, expressing the thoughts of each man in the hallway.

Freeman jump backwards behind a crate, while the two Marines found cover in the opposite direction. The grenade went off, Peppering everything within it’s immediate radius with ball bearings. After the explosion Freeman Jumped to his feet and sprinted down the Hallway for the fire escape stair well by the now out of service elevator. The two Marines opened fire with their weapons, one an MP-5 the other an M-249 squad automatic weapon. Freeman continued his flight as bullets smashed into the concrete interior around him. Freeman strafed out to the right, drawing the fire with the move, then dived to the left, smashing into the fire escape door. An alarm began to sound as the Marines ceased fire.

“Fire team 1-3, this is fire team 2-8 be advised we have made contact with Freeman and he is moving to level four via fire escape stair well, over.” Corporal Hedrick spoke into the shoulder mounted mic of his radio.

Freeman scrambled to his feet when a horrible sight confronted him. Attached to the bottom of the stairs above were strange unworldly creatures. From their slime coated bodies ended in a Maw filled with rows of razor sharp teeth. Descending downward from it’s mouth was a long, extremely sticky ‘tongue’, which it apparently used to trap it’s prey. There were many of them on the cool damp concrete that comprised the stair well and they appeared to occupy the entire length of it. Freeman did not hesitate long. He knew death from the Marines was threatening him from all directions. He continued his sprint up the stairs with the siren blaring in the background as he maneuvered in-between the strange alien traps. Soldiers had entered the stairwell above him and began to fire down upon him. Freeman leapt up onto the rail of the stairs and jumped to grab the rail above him. He hoisted himself over and found him self above the Marines. When he attempted to continue his ascent without confronting this first round of soldiers he slipped. He quickly reacted by turning around and spraying into the three Marines that had entered the fire escape. It was too late however, his slip had cost him greatly. The Marines hosed him down with nine millimeter rounds out of their MP-5’s, one of which impacted Freeman in the exposed area of the hazard suit where the chest plate joins his right arm covering. The bullet tore into the flesh of his shoulder underneath. Freeman reeled with pain as he hopped to his feet and fled from the Marines. Sensing that he wouldn’t be able to outrun the Marines up the stairs with his injury he dived into the 5fth floor. Behind could be heard the heavy beat of footsteps as the Marines charged up the stairs. They were closing in for the kill.

Barney Calhoun, having caught wind of why the scientist were barricading themselves in Lambda complex, had emerged from his hiding spot deep in the facility to investigate this possible means of escape. He had made the long hike through the same transit tunnel Breen and Kleiner had used just an hour before. However, due to a power failure, he had to go by foot. Finally light could be seen ahead, indicating that he had reached the Lambda station in this little known part of the Black Mesa Transit system. He climbed up a ladder onto the platform. He noticed that a Tram was docked in the station. Hmm… he thought. Must’ve arrived just before the power went to hell. Out of curiosity Calhoun checked inside. Calhoun stumbled backwards at the sight that confronted him inside the tram. A dead security guard. Two bullets neatly in the head. Calhoun, having composed himself from the initial shock, checked the name tag on the body. Richard Veers. The same man Calhoun had spoken to before he left the safety of his security post. Calhoun made the connection fast, Veers was supposed to be escorting the administrator at all times. Something horribly wrong had happened. Calhoun unholstered his USP and headed off into the Lambda facility.

Breen and Kleiner continued their forced march through Lambda, now heading for the reactor. G-man followed closely behind, keeping his hand on his concealed .45. They know headed for the offline reactor, and to find their fate.

“Please allow me to explain just what kind of predicament we’re in in terms of this actually working.”

“You needn’t lecture me, Dr. Breen.” G-man interjected.

“Listen to me, there is a satellite on the other end of the facility whose launch was aborted by the military. Without it, this whole operation is all for naught.”

“And on top of that the Lambda reactor is not in the best of shape itself.” Kleiner added.

“Well then I do hope, for your sake, that it is quite operational upon our arrival.”

Breen shuddered. The situation was growing grimmer by the second for him and Kleiner.

Calhoun raced through the bustling corridor that snaked through the Lambda facility like a main artery. All manner of scientist hurriedly worked away to make sure the Lambda core would be operational. Many inquired about some type of satellite but none of it concerned Calhoun. His eyes constantly scanned the hall for any sign of either of the Doctors. Finally up ahead he caught a glimpse of the administrator. Relieved that he was apparently in no distress he slowed to down to a fast walk. Upon closer inspection Calhoun noticed that besides Kleiner another man accompanied Breen. At first Calhoun assigned no seriousness to this, writing the third man off as a fellow scientist. After all he was carrying a Black Mesa Breifcase. But then Calhoun noticed something that gave him reason to be wary of this man. Concealed in the third man’s hand, was a firearm. Calhoun redrew his USP and began to approach the three. He came up with something fast. “Sir are you alright?” Calhoun called out to the administrator.

Breen, G-man, and kleiner turned to see the speaker. Breen seized this opportunity to strike. He ramed G-man with his soldier and began to push him toward one of the side office doors. G-man brushed him off almost effortlessly with one arm and turned his now plainly visible .45 toward him. Calhoun opened fire with his USP, causing G-man to retreat into the office for cover. Kleiner, taking the initiative, ran to the opposite wall where one of many base wide hazardous material containment button was located, sort of like a fire alarm only it closed off the facility into sections to contain chemical spills or radiation leaks. He smashed his fist into the glass and punched the button, causing all office doors to seal tightly and massive fire doors to come down and separate the corridor off into sections. Calhoun helped Breen onto his feet and grabbed kleiner, dragging them both as fast as he could into the next section of corridor before the thick concrete fire doors trapped them in the same section as the vicious spy. They quickly dived to the ground, barely crawling under it before it made an airtight seal with the ground. Catching his breath, Calhoun quickly checked the other two.

“You alright pal?” He asked kleiner.

“I’m bleeding pretty bad, but I’ll be alright.” Kleiner said holding his cut hand.

“So much for getting to the lambda center.” Breen said looking down the hallway to see that the entire base had gone into containment mode.

“Well if the security systems still operating I can manually disable all the base’s containment doors except for our little friend’s.” Calhoun offered.

“Do it, it is quite imperative that these scientist be permitted to move freely inside this facility if we want to get the core online.” Breen ordered.

“Your couldn’t of arrived at a better time Mr….”

“Calhoun, Barney Calhoun.”

“Pleased to meet you Mr. Calhoun.”
 
Freeman scrambled to his feet, bracing himself for what would surely be his death. He held the MP-5 with his left hand, letting his painfully wounded right arm go limp. He let out a burst of fire at the stairwell to inform the Marines that he was waiting for them. Then, on top of the fire alarm that already was already blaring in the silo, a new alarm sounded. This one more of a beep. All the doors in the offices slamed shut as a large heavy door descended across the fire escape stairwell access. The Marines immediately recognized that Freeman might get away and popped up to fire at him and try to get into the hallway before it was sealed off. Freeman hosed them down with fire too, hoping to hold them off long enough. He ceased his sporadic fire and pulled his final grenade off his pistol belt. He lobbed it into the stairwell to preoccupy the Marines while the door continued to close. But as fate would have it one of the Soldiers scooped up the Frag and lobbed it under the narrowing gap between the door and the ground. Freeman darted down the 5th floor hallway and dived under another fire door that was closing to separate the passage ways off. The Marine saw Freeman flee and after the grenades detonation charged from the stairwell and into the hallway before the door could shut fully. Freeman, now in another section of the corridor, went prone in an effort to get a clear shot at the Marines in the adjacent section. The Marines were too late. Freeman staved them off with 9mm spray from now only 1 wide gap between the heavy blast door and the white floor. The Marines, rather than be shot in the foot, retreated back into the stairwell just as the doors finally sealed. Freeman, now in relative safety, leaned against the wall and let out a huge sigh of relief. However their was no time to rest for Freeman. He quickly got to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. He was two floors below where he needed to be and by an odd twist of fate it appeared everything was sealed off. Freeman looked up. Then the light bulb came on inside his head as he formulated a plan. He quickly stacked whatever he could find then climbed up his half a**ed ladder. He reached out and removed one of the many tiles that comprised the ceiling, reviling the steel raptors that supported the floor above. He began hammering away
With his crow bar at the tiles resting on the raptors until he a achieved a roughly man sized hole. He then grabbed onto the steel beams with his good arm and painfully hoisted himself up into the next level. Upon familiarizing himself with the next floor he thankfully came to the conclusion that he would not have to repeat that awkward process to get into the control room. Since the control room was the only thing that resided on the floor above the fire escape stairwell did not connect to it. Instead the designers had put in an emergency escape and matenence ladder connecting this floor to the control room. Freeman, wary of the probability that more Marines awaited him in the control room, cautiously ascended the ladder. Before opening the matenence hatch he instinctively reached for a grenade, only to discover that he had expended the last in his narrow escape of the Marines in the Stairwell. He improvised, being ready to catch any Marine in the control room off guard in a burst of gunfire.

The three Marines Pope had ordered remain behind in the unlikely event Freeman slipped through their grasp, leaned up against the blank wall of the control room.

“This has gotta be the worst assignment I have ever signed on for.”

“Your preaching to the right crowd, I’m bored as hell.”

“There a head ‘round here somewhere I gotta piss bad.”

“I think I saw one downstairs.”

“Alright cover for me, I’m gonna try to find one.”

The Marine made his way toward the matenence hatch that now, due to the decommissioned elevator, was the only way out of the control room. He lifted it up only to find himself face to face with Freeman himself, surprising both of them. “What the he…” Freeman cut him off mid sentence with a burst of fire that turned his face into an unrecognizable bloody mass. The other two Marines quickly stood up and readied their weapons systems at the sound of gunfire. But it was wasted effort. Freeman, only exposing his head and left arm, let out a prolonged burst of fire that ripped into the Marines. Freeman, just out of the surprise of the moment, held the trigger until the clip in his MP-5 ran dry. Assured that the cost was clear, he climb into the computer filled space that was the control room. His first problem was the flooded lower levels preventing ignition. He quickly overcame this by opening up the blast vents which cause the water to drain deep within the facility. Satisfied he checked the ICBM’s fuel supply. Confident that it would be enough to send the rocket into orbit he proceeded. With everything in place he initiated the automatic launch sequence.

Shepard slowly began to regain consciousness. He awoke to the sound of blaring sirens, and found himself pinned underneath a pile of 50 gallon drums. He looked around through his still blurred vision to find the airlock he had jumped into had been sealed off for a reason unknown to him. He groaned as he exerted great effort to free himself from underneath the barrel’s. Finally one of the barrels got loose and rolled off of him, allowing Shepard to get to his feet. He went over to the door that blocked his path back into the silo and attempted to open it, but with no luck. Then a disembodied voice came over the PA system. “1 minute to launch.”

Pope and his Trapped Marines also heard this warning.

“S**t! He’s in the control room, lets move people!” Pope ordered.

He and his Marines quickly scarmbled up the stairs to the six floor. Upon arrival they desperately attempted to get the door open. No amount of tinkering with the doors electrical system could force it open. Pope decided to use his last resort.

“Johnson, you think your plasma cutter could clear this door?” Pope inquired.

“It’s pretty thick. It’d be close but I think I could do it. I can’t get it done in a minute though.” Private First Class Todd Johnson replied.

“I don’t give a shit about shutting that satellite down now, I want Freeman’s head on platter. One way or another he’s gonna pay.”

And with that Johnson began the tedious task of cutting the fire door down.

“30 seconds to launch.” The PA system announced. Freeman had done all he could, it was now in the hands of the launch system’s routine. He felt awkward being unable to do anything else to assist. All he could do was wait and see if all the destruction he had caused was worth it. When 20 seconds to go was announced thick barriers descended over the control room windows. The anxiety was building in Freeman, so much that he had become unaware of his surrondings, a mistake that would nearly cost him his life.

Till, who was left by Pope’s contingent of Marines to continue sumping operations, heard the PA statements too. “Christ!” he said out loud. He shut down the pump to better here the announcement. “30 seconds to launch” “Oh God!” Till said as he began to panick. He glanced everywhere but to his horror all the exits had been sealed shut by the previous haz/mat alarm. “20 seconds to launch.” The voice called out. With this announcement the catwalks around the rocket began to retract into the surrounding silo walls. Till, now growing mad with dread of his impending demise, backed against the metal interior of the silo as he slowly ran out of room to stand. The generator was the first thing to fall, severing it’s connection with the rocket and crashing into the ground. There was but a scant two feet of catwalk left. Till, who couldn’t stand it anymore, made up his mind. He reasoned instant death by jumping was better than the unthinkable option of being incinerated by the hot exhaust gasses of the ICBM. He shut his eyes, and leapt into the unknown.

“Hey… hey! I think I got it.” Calhoun said as Kleiner and Breen walked over to investigate. He typed away into the wall mounted keyboard.

“This should do it, hold on I can’t actually execute this from this station. Their should still be someone manning the central security database, that place is impenetrable.” Calhoun got up from the crate he was using as a seat and walked over to the emergency phone. “Yeah, hello? This is security contractor Barney Calhoun. Uhh yeah, I’ve got a direct order from the administrator regarding the haz/mat lockdown. I’m uploading his request now.” Calhoun let the phone dangle by the cord as he trotted back over to the security station in their sealed off hallway segment. He punched a few keys and returned to the phone. “You should receive it anytime.” But before Calhoun was done speaking the door opposite the one imprisoning g-man began to open. Calhoun set the phone back in the receiver and prepared to move out when the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. It persisted for agonizing seconds which to the three men seemed like hours. Concrete flaked off the bomb proof walls encasing the Lambda complex. The tremor gradually decreased until it was just a faint roar. Then their was silence. It was broken by commotion from the next hallway over. Exited chatter exchanged between scientist was audible but unintelligible from where the Breen, Kleiner, and Calhoun stood. When the containment door had lifted up far enough a scientist ducked underneath it and ran with a sense of urgency towards Breen. However the sight of the administrator was an unexpected surprise to the slightly overweight scientist.

“Sir, your presence was expected in the core over an hour ago. Why we had feared the worse. I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat, I’ve got some good knews for the teleportation trajectory team down this hallway.”

“Access to that hallway is quite out of the question. Whatever you were going to tell them you can tell me.” Breen said talking down to the obviously intimidated scientist.

“Well sir, their has been a wonderful turn of events. Freeman did it! The satellite has begun it’s ascent toward the heavens and should be in proper orbit within the hour.” The scientist explained.

“Thank god,” Kleiner said, exhaling in relief as he did. “I was beginning to fear this desolate facility would become my grave.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news however. It is quite imperative that we move all personnel into the core to await the teleporters revival. The brave men who have been keeping this section of Black Mesa free of those vile soldiers can’t hold out much longer. Any second the security of Lambda could be compromised.”

“It already has…” Breen said referring to g-man, still trapped inside the small office. “However that is only incentive to get the reactor online. I expect your men to operate with the professionalism you always have.”

***

“What the hell?” Johnson said as he stood back from the door. He hadn’t even halfway finished clearing the obstruction when it opened by itself.

“Ten seconds to launch.” The PA system informed.

Pope, befuddled as any one at their strange luck, acted quickly. “Alright Marines. Double time it to the control room we might still be able to stop that thing! MOVE!” Pope charged out of the now open fire escape door, followed by his Marines.

Freeman waited nervously as the seconds ticked by toward launch. He loaded and reloaded his MP-5 just so he had something to do while the agonizingly slow launch sequence droned on. Finally it was down to the final ten seconds. Freeman stopped his aimless reloading preoccupation and move toward the blast windows to witness the awesome spectacle first hand. Then the creak of hinges emanated behind him, causing him to whirl around. A Marine poked his head out of the matenence tunnel and opened fire on Freeman.

“5 seconds to launch”

Freeman threw his hands up in fruitless reaction and rolled behind one of the control consoles for cover.

“4…”

One of the Marines bullets struck Freeman’s MP-5, disintegrating it’s lock mechanism.

“3…”

Freeman dropped the MP-5 which was now wildly spraying 9mm rounds sporadically. The Marine was halfway out of the Matenence hatch when his left leg was caught by the untamable fire from the malfunctioning MP-5.

“2…”

The Marine fell down the ladder, knocking down three Marines below him who were waiting to go in after him. The Marines scrambled to get up.

“1….”

Freeman knew their would be more and searched around for an escape. He found it in the destroyed elevator shaft. The Another Marines appeared in the matenence hatch and lined up a shot on Freeman.

“Liftoff”

The ground began to rumble as Freeman sprinted all out for the elevator shaft. Bullets ricochet around Freeman as he left into the empty shaft. With his one good arm he reached out with his crowbar and caught one of the elevator cables with the curved end to slow his descent. But the previous elevator explosion had severed the counter weight from any of the cables, causing the rope to give out slack wildly. Freeman was free falling in parallel to the central cable at an alarming rate. He dropped his crowbar and wrapped his left arm around the long steel cable and squeezed hard. Bits of the hazard suits high density polymer began to flake of from the friction but his descent began to rapidly slow. He tightened his arm around it, hoping to slow himself just a little bit more. But there was no more time. He reached the end of the cable with 6 feet left in the drop and crashed into the elevator wreckage hard. He groaned and writhed on the ground but then perked up to listen. The metal shaft was extremely conducive to sound and the rockets liquid fuel engine could clearly be heard. This sound was of unimaginable relief to Freeman. He had done it. He retrieved his crow bar which had hit the ground next to him and set off in search of a way out of this hell hole.

well that was the end of chapter three. no huge plot developments but it wrapped up those introduced in the first part of chapter three. By chapter 5 it's gonna start getting good.... I hope.... ohwell. Feed back is much appreciated. thanks.
 
Since writing chapter 4 is going slow due to me slackin' i decided to release what i got so far. It ain't much but ohwell.

Chapter 4: employment

Shepard looked on in horror from his imprisonment inside the sealed off airlock as Till leapt from the catwalk. Adding to his disbelief the rocket roared to life in a blinding flash. Shepard threw up his hand to shield his eyes and stumbled backwards over the barrels. God… he thought, processing the sight that befell him. Had Freeman picked the Marines apart that fast? When the rocket had cleared the silo the airlock doors finally opened, freeing Shepard. Separated from his unit and entirely unarmed, Shepard departed. Where he was going and why was irrelevant. Truth be known even he didn’t have a reason setting out into the facility alone. But it was not like Shepard to sit idly by with no bearing on his fate. Any action to him was better than no action.

002 and his team, tasked with securing local transportation, met Bond at the others at the transit terminal.

002 wasted no time in interrogating Bond about the specifics of the mission “What in gods name is going on here. It was hell up there. We made contact with the enemy about an hour after splitting up from you guys. We found ourselves in a bit of a predicament. The personnel engaging us were US militants. Quite tenacious little buggers I might add. We had no choice but to take a hostile stance towards them. Something isn’t right and I’m not preceding until I have answers.”

“I must apologize, M’s kept me in the dark as well. The absurdity of this mission is quite overpowering. Engaging units of a friendly country in order to complete the task of detonating a nuclear bomb? However this is her majesties orders so the only thing I can tell you is to keep trudging onwards.”

“Damn it Bond. You of all people should have the guts to challenge the brass on this one. What if they don’t know we’re engaging friendlies.”

“Orders are orders 002.” Bond said as he briskly walked away, attempting to avoid the conversation.

002 firmly grabbed Bond by his arm and jerked him back. “I’ll go, but if my men start getting killed needlessly, you’ll be the one to pay. That’s one order that I’ll carry out as long as there’s a single breath in my body”

G-man sat stoically in the office that had now become his prison, not letting what would frustrate a normal man to the point of blindness affect his cold, systematic train of thought. He scanned the confines of the nondescript office, searching for an answer to this quite insurmountable problem he faced. He made his way over to the office’s desk and powered up the computer, hoping that the military hadn’t discovered and disabled the base’s LAN. Thankfully he was able to connect uneventfully to the Black Mesa mainframe. After 5 minutes worth of tinkering G-man had accomplished the task of bringing up Blue prints for the Lambda complex on the monitor. According to what befell him on the computer monitor the room adjacent to the one he was trapped in had been used as a supercomputer storage room when the military had occupied the base. To suit this task the engineers had a main air duct connected directly to the room. Suitable. G-man thought He stood up from the desk, straightened his tie, and climbed on top of the office desk. After exposing the rafters by removing a light covering, G-man disappeared out of the office and into the ceiling.

Breen stood inside the control room that overlooked the gaping confines of the Lambda core. It was an awesome spectacle to behold; the massive and complex machine slowly coming to life as scientist scurried about, desperately making sure that everything would work. It was a tricky plan and its danger element could be accredited to the amount of things needed to go right at the moment of synapse.

“It’ll be another hour before the chain reaction is stable, from their we can begin the teleportation process.” Isaac Kleiner informed the silent Breen. Kleiner had immediately begun assisting the science team, despite his injury.

Breen rubbed his temple, not knowing whether they could hold out for an hour against the Marines that threatened to overrun them. “Calhoun?” Breen finally spoke.
Barney Calhoun, who had replaced Veers as Breens body guard, quickly came to assistance. “Yeah?”

“Those Marines, Calhoun… They could undo everything we’ve worked for up to this point…”

“I know that as good as you sir.”

“Calhoun I’ve just been informed that we are going to be stranded in this desolate place for another hour…”

“Sir I can’t make heads or tails of what your getting at.”

“Tell me Calhoun, honestly. With the forces we have, can we do it?”

“Do what?”

“Survive.”

“Sir, with the skeleton force we have now there are more holes in our perimeter than…” A proper analogy failed to make itself apparent to Calhoun. “It’s only a matter of time before the Military starts to exploit one of these weakness. Then it’ll be hopeless. I give it another 15 minutes before that scenario unfolds.”

“Then there’s not a moment to loose.” Breen said, regaining some of the zeal of his normal self.

“What d’ya mean.”

“Get the word to all of the personnel manning the barricades. Fall back to form a tighter perimeter around the core itself. Tell them to use any explosives at their disposal, be creative, do whatever you have to just tell them to block the entrances behind them any way they can. The infrastructure of this facility means nothing, lives do.” And with the administration of that order, Breen briskly walked out of the control room. He needed time alone to contemplate his actions over the last 24 hours. Had he done the right thing?

Across the pond in London, an assistant to the Queen entered her quarters.

“Your majesty?”

“Yes what is it?” The Queen said siting up from her desk.

“I believe it’s time for your programs.”

“Ah yes, you may proceed.”

The assistant walked across the room to the TV and switched it on. He began turning the dial to BBC public access. Upon tuning the channel in the room filled with unintelligible rabble.

“What in the world?”

“I don’t know, I’m trying to fix it.”

“This is preposterous what is going on!”

“I haven’t the slightest notion, but it would appear that all the channels are in Spanish!”

Bond, who had taken the wheel of the second truck, peered over the steering column, attempting to discern the truck ahead in the darkness of the underground tunnel. They were running with the lights off, which was really just a safety hazard as the noise of the engine echoing through the concrete bunker would give them away long before the headlights. Bond glanced down at the PDA he had velcroed to his knee. According to the moving map GPS, they were nearing the bombs final destination. Bond took his left hand off of the wheel to adjust the map size on the screen. The drone of the engines was violently interrupted by the piercing screech of tires. Bond looked up in time to see the truck in front of him which was full of special ops members, come to a fast stop infront of him. Bond tensed with surprise as he depressed the brake so hard it was a miracle it didn’t go through the floor board. When this proved to not be enough he spun the wheel hard to the right and the truck skidded diagonally before nosing into the concrete wall. Bond was flung against the steering wheel from the impact, knocking the wind out of him. He quickly tried to get a hold of himself and address the situation at hand. Glancing out the left window which faced the now stopped lead truck, he could discern the black clad special ops members piling out of the canvassed cargo bed. They began firing at something down the tunnel. Marines. They had come across a fire fight between the Marines and some mysterious third party at what appeared to be a quickly thrown together road block. The Marines had quickly overrun what appeared to be civilians and took up positions behind the wreckage comprising the makeshift roadblock.

Bond worked quickly to free himself from the wreckage, fiercely struggling to clear out the cab. After what seemed like forever Bond pulled himself out of the truck through the side window. A bullet richoched of off the trucks wreckage, letting Bond know that he was now engulfed in a fire fight. He leaned back inside the cab and produced his Heckler and Koch G3A3. Moving over to the abruptly halted lead vehicle he tapped 002 on the shoulder, who was actively engaging the Marines.

002 turn to see Bond, who he had written off as dead after witnessing his truck careen into the wall. “You alright?”

“Fine, and so is the cargo. What’s the holdup?” Bond said, trying to talk over the gunfire.

“We nearly ran over a full fledged fire fight, it looked like the Marines were killing….” The intensity of the automatic fire grew louder, drowning out 002.

Bond tapped his ears, signaling to 002 that he couldn’t hear, and took up a position beside the truck. Bond peered over the sights of his weapon and assessed the fight. He quickly realized that this had quickly become a deadly stalemate, and had the potential to get a lot of his men killed. Moving back behind the truck he attempted to communicate a plan to 002.

Captain Pope, after failing to apprehend Freeman, had exited the silo to find his squad engaged in a vicious firefight with a mix of scientists and security guards. This force was ill equipped however, and it was no match for Pope’s detachment. They were just finishing up disposing the last of the scientist, who were now cowering behind their hurriedly assembled barricades, when the faint hum of a vehicles engine could be heard fast approaching. Pope turned to investigate, but quickly turned back, making a run for the relative safety of the now unoccupied barriers at the sight of a speeding GMC half ton truck.

“GO!” Is all Pope called out to his Marines as the truck closed in fast. It didn’t take long for the warriors to translate this obscure order, as the fast moving truck threatened to collide with the squad. Corporal Hedrick opted not to run, but instead brought his M-249 saw around and lined it up on the trucks cab. He depressed and let out a burst of fire, checkering the glass windshield. The driver immediately ducked below the dash board before he was put in any immediate danger. The truck screeched to a halt as another truck behind it swerved into the wall to avoid it. Hedrick, satisfied with his handy work, retreated to the relative safety of the roadblock. A fire fight ensued.

Emerging from the half ton vehicles were night vision toting warriors clad in black jump suits.

“What the hell? Hold your fire” Pope called out.

“Nobody said anything about special ops.” One Marine commented.

Then, catching the Marines off guard, the black ops contingent opened fire on them. The soldier needed no order; they quickly returned the fire, locking both parties in a deadly exchange of lead. This continued for what seemed like an eternity, with the Marines pinned behind the barricades and likewise for the special ops behind the truck. Then there was a brief lull in the fighting. Pope peered over the metal desk that the Black Mesa personnel had thrown down among other odd items as a road block. He couldn’t get a clear shot at any of the warriors. They had seemingly retreated behind the truck. Pope motioned for a few Marines to follow him as he got up from behind his position. He was about to move forward and uproot the warriors when a grenade flew through the air.

Bond pulled the pin on the grenade. Vile weapons. He thought to himself before lobbing it through the air. In conjunction with Bond’s grenade a four man team of special ops members advanced out from behind the truck to the right side of the tunnel, laying down a hail of gunfire on the Marines.

“GRENADE!” Pope called out. The Marines reacted in time, diving out of the blast radius. However they now found themselves stuck behind what cover they could find, as some of the enemy had taken up a new position to suppress them.

Bond tapped the man next to him on the shoulder, motioning to him that they needed to move out. He slung his G3A3 over his shoulder and hoisted himself over the hood of the truck, followed by three other agents. He sprinted down the left side of the tunnel, as his fire team kept the Marines occupied.

Pope was busy returning fire when the Marine next to him fell, and not by the bullets of the team he was engaging but from in unknown source to Popes right. He got down behind cover and glanced in the direction the shot came from. To his horror four men in black jump suits toting European Arms were behind the road block. He had been flanked.

Bond’s men opened fire on the Marines, catching them off guard. It happened so fast that half of the men that fell didn’t know what hit them. It was down to two Marines behind a stack of metal filling cabinets and some sandbags. Bond’s warriors cautiously advanced. Then the Marines exposed themselves as they fired upon the four-man team. Bond quickly let out a burst that tore through one Marine. The other however put a well placed round in one of the Special Ops Members legs and ducked back behind cover. The agent cried out in pain as he and his weapon clattered to the tunnel road. Bond extended his hand out to the left, motioning with his fist for his team to forget about him and focus on taking down this last Marine.

Pope cut loose on the flanking force, catching one of them in the leg. Not wanting to push his luck he quickly got below the filing cabinets he was using for cover. Upon looking to his left, he noticed that his last remaining team mate had not been so lucky in the last salvo. He lay dead beside him, with blood draining out of two neat holes. Pope was now alone and surrounded. He tightened his grip on his MP-5, preparing himself for a warriors death. He knew he was going to die, and vowed to take a few of the bastards with him. He edged up to the steel file cabinet, preparing to leap out and make his last stand.

002, who had lead the suppressing fire team, squinted through his weapons sights. It appeared that Bond had made quick work of them, and now only one remained. However 002 found himself at a loss to get a clear shot at this lone warrior without exposing himself unnecessarily. Then he saw movement behind the barrier. Through a small opening in the road block the Marine was hiding behind, 002 caught a glimpse of camouflage. He saw it again. Bingo, he thought to himself. He placed his finger on the trigger and began to squeeze.

This was it. Pope shouldered his MP-5 and whispered the lords prayer. Upon completion he inhaled deeply. His eyes took on a cold look. His facial muscles tightened in determination. It was now or never, he thought to himself. Pope sprang from his cover and turned the MP-5 toward the enemy.

A shot rang out.

Pope stumbled over in disbelief. He attempted to remain on his feet but swayed sideways and fell to the concrete floor. His mind raced, quickly trying to compute what had just happened. He tried to lean up, but a searing pain shot through him. It took all his effort to move his hand to his abdomen to check himself. He lifted the hand up to find it covered in blood. Pope, realizing his situation, fought to remain conscious. He suddenly got very cold and darkness began to creep around the outside of his field of vision. He struggled to keep from slipping into death’s icy fingers, as a fatigued man would fight to stay awake. But it was no use. The feeling of cold was soon replaced with warmth and he succumbed to its temptation. The last vision Pope’s mind registered was of three black clad agents standing over him.
 
Bond stood silently as he looked at the dead warriors that lay strewn around him. All of them, save the scientists and security guards, wore the uniform of the United States Marine Corps. His men had just picked apart a unit of a friendly nations military, and had yet to be given a reason as to why. Bond’s frustration at this mission boiled over.

“This is bloody insane.” Bond said, briskly walking back towards the trucks.

“I whole heartedly concur.” 002 said in a ‘I told you so.’ fashion.

Bond threw the door open of his now useless truck and pulled out his STU-3 from underneath the mangled dash board, hopping he could reach the satellite from underneath hundreds of feet of earth and concrete. Thankfully the elevator shaft in the side of the tunnel acted as the perfect antenna, resonating the STU-3’s signal to the surface. It took several seconds before it could connect with the receiving party.

The ‘red’ phone, which was reserved for secure conversations, began to ring on M’s desk.

“This is the directorates office.”

“Damn it M, my men aren’t taking this bomb any further until I get some answers.”

“Well it’s good to hear from you 007.”

“Do you realize what the hell is going on down here?”

“Unfortunately I do, and while I don’t agree with it, but then again I’m not in her majesties service to play policy maker.”

“M! Do you realize we are about to write the death warrant of hundreds of Americans in this facility with this bomb, some of them Marines? I’m sorry to be a dissenter but I can hardly see what purpose that serves in her majesties surface.”

“Bond it’s above your head, mine too. If you do not carry out this mission the ramifications for the British Isles could be great.”

“And the ramifications of detonate a nuclear warhead aren’t?”

“I hope I needn’t have to remind you that by willfully disobeying orders, you are committing treason.”

“Well then I suggest you start filling the blanks, or your going to have 18 treasonous warriors with a nuclear bomb on your hands.”
 
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