Seconds later, Gordon found himself in the dark: cold, wet, and gasping for air after being submerged in the worst smelling substance he could imagine. The goop stuck to his suit, causing him to gag. Another tanker exploded in the rail station above the sewer. He smirked at the “distraction” he had caused. Gordon’s suit abruptly started crackling, interrupting his moment of delight. The substance was radioactive waste, and it was pissing off his suit’s hazard system. Gordon trudged up to the dry concrete section of the tunnel and collapse on an old milk crate, smearing the substance off with old newspapers. He stopped, gazing at the paper in his hand. The headline read, “Doctor Breen to be Earth Spokesman and peacemaker with Combine Race.” Gordon cringed.
“That lying piece of shit.” He threw the paper to the floor. Doctor Breen was the administrator at Black Mesa research facility. Gordon knew he was a snake but this was ridiculous. He betrayed his fellow researchers, and now he has dragged the human race into genocide for self-benefit.
Across the way he saw a flickering light. Voices echoed off the damp walls. Gordon could tell they were not that of soldiers, at least not Combine soldiers. Dropping the newspapers, he hopped over the canal and started to walk vigilantly toward the tunnel where the light flickered and the voices echoed. As he approached, the voices became much clearer. Gordon leaned his back against the tunnel’s wet pipes that lined the walls, letting himself slide down to the damp floor. His hands rummaged around for firm ground as he leaned around the bend, trying to get a view of the men.
“What is going on up there?” an inquisitive voice asked. “I’ve never seen it this bad. The Combine are spooked out of their minds.”
“I bet they’re trying to finish off the Lambda,” another replied. A sense of defeat and dark sarcasm rolled off his tongue.
“No, this goes beyond rebel attacks,” the first man contemplated. “I don’t know what it is, but this city is trembling down to its foundation.”
Understanding the men were allies, Gordon rose to his feet and turned the corner, slowly stepping out into the fluorescently lit maintenance bay. The man looked up and nearly spit out his coffee. Almost instantly, his eyes fell on the bright orange symbol on Gordon’s suit: the Lambda. Both men let out a sigh of relief.
“Holy crap, you scared the bejesus out of me,” yapped the older man. Nevertheless, It wasn’t long before he had collected his thoughts, already working out several questions he demanded be answered. “So, who are?” he pried. “Are you the one making all that commotion up there?”
“My name is Gordon Freeman,” he remarked, “and I’m trying to get to the Black Mesa East facility. Can you guys help me out here?”
“Holy crap, its Gordon Freeman,” the man uttered, wide eyed. “We were beginning to lose hope for the resistance. This is incredible.” The younger gentleman grabbed his rifle and threw a pistol over to Gordon, noticing he was outfitted with only a crowbar. “Nice to finally meet you, Freeman. I’m Trent, and this is my father, Javin. We’ve been hiding down here ever since they expelled everyone on our block. Lucky enough, we were able to escape before the Combine hauled everyone off to Nova Prospect.” Gordon opened his mouth in an attempt to speak but was befuddled as a vortigaun slave bustled out from the distant darkness and peered up at him.
The Vortigaun creatures were an alien race discovered centuries ago. They were taken back to earth and used as slaves. Due to their resistance to following orders, however, they were released and inevitably joined forces with the Lambda rebels.
The creature walked up and continued to stare at Gordon in a rather critical manner. He scratched his scaly and rugged skin, then reached out and poked Gordon’s suit.
“So, this is the Freeman,” it murmured in a raspy, yet certain voice. “The Combine’s reckoning… has come.”
“Where did you say you were going?” the young man interrupted, raising an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on the flickering Lambda depicted on Gordon’s armor. Gordon hastily clarified where he needed to go, but he had very little knowledge of how to actually get there.
“I’m not sure what’s going on in this city, but you’re right Javin. Something huge is going down. I don’t know how I got here, or what I’m supposed to be doing here; all I know is that this city might be all that’s left.” Gordon paused, looking off into the distant blackness ahead. “The lab isn’t important right now. I don’t even know why I’m supposed to be going there. We were performing research in Black Mesa years ago, but research is the least of my worries now.” Gordon stumbled to his feet. “The Citadel is where we need to go.” Trent laughed and turned to his father.
“That, that, that’s impossible!’ Trent protested. “I can’t even express the insanity of such a mission. I mean, that place is surrounded by 30 foot, walking, iron walls that crush entire buildings. The base of the structure extends deep into the ground, and is dug out nearly 500 feet down on all sides.” The more Trent spoke, the more Gordon wanted to bring the Combine down. He could tell his reasoning was doing the opposite of what he had intended. “Look,” he said finally, “there are over 500 elite Combine soldiers occupying that building.”
“He’s right,” said Javin, “there’s no way to even get close to it. There’s a suppression field that extends in a quarter-mile radius from the base of it, as well. Step inside that, and you’re toast.”
With that, the Vortigaun walked over to Gordon, this time restraining himself for prodding at Gordon’s suit.
“Freeman…I have a proposition for you,” he said. “The Vortigaun are at your service,” he continued, bowing his head. “It appears you are looking for a way into the heart of the Combine. If it is any help, I know a secret path out of the city where you could then get a much better vantage point on this attack.”
“Through the canals?” Gordon offered. The Vortigaun laughed.
“Oh no,” Javin said. “The Combine overran that a few days ago. There are probably checkpoints and soldiers every inch of that canal by now.”
“Good thing I ran into you guys first,” Gordon seemed rather upset by the news.
“Shall you hear Vortigaun or not?” the creature interjected. Gordon waved his hand in front of him and nodded his head. The Vortigaun nodded in return, and then looked to the three of them. “Secret path is very dark and dangerous, however, fear not; I shall lead you down safe passage through the mines of the Reshianic.”
“The Reshianic?” asked Javin. He had never heard the term and seemed more curious about the name than the implications of the idea. Javin decided to let it go and managed to stay on subject. “Where exactly do these mines start? And how do they manage to get out of the city?” he asked. Gordon, too, was taken back by the idea, yet couldn’t help wondering the very same thing.
“They just do, and who ever dug it is dead now but we’ll thank them later,” he gave a raspy chuckle. “We shall travel at nightfall.” The Vortigaun walked over to a make-shift work bench and pulled out on of the many maps of City 17 protruding from a musky cardboard box. He pointed to the train-station, suggesting their rough location. His long, lanky fingers dragged westward; towards to an area marked as an abandoned fuel refinery. “This is where we shall enter. The facility was built on top of this very mine shaft, although it might be sealed to some extent. The Freeman is prepared, no less, with that metal thing of his,” said that Vortigaun, humoring only himself. “We have little time to discuss, as the dusk is upon us. Sleep now; we shall leave in less than 4 hours; the Vortigaun wish not to sleep in the mines.”
“That lying piece of shit.” He threw the paper to the floor. Doctor Breen was the administrator at Black Mesa research facility. Gordon knew he was a snake but this was ridiculous. He betrayed his fellow researchers, and now he has dragged the human race into genocide for self-benefit.
Across the way he saw a flickering light. Voices echoed off the damp walls. Gordon could tell they were not that of soldiers, at least not Combine soldiers. Dropping the newspapers, he hopped over the canal and started to walk vigilantly toward the tunnel where the light flickered and the voices echoed. As he approached, the voices became much clearer. Gordon leaned his back against the tunnel’s wet pipes that lined the walls, letting himself slide down to the damp floor. His hands rummaged around for firm ground as he leaned around the bend, trying to get a view of the men.
“What is going on up there?” an inquisitive voice asked. “I’ve never seen it this bad. The Combine are spooked out of their minds.”
“I bet they’re trying to finish off the Lambda,” another replied. A sense of defeat and dark sarcasm rolled off his tongue.
“No, this goes beyond rebel attacks,” the first man contemplated. “I don’t know what it is, but this city is trembling down to its foundation.”
Understanding the men were allies, Gordon rose to his feet and turned the corner, slowly stepping out into the fluorescently lit maintenance bay. The man looked up and nearly spit out his coffee. Almost instantly, his eyes fell on the bright orange symbol on Gordon’s suit: the Lambda. Both men let out a sigh of relief.
“Holy crap, you scared the bejesus out of me,” yapped the older man. Nevertheless, It wasn’t long before he had collected his thoughts, already working out several questions he demanded be answered. “So, who are?” he pried. “Are you the one making all that commotion up there?”
“My name is Gordon Freeman,” he remarked, “and I’m trying to get to the Black Mesa East facility. Can you guys help me out here?”
“Holy crap, its Gordon Freeman,” the man uttered, wide eyed. “We were beginning to lose hope for the resistance. This is incredible.” The younger gentleman grabbed his rifle and threw a pistol over to Gordon, noticing he was outfitted with only a crowbar. “Nice to finally meet you, Freeman. I’m Trent, and this is my father, Javin. We’ve been hiding down here ever since they expelled everyone on our block. Lucky enough, we were able to escape before the Combine hauled everyone off to Nova Prospect.” Gordon opened his mouth in an attempt to speak but was befuddled as a vortigaun slave bustled out from the distant darkness and peered up at him.
The Vortigaun creatures were an alien race discovered centuries ago. They were taken back to earth and used as slaves. Due to their resistance to following orders, however, they were released and inevitably joined forces with the Lambda rebels.
The creature walked up and continued to stare at Gordon in a rather critical manner. He scratched his scaly and rugged skin, then reached out and poked Gordon’s suit.
“So, this is the Freeman,” it murmured in a raspy, yet certain voice. “The Combine’s reckoning… has come.”
“Where did you say you were going?” the young man interrupted, raising an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on the flickering Lambda depicted on Gordon’s armor. Gordon hastily clarified where he needed to go, but he had very little knowledge of how to actually get there.
“I’m not sure what’s going on in this city, but you’re right Javin. Something huge is going down. I don’t know how I got here, or what I’m supposed to be doing here; all I know is that this city might be all that’s left.” Gordon paused, looking off into the distant blackness ahead. “The lab isn’t important right now. I don’t even know why I’m supposed to be going there. We were performing research in Black Mesa years ago, but research is the least of my worries now.” Gordon stumbled to his feet. “The Citadel is where we need to go.” Trent laughed and turned to his father.
“That, that, that’s impossible!’ Trent protested. “I can’t even express the insanity of such a mission. I mean, that place is surrounded by 30 foot, walking, iron walls that crush entire buildings. The base of the structure extends deep into the ground, and is dug out nearly 500 feet down on all sides.” The more Trent spoke, the more Gordon wanted to bring the Combine down. He could tell his reasoning was doing the opposite of what he had intended. “Look,” he said finally, “there are over 500 elite Combine soldiers occupying that building.”
“He’s right,” said Javin, “there’s no way to even get close to it. There’s a suppression field that extends in a quarter-mile radius from the base of it, as well. Step inside that, and you’re toast.”
With that, the Vortigaun walked over to Gordon, this time restraining himself for prodding at Gordon’s suit.
“Freeman…I have a proposition for you,” he said. “The Vortigaun are at your service,” he continued, bowing his head. “It appears you are looking for a way into the heart of the Combine. If it is any help, I know a secret path out of the city where you could then get a much better vantage point on this attack.”
“Through the canals?” Gordon offered. The Vortigaun laughed.
“Oh no,” Javin said. “The Combine overran that a few days ago. There are probably checkpoints and soldiers every inch of that canal by now.”
“Good thing I ran into you guys first,” Gordon seemed rather upset by the news.
“Shall you hear Vortigaun or not?” the creature interjected. Gordon waved his hand in front of him and nodded his head. The Vortigaun nodded in return, and then looked to the three of them. “Secret path is very dark and dangerous, however, fear not; I shall lead you down safe passage through the mines of the Reshianic.”
“The Reshianic?” asked Javin. He had never heard the term and seemed more curious about the name than the implications of the idea. Javin decided to let it go and managed to stay on subject. “Where exactly do these mines start? And how do they manage to get out of the city?” he asked. Gordon, too, was taken back by the idea, yet couldn’t help wondering the very same thing.
“They just do, and who ever dug it is dead now but we’ll thank them later,” he gave a raspy chuckle. “We shall travel at nightfall.” The Vortigaun walked over to a make-shift work bench and pulled out on of the many maps of City 17 protruding from a musky cardboard box. He pointed to the train-station, suggesting their rough location. His long, lanky fingers dragged westward; towards to an area marked as an abandoned fuel refinery. “This is where we shall enter. The facility was built on top of this very mine shaft, although it might be sealed to some extent. The Freeman is prepared, no less, with that metal thing of his,” said that Vortigaun, humoring only himself. “We have little time to discuss, as the dusk is upon us. Sleep now; we shall leave in less than 4 hours; the Vortigaun wish not to sleep in the mines.”
