The Sixth Resistance

[Mess]

“Shhhhh!” hissed Morgan, as he hunched down, clutching his rifle. The group’s eyes were all fixed on the ceiling. The underground headquarters of the Sixth Resistance were situated in an old power vault. Their attempts to activate the generators instead of relying on back-up power had obviously alerted Combine forces, and directly above them in the street, the thuds of Strider footfalls shook debris from the dusty plaster above.

With only one laptop left on in the facility to minimise electrical signals, everyone was cast in a pale blue glow, their dark weapons barely visible in the gloom. Guns were trained to the ceiling, the rebel soldiers Adam, Gordon and Morgan breathing heavily, shaking in anticipation. The patter of footsteps faded in through the dark and Reece emerged from a corridor.
“All clear,” he whispered, removing his helmet, “The back door is sealed.” Sam felt rivulets of sweat course down her spine, her laptop whirring at her side. All she could think about was the threat passing so she could complete her relay to groups Five and Seven. The electrical conduits at Three’s base had been severed with their capture yesterday and she was in vital need of more power.

The Strider’s crunching movements passed directly over them. Dust and plaster trickled down from the ceiling with the hulking beast’s every step. Nearby the static of a Combine radio frequency spurted out in blasts, obviously the soldiers above were receiving information or orders from elsewhere.

The thuds stopped abruptly. The radio above hissed once more and then clicked off. Silence. Morgan shuffled further into his corner and slowly cocked his rifle. The quiet click echoed through the tunnels. No-one moved.

For what seemed like an agonising eternity the group remained motionless, noiseless. All ears were alert to the tiniest sound. The faint hum of the laptop’s rotating fans and the occasional sigh of breathing was all that could be heard. Slowly, Reece stood upright and lowered his weapon.

There was a rumble like thunder and suddenly the ceiling burst open, chunks of concrete and plaster cascaded onto the floor. Everyone was covered in dust. A Strider arm pierced through the ceiling and stabbed Reece in the shoulder. He fell to the floor with its weight, his helmet and gun clattering on the ground. He gasped with shock, eyes rolling in the back of his head. Sam screamed as she saw that one of the barbs on the Strider’s legs had stuck into his gut. Red blossomed all over his front and the young soldier gurgled. Slowly the leg was raised and Reece was raised with it before slowly sliding off the limb and dropping to the floor, motionless.

“Go! Everybody move!” Morgan roared as he rushed down the escape tunnel. No-one hesitated to follow apart from Sam who grabbed her laptop and Reece’s gun. As they disappeared into the pitch black corridor Combine soldiers dropped into the room from above and fired after them.


-- Mess

 

[Mess]

Racing through the tunnels, the enemy gunfire was the only source of light, giving sporadic glimpses of the team pounding through the musty labyrinth, desperate to reach their escape route.

Sam’s heart pounded as the rattling gunfire and whizzing bullets whipped around her ears. She pushed the nauseous memory of Reece’s mutilated, lifeless form out of her mind and pushed on. She knew full well what the Combine would do with his body.

Adam at the front of the group wrestled with a satchel charge as he ran. "Crap, crap, feck," he breathed, unclipping the remote detonator from the pack and attaching it to his belt. He slowed and Morgan barged past him.
“Come on!” He screamed. The Combine were hot on their heels. Adam picked up his pace again and swung the charge by his side, his rifle waving precariously in the dark. He knew the door they needed was around the corner. “Please make it. Come on, please.”

Gordon reached the door first and began spinning the locking wheel with all the speed he could muster. Everyone got to the door and checked behind. Torch beams began to show around the corner.
“Get that charge down, now!” Morgan yelled. Adam threw it down and fumbled for the detonator. The door was opened. “Go, go!” Everyone piled through, Adam at the back of the group. Combine troops rounded the corner and opened fire. Just as they were closing the hatch, a bullet ricochet and caught Adam in the neck. He gasped, dropping the detonator. It bounced back out into the corridor.

“Shit!” Sam cried. Adam looked at the group, clutching his gushing wound. With a terrible knowledge, he slowly turned and fell back out into the tunnels, Gordon shutting the door behind him. As the group ran on they tried to block out the burst of gunfire and shortly after the boom which shook behind them, tearing the troops, their base and Adam apart. They all cursed the Combine in their hearts, silently grieving as what was left of the Sixth Resistance sped on through the tunnels to reach higher ground.

 

[Mess]

Sitting out at the docks the remaining three members silently brooded. Morgan watched wave after wave lap against the boards, and the tiny beach. With a dull pain in his heart he remembered his childhood, when the sea was rich with life and full of vibrant colour and sound.
"No...not now."
Since the arrival of the Combine the oceans had been sucked of all life and vibrancy. Morgan's dark eyes surveyed the taught, grey horizon. No child would ever play at the seaside again.

"So what now?" He muttered to the others. Sam was hunched over her laptop, tapping furiously.
"I'm trying to reach main HQ," she answered, "Doctor Vance will know what to do." Gordon turned and looked inland, to the myriad of abandoned cranes, rust-ridden warehouses, and much further into the distance, the dark hulking shape of the Citadel stabbing into the pale sun. It's monstrous shadow stretched over all and ran out into the ocean behind.

Sam's computer beeped. Vance had replied. She scanned the message quickly. The other two waited.
"He's discovered something. A ghetto in the abandoned Metro system. Apparently the Combine know nothing of it's whereabouts but they know of its existance, and they're looking for it. This community is of vital importance as the Metro spreads all under the city...passing directly below the Citadel itself."

On the boardwalk was a cluster of oil-drums. Gordon noncholantly kicked them into the sea where they bobbed and rolled, steadily out to shore. Suddenly Gordon checked himself and bent down...between the barrels was a crowbar. With a smirk the scientist picked it up, tested its weight with a few swings, was satisfied.

"Vance needs you though, Gordon. He wants you to make it to his HQ as fast as you can. You'll have to head East. There are many Allied posts along the way...they'll find you and help you. Vance says your first port of call should be Breen's residence. He'll kit you up for the journey. Good luck." With a nod of appreciation, Gordon span round and headed down the boardwalks, dissapearing into the docks. Morgan and Sam faced each other.

"We're the only two left now, Morgan." They both turned to watch the menaching silhouette of the Citadel spike into the sky. "Are we going to make it?"
"Us, or everyone?"
"Everyone."
Morgan sighed and looked out to the sea. As the sun dipped below the buildings the waters turned almost black. There was that ache in his heart again.
"Come on. Let's go take a trip on the Metro." He stood and pulled Sam to her feet. They disappeared into the shadows of the city.

 

[Mess]

"Stay in line! Hands behind heads!" The brutal mechanised voice of the Combine soldiers blared down the streets. Morgan and Sam observed the detainees as they passed by. All clad in blue jumpsuits and each wearing the same lost, fearful expression. Sam was appalled.
"And this is only on the outskirts. I haven't been to the deepest parts of the city - above ground, anyway - for a while now so I don't know how much they are clamping down further in."
"Let's just keep moving."
The two passed the line of citizens and took a side-street where it was darker. All along the buildings were striped canopys and baskets...this must have been a market area once. There was a blue glow up ahead and as Morgan and Sam neared it they realised what it was.

"State your names and prepare to be identified." The soldier moved out of the shadows, shock-prod poised. A Scanner hovered in the air over his shoulder. It was then that Morgan noticed the colour of his gasmask - black. Not just some grunt.
"State your names!" The officer repeated.
"...Peter Evans."
"And Lucy Stevens."
There was a pause, and then a snort. The officer seemed satisfied. He signalled to the scanner which floated forward. A red light flashed in Sam's eye and there was a beep. It moved over to Morgan. The red light flashed, then again, then again. An error buzz.

The officer took a step towards Morgan.
"Explain."
"I only just got in this morning, probably not on the system yet."
"You are coming from the far outskirts of the city. New citizens are taken directly to the centre."
"I've been sight-seeing."
"Morgan..."
The Combine's head snapped round to face Sam.
"He said his name was Peter."
Morgan grabbed the officer's arm and pushed it round and up to his back, the shock-prod dropping to the ground. Sam darted forward and snatched it up as Morgan pushed the soldier to the wall.
"Release...me..." With confounding strength the officer began levering himself out of Morgan's hold.
"Sam!"
She rushed in and shoved the shock-prod into the Combine's spine. He weakened momentarily and Morgan smashed his head into the wall. The soldier dropped to the floor.
"Come on," Morgan panted, "Leave that. We have to get out of here."

 

[Dsty2001]

Very, very, very good, I wish I had the writing skills you have. You have a talent man, and your level of detail and your ability to capture interest is very rare. Great job, please keep going!

 

[Mess]

Thanks for the comments! I had in fact given up seeing as it was recieving no interest but just for you...the story of Sam and Morgan will continue...soon.

-- Mess

 

[Mess]

The eye of the scanner flashed an angry red and its piercing scream filled the surrounding area. Before the other soldiers were alerted and came to inspect the disturbance, Sam and Morgan had already rounded a corner and disappeared. All that was to be found was the unconscious form of the Combine soldier, shock-prod quietly humming at his side.
“He shocked himself again.”
“This must be reported.”
“Wait…” One of the soldiers squatted down to take a closer look. “He’s been hit in the head.” Immediately the two checked around themselves, the idea of a threat being nearby becoming all too real.
“The scanner will tell us what happened.”
“Last entries were a Lucy Stevens and an unconfirmed Peter Evans. Names waiting to be affirmed are Morgan and Sam.”
“Four assailants?”
“No…” The pair watched the scanner’s footage of the attack. “…Just two. Put out a search order. The felons must be in our custody before nightfall.”

As dusk descended on City 17, tiny pinpricks of starlight started to show in the sky. The pink glow of sunset made way for a blue-grey half-light and from the outskirts of the city, mist began rolling into the streets. This nightly routine still fascinated Morgan. Shacked up in an old derelict building, Sam was providing poor company, preferring to work on her laptop through the night. The young man rested his head against the windowpane, his heat causing mist to blossom across the glass. It was not long after the arrival of the Combine that the weather…stopped. Morgan knew little about meteorology but he knew that there were no clouds anymore, and so no rain. A weak fog at night was the only break from the constant bleak sunlight and cold, still, dry air. He had never seen stars until the Combine arrived. They took the sea but gave me the stars.

At least with the Combine everything was a lot simpler. Everybody had a role, a place to be, a purpose. When the Combine looked at Morgan and Sam they didn’t see a black man and a white woman – they saw two human beings. Prejudice was a thing of the past, racism quietly forgotten as equality was suddenly imposed by the Combine’s benevolent regime. Morgan knew that he was fighting for pollution, poverty, disorder and self-destruction. But it was the lesser of two evils, and one where he had a choice.

“So what did you think of him?” Morgan roused himself from his thoughts and found that Sam had been watching him.
“Who?”
“Freeman. Was he what you were thinking about?”
“…Yeah. I like his suit.” Sam laughed.
“Quiet though.”
“He knows what he’s doing.”

As the moon slowly careered across the sky the square of light it cast through the window slid down the wall and headed across the bare floorboards. Its sickly hue sucked away all colour, making everything seem lifeless and pale. In the moonlight Combine gasmasks looked like skulls. Sam and Morgan had already heard the news that they were wanted citizens. This meant once again travelling underground or only at night.

“Any more news?”
“It looks like we might have to hold off making contact with the ghetto for a while. Teams two, three and five have been forced together from an intense Combine assault. They’ve called all teams together to join them. They’re holed up in one of the abandoned shopping plazas right on the outskirts of town. It has underground links but they’re not being used as an exit in case the Combine find them. They say they’ve got a plan but won’t tell us until we get there.”
Morgan contemplated this. As always nowadays, his choices were not based on the value of individual human lives – they were based on the potential gain of the resistance. If the Combine were going to treat the people as faceless entities then the resistance had to as well, or emotions would cloud his judgement.
“Our primary mission is to rendezvous with the ghetto and secure the underground network, Sam.”
“This will help secure the underground network. And it could deal a potentially devastating blow to the Combine.”
“For a couple of days, maybe.”
“Enough time to get ourselves deep under.”
“How far out is this place?” Sam knew what Morgan really meant.
“It’s alien territory, yes.”
“For God’s sake.”
“We’d better get moving before dawn. If we’re quick we can reach Breen’s place and sleep through the day before heading out.” Morgan slung his rifle over his shoulder and stood up from the window. The old boards creaked noisily as he shifted his weight. The pair’s footsteps reverberated through the empty building as they descended to the street.

 

[Dsty2001]

Keep going!

 

[Mess]

The stark silhouette of the old warehouse was worryingly conspicuous against the night sky. Its black structure was punctuated regularly by the yellow squares of windows – for some reason Breen had all the lights on and Sam did not like it.
“What the hell is he doing with lights on at this time of night!?” She hissed.
“Let’s go find out,” whispered Morgan, approaching the building, sticking to the shadows. Despite the empty nature of the streets thanks to the early curfew, it was foolish to think that there would be no Combine presence in the area, even at this time of night.

Sam was right – the warehouse stuck out of the darkness like a sore thumb. But Dr Breen had always been eccentric after the incident. As she progressed further through the darkness she caught sight of one of the display towers over the rooftops. She had never met Dr Breen but she knew what he looked like…or used to look like.

In compliance with Combine law, the door to the warehouse was permanently unlocked and Sam and Morgan silently crept through, pausing to adjust to the brightness. There was a faint noise coming from upstairs. Presuming it to be Breen, they made for it. Unlike the old apartment blocks, the warehouse was more solidly constructed and so the stairs were formed from concrete. Progress upwards was silent, save for Morgan’s quiet mutterings;
“He needs to turn some of these damn lights off, if he gets noticed we’re screwed.” Almost immediately after the words were uttered, the bulbs died, plunging everything into an almost impenetrable darkness. The two rebels froze, and their eyes again slowly adapted to the dim moonlight pervading through the windows. Through the blackness they sensed a figure approach.

“I apologise if you found yourselves in a rather…conspicuous situation earlier on. Please understand that my work requires a high level of power and this old building’s lighting is directly linked to the grid. However I have stopped working for now, to accommodate you.”
“Doctor Breen?”
“That is I, yes.” A flashlight clicked on and suddenly the two could see the back of Dr Breen as his torch shone down the corridor. He was wearing the requisite blue jumpsuit, which Sam found odd. What startled her more was his head – he was bald, save for a few tufts of white hair sprouting out in random places. The skin was scarred and raw. The Doctor began to move down the corridor and Morgan was compelled to follow, Sam behind.

“Your comrade Gordon Freeman was with me mere hours before you. I was quite honoured to assist him. Not saying that I am not as obliging to help you two, it was just that… well, let’s say that he has a rather more prestigious background. This is only the first time you have been wanted citizens.”
“How did you know that?”
“I make it by business to know all about the resistance. I am sure you’re aware of my rather… personal vendetta against the Combine.”
“You can see one of their propaganda towers from here,” Sam piped up.
“Yes, it is often ironic to see yourself preaching about what you devote your life fighting against. I find myself thankful that I was allowed to live so that perhaps I can do something to take back the wrongs which my image is being used to create now. Hopefully helping you two will go some way towards my goal.”

Breen stopped suddenly and hit a lever on the wall. From deep down below them a generator rumbled into life and slowly the lights came back on. The Doctor switched off his torch and turned to face Morgan and Sam. Sam’s hand flew to her mouth in shock at the poor man’s face…or lack of one.

Fragile, translucent skin stretched over Breen’s skull, any remnant of facial features barely showing. His eyes were a stark black, surrounded on all sides by a bright, unblinking white. A nose was barely visible in the middle of his face, his nostrils resting right against the bone. A lipless mouth hung like a hole, slowly wheezing through lack of any chin muscles. The Doctor locked eyes with Sam, sensing her horror.

“Many rebels find my appearance a source of renewed determination and anger against the regime. Most people can show complacency towards being assigned a job, a place to live, times to eat and sleep. But when presented with the man who provided the face for the Combine’s propaganda campaign, well…it seems to bring to the surface the anger the resistance needs to grow and strengthen. In that way, I count my appearance as a gift. You could say I’m clutching at straws…but in the current situation, aren’t we all?”

Morgan looked around the room. It was full of equipment, be it weapons, armour, computers. This place was a stronghold against the Combine. Morgan liked it. Breen sensed Morgan’s appreciation.
“Let’s get you two kitted up. It’s almost dawn.”

 

[Fuse Kazuki]

Awesome, keep it up!

 

[Veers57]

Is this Breen anything to do with the Breen on the TVs throughout City 17?

 

[Mess]

my bad, I thought I had conveyed this but obviously not. This Breen is indeed the Dr Breen on the tower screens - only the Combine took his face to use for their propaganda model.

Because we know so little about this character I wanted to embelish him with some of my own ideas. I saw him originally as a protestor to the new Combine dictatorship who was captured and, in a move of horrific irony, had his face removed by the Combine to be used as a machine to convey their own ideals. Somehow he escaped being executed though and now his revolutionary work carries on.

Hope that helps you understand my story better I will work harder to make it more comprehensible in the future!

-- Mess

 

[Veers57]

Interesting. I guess it is sort of like "Face-Off". So that would explain why your Breen version is so bad off, in appearance at least.

 

[bliink]

I dont usually read fan-fic.. but that was really cool

 

[Mess]

I was worried it was a little too far-fetched. I will continue the sorry soon!

-- Mess

 

[Dsty2001]

very nice, keep going