Welcome Welcome To City 17

If the building could be the home to a super villain or evil corporation, it belongs here or really just any creepy looking building or maybe. Welcome to City 17. Chapter Seven: Highway 17. The world opened up in front of Gordon as he opened the door, fresh sea air wafting over him as he stepped out onto the docks beyond. His boots clonked against the wood beneath his feet as he walked, the sound punctuated by the occasional crackle from the mounted machine gun in the distance.

1. Welcome Welcome To City 17
2. Where Does Hl2 Take Place
3. Half Life Combine Logo

-1Disclaimer:I don't own Half-Life.

Welcometo City 17

ChapterSeven: Highway 17

Theworld opened up in front of Gordon as he opened the door, fresh seaair wafting over him as he stepped out onto the docks beyond. Hisboots clonked against the wood beneath his feet as he walked, thesound punctuated by the occasional crackle from the mounted machinegun in the distance. The coastline stretched out on Gordon's right.

Andit was horrific.

Itwas as though the ocean had been drained. The docks themselves werebereft of water, old ships and rowing boats left to rest in the dryseabed. The tide was too far back. It looked as though it barely hadthe energy to move in and out, let alone cause any kind of waves. Thesight alone made Gordon ache a little. This was his home, and it wasbeing decimated and drained away to nothing.

Hisgrip on his machinegun tightened ever so slightly. An echoing voicedistracted him from his thoughts, and Gordon looked up and around himas who he assumed was Norco spoke.

'Hello,Doctor Freeman. The car's all ready for you. Hop in and I'lllower you down to the beach.'

Shewas sat on the other side of the docks, sat in the control booth of avery large crane. Following the machine to its' dizzying apex,Gordon saw that a thick metal chain held what he assumed was a magnetat the end. It swayed ominously in the almost non-existent breeze.This ride was going to be fun.

Thesun bore down on him with surprising intensity, and Gordon wassquinting all the way to the buggy that rested on the dock in frontof him. It looked as fragile as the title indicated. The barest ofrusted metal frames that looked like it was kept together withsuperglue and a little bit of hope. A hard looking plastic seat(although Gordon hadn't found a comfortable chair anywhere forthe last three days) seemed at just the right level that his headwouldn't collide with the top of the buggy frame every time he wentover a bump.

Attachedto the back of the buggy was the ammo crate Leon had told him about,and Gordon quickly opened it, revealing the green boxes inside. Heslid the machinegun inside. Although there wasn't much room, hemanaged to wedge the boxes of revolver ammo into the crate as well.At least he wouldn't be improvising ways to take down his enemieswith a crowbar and Gravity Gun for awhile.

Acitizen in front of him, meanwhile, was having a hell of a timeblasting away at something on the former seabed below.

'Youlike that?' he laughed, looking to Gordon for approval. Unsure ofthe correct response, Gordon just gave him a thumbs up. Apparently,that was all the man needed, returning to his task with more vigourthan before.

Gordontried not to listen to alien, animalistic squeals that were comingfrom below. It made the idea that he was going to be down there in afew moments slightly easier to deal with.

Heslid into the buggy chair, only then realising there was no seatbelt.Lovely. The controls seemed simple enough; clutch, brake,accelerator… gear stick looked okay, although the numbers werebarely visibly on the heavily worn rubber handle. Gordon hoped Elihad designed the buggy with American drivers in mind. He wasn'tsure if other countries organised their peddles differently, or howthey did if they did.

Damn,he hated cars.

TheTau cannon was attached to the right-hand side of the front of thecar in front of the… well, 'cockpit' seemed appropriate forthis thing. Just within arms reach to fire with one hand in a hurryor to take his time and aim with. From a safe distance and hiddenbehind something, preferably. He wondered if it was removable.

'Good,here we go.'

Witha loud clang, the sun suddenly disappeared from the back of Gordon'sneck. He clenched his hands on the wheel as he felt himself rise up.He stared straight ahead as he was swung this way and that, themagnet almost swirling as it moved.

Thenthree words he didn't want to hear.

'Damnmagnet's failing.'

Itsounded offhand, as though she had stepped on some dog crap.

'Holdon.'

Andthen, without a noise, he was suddenly falling.

'Sorrydoc!'

Hehad just enough time as the car tumbled upside down in the air tosigh before it crashed to the decidedly dry sand below. Gordoncoughed the cloud of sand away and crawled out of the wreckage, hisgloves struggling to find sufficient leverage to pull him all the wayout.

Witha grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off in acompletely redundant gesture. Then the sand exploded around him, athigh high yellow and green beast full of teeth and pointy clawserupting forth. It's upward sprouted wings fluttered noisily for amoment before it settled its 'gaze' on him and crawled over.

Gordoncocked an eyebrow at it. 'Antlion?' he asked politely.

Itbrought up a pointy arm-claw-type thing, and Gordon reached for hiscrowbar. And then the thing exploded into a luminous green cloud, thesubtle breeze just strong enough to blow the almost evaporatedremains onto Gordon's suit. Looking down, he found it a suitablygarish shade of green from the crotch down. It looked like he hadsoiled himself in a very weird way. Barney, no doubt, would havefound it hilarious.

Anothercreature popped up behind him and another on the other side of thetoppled car. He avoided the slashes of one while another burst fromthe ground. The mounted machineguns from both sides of the dockcrackled angrily, sending those Antlions the way of their earliercomrade.

'Getthat car upright and get the hell out of here!'

Hewhipped his gaze around and up to the magnet's control booth, afirm scowl wrinkling his usually mild face. Wordlessly, Gordon turnedand brought the Gravity Gun up. With a few bursts (and a few misses),the buggy was once again on all four wheels. Gordon leapt in, tuckingthe Gravity Gun off to the side so that it wouldn't interfere withgear changes.

Hepressed the ignition button beside the wheel and was surprised at howpowerful the tiny engine sounded. Grasping the wheel, he shoved itinto gear, released the handbrake on his left and accelerated awayacross the beach. Antlions emerged from the sand as he bounced along,some tapping up to him on their pointy insect legs while some flew athim. He considered reaching for the Tau cannon, but was quicklydissuaded from that when they slammed straight into the framework ofthe buggy and promptly crushed themselves to death. It seemed thateven though they were bigger than Earth insects, they weren't anystronger or tougher physically.

Itwas good to know.

Itwas only then that Gordon realised he had no idea where he was going.Glancing around as he sped along to a rocky hill ahead of him, Gordonsaw nowhere he could drive. The coast was on his right, and very highwalls leading to docks on his left. Looked like the rocky hill wasit. But… surely it wasn't. For a start, it seemed to steep, andon top of that there were rocky outcroppings poking out at everyopportunity to block his path.

Butthen he was driving up it. The car crashed and thudded from rock torock, engine struggling to make it up the deceptively steep hillside.A button caught Gordon's attention on the rather bare dashboard. Itwas red.

Witha shrug, Gordon pushed it.

Theengine revved, regardless of where his feet were on the pedals, andthe buggy promptly fired on ahead, rocketing up the hill and onto theroad that ran across in front of him. Unfortunately, it continuedonwards, heading for an old shack on the other side of the road.

Gordonmanaged to turn the car and move onwards down the road as the speedburst calmed down, the engine quieting to a low rumble once again. Hesighed in relief, and made a note to not press that button unless aperson he really didn't like was stood in front of the car.Or several.

Lookingback, he saw that the road led to a collapsed bridge. It would onlyhave taken him back to the docks, anyway. And so, it seemed theominously dark tunnel in front of him was the way to go. A lightshone from the other end, indicating a nice, simple straight line toGordon. He revved the buggy. Straight lines sounded nice.

Slammingthe handbrake down, he launched away down the tunnel, feeling prettydamn cool as he went. At least in the dark he could pretend he wasdriving something slightly more respectable than a buggy.

Itroared out of the tunnel within a few moments, Gordon's jerky gearchanging getting better with each time. The bridge ahead didn'tlook particularly worthy - considering it was collapsed in the middleand all - so Gordon decided to head down the rocky hill beside him,taking him down to the sandy ground below. The buggy thudded alongwithout complaint, and Gordon's opinion of the seemingly shakyvehicle went up.

Gordondrove along the coast for awhile, turning as landmasses blocked hispath and demanded he take some other route. Antlions periodicallycharged at him, but always ended up either bouncing off the frame orsplattering gorily against it (or both). Others missed him andattempted to fly after him. Cautious, nervous glances over hisshoulder informed Gordon that Antlions couldn't fly for extendedperiods of time, although they could go rather high. All things thathe take note of for future survival. Or the book he was thinking ofwriting when this was all over.

'HowI survived Black Mesa and City 17 and Learned to Start Loving theBomb'.

Althoughhe wasn't sure if anyone even knew who Peter Sellers wasanymore. It would be a shame if that were true.

Theswerving, vague path he found himself on eventually took him up somerocky mounds before bringing him a large, thick outcropping of rockwith a house situated at the end. Probably a fisherman's place,though he couldn't be sure. Gordon never really used to visitplaces like this in his time off. His time off was usually filledwith either more equations and theories or running around a track.Rather sad when he thought about it, since it was doubtful he wasever going to get 'time off' again. He wasn't sure if jobtitles like 'The One Free Man' and 'The Opener of the Way'came with things like vacation time.

Somethingshook the ground beneath the buggy's wheels, if only slightly. Atall metallic construct stood proudly quite a few yards from thehouse, almost blocking Gordon's path. Wary of Antlions, he pulledover beside the device. It reminded Gordon of the citadel,particularly with the dark blue metal that didn't seem to reflectthe sunlight so much as absorb it. Part of the device thudded down tothe ground, a cloud of dust permeating into the air with each strike.

Afamiliar flapping noise came from behind, and Gordon revved up thebuggy. Then the Antlion squealed as the tall device let loose anotherblow to the ground. Looking over at the insectoid creature, Gordonsaw it back-pedal, looking frightened and repulsed at the same time.He looked to the device and smiled.

Sayhello to Thumpers.

Gordonwas tempted to check inside the house, but wasn't sure how far theThumper's influence extended. He also didn't trust the ominousbuilding to not contain some terrible beast that he had neverencountered before and could throw him through a wall or somethingequally as irritating.

So,Gordon revved the buggy and was away, delicately navigating his waythrough two tall white picket fences. The sheer normality of it madeGordon ache a little.

Hecontinued on for what had to be a good ten minutes before he cameacross civilisation again, this one looking far more robust than thehouse before. A large barn lay in front of the house, which had awooden ramp leading up to decking that seemed to run all the wayaround it. Movement through one of the windows attracted Gordon'sattention. A Thumper was positioned near the barn. Gordon crunched toa halt beside it, tyres kicking up far more dirt than the Thumpercould manage. He slid out of the chair and fetched the machinegunfrom the ammo crate on the back.

Checkingit was loaded, he made his way towards the ramp. The movement insideconcerned him, and he didn't need some overeager Combine recruitreporting him in to base. As much as he felt safer in the buggy, hedoubted that feeling would last if he were being chased down by ahelicopter. Although he felt somewhat soothed by the thought that hehad blown one up earlier. Because, really, what could be worse than ahelicopter?

Gordonwas mindful of his boots as he crept around the house in a hunchedposition, head far below the windows. Heading around the corner, hecame to a small stoop in front of a door.

Somebeeps sounded from inside, quickly followed by the low, cracklingvoice of a Combine soldier. Or CP. Gordon couldn't really tell thedifference. Judging by how he hadn't seen a CP for about twelvehours, however, Gordon decided it was probably a soldier. His wordswere incoherent anyway, completely muffled by either the gasmask orthe radio channel itself. It was very possible that it was encryptedfrom human ears.

Hesnuck past the door and to the next window. Taking a deep breath assilently as he could, Gordon allowed himself the barest of peeksthrough the broken old frame. There was only one soldier that hecould see, and he had his back to Gordon. He was concentrating on adevice resembling a pair of binoculars that had been mounted on awindow. They looked out across the water in front of the house,presumably to penetrate the thick mist that prevented anyone fromseeing much of anything beyond a few hundred metres.

Butsurely there was more than just one…

Thedoor opened, and a soldier stepped out. Gordon whirled and fired in apanic. The soldier hadn't even noticed he was there by the time thebullet rushed through his head and spat blood out the other side. Hewent down like a ton of bricks, slumping to his knees beforelolloping over onto the ground.

Thatseemed to get the othersoldier's attention.

Aftersome frenzied and loud commands over the radio, everything wassilent. Wind howled, and the waves roared lazily.

Reachingfor the dead soldier, Gordon plucked a grenade from his belt andpulled the pin. He poked his head around the open door for just thebriefest of seconds to throw it.

Apparently,the briefest of seconds was enough time for a Combine soldier to kicksomeone in the head rather viciously. And so it was with Gordon,tumbling onto his back and losing his grip on the live grenade. Ittumbled off the ledge and to the sandy ground far below, landingbeside a beached old canoe. Gordon and the soldier brought theirmachineguns to bear as the grenade exploded, sending chunks andsplinters of wood smashing through the air.

Gordonfelt the heat and the pain on the back of his neck, but right now,that wasn't really his focus. The soldier was aiming at his head.If Gordon fired on him, he was a dead man. If he didn't fire, hewas a dead man.

Aftera moment's consideration, Gordon balled his arms around his headand rolled away. The bullets thudded painfully against his HEV suitprotected arms, threatening to knock them from their shieldedposition more than a few times before he managed to get to his feetand sprint his way around the house. He almost fell off the smooth,downward ledge he found there. Of course, the beach wasn't thatfar down. Under any other circumstances, it would have just beenannoying if he had fallen down there. But with a Combine soldier onhis ass? Best not to make himself a sitting duck.

Hedecided to make a run for the car. And he was about to do just thatwhen another soldier popped around the corner to greet him. So. Oneon either side, and the only way out was down and to make himselftarget practice.

Gordonsighed.

Someoneapparently heard him, because the soldier on his right suddenlyscreamed and fell down to the beach, most decidedly dead. Therattling purr of an Antlion sounded from around the corner, andGordon headed right for it, machinegun at the ready. He heard theother soldier emerging from behind him just as he sprinted his wayaround the opposite side, blasting away the Antlion as he went. Thehouse must have been far enough away from the Thumper.

Whichhad been good news for Gordon a few seconds ago. Now, not somuch.

Acrowd of Antlions sat between him and his buggy. They seemed to findCombine soldiers more offensive, however, because as soon as hiswould-be executioner came around the other side of the house, theywere upon him. Of course, that might have had more to do with thefact that he had immediately opened fire on them more than any kindof personal qualm.

Gordontook that moment to sneak around the house the long way and slip intothe house via one of the windows. The Gravity Gun made the endeavourfar more awkward than it needed to be, and Gordon wondered why hedidn't throw it through the window first and them climb throughhimself. Then again, common sense and 'Oh God, it's the End ofthe World' situations didn't exactly go hand in hand.

Hegrunted and straightened his glasses as he looked around the room.There didn't seem to be much of a value here. Listening intently,Gordon heard the Antlions enjoying their feast. He would have to makethis quick. Walking to the binoculars at the window, he allowedhimself a quick peek inside the glowing blue lenses. A blue haze wascast over the settlement he saw, a large multi-storey house blastedopen at the top, the innards exposed to the world.

Severalcitizens stood around two warehouses beside the large house, othershanging around a deck that stretched out a few yards into the waterand the rowing boat tethered up beside it. But he wasn't looking atany of that. Something on a balcony of the house had immediatelysnatched his attention.

Him.Him, standing there and seeming so out of place Gordon just wanted toscream at the others and ask them why they couldn't see it, whythey couldn't see the alien-ness and sheer wrong­­-nessof Him. In any case, He was talking to some short man with a thickmoustache and tiny hands, his coat looking far too bulky for him.They didn't seem to be arguing or disagreeing. It just looked likean ordinary conversation, like they were old acquaintances meeting onthe street.

Gordonwanted to stay much longer, wanted to watch, to see what He did.Snarling from behind him quickly dissuaded that notion. Gordonwhirled around, gun blazing in a wide arc of fire that cleared a deadand injured path through the gang of Antlions that had gatheredthere. He charged out of the door, past the house and almost felldown the ramp before he reached the Thumper.

Suitablydisgruntled, those Antlions that had been in pursuit of himquickly changed their tunes and abruptly turned away.

Frustratedand once more desperately seeking some answers, Gordon slumped intothe car and drove off, viciously hitting the gas once he was away. Hehad become complacent. He had started thinking about rebels andcauses and zombies and pretty daughters of old friends and forgottenwhat was really important here. The world had been destroyed, laidwaste, raped, and He knew about everything. He knew what wasgoing on, how it had happened, why it had happened, and how it couldbe stopped.

AndGordon needed, completely, absolutely needed to know what thehell was so important about Gordon fucking Freeman. Soimportant that he be singled out above all others and saved from thathellhole that was Black Mesa.

Blastingpast the scenery, Gordon barely slowed when he saw the Combine vanparked outside of another barn, Thumper working diligently as twosoldiers approached the Antlions he could hear inside. Rather thanstop, Gordon simply gunned the accelerator and mowed them down,sending them hurtling into the air behind him. He continued on, thejostling of the buggy on the even ground doing nothing to dislodgehis recovered sense of purpose.

Afterabout half an hour, he realised he had circumnavigated his way to therebel encampment he had been looking at before. The man who had beentalking to Him. He could still be here.

Agreying, wrinkled citizen with plenty of fire and excitement in hiseyes waved Gordon over.

'GordonFreeman!'

Cautiousabout running over the man's feet, Gordon pulled over and slowlycame to a halt beside him. Switching off the engine, he looked to theman expectantly. He tried to ignore the adoring stares he was gettingfrom every single person scattered around the camp.

'Hurry,get in the basement. We're expecting gunships at any moment.' Hesmiled cockily, as if the Combine was going to be sorry now thatGordon Freeman was here. All it did was scare him. 'Colonel Cubbagewill be glad to see you made it!'

Smallmachinegun clutched in his hands, the man took off past Gordon,heading for the tall house Gordon had spied from across the water.There didn't seem to be any front door, but some stairs led down toa small nook hidden down the right-hand side of the building,presumably leading to the basement.

Gordonglanced back to the car, reluctant to leave it if some flying warmachine was on the way. With a speed that irritated him for somereason, three citizens had already gathered around the vehicle,pushing it towards a fairly big garage on the other side of theclearing. They all looked at him like hopeful children as they went,desperate for approval.

Withan unsure frown, he gave them a thumbs up. They chattered amongstthemselves excitedly, seemingly happy about the gesture.

No-onehad ever wanted his approval before. Most of the time it was astruggle to get people to pay attention. The word 'disconcerting'didn't quite cover it.

'DrFreeman! This way!'

Helooked back to the citizen who had become his tour guide, still stoodin the small passageway that would take him to Colonel Cubbage. Wasthat who He had been talking to?

Nodding,he followed along, pursuing him around the corner and into the dingy,wide basement. Only a few old light bulbs lit the place, murkyshadows shading every corner. At the far end of the room, the portlyman with the moustache and small hands held up a rocket launcher forall to see. 'All' being two clueless looking citizens and aVortigaunt that wouldn't stop staring at him.

Standingin front of a large map and beside a table with the same kind ofradio equipment Gordon had spied at Leon's outpost, a boasting,exaggerated English accent emerged from the man's lips.

'Thissteerable rocket launcher is out best bet for taking down a gunship.'

Everyonetook that moment to notice he had entered the room. Looking around,Gordon saw that his tour guide had since abandoned him.

'Ah,hello!' the man boomed. 'I'll be right with you. Now, where wasI? Ah, yes. Using the laser guide,' he elaborated, pointing to alens at the end of the launcher, 'you can steer your rocket pastthe gunship's defences and prevent it from shooting down yourrocket. This will only anger it at first-'

Therebels exchanged worried glances.

'-but,if you can survive long enough to make several direct hits, you'llbe rewarded with a prize worthy of any mantelpiece.' He had sincetaken to petting the weapon like an ailing dog, and promptly clearedhis throat when he noticed people staring. 'Now, who's going tobe the lucky one to carry it into combat?'

Helifted the weapon into the air like a mythical object. Silencepermeated the very walls. There wasn't even a peep from outside. Tobe honest, Gordon didn't really care about the damned rocketlauncher. He had other questions, so he came forward to ask them.

'Ah.Gordon Freeman. I couldn't have asked for a finer volunteer.' Hestuffed the rocket launcher into Gordon's open arms before he couldsay much of anything.

Theman did a grand little bow for him. Now that he was closer, Gordonwas positive the thick, ginger moustache was fake.

'ColonelOdessa Cubbage, at your service.'

Gordontook a breath.

Thenthe klaxons sounded. The rebels looked to each other and then quicklyvacated the basement, heading up some stairs to the lighter floorsabove. The distant cry of 'gunship' rang from outside, andGordon's demeanour darkened considerably.

Cubbage,meanwhile, looked like he had soiled himself. '…damn. Let me justsend a warning to Lighthouse Point, and then I'll be right up tolend a hand!' A decisive finger swooped into the air.

Thederisive snort was hard to hold back, but a rebel beat him to itbefore vanishing up the stairs. Gordon turned his back on the Coloneland made to follow.

'Remember,use the launcher's laser guide to steer your rocket past thegunship's defences.'

Heglared at him. 'I know, you already said.'

TheColonel looked taken aback by the response, as though surprisedGordon could even speak. 'Ah. Well, yes. Quite. Just so you do,dear boy.'

Gordondidn't even bother watch him return to the radio as he thundered upthe stairs.

Somethingexploded outside, and Gordon heard the choppy, high pitched blastscoming from the gunship.

Thisfloor didn't really have any significant vantage points. However,he did find some crates with several bright orange rockets lyinghaphazardly around it. After tucking as many as he could under hisarms, Gordon made for the next flight of stairs and to the secondfloor.

Thewall and most of the ceiling was missing. The balcony he had spiedthe Man and Cubbage chatting on lay in front of him, tempting himoutside. Fires licked the air just out of sight, blocked by the ledgeof the balcony.

Clearinghis throat, Gordon loaded a rocket into the front of the launcher andput his glasses to the eyepiece. He quickly found that lookingthrough the sight was somewhat difficult with the rather thickspectacles on. And considering he was mostly blind without them,well… that would make shooting this thing down interesting, to saythe least.

Thewhite beast of a helicopter roared past, oblivious to his presence.It glistened in the sun as it's thick bullets sprayed all over thebase. Gordon stepped out onto the balcony and brought the rocketlauncher up. Hell, he had taken down helicopters before. Well, ahelicopter, at least. He could blow up an alien one.

Hopefully.

Hefired and stumbled as the small missile blasted off from thelauncher, leaving a thick white trail behind it. Luckily, the gunshiphad been in a pretty straight line with him, so there wasn't muchfancy navigating to be done before it collided rather viciously withthe thing's side.

Gordonloaded another rocket.

Thegunship roared in pain and surprise, it's otherwise smooth courseknocked awry by the force of the blast. It's erratic, violentmovements giving it the air of something quite pissed off, it flippedaround so that it's nose was facing towards him.

Hefired again, just as the creature did the same. The rocket explodedhalfway to the gunship, tumbling down to the ground before explodingagainst the roof of the garage.

Gordonscowled. His car was in there. This thing was gunning for his car.

His.car.

Hethrew himself off the balcony and into the room as the gunshipstrafed past, a constant stream of fire following him. Thoseprojectiles, whatever they were, could blast through the walls likepaper. Without a way to recharge, he wasn't too keen on seeing howmuch of them the HEV suit could take.

Tworockets were left, resting idly on the wooden floor beneath him. Hesnatched one up and shoved it into the launcher. He got to his feetfrom the kneeling position he had been in and darted to the balcony,aiming the launcher in the direction the gunship had been heading. Ithad begun a gradual turn, cannon blasting away before it had evenbegun pointing at the base again.

'Someone'seager,' he muttered.

Gordonfired and watched the rocket careen towards the gunship. It noticedas well, cannon whirling around to meet it. With a slight tip of thewrist, Gordon guided the missile up and around the fire. Smiling, hesent it spiralling towards the gunship, the bullets it fired offmissing over and over again. Finally, the missile exploded againstthe front of the beast, sending it groaning and tumbling backwards.

Severalrebels whooped loudly from below. Gordon couldn't help but agree.He went back inside and fetched the last missile. Poking his head outof the gap in the wall, Gordon watched the gunship recover itself.Except this time, it didn't seem interested in him. It was focusingon something on the ground below. Setting his attention down,Gordon's blood ran cold as he saw his tour guide rebel lying besidea smoking, burning old pickup truck, heavily bleeding leg preventinghis escape.

Lookingaround, Gordon couldn't tell if any of the others had spotted him.But the gunship had, and a line of fire was gradually making it'sway for the rebel, kicking up dust and dirt like an undergroundmonster as it approached him.

Nota thought passed through Gordon's head as he leapt from thebalcony, dropped two floors and hit the ground with painful speed,his ankles almost giving out from the impact. He was sure somethingwas broken down there, since his HEV suit was beeping and warninghim about something or other. Ignoring it, he ran and skidded to ahalt in front of the semi-conscious citizen, standing in the line offire.

Heaimed the rocket, and pulled the trigger. It barely had time torealise it shift it's focus from the rebel to the rocket before itsmashed headlong into the monster, finally cracking the smooth whiteshell and sending it spiralling out to sea, roaring the entire time.Explosions burst out all over the creature before it finallyshattered just above sea level, the final popping explosion sendingfragments of the beast out in all directions. Some semi-circular partof it came whirling out towards the base, smashing against the top ofthe pickup truck before rebounding off the wall of the house andlanding smoking on the ground beside Gordon.

Gordonbarely noticed it, and had spent most of his time knelt beside thebleeding rebel.

'Areyou all right?'

Theman didn't seem to be lucid. He just stared up at Gordon with eyesof varying width and depth.

'I'lltake him, Doctor Freeman.'

Helooked up at the female medic, grubby face smiling shyly at him asshe politely tried to jostle him out of the way. Gordon was fine withthat. His knowledge of medicine was precarious at best.

'Thankyou,' he said.

Agruff voice blasted out from behind him, and Gordon had to stophimself from jumping as he faced the grinning rebel. 'No, thankyou, man! That was awesome!'

Feelingawkward, Gordon cleared his throat. 'Um… yes. I'll just…'he pointed back to the house, over the man's shoulder, '…yeah.'

Therebels that had gathered let him go, content to help out withrebuilding the base. Their desperate voices rang out behind him as hewent.

'Hey,I'll get your car out for you, Dr Freeman!'

'I'llhelp!'

'Kiss-ass.'

Hesighed, still heading for the basement.

Cubbagewas on the radio as he stepped inside, although he had only justseemed to give up on that particular endeavour. Gordon tossed therocket launcher to a comfortable looking couch in the corner of thebasement.

'Well…that's that.' Cubbage looked to Gordon with a look ofunconvincing weariness, as though he had been the one to justface off against the gunship. 'I gather you disposed of thatgunship, Doctor Freeman. Your reputation, sir, is well deserved.'

'Well.Thanks for that.' It came out rather pointedly. It was time todiscuss the business of Cubbage talking to Him on the balcony earlieron. And he would be damned if he was going to get brow-beaten intoleaving before he got his answers.

'Uh…'the Colonel (although Gordon doubted that rank) looked to theVortigaunt in the corner before continuing on. 'I shall havesomeone open the gate for you immediately so that you can drive on. Iunderstand Doctor Vance is in great need. Use extreme caution whenapproaching the bridge. Radio silence from that outpost leads me tobelieve it has come under Combine control. Still, you're clearlythe right man for the job.' He grinned. 'You'll make it throughif anyone can!'

Gordonopened his mouth to speak.

'Farewell.'

'Thankyou, but-'

'Andplease tell Doctor Vance that Colonel Cubbage regrets not having beenable to rescue him in person.' He gave a little bow with thestatement, as though that would make him seem all the more gallantand heroic instead of the little coward Gordon was quickly suspectinghim to be.

'Ihave some questions,' Gordon said quietly, his voice almost agrowl.

'Oh?Um…' he stopped to clear his throat. 'What about?'

Ascowl knotted Gordon's brow. What the hell was this guy trying topull? Did he honestly think Gordon would stay for anythingelse? His friend, mentor… his father figure was being heldcaptive, and Cubbage thought Gordon would waste his time withanything less than-

Andthat was when Gordon realised what was important.

Asthough sensing this, a gravel-laden voice muttered, 'The Freemanmust now hurry on.' The Vortigaunt didn't move forward as itspoke, content to wait in the corner as it spoke to Gordon. 'TheEli Vance is held in distress most dire.'

Thescientist's glare never left the diminutive Colonel in front ofhim, whose false moustache had started to peel at the sides from hissweat.

'Isthere reason for delay?' the alien continued, sounding more naïvethan Gordon believed it was.

Helooked from the Cubbage to the Vortigaunt and back again, jaw set inanger at the position he was in.

Heshook his head, hazel eyes firmly locked on Cubbage as he spoke. 'No.There isn't.'

'W-well…'Cubbage managed, 'you're welcome to rest for a while before youleave, old chap.'

'Thankyou,' he said, deathly quiet. 'I think I will.'

Heturned with only the barest of nods to the Vortigaunt, heading forthe couch in the corner. Planning to sleep for about half an hour andthen be off, Gordon sat down and promptly found himself in a HEVinduced coma.

Imagesswirled around him. The Black Mesa Test Chamber, Barney's greyingtemples, Alyx's-

Butsomething harsh and grey cut into the pleasant images swirling aroundGordon's subconscious. A corridor, not unlike the hundreds he hadwalked, run and crawled down in Black Mesa. Dressed in the cobbledtogether clothing reminiscent of the rebels, a man lay dead againstthe wall beside him, bleeding horrifically. And stood in front ofhim, with his back to him-

Hisback to him?

Itcertainly looked like Him, but Gordon couldn't be sure. But overhis shoulder, standing in His line of sight…

Asoldier. The same camouflage fatigues and gasmask as the dozens ofsoldiers Gordon had fought and killed at Black Mesa. Just as Gordon'sface wrinkled in disgust, he could practically feel the hate seethingfrom the soldier. The Man started to turn towards him, and Gordonwondered yet again if it actually was Him, or some figment of hissubconscious mind reacting to actually having sleep again.

Butthe fact that he was actually thinking these thoughts indicated itwasn't a dream state. Didn't it?

Asthe supposed Man's face started to emerge from the shadows, Gordonawoke with a start. His HEV suit blithered on about increased levelsof something or other, but he didn't care. He was still trying tocatch his breath. Blinking, he heaved himself out of the couch.Cubbage was at the table beside the radio, looking over a map withthe Vortigaunt. Not wanting to speak to the man again, Gordon pushedhimself up and left the room.

Trueto their word, the rebels had taken the buggy from the garage and hadparked it in front of some large gates beside the house that hadsomehow gone unnoticed by Gordon until now. After briefly trying tofind some peace on the pier to sort through his thoughts, a hastilyshouted reminder from Cubbage pushed him on his way.

Hewalked back to the car and dropped himself in. A rebel rest againstone of the road barriers, looking for all the world as though hemedically required a cigarette.

'Howlong was I down there?' he asked, trying to make it sound like anormal question.

Hefailed miserably, judging by the look on the rebel's face. 'Um…a few minutes?'

Gordonclosed his eyes and sighed. A few minutes. He had been running onadrenaline and fake morphine for a day and a night now, and all hisbody could come up with was a few minutes sleep?

'Thankyou,' he murmured, returning his attention to the road. A rebelstood on the other side of the road yanked a handle down on a controlpanel beside him, and the gates opened up in front of Gordon with ashaky metallic groan.

'Drivesafely,' he said cheerily.

Hedirected the scowl straight ahead. Was that meant to be funny?Slamming down the clutch, Gordon worked the rest of the controls withmatching ferocity until he was away, alone on the road once again.The steady thrum of the engine was more comforting somehow. Theblocked off tunnel ahead of him was not.

However,a rather unsteady looking downward slope of rocks on the left tookGordon into a grassy path that widened and thinned as he drovethrough the surprisingly deep canyon. The grass gradually gave way tosand before the canyon opened up into a grand ravine, a tall bridgerunning across in front of Gordon, collapsed at the left-hand side.

Somethingexploded out of the sandy ground ahead of him as he passed beneaththe archway of the bridge.

Ah,Antlions. How I have missed you.

Thevicious little bastards predictably rebounded and splattered againstthe car, coating him fresh green blood. And the dirt and sand hadjust started to make it fade, too. He splashed over the shallowremains of a lake as he approached what looked like some old loadingdocks. Although he doubted many people had approached them in a carfrom this angle before. A crane with the incredibly huge magnetattached caught Gordon's eye. Since there didn't seem to be anyramps for vehicles, it looked like it might be a solution to apossible upcoming problem.

TwoCombine soldiers ran in the distance, sprinting with purpose towardsa deactivated Thumper beside some hastily erected wooden ramps thatwould take them up to the docks. Antlions slashed and hurledthemselves at the soldiers, the pair barely managing to hold theirown. Gordon moved the buggy until he was confident he was on astraight line, and then gunned the red turbo button.

Nobody,Combine and Antlion alike, had any idea what hit them. Gordon came toa skidding halt beside the Thumper as more Antlions unearthedthemselves behind him and Combine radio chatter crackled from above.He climbed up the ladder to a small control panel and slammed a palmdown on the button. With a few beeps, a light flash green in front ofhim, and the Thumper slammed down into the ground. The familiardistressed squeals of the Antlions signalled their retreat, andGordon allowed himself a smile at his handiwork.

Bulletsricocheted above his head, sparks fluttering over him like rain.Gordon slid down the ladder and underneath the ramps.

Gordonadded another note for inclusion in his book; when tempted to taketime to smile at your accomplishments - DON'T. The ammo crate ofthe car had ended up close enough to him that he could reach insideand pull out the small machinegun, which he now realised frommarkings on the side was an MP5. Interesting what one's eyes weredrawn to when they were hiding underneath a dried out pier.

Sunlightbore down through the gaps in between planks above him, and Gordonsaw a shadow pass over a crack on his left, lingering there for themoment. He positioned himself beneath it and opened fire, blasting upthrough the planking and tearing several new holes in the soldierthere.

Hedared a quick peek out of the side of the pier, looking up and hopingthere wouldn't be a gun pointed at his face waiting for him.Finding none, he swung himself around and back out into the open,clambering up onto the ramps and hurtling up onto the docksthemselves. A small storage warehouse in front of him blocked hisview of another higher level just behind it. Two soldiers ran past onthe upper level, firing away as they went. Gordon ducked behind thewarehouse as the bullets chipped away at the white brickwork.

Gordonran around to the other side and quickly backtracked when he saw thesecond soldier positioned on the upper level in line with him. Thebullets smashed through the wooden planking beneath Gordon's feetas he narrowly managed to get himself back under cover again.

Hisfoot tapped against a barrel as he considered his options. He lookeddown to the rusting blue object, and smiled. Tucking the MP5 underhis arm, Gordon swung the Gravity Gun around and plucked up thebarrel, holding it in front of him as a shield. Moving around thecorner and crouching as much as possible, he slowly started makinghis way forward, the bullets clanging noisily against the metal ofthe barrel.

Hewaited until he was at the end of the warehouse, with the smallest ofgaps of open air between him and the ladder that would take him up tothe level above. Aiming up, he fired the barrel at the soldier infront of him. Seeing it coming, he managed to duck out of the way.His comrade on the far left was distracted enough for Gordon to yankhis machinegun out and blast a few holes in his head and neck, takinghim out of play.

Clamberingup the ladder, Gordon paused as he reached the top, the Combinesoldier who had neatly ducked the barrel now pressing his own MP5 toGordon's temple. He grabbed onto the soldier's arm and lethimself drop down, bringing him tumbling down to the small 'corridor'of space between the warehouse and the ladder. Gordon managed to landon his feet beside the soldier, who landed on his side, his grip onthe MP5 holding steadfast.

Slamminghis foot down on the weapon, Gordon whipped out the crowbar andslashed the jagged end through the soldier's mask. A grunt was allthe soldier could offer before he collapsed back intounconsciousness. The flat, empty tone that emitted from his radioindicated that perhaps it was somewhat worse than unconsciousness.Gordon tried not to look at how pallid and near-white the flesh wasbeneath the mask, instead concentrating on climbing up the ladder andreaching his next destination.

Saiddestination seemed to be another pier at the far end of the one onwhich he stood, the two linked together by a raised drawbridge. Alarge warehouse on the other pier would presumably allow him accessto some area beyond and hopefully to a road. His gaze travelled toanother bridge on his left ahead of him, and he increased his pace.The concrete bridge took him to the base of the crane he had spiedearlier.

Heclambered up the not inconsiderable height of the ladder withoutthinking, vertigo only kicking in when he reached the top and steppedout onto the platform running around the crane.

Wow.That was… pretty high.

Hisgrip on the walkway's guardrail tightened considerably as he walkedaround it, looking for the way to get into the cockpit of the crane.A ladder almost smacked him on the forehead as he walked. Climbingup, Gordon became aware of a mechanical whining noise coming from theother pier. The warehouse gate was opening as several soldiers piledout, impatiently ducking beneath it before it was fully open.

Theysporadically took cover behind the three shipping containers that hadbeen left to rot on the dock, taking pot-shots at him with their(rather inaccurate at long range, Gordon realised) MP5s. The bulletsricocheted and sparked wildly against the metal of the crane as heclambered into the control booth. Sitting himself in the chair, hesuddenly found himself surrounded by levers on both side.Fortunately, the glass seemed thick, so he was safe to practice for afew minutes. At least until the soldiers lowered the bridge and cameto get him.

Ah,so… that lever moved the crane from left to right, thislever lowered the magnet up and down, that one activated it…

Hesmiled as he realised something. Industrial magnet. Metal shippingcontainers.

Thiswas going to be sweet.

Swingingthe crane around and enjoying the sheer power it gave him, Gordonsnatched up the container that was furthest to the left, catching itat one end. The magnet groaned loudly as it lifted the container withseeming ease, the soldiers hiding behind it staring up in a panic asthey realised what was coming. Whirling the crane around to theright, Gordon dragged the container along, smashing it against theother two and crushing half a dozen soldiers between the three ofthem. He continued going until both of the containers had tumbleddown into the gap between piers.

So.That was that. Soldiers done with. It was a little frightening,actually. How easy it had been to take half a dozen lives. Althoughkilling in general had been much easier than he had thought it wouldbe. It made him wonder why people needed to train to become good atsuch things. The whole thing always seemed so simple to him. A duckhere, a slash or a bullet there…

Heblinked and got back to work.

Disturbingmusings later, Gordon.

Magneticgrasp still firmly on the remaining container, he threw it alonguntil it crashed into the bridge, which up to this point had beenstanding upright. After swaying precariously in the air for a moment,the bridge tumbled, slamming down into place with an almighty bangthat he was sure couldn't have gone unnoticed.

Withthat in mind, he swung the crane around and concentrated on fetchinghis car. Hopefully it wouldn't be so far away that he would have togo back down and drive to a more convenient location.

Itdidn't take too long to lift the car up and place it delicately onthe pier, and before long he was heading back down from the crane andmaking his way across the bridge. As he stepped in front of the opengateway of the warehouse, more gunshots sent him stumbling back andonto his rear, an embarrassing manoeuvre he realised he hadn'texecuted in some time. Rubbing the bruised muscle, he was somewhatglad for that fact.

Thecar was in the line of fire, but if he could reach it…

Helifted the MP5 and gripped it tighter. Running out, he ducked hishead and fired wildly into the warehouse, making a leap to reach thevehicle before they could respond in kind. The buggy had been placedacross from the entrance, providing quite a bit of cover for him.Gordon tossed the smaller gun aside, and reached for the mounted Taucannon.

Gordonwas fairly sure the soldiers had no idea what had hit them,judging by the fact that only one of them managed to get a shot offbefore being blasted halfway across the warehouse and through a largecrate.

Uponfurther exploration of the now thoroughly wrecked warehouse, Gordonfound another gate on the left wall, but a control booth at the farend opened that up for him. Lightly jogging back to his car, Gordonallowed himself the brief pleasure of simply listening to the soundof the waves and wind around him. Strange.

Heput his MP5 back in the ammo crate and slipped back into the buggy.Moving slowly at first, he navigated the car through the warehouseand out the other side before gunning it up the ramp he found there.It took him out into a courtyard, shipping containers stacked up onthe left and another warehouse on the right, this one rather openended. A ramp inside the warehouse led to some rather large andfragile looking windows. The way forward, Gordon guessed.

Aresounding bang echoed through the air, and Gordon watched a redflare shoot up into the sky before fizzling out countless miles abovehim. Three soldiers suddenly appeared from some stacked barrels andcrates just beside the entrance to the warehouse at the far end.

ButGordon knew they were weren't meant to be his killers. They were adelay tactic before the gunship arrived. He moved as fast as thebuggy would allow, lining up the jump and gunning the turbo beforeducking his head on the way over. Even with his eyes clenched shut,he could feel the car leave the ground and hurtle through the airbefore smashing through the windows, landing on the road on the otherside with an expected series of vicious jolts.

Whippinghis head up, Gordon adjusted his askew glasses and his course beforeheading off down the only direction available to him; the right.Gunshots rang out behind him; or more flares, he couldn't tell. Allhe knew was that he was away again, and at speed. The faster it gothim to Eli, the better.

Butthen that metallic groan filled the air, and Gordon knew what hewould find bearing down on him even before he cast his gaze upwards.A gunship, travelling overhead. The road took him up and around tothe right, bringing him to a long since destroyed bridge that linkedtwo sides of a rather deep ravine. Down below, the dark waters werestill, but still no less deadly from this height.

Thegunship seemed to be heading for the bridge. Gordon gunned the turboagain, and the engine roared in disapproval at being pushed to thebrink two times in a row. It flew across the chasm just as thegunship ploughed through, the back of the buggy catching on the sideof the white metallic beast and sending it twirling to the ground.The speed at which it hit the ground sent it tumbling end-over-endbefore it finally wound up on its side against the rock face besidethe road.

Gordongroaned quietly and once more adjusted his glasses. Another cry fromthe gunship propelled him onward. He grasped onto the frame of thecar, yanking himself out before collapsing onto the road, tired andin pain. The gunship was coming around for another pass.

Onthe road ahead that bent around the cliff-side to the left, old carsfrom years gone by had piled up, blocking the way even if his carhadn't just been forcibly crashed.

Hepicked up his hobbling pace as the gunship started firing, duckingdown behind a rusted green car for cover. The force of whateverbullets the gunship was using nudged the car along in front of him,and Gordon had to crawl back to avoid getting pinned underneath.Another roar from the gunship signalled it whirling around, puttingenough distance between itself and Gordon that it would be able toget a long bout of firing in before it passed over him again.

Climbingup onto the preciously hollow sounding bonnet of the car, Gordonstarted looking for anything he might use. An old pickup truck withpropane tanks piled up in the back seemed to be his only option. Whyhad he left the damned rocket launcher with Cubbage?

Hejumped down from the car as the gunship turned again. He was betweentwo cars, a green one behind and a blue one in front of him. Thegunship seemed to have spotted the pickup full of propane as well andopened fire. They exploded instantly on impact, the chain reaction ofall of the canisters exploding almost instantaneous. A small red carthat had been wedged beside the truck was flung through the air bythe explosion, twirling towards him through the air.

Gordondidn't even have time to move before it came crashing down on hishead.

Thenthere was darkness.

Unlikehis little nap at Newland Odessa, this blackness was not accompaniedby any visions or voices, no swirling images of test chambers and oldfriends. Just nothing.

Atiny squawk brought him back to the land of the living. Blinking hiseyes open, Gordon found a crow staring down at him curiously, tiltingit's head as though he were the oddity. He wasn't sure whya crow was so near the coast. He didn't particularly care, either.A cursory look around revealed he was lying in the gap between thegreen and blue cars. Well, there wasn't much of a gap anymore. Theimpact from the red car must have pushed them together. There was asmall crack between the two which allowed sunlight in, and as well asthe crow that was no perched on the blue car, staring down at him.

Well,his stats were still working. The HEV suit was approaching seventypercent. Which wasn't too bad, considering.

Withsome difficulty, Gordon pulled the Gravity Gun around. He couldn'thear the gunship or any soldiers around. The gunship had probablythought him dead from flying red car. Gordon wondered how long he hadbeen out. Judging from the fact he couldn't feel a bruise on hishead, it was long enough that the HEV suit had time to heal the notinsignificant blow to his head. He berated himself for furtherdelaying his mission to get to Eli. Although, being hit by a car wasa good excuse for tardiness, he had to admit.

Wedgingthe Gravity Gun beneath the blue car, Gordon pressed the primarytrigger. With a flash of light and a metallic clang, the car shifteda metre or so. The crow launched itself from the car, squawkingangrily. After a few more blasts, Gordon's legs were free, and heheaved himself to his feet.

Assuspected, no Combine forces of any sort. He nodded. Good.

Walkingback around the corner he had come from, Gordon found the car wasstill there. Toppled on it's side, but still there. Satisfied, hegot to clearing the road and the way to the tunnel he could seeahead. After the helpless stress of being hunted by a flying machinehe had no chance of stopping, blasting inert cars was somewhattherapeutic. It took him about ten minutes to clear everything, andanother five to get the damned buggy the right way up - it keptmoving away from him when he blasted it with the Gravity Gun, and hehad to get at just the right angle to it to topple back onto it'swheels.

Slidingback inside the car, Gordon set off, allowing the sounds of theengine and road to wash over him. The wind pretty much blanked outany other sounds, and he was grateful for it.

Theroad twisted and bent around the cliff-side, most of the roadbarriers thankfully intact. Some abandoned cars occasionally blockedthe way, but a blast or two from the Tau cannon fixed that littleproblem. Eventually the road took him past an old, rather largehouse, although Gordon wasn't particularly sure as to what it'spurpose might have been before the Combine moved in.

Asit was now, it was being used as an ambush point by several soldierswho thought it would be fun to collapse the cliff-side wall on top ofhim with explosives. A quick blast from the turbo got him past thatlittle obstacle, and, with no wish to stick around and play 'whocan kill each other fastest' with the soldiers, he hurried on upthe road, ducking his head down to avoid the bullets being blastedhis way. He wasn't that worried about them radioing ahead; itwasn't like they weren't on red alert anyway. He doubted thatmany of the Combine forces had actually believed him dead. Althoughif they had… well, more fool them.

Discretionproved the better part of valour as he continued on down the road,eventually crossing a bridge only to come to a stop before a forcefield blocking the road ahead. Tracking the power cable running fromthe top of the force field frame via a small gap beside it, Gordoneventually went around several gas station booths and garages beforefinding a Combine transport van powering it. He used the Gravity Gunto dislodge the cable, which, unsurprisingly, several Combinesoldiers inside the van and a small house behind the garage tookobjection to.

Fortunately,the van was parked beside several petrol dispensers, and a few wellaimed shots from the revolver sent the entire complex up in flames.Gordon used the turbo to hurl himself through the black, billowingsmoke, the dust from the cloud fogging his glasses a little, butnothing too bad.

Hisneck was starting to ache, but he wasn't sure why. Probably stress.He rubbed it as best he could as he drove, although it did little toease the annoying pain.

Fiveminutes of driving around more twisting, winding roads, Gordon foundhimself with a clear path up to a large railway bridge crossing thewater in front of him. Down below the bridge on the right, a smallsettlement had been erected. Two bungalows on the left and the right,and a tall multi-storey affair behind the house on the right. But agrassy path was able to take him straight up onto the two trackbridge, and, even though the car had a little trouble with the rails,he was comfortable enough as he started to cross it.

Except,of course, for the force field he smashed into while paying moreattention to the view from the bridge. And there was no handy littlegap beside the frame this time to allow him to find the source. Thecable seemed to be dangling down off the side of the bridge, anyway.

So,underneath seemed to be way to go.

Gordonreversed the buggy up off the bridge and down the grassy slope oncemore, parking it behind a still standing pane of fencing. Hopefullythat would stop any curious Combine soldiers from taking it for alittle joyride. After snatching up and loading the MP5 and therevolver from the ammo crate, Gordon made his way down to thesettlement, hoping he would be able to find a way to cross the bridgeand turn off the force field generator without risking life and limb.

'Yeah,'he snorted, heading for the closest building to him.

Thefamiliar beep and crackle of Combine radios made him slow his paceconsiderably, and he ducked into the small storage shed just in frontof the door on the side of the flat. MP5 pressed close to him, Gordoncounted to three before whirling around, weapon pointed at the door.He slowly crept forward, mindful of his boots crunching against thedry underbrush.

Thenthe door flew open, and a soldier unlike any Gordon had seen beforestared back at him with shotgun raised. The orange lenses of his eyescombined with the black and grey of his uniform made Gordon instantlythink 'angel of death'. The red skull printed on his sleevedidn't dissuade from that concept.

Gordonhad only a second to take this in before the soldier fired, the forceof the blast hitting him almost point blank in the chest and sendinghim painfully onto his back. Most of the spray had hit the HEV suit,but one had sliced into the side of his neck, and he could feel thewarmth of the blood as it saturated the tight collar. Rolling out ofthe way of the next blast, Gordon managed to get inside the shedbefore the next spray sent a cloud of dust and sand into the air.

Hecould hear more soldiers coming, the distinctive tinkle of their zipsand chains accompanying their every footfall.

Lookingdown, Gordon saw a red petrol can. A quick jostle confirmed it stillhad a fair amount inside. Gravity Gun in hand, Gordon picked up thecan and whirled around to meet the shotgun wielding Combine. Severalmore soldiers had gathered around him, one just about to move aroundthe other side of the shed and trap him.

Gordonfired at the shotgun soldier, knocking the weapon from his hand andsplashing petrol all over him and his comrades. It landed with ahollow thud behind them, and Gordon blasted it away with the MP5.Sparks flew, and with a sudden flash of orange and yellow, thesoldiers were engulfed in flame. Although not enough to kill them, itwas enough to distract them, and that was all Gordon needed. He hadmowed them down with the MP5 before the flames had even begun to dieout.

Heleft them to burn there, the distinctive smell of burning fleshcuriously absent. Although not one to look a gift horse in the mouthwhen it came to such things, Gordon couldn't help but wonder why.

Aftera quick exploration of the other houses yielded no more enemies,Gordon found a sizeable gap in some floorboards in the left-hand sideflat. It dropped down to a grassy ridge, which, as Gordon saw when hepoked his head down below, led to a door in the side of the base ofthe bridge. That would seem to be his way ahead.

Withshaky, skinny arms being all he had to support him, Gordon slowlylowered himself down, landing in an awkward heap.

Adeep, guttural panting came from behind him, and Gordon whirledaround, the noise bringing back horrific memories of dark alleywaysand screaming, hellish creatures. And there it was. A poison zombie,wailing and stumbling along towards him, weighed down by thecountless venomous headcrabs living on it's body.

Heconsidered fighting it, he truly did. But instead, Gordon turned andran, slamming the door behind him and wedging a chair up against it.How much good that would actually do, Gordon didn't know.Rather than waste time waiting for the monster to come along and testthe theory, Gordon moved on through a small archway on his right. Ittook him underneath the bridge, the concrete walkway allowing him anunabashed view of the crashing water on the supporting pillars below.

Gordonhoped this walkway went all the way to the other side.

Unfortunatelyfor him, the walkway led to a small room with a narrow stairwell,which, after zigzagging up a few times, led him to a horrific sight.

Theunderbelly of the bridge was, as Gordon feared, made up of acrisscross of metal girders woven together like an angular web. Andthe bridge looked like it was about a mile long, if not longer.

Thiswas certainly going to be fun.

Awalkway went around the tower he had stepped from and extended out tobeneath the bridge. It seemed to run all the way to the other side ofthe bridge. He smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Walkingalong happily, Gordon nevertheless was rather wary of the edges,having no desire to go for a long dive followed by an even longerswim. The entire bridge echoed and roared with every crash of thewaves below. He couldn't see very far out; a low mist had settledon the water near the bridge, blocking his view of anything within afew hundred metres.

Hisattention was brought crashing back to the walkway in front of himwhen it suddenly dipped down.

Anddown.

Anddown.

Somethinghad managed to dislodge the section of the walkway ahead of Gordon,letting it dangle precariously down at the water below. And the restof the walkway was too far away for him to jump. He looked over atthe massive framework beside him. It steadily curved upwards, makinga sort of hill with its' apex in the middle of the bridge. A smallplatform had been built there, and a helpful little storage shedalong with it.

Gordonslowly wormed his foot through the vertical zigzagging girders infront of him, sliding out until he was crouched with a firm grip onthe metal bar diagonally above his head.

Onefoot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other…

Ametallic groan shook the bridge, quickly followed by a sort ofclattering sound above. Gordon slipped a little, and with the loudest'Whoa' he had managed in some time, he fell down onto the metalbars in front of him. His head dipped down the gap between girders,treating him to a full on view of the very fatal drop beneath him.The MP5 flew from his grip, tumbling for an incredibly long timebefore splashing inaudibly into the water.

Itwas a train. He realised that as the clattering went on for quite awhile before eventually dissipating and fading away.

Hestared down into the abyss below, his glasses clinging to his facethrough some miraculous will of their own.

No-onewould know if he fell right now. He would simply… be gone. TheCombine wouldn't find his body. They wouldn't care. All theywould find were dead bodies left in his wake and a parked car,waiting at the other end of the bridge. His friends would never findout what happened, except perhaps through spies and hearsay.

Allthe more reason to get up, he supposed.

Eventhough they didn't need it, Gordon pushed the glasses against hisface and carefully climbed to his feet. With a caution he hadn'ttaken for a long time (so far it had been 'fall over and everythingwill somehow be all right') Gordon slowly began to navigate his wayalong the enormous climbing frame he found himself on. He had neverbeen fond of those as a child; especially the ones where you had toswing from your arms. Having no upper body strength whatsoevermight have had something to do with that, mind.

Byhis reckoning, it took him about an hour to get across. Or, at least,it felt that way. After every near-fall he had waited for a fewminutes to catch his breath. And with about five of those such stopsalong the way…

Well.It had taken him awhile.

Buthe was on a rather solid walkway now, a fact that he noted with nosmall amount of relief and satisfaction. He slowly slid his arm downhis side and pulled out the revolver. After checking that everythingwas as it should be with the weapon, Gordon made his way onwards tothe open archway in the stone support structure beside him. A largegreen crate next to him had a rocket launcher silhouette printed onthe label.

Goodto know.

Theconcrete walkway in front of him yielded little more results, and(crucially) no soldiers. After another archway straight ahead of him,Gordon saw another that led into a dilapidated old room. On the rightbut far out of reach of the path on which he was standing, a metallatticework walkway ran around the side of the stone tower in frontof him, with a ladder running up to another walkway quite a few feetabove. Thick windows there indicated that that was the way to go.

Thumbingback the hammer on the revolver, Gordon made his way into the roomahead of him. The yellow lighting in the two storey room did littleto enamour him to the place. Waves crashed outside as he made his wayaround the fencing in the middle of the room, being especially waryof the floor above him. He hadn't heard any Combine radio signalsyet, or any sign of life whatsoever. Maybe this was an unmannedstation.

Ashe stepped out through a doorway and onto the metal walkway, hequickly reconsidered that evaluation, mostly judging from the MP5that had been shoved in his face.

Dartinghis head to the side, Gordon just ran straight into the soldier,shoving him and the accompanying soldier behind him back awkwardly.Hand going for his crowbar, he whipped his body up in an uppercutthat slashed upwards through the soldier's helmet. Reaching overthe inert soldier's body, Gordon brought the revolver to bear andblasted the tackled soldier between the eyes.

Ah.There were the Combine radios.

Heheard the beeping and distinct crackle of Combine communicationsabove him, coming from the room above that he had spied earlier. Henudged the soldier's bodies overboard before continuing on aroundthe corner, bringing him to the ladder he had spied from the pathwayearlier. Latching on, he clambered up with one hand still firmlygrasped around his gun.

No-onewaiting for him on the walkway above. Interesting. He slowly made hisway around the corner, and found several rather large (if thick)windows on the wall beside him, with an open, inviting doorway afterthem at the end of the walkway. Gordon frowned, sighed, and startedrunning.

Thegunfire erupted almost instantly, although, much to Gordon'ssurprise, the bitter sound of glass shattering was nowhere to befound behind him. Stopping before the doorway, Gordon turned and sawthat the very thick glass was, in fact, bullet-proof. Lucky. Hewhirled around the doorway and fired a shot off, not really expectingto hit anything.

Asingle soldier leapt out of the way, giving Gordon enough time tocheck whether there were any more in the room before he ducked hishead out again. The bullets rained down on the wall, dirt and chunksof brick peppering the floor.

Andthen the alarm sounded above him. Gordon looked up, and heard thedistinct metallic noise somewhere between a groan and a roar thatheralded the approach of a gunship. Knowing his luck, it would be theone that had given him the enforced nap and left him for dead. And itwould, no doubt, be pissed off that it had been wrong. Scowl firmlyset on his face, Gordon came around the corner again and fired offtwo shots, the first missing but the second hitting the soldier inthe left shoulder. Another shot got him through the mouthpiece of thegasmask.

Turning,Gordon saw a small doorway on the wall beside him and another behind.Poking his head through the one next to him, he found himself on thefloor above the yellow-y room; an escape route for later. The otherdoorway yielded a stairway running up and around the tall, squarepassage, taking him up to another room with a crate hastily jammed inthe doorway.

Ifonly they knew how useless that really was.

Heput his gun away and brought out the Gravity Gun. Aiming it at thebox, he brought it in front of him and entered the room. Bulletsrained into the crate, but he fired before they penetrate. It hitsomeone dead on, cracking and smashing all over the now unconsciousCombine soldier. The other seemed a little surprised at having justwatched a floating box enter the room and then slam itself into hiscomrade. Gordon took the moment to blast the MP5 from the soldier'sstunned hands, sending it bouncing against the thick windows behindhim.

Hecame at Gordon with a right hook, which he ducked easily. Slippingthe crowbar from it's sheath, he swiped it through the soldier'slegs. The soldier was on his back in an instant, and Gordon finishedthe job with a revolver shot to the head. Gordon checked the gun ashe walked to the control panel in the corner of the room. He was outof ammo. Not that it would have done much good against the gunship,but still… the thought that a gun was loaded was enough to reassurehim sometimes.

Thepanel seemed simpler than he had anticipated. A button with a greenlight above it, and another with a red. The red light was shiningirritatingly in his face, so Gordon slammed his palm on the otherbutton. With a few tiny clicks and beeps, the green light shonehappily as the red faded. Glass exploded around Gordon as the nowofficially arrived gunship opened fired on him. Gordon promptlystarted running.

Heskipped several steps at a time as he thundered down the wooden stepsand out into the upper floor of the yellow room. Sliding down beneaththe gap in the guardrail there, Gordon let himself drop to the floorbelow. He poked his head out of the archway and checked the skies oneither side of the pathway. No gunship to be seen. Taking a few stepsback, he hopped up and down on the spot before launching into a fullon sprint.

Thegunship didn't seem to notice his mad dash until after he had beenthrough the first archway and was almost inside the second. It didn'tmatter at this point. There was a rocket launcher crate with(presumably) plenty of spare rockets, and with the archway providingplenty of cover, he would be free to-

Afew well placed shots from the gunship resulted in a thundering crashfrom within the room ahead of Gordon, a cloud of dust billowing outas he ran straight into it. Coughing and swiping at the air as heentered, Gordon slowed to a halt and could only be deathly still ashe saw the rocket launcher crate, buried in rubble far too heavy forhim to move. He scowled.

Touché,gunship.

Thestairs were still available, though, and Gordon quickly made his wayup them and to the metal walkway they led to. He promptly stoppedwhen he came to the wonderful view of the underbelly of the bridge.Before, he had had the luxury of his enemies not knowing he wascoming. So he could take his time, slowly make his way across and notworry too much about being shot while he walked the proverbialtightrope.

Hewatched the gunship swirl around in the air beside him and turn toface him.

Now?Not so much time.

Graspinghis glasses with one hand, Gordon took a breath and vaulted over theguardrail. He hit the closest girder with a clang, but somehowmanaged to keep his balance.

Anotherroar from the gunship pushed him onwards. And upwards, it had to besaid. His breathing belaboured as he clambered up to the midwaypoint, Gordon could do nothing to defend himself as the gunshipopened fire. The majority of the 'bullets' clanged loudly againstthe girder 'web' beneath his feet, but two got through, onesmacking into his thigh and the other his belly.

Gordonscreamed in pain as he was thrown backwards by the power of theweapon. His HEV suit beeped in protest at the sudden impacts, andGordon couldn't help but agree. Landing with a thud on a girderbehind him, his momentum sent him tumbling over the edge, only a lastminute swing of his arm saving him from a rather long, rather painfulfall.

Thepain was excruciating. He couldn't remember everbeing hit that hard, not even at Black Mesa. Although right now allhe could think about was the pain, so maybe that was screwing withhis judgement a bit.

Rotorchopping menacingly through the air, the gunship swerved around foranother pass. Groaning, Gordon pulled himself up and onto the metalbar above. Gulping air in greedily, he looked to the platform. Nearlythere. Caution to the wind, Gordon started running for all he wasworth. A few slips aside, he managed to reach it without incident.The gunship opened fire as he lurched into the small storage shedthere, the thin glass of the tiny windows exploding onto him and overhis shoulders.

Thecutting pain of the shards against his face didn't really register;Gordon was content to cradle his belly for the moment. His leg seemedto be healing faster. Or at least, the pain was subsiding quicker.Whether the HEV suit had healed it yet was another matter entirely.He waited for a few moments while his bellyache slowly started tofade. His HEV suit had lost a disturbing amount of power from thosehits. Probably better not to have it happen again.

Hepoked his head out of the doorway and saw the tail end of the gunshipdisappear behind the shed.

Nowor never.

Witha huffing noise that sounded disconcertingly like an old man, Gordonheaved himself out of his crouching position and started running forthe other end of the bridge. The first girder he stepped on gave waybeneath him, yawning down into the chasm below. Gordon managed tolatch onto the next girder over, swinging beside it. He uttered asilent curse as the gunship once more found him and started wadingtowards him, cannon at the ready.

Itopened fire as he clambered to his feet, and he leapt onto theplatform, the concrete blocking the blasts as the gunship travelledbeneath him. Gordon saw the dangling girder and was struck with anidea. He brought the Gravity Gun around and pointed it at thestraining bolts that were holding the girder to the rest of the'web'. The gunship was almost completely beneath him now.

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Heblasted away at the girder with the primary charge, eliciting flashafter flash from the golden crystal embedded at the end. The gunshipflew beneath, the weapon on it's front unable to turn upwards andtake any shots at him. Gordon stood and fired one more blast at thegirder. With one, final groan, it fell, tumbling down and onto thegunship. Predictably, it bounced against the white metal surface ofthe gunship before crashing into the rotor engine at the back.

Ahorrific shriek sounded from the beast as the blades were torn apart.Groaning in a manner so very much unlike the angry cries Gordon hadheard from it before, the gunship struggled to stay aloft, and, muchto it's credit as a violent killing machine, tried to turn and takejust a few more shots at him before it crashed into the cliff side atthe far end of the bridge.

Aftera pause of only a few seconds, the gunship exploded. Gordonremembered the poisonous zombie stood around waiting for him there.It probably hadn't been wanting a gunship landing on it'shead, but what the hell.

Breathingand limbs shakier than before, Gordon slowly scaled the rest of thebridge with little difficulty, winding up back at the cliff sideafter another twenty minute trip. The scorched remains of the gunshiphad since tumbled off the path. There was no trace of the zombie,although some Antlion remains concerned him a little. Keeping a keenear out for any of the trademark fluttering of the nasty creatures,Gordon crept along the path and followed it around the cliff sideuntil it brought him out behind the multi-storey house.

ACombine radio made him duck, and a gunshot made him press his back tothe wall. However, after several more sounded along with the squealsof Antlions, he figured he was safe. Peeking around the corner, hewatched as roughly half a dozen soldiers did battle with considerablymore Antlions. They didn't seem to be winning.

Gordoncrept around the back of the house and the flat beside it, movingalong as quickly as he could with no thought given to stealth. Withthe gunshots and screams coming from the clearing, he figured itdidn't really matter how much noise he made at thisjuncture. He looked to the fencing his car waited behind, and, aftera glance at the warring sides at the far end of the clearing, hedecided to run for it. The Gravity Gun bounced along behind him as hewent, hitting his legs every so often. No-one seemed to notice himgo. The sound of battle behind him, Gordon started up the engine andaccelerated onto the rail bridge.

Aparked trail of containers and tankers took up the track on the left,but the right was clear. Increasing his speed, Gordon smiled as heonce more found himself on the open road.

Thena train honked it's horn. And, out of the mist in front of him, athin (but no less intimidating for it) train thundered down the railtowards him. Gordon slammed the buggy into reverse accelerated. Thetrain caught up in no time, tickling the front bumper as Gordonreached the beginning of the trailers that took up the other track.With a jerky turn, he managed to wedge the car behind the oil tankerthere. He watched with a mix of relief and fascination as the trainbreezed past. As he waited, he reached to the ammo crate at the backand loaded up the revolver again. The trailers for that train hadbeen very thin as well. He had seen a similar type being sent ontheir way to Nova Prospekt at the City 17 station, as well.

'Itused to be a high security prison, it's something… much worsethan that now.'

Hetried not to think about Alyx's shaky voice as he blasted his waydown the track and to the other side of the bridge. The tunnel aheadwas cut off by a force-field. Part of the stone barrier on theleft-hand side had been wrecked, leading down a grassy verge to aramp of a broken bridge. He had to use the turbo to get up into thetunnel beyond, but the buggy made it.

Itwasn't long before he was out in the open air again on a long leftturn of a road. Down beneath him on his right was quite a sight. Asmall town had been tucked away in the corner of the cliff side,completely hidden from view as he had emerged from the tunnel. Gordonwondered if the Combine had managed to sink it's claws into thatplace as well.

Hebrought his attention back to the road and noticed he was approachinga large bridge that would take him into the town. Two small lumps inthe middle of the tarmac piqued his curiosity as he drove. Gordonturned a little so the buggy wouldn't end up bouncing over themlike a quad bike.

Suddenly,the lumps bounced from the ground, revealing themselves as metallicshapes that were almost - but not quite -the size of soccer balls, aworrying blue field of energy fizzling around them. The car rocketedtowards them, and they latched on soundlessly. Gordon lost control ofthe car as they tugged him towards the barriers on the bridge. Thiswasn't good. At these speeds, the car was likely to-

BeforeGordon could even consider jumping for safety, the buggy was crashingthrough the barrier and tumbling down to the shallow water downbelow.

Gordonhad never liked going to the beach.

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(A/N:Hi all. Sorry for how long this took to update. I've been workingon a Doctor Who story at the same time, which has actuallyreally helped get the creative juices flowing on this story again, sohoorah for that! I was also reluctant to continue because afterstarting with the next chapter, there are aspects of the storylinethat have their origins in the 'Sidelines' story I'm writingwith BlindAcquiescence.

Unfortunately,Blind seems to have disappeared off the internet for the moment, so Iwas left with either waiting for him to come back and thenfinishing that story (which comes to 13 chapters) before updatedagain, or just continuing on. I've written the bits in such a waythat you don't have to read 'Sidelines' to understandthem, but some of the build-up is lost without it. So yeah, I'msoldiering on with this, mostly because I don't want readers tothink I've abandoned the story and then abandon it themselves.

Speakingof BlindAcquiescence, Gordon's little dream sequence at Cubbage'soutpost is a nod to 'Shephard's Epic', which I hope he comesback and finishes, because it's simply awesome.

Ofcourse, all reviews and (coherent) criticisms welcome!

NextChapter: The Lost Coast)

Disclaimer: I don't own Half-Life.

Welcome to City 17

Chapter One: Point Insertion

The blackness surrounded him. Consumed him.

Seconds passed.

Then…

'Rise and shine, Mister Freeman… rise, and… shine…'

Gordon didn't feel his eyes open. And yet, there before him, the distorted image of the Man in the suit swirled into being around him, as though Gordon were inside his eye and slowly moving outwards.

As the Man spoke, his every syllable extended and twisted, an image permeated into being from the blackness behind him. The Anomalous Materials test chamber, the familiar whirring of the machinery as the barrel-shaped phase two emitters circled the sample area. Only two days ago…

'Not… that I wish to imply you have been sleeping on… the job. No-one is more deserving of a rest, and all the effort in the world would have gone to waste, until… well, let's just say that your hour has… come again.'

The scene faded and shifted behind the Man, his face becoming transparent, shadowy. A metal canyon, walls on either side littered with coffin sized blue metal objects. Mechanical claws reached down from above, lifting and sorting the coffins to seemingly random locations with speed Gordon couldn't even follow. The Man's smile grew as the image faded and he floated further and further away from his 'employee'.

'The right… man in the wrong… place can make all the difference in the world. So… wake up, Mister Freeman… wake up and, smell the ashes…'

As he spoke, he became more tangible, more real, the pale blue of his suit, the purple of his tie, the dull green of his eyes… all of them, so real that Gordon could almost reach out and touch him. The surroundings changed again, swirling and coalescing into a train. He was on a train, and yet, still not, the image of the tram around him blurred and constantly shifting.

With one final smirk, the Man disappeared with a flash of white light, and Gordon did his best to squint. A train horn greeted him as the white light quickly faded, depositing him once again in the real world.

Welcome Welcome To City 17

Wherever the hell in the real world he was. This sure didn't look like Black Mesa. But for a moment, it was Earth, and that was all that Gordon needed. He had just spent God knows how long in a world of aliens and portals. It would be nice to breath fresh air and speak to human beings again.

But, the fact that he didn't recognise anything concerned him at least a bit. And what had the Man been saying? 'The right man in the wrong place'? Was this the wrong place?

Gordon looked around the rusting tram as it loudly chugged along the rails. Small scribbles of graffiti marked the yellowing walls. The state of red cushions of the benches running down either side of the train reminded him of the Black Mesa trams. Looking through the thin windows, Gordon could see broken buildings passing them as they pulled into a city and towards a station.

Moss grew on the walls, and Gordon was surprised at how relieved he was to see Earth moss. Having been surrounded by luminescent fauna and fleshy trampolines in the ground for two days, it was refreshing to see good old greenery. The train bumped on something and Gordon reached out for the bar beside him, the peeling paint feeling rough beneath his fingers. Gordon looked at his hand in surprise. His fingers. Not the gloves of his HEV suit.

Looking down, Gordon took in what he was now wearing. Black lace-ups, denim pants and a denim shirt. On the left side of his chest he saw a thin, blank strip of white stitched to his chest. It looked just big enough to show a name. Or a serial number. He also found that every ache and pain was gone from his body. Rolling his fingers over his neck, he also found that the stubble he had grown over the past two days had since vanished. Almost as if he had… regenerated.

Or something.

He looked down the tram. There were two other people waiting for the train to stop. One was waiting by the double doors, holding onto a bar beside him and clutching his worn suitcase like it was all he had. Another sat on a bench behind him and further down the tram, staring idly at the floor over the suitcase clutched on his lap. They were both wearing the same clothes as him. Almost like a… uniform. Shaking the observation away, Gordon went to the closest passenger first, a black man with greying stubble and evident bags under his eyes. As Gordon approached, he frowned.

'I didn't see you get on.'

He didn't sound negative. He didn't even sound surprised. Just a sort of mild curiosity, as though he didn't really care. But Gordon didn't mind. He had questions racing through his mind faster than he could register. Was this near Black Mesa? Did this person even know what Black Mesa was? Did he know anyone he could contact to ask about Black Mesa?

The man just sighed and shook his head. 'This is my third transfer this year,' he muttered, a tone of a sarcastic 'can you believe it?' seeping through his voice.

Gordon's mouth formed a thin line. 'What do you mean?'

The look he got back made Gordon think he had just grown another head.

'You've been drinking too much water.'

Now that was just even more confusing. Water? What the hell did that mean? But that seemed to be the end of the conversation with the first passenger, who took to casting his irritated gaze out onto the passing scenery.

Adjusting his glasses (which, he noted, were now completely clean of battle and Xen related stains), Gordon walked past him and to the man sitting down. He leant against the bar above him, not wanting to sit down beside him for fear of alienating him as well. But this man did not look well. His hair indicated hasty buzz cuts, random patches of flesh glaring out from the short brown hair.

'Are… you all right?'

With bleary, tired eyes, the man looked up at him, his voice quiet and thoughtful.

'No matter how many times I get relocated, I can never… get used to it. You know?'

Gordon opened his mouth to reply, to question, to find out what the hell was going on. But instead, not wanting to elicit the same reaction from this passenger as he had the first, Gordon just nodded, a comforting smile on his lips.

With a wheeze, the brakes of the train started to kick in, and both Gordon and the passenger at the door swayed with the motion as the train ground to a slow, screeching halt at the train station.

'Well,' the doorman groaned, straightening his back and spreading his shoulders, 'end of the line.'

With a quiet hiss, the doors opened, and the man stepped out onto the platform below. The man beside Gordon climbed to his feet and gently pushed his way past, only a single furtive glance shot at him by way of apology. His head firmly tucked down, the man stepped out of the train and out onto the platform.

Gordon, thoroughly frustrated at what his limited detective skills had been able to uncover, followed suit, only then realising how strange he must look stepping off the barren train with no luggage. It was obviously a long journey, judging by the equal irritation and desperation they showed at having been transferred.

A low beeping drew Gordon's attention upwards. Floating towards him, a metal device roughly the size of a trash can floated towards him. A single red iris in the centre was framed by four wings spreading out and back on either side. Behind it, a fairly lengthy metal tail extended out back. It basically looked like a huge mechanical eye.

As it floated over him, it suddenly seemed to acknowledge his presence and banked down like a fighter plane, hovering just in front of him and blocking his path. Gordon looked into the iris, and was promptly blinded by a flash of white light.

'Gah!'

His voice echoed loudly around the train station, and as he opened his eyes and blinked the spots away, he realised just what a spectacle he was making of himself. His two ex-passengers had stopped to look back at him as though he had a plague. Gordon just smiled and gave them a small wave. The doorman rolled his eyes and continued on, while the other passenger stared at Gordon with a strange mix of fear and awe.

Gordon noticed that the device had floated up over his head and had taken to following along behind him as he walked. A light breeze blew a box usually reserved for Chinese food tumbling down the platform and past Gordon. Random papers of different colours floated along the ground with the silent wind, and Gordon wondered how any major city could have a train station so badly kept.

As he walked down the platform, clearing the two trains on either side of him, Gordon could either go left or right. To the right, a chain link fence with a closed door didn't seem to yield any hope. But something behind the fence caught Gordon's eye, and he slowly walked to the it, checking behind him to see if anyone was watching. Inside was one of the electricity aliens, a pale blue metal colour clamped around its' neck. And it was… sweeping. Sweeping up litter with a broom.

It stopped in its' work and looked up at him with sad, crimson eyes. A flash of recognition made its' head twitch, and it seemed to want to make a move towards him. But a quick glance behind him showed Gordon the reason why he didn't.

A man in a dark uniform, all dark navy and black, stood behind the alien. The white, ghoulish gasmask he wore gave Gordon flashbacks to the Black Mesa Facility just a few hours ago. Waiting to jump into the portal at the Lambda Core, that mysteriously helpful soldier not just letting him go, but defending him as he went.

But something told Gordon that this one would be nowhere near as helpful. As he stepped out of the darkness and into the light, striding towards him with a cockiness he had seen hundreds of times before in schoolyard bullies around the world, Gordon noticed for the first time the baton held in his shiny, long leather gloves.

'Move away,' he commanded, his voice garbled almost beyond recognition by some kind of digital radio device.

Gordon was indecisive for a moment, and the man in the gasmask seemed to tighten his grip on the baton, his gloves creaking. And then a voice distracted Gordon from anything else. A voice he hadn't heard in weeks.

'Welcome. Welcome to City 17. You have chosen or been chosen to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centres.'

The oozing, smarmy voice echoed all around the station, and Gordon slowly turned to see a huge screen high above his head, hanging from the ceiling. On the screen, his old Administrator Dr Breen talked with a quite assurance and a far too white toothy smile. 'I though so much of City 17 that I elected to establish my administration here, in the Citadel so thoughtfully provided by our benefactors. I've been proud to call City 17 my home. And so, whether you are here to stay or passing through on your way to parts unknown… welcome, to City 17. It's safer here.'

And then the transmission was over, replaced by a yellow symbol that looked like two curved blades centred around a single yellow dot. Gordon was thoroughly out of his depth now. What was this? Was this a hallucination? More tricks from the Man?

Because if it wasn't… what did that mean? Xen aliens under the control of some kind of storm trooper, his old administrator seemingly in charge of an entire city… and some 'benefactors' who had provided a 'citadel'. And 'City 17?' What was that about? All of it added up in some way, Gordon was sure, but… right now, he was at an incredible loss to explain it.

At the opposite end of the platform, Gordon saw a large horizontal turnstile beside another chain link fence leading to an area beyond. He made his way towards it. Beside a nearby luggage cart, another man in a denim suit argued with a masked figure of authority. His arms were grasped over the suitcase on the top of the cart, gripping it so hard his knuckles were going white.

'Please, it's all I have left.'

The gasmask man wordlessly gave him a hard shove to the ribs, sending him stumbling back with a grunt. Gordon instinctively took a quick step forward, but stopped himself when he found himself reaching for a crowbar that weren't there. Right now, he was just an ordinary man. If someone shot him or beat him, he would bleed, and he would die. And it scared him.

'Move away.'

Glaring up at the gasmask and nestling his chest where he had been hit, his angry gaze fell to the baton held limply by the policeman's side.

'All right, I'm moving,' he conceded, backing up a few paces before turning and going through the turnstiles.

Following suit, Gordon walked to the turnstile, becoming increasingly paranoid of the camera device beeping and whirring behind him as it followed. But, as he walked through the awkward rotating gate, it seemed to give up and float off in the opposite direction, floating up into the sky.

A small woman with mousy brown hair stood at the fence beside the turnstile, gripping it fiercely.

'Were you the only ones on that train?'

There was such fear in her eyes, Gordon didn't know what to say. It didn't seem to matter; the woman continued speaking regardless of his wordless reply, wringing her hands as she spoke.

'Overwatch stopped our train in the woods, and… took my husband for questioning. They said he'd be on the next train.' Her brow creased as she stared at some invisible spot on the floor. '…I'm not sure when that was… they're…they… be nice though, letting me wait for him.'

Gordon wasn't sure what he could say that was adequate. Wherever this place was, Gordon didn't want any part of it. Judging by the buildings he would have thought he was in some oppressed minority of a country, but the accents of the people, and Dr Breen broadcasting on giant monitors, and aliens enslaved as street-sweepers…

The woman had since forgotten he was there and taken to staring out through the fence once more, gazing at the recently arrived train for any new passengers that were never coming. Gordon reached out a hand to put on her shoulder, but then slowly withdrew it, pulling it back to his side and turning around. He went through a small archway and past some small, closed up shops. The metal coverings of the shop booths were rusting with age and non-use. They looked years old. A sign above one of the booths read 'Change', with some lettering beneath that looked vaguely European, or perhaps Russian. But the writing was so old, parts of the sign drooping and torn off… it still gave him no clue as to where he was.

As he walked into the train station proper, he noticed that it looked rather small for a train station lobby, the centre of the room taken by a closed tourist information booth, the metal covers closed and locked, although the padlocks had certainly seen better days. Benches were placed at regular intervals along both sides of the room. On the far wall opposite Gordon, a timetable listed trains from different numbered cities, all of them departing.

He made his way over to them when a desperate, weak grip clamped around his wrist. Gordon looked down to see an older middle age man, grey hair just beginning to nibble at his temples, his eyes frantic as he looked from side to side.

'Don't drink the water,' he hurriedly muttered. 'Th-they put something in it… to make you forget.' He looked away and frowned, as though trying to recall something. Finally, he gave up, staring Gordon in the eye with his frantic gaze. 'I don't even remember how I got here.'

Gordon just nodded and gently used his other hand to release the man's grip on his wrist. Slowly and tiredly, he removed his hand, allowing Gordon to leave unmolested. He continued on to the timetable hanging from the ceiling, and almost bumped into another citizen, this one with short black hair and small eyes, his arms folded as he paced from one side of the room to the other. His mutterings faded in and out of Gordon's visual range as he walked.

'…and the ones that do arrive, th-they never leave, you never see them go, they're always full, no-one ever gets on, and they're always departing, b-but they never arrive…'

Gordon didn't even want to go there. And so, he turned around and walked past the closed, rotting tourist stand to see a corridor in front of him. A system of tall fences weaved its' way up and down the corridor, working like the red mazes the airports used to create those long, zigzagging queues. Except no-one was queuing in this one. Everyone was waiting on this side.

At the far end, the men in the masks stood, waiting for any citizens that might come their way to be checked. From five minutes here, Gordon didn't even want to think about what their 'checks' would involve. Only God knew what years of this would do to the people living in this city.

A citizen sat beside him wrung his dark hands, staring down the same corridor.

'I'm trying to work up the nerve to go on,' he said, sounding slightly breathless. Obviously this wasn't a decision to be made lightly.

Gordon's denim clothes started to itch at the seams as he began to sweat. His two fellow train passengers stood just next to the entrance of the queue, looking on judgementally as Dr Breen's message repeated on a monitor suspended in the corner of the far end of the corridor.

'Dr Breen again? I was hoping I'd seen the last of him in City 14.'

With a look of urgency, the tired, brown haired companion leaned over conspiratorially, shielding his mouth with the back of his hand.

'I wouldn't say that too loud. This is his base of operations.'

Dr Breen had a base of operations? This was getting ridiculous. Too ridiculous for Gordon. With a deep breath, he tossed his head up and walked down the corridor, ignoring the stunned yet horrified looks of the other citizens as he wound up and down it a few times. Finally, he came out at the other end. One of the men blocked his path straight ahead, standing in front of some stairs with a door behind it. Dr Breen continued his sickly sweet ramblings as another police officer diverted him to the left, through a doorway in a fence and into a small area beyond that had been cordoned off.

Two fences on either side of him prevented escape. A closed door on his right would seem to be the only way out, since another of the policemen was standing in the doorway of the fence ahead of him, too. Behind him, in a station platform far bigger and advanced looking than the one Gordon had arrived in, two tall, shining black behemoths sat, waiting to depart.

In the corner of the holding area, a camera on an incredibly flexible arm took one look at him and beeped incessantly, a klaxon behind him sounding once. The camera flashed and clicked. Almost instantly, the door beside him flew open, revealing one of the policemen in silhouette.

'You, citizen, come with me!'

He turned and walked back down the thin, murky corridor, not expecting to have to ask again. Gordon glanced to the policeman on either side of him and walked inside, his eyes flitting down to the batons held at their sides as he walked inside. Someone closed the door behind him, and he was plunged into almost complete darkness, only the daintiest of light fixtures above giving him a yellowy look to everything.

There were two doors on the left hand wall, and the policeman had gone to the second. From the first, Gordon heard a scared, slightly indignant voice echoing out through the eye-level porthole.

'This must be a mistake! I got a standard relocation coupon, just like everybody else!'

A ghostly gas masked face appeared in front of him from behind and the door and slid the porthole shut from the other side. That had looked suspiciously like an interrogation room.

His escort wordlessly banged his fist back against the door beside him, and another dressed in the exact same uniform opened the thick metal door. Looking to Gordon, his policeman thrust an angry finger into the dark room.

'Get in.'

Gordon silently did as he was told, and instantly started looking for weapons he could use once these doors were closed. He may not have his HEV suit or any kind of weapons, but he still had his instincts. All he found was a chair akin to one found in a dentist's surgery, dry and fresh blood splattered all around the checked tile floor. A rusting bucket sat beside the chair, and Gordon didn't even want to look inside. A metal table beside him had some thick books on top. There was a control panel taking up the entire right-hand wall, with a bright blue tall monitor in the middle, white text edging up it like a command prompt.

'Need any help with this one?'

He turned around at the noise, looking to the two conversing cops. Gordon's escort shook his head.

'Nah, I'm good.'

A frown creased Gordon's already troubled brow. That didn't sound at all like the rest of them. With a silent nod, the second policeman left the room, closing the door behind him. The remaining cop looked to Gordon, who tensed.

'Back up,' he commanded, walking past Gordon and around the table. For the moment, Gordon did as he was told, being careful not to fall into the chair and leave himself vulnerable. The policeman started tapping away on the control panel.

'Yeah, I'm gonna need me some privacy for this.'

Gordon's frown deepened. That wasn't just different from how the others spoke. That was familiar. He knew someone who spoke like that. Two cameras that Gordon hadn't even noticed on either side of the control panel quickly folded up into small domes in the ceiling. Gordon, however, was simply studying the policeman as he turned around to face him.

It couldn't be.

'Now…'

It was impossible.

The policeman removed his ghoulish helmet, revealing a face Gordon had never expected to see again.

Barney Calhoun grinned. '… about that beer I owed ya.' He waited for a moment, taking in Gordon's astonishment for a moment. 'It's me, Gordon; Barney from Black Mesa!'

Well, no shit.

Gordon just gaped uncontrollably. The security guard's smile faded and he sighed.

'Hey, sorry for the scare, I had to put on a show for the cameras,' he said, gesturing to the now hidden devices in the ceiling. He turned around and started tapping furiously away on the keyboard in front of him. As he spoke further, Gordon walked up beside him and took in the face of his old friend. The back of his headgear was still in place, so he couldn't see all of his hair, but from what little he could see it certainly looked more grey. A long since healed scar was on his left cheek below his eye, and one that hadn't been there two days ago.

'I've been workin' undercover with Civil Protection. I can't take too long or they'll get suspicious, I'm… way behind on my beating quota,' he said, smiling and shrugging at Gordon.

The blue text disappeared from the screen, revealing a run down wall and a window at the top. And then another voice echoed out that Gordon had never thought would grace his ears again. With irritable vigour, Dr Kleiner bounced onto screen, looking as annoyed as he sounded.

'Yes, Barney, what is it? I'm in the middle of a critical test!'

Barney just grinned and stepped back, allowing Gordon to step forward. 'Sorry doc, but… looks who's here!'

The elderly scientists' expression instantly morphed into astonishment. 'Great Scott! Gordon Freeman! I… expected more warning.'

'Yeah, you and me both, doc. He was about to board the train to Nova Prospekt.' At that, Barney looked over at Gordon admonishingly, as though he should somehow know better.

Kleiner just nodded. 'Well, Barney, what do you intend?'

His hand instantly went to the back of his head, rubbing it as he always did when under pressure to think of something. 'I'm thinkin', I'm thinkin'!'

An idea seemed to pop into Kleiner's head, because he hopped a little on his toes before he spoke. 'Alyx is around here! Somewhere…' he trailed off, looking a little unsure. He continued. '…she might have a better idea of how to get him here.'

Barney didn't seem convinced. 'Well… as long as he stays away from checkpoints, we should be okay,' he looked to Gordon, nodding in a way that seemed to suggest he knew what the hell they were talking about. His expression hardened, and he looked back up to the monitor. 'Listen, I gotta go doc, we're takin' enough chances as it is.'

Taken aback by the sudden change of mood, Dr Kleiner blustered a little as he spoke. '…Very well. And, uh… Gordon?' He smiled. 'Good to see you.'

And with that, he was gone, replaced by the white text scrolling up the blue monitor. Barney looked to Gordon with renewed vigour.

'Okay Gordon. You're gonna have to make your own way to Dr Kleiner's lab-'

A sudden, resounding banging from the door made Gordon jump and Barney scowl.

'Ah, man, that's what I was afraid of.' He walked past Gordon and roughly shoved open a door behind in. Barney jabbed a quick finger inside. 'Get in here, Gordon, before you blow my cover!'

Once again, Gordon did as he was told, bustling quickly into the dark back room. Wooden crates, opened parcels and paper were strewn across the floor. Light seeped in through the windows above and behind Gordon, reachable via a ladder leading up to a small deck there. Barney put a hand on his shoulder.

'Pile up some stuff to get through that window and keeping goin' 'til you're in the plaza. I'll meet up with you later.'

Gordon nodded and walked to the ladder. As he grasped the first rung, he looked to Barney, so many things on his mind that he wanted to ask, that he wanted to say.

'…Thank you.'

At first, he didn't respond. Then he just smiled and shook his head. 'Damn, I missed ya, Gordon.' His smile vanished. 'Now get!'

Without a word more, he slammed the door shut. The pressurising knocking continued from inside the interrogation room, and Gordon climbed the ladder. Some wooden crates were easily piled up for him to reach the long ago smashed window, and Gordon clambered out on the ledge. Looking down, he saw that he was at least two storeys up, with only a single crate precisely placed beneath the window to break his fall. Did Barney do this often for citizens? Because if he did, he needed to work on a better escape route.

Holding his breath and his glasses, Gordon leapt off the ledge and quickly rushed down to the bottom, the crate loudly cracking beneath his feet and sending him toppling back onto his rear. A cloud of dust billowed up past him, making Gordon's nose twitch. He slowly got himself to his feet, rubbing his backside as he did so.

So that was what jumping several storeys without a HEV suit felt like.

'Ow…'

A tall, worn wall on his left was obviously not the way to go, but the building to his right held a slightly ajar, rotting white door. With a sore behind, Gordon slowly made his way over to it and went inside. A padlocked fence inside the room on the left blocked the way to a darkened section of the room, but it didn't look like it had anything valuable inside anyway. Just discarded boxes and stacks of paper strewn everywhere haphazardly.

Ahead of him some rusted mauve stairs led up to another door. They groaned ominously as he stepped on them, and he increased his pace until he swung the door open unconsciously fast. It slammed loudly against the wall on the other side, and Gordon ducked his head, looking around the room beyond in paranoia.

Fortunately, no-one was around to hear it. At least no-one in the immediate vicinity. To his right the corridor was blocked off, closed shut by the kind of extendable fences usually reserved for shop windows and doors. On the left he would see a passageway leading to a room beyond, a person sized gap in the extendable fence offering a way out. Something at the far side of the room caught Gordon's attention, however. A blue vending machine, a picture of a drop of water falling into a lake, and…

The words 'Dr Breen's Private Reserve' plastered above the image. He looked the machine up and down, taking in the glowing buttons on the side. All of the selections were the same.

'Don't drink the water…' he muttered to himself, running his hand down the front of the machine.

Heavy booted footsteps behind him drew Gordon's attention around. Stood in the only gap allowing Gordon safe passage to the room beyond, one of the Civil Protection officers stood, staring at him through blank white lenses. Beside him stood a green trashcan, a blue can of Dr Breen's water balancing precariously on the rim. Lifting his baton, the officer nudged it off and onto the floor.

'Pick up that can.'

Gordon just stared at him. The officer flicked a switch on his baton, and the tip suddenly sparked, the tip fizzling a brilliant blue.

'Pick up the can.'

He did as he was told, and, keeping his eyes firmly on the officer, knelt and picked up the can.

'Now. Put it in the trash can.'

Gaze still locked on the officer, Gordon moved his arm robotically over the receptacle and dropped the can. For the longest time, the officer just stared at him.

'All right. You can go.'

With a garbled chuckle, the officer flicked off his baton and turned, walking back into the foyer of the building behind him. It was only then that Gordon realised his throat was completely dry. Maybe some of that water wasn't a bad idea right now. But then he thought about the frenzied look in that man's eyes at the train station.

Perhaps not.

Gordon walked through the darkened passageway in front of him, being careful not to overtake the officer as he walked out into the larger chamber beyond. This looked like it had been a bank at some point. All along the right hand wall, boarded up booths that were no doubt once filled with bank tellers and eager-to-please employees were replaced by a singular device in the middle. Several citizens stood in front of it, the front in line waiting patiently for whatever was going to come out of the bottom slot.

The officer in front of him turned and took up a position beside the passageway, and Gordon could feel his eyes boring into him as he continued to walk on. With an affirmative ping, the machine in front of the queue revealed some flat packed folded garments. Even though his instinct was to keep moving as fast as he could, Gordon couldn't help but wait and watch as the citizen walked back around and towards the exit on the left-hand side of the room, passing him as he did so.

Gordon recognised the uniform instantly. It was the same one Barney was wearing. He took a breath to speak as the woman with the uniform passed him.

'Word to the wise?' she muttered, never once looking at him. 'Keep it to yourself.'

So Gordon did. Instead, he simply took to following her out of what he now knew was a recruitment station. As he walked out through the archway and into another corridor heading off to the left, the enormous screen suspended over the main foyer silently flicked back on, and Dr Breen's voice sounded once again.

'Let me read a letter I recently received: 'Dear Dr Breen. Why has the… 'Combine' seen fit to suppress our reproductive cycle? Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen.'

The woman ahead of him opened two large wooden doors, and sunlight from outside cast a long shadow behind her. She stepped out, but Gordon paused for a moment, his attention on the broadcast echoing out behind him. They had what? Suppressed the reproductive cycle? What did that mean?

Dr Breen continued on. 'Thank you for writing, 'Concerned'. Of course, your question touches on one of the basic biological impulses, with all it's associated hopes and fears for the future of the species. I also detect some unspoken questions. 'Do our benefactors really know what's best for us?' 'What gives them the right to make this kind of decision for mankind?' 'Will they ever deactivate the suppression field and let us breed again?'

Gordon shook his head and followed the woman out. The courtyard spread out before him was no doubt once quite a sight. As it was, Gordon's eyes were not drawn to the massive stone spire that served as a centrepiece of the area, framed by a circle of now dead flowers. What held his attention was the skyscraper that stood high above any of the other buildings Gordon could see from the top of the stairs on which he stood. So high that it disappeared into the heavens.

He swallowed loudly. That would be the Citadel, then.

It was the same dark blue as the trains Gordon had spied in the station earlier, and appeared incredibly thin, almost flat, from the distance he stood at. He tried to pull his eyes from it as Dr Breen continued talking, his face on another monitor suspended high above the ground on a spire.But Gordon really wasn't interested in anymore of the drivel he was no doubt going to spout. Looking around, he saw that three or two storey buildings ran all around the courtyard area, the old bank he had emerged from being the largest, and the grandest.

The rest looked like something one would see in a rustic town, while the building behind him looked… well, like something completely different. A wide set of stone steps leading up past a row of thick white pillars that suspended the ceiling above him. The road that circled around the pillar led off to the right, so Gordon started walking that way. More of the camera devices slowly floated their way through the sky, obviously finding nothing out of the ordinary about him now that he had been photographed and catalogued. Hopefully that wouldn't change anytime in the near future.

All of the buildings on the left were adjoined, no alleyways between allowing Gordon an easy escape if this did come down to a chase. Not that he wanted it to, but he knew his own luck by now. Through some double doors on the building on his left, Gordon could only just see through the slightest of gaps the end result of what he assumed was a raid by the 'authorities'. Inside, two citizens were spread eagle against the wall, and another curled up on the floor. Several Civil Protection officers stood inside, as well as on either side of the doors. When Gordon tried to get a better look, one of the officers wordlessly walked to the gap, blocking his view.

Trying to look as inconspicuous as he could while still attempting to move quickly, Gordon just bowed his head and moved on. The road took him forward and off to the left. On the right, a rare alleyway led up to a fire escape platform above, which, in turn, would be able to take him over the tall fence blocking it. Gordon looked down the road ahead.

A frightening mix between a car and a tank sat parked before a tall metal barrier, several Civil Protection officers stood around it. But something else was truly grabbing Gordon's attention. Slowly walking past and down the road behind the barrier, the tallest creature Gordon had ever seen trudged past, each footstep thumping loudly against the ground, vibrating through to his feet. Even the green tentacle things hadn't been that big.

Three incredibly thin legs extended up to a oblong-ish head, the white shell on top covering the black underbelly. Something that looked like a cannon - a theory Gordon had no wish to test - sat beneath the head, dangling idly from side to side as the creature lumbered out of sight.

The two officers stood beside the van were starting to stare at him, so Gordon turned and headed back to the alleyway. Grass and weeds sprouted from between the concrete slabs, crunching beneath Gordon's black shoes as he stepped on them. A closed dumpster gave him a stepping stone up to the ladder for the fire escape, and Gordon was up and over in no time.

The alleyway led out to another road between buildings. On the left, another barrier with yet more officers looked even less inviting. Several citizens were splayed randomly across the floor and along the wall, one with its' arms and legs tied together while he lay on his belly. Gordon turned and went the other way, his hand itching to hold a crowbar and do something about everything he was seeing.

The road led to a corner going off to the left, and Gordon made his way around. Buildings surrounded him on either side, ended by a large building at the far end where two Civil Protection officers stood on either side of some closed doors. Beside him, stood outside another building, two citizens watched the proceedings with folded arms, one looking far more annoyed than the other.

The latter, stood on the right, noticed Gordon immediately as he approached.

'This is how it always starts. First a building, then the whole block.'

His companion looked over to him, frowning. 'They have no reason to come to our place,' he mumbled, and his friend just rolled his eyes.

'Don't worry, they'll find one.'

Gordon looked around the area ahead of him. Ahead of him on the right, some swing sets hung idly. He only then realised that he had seen no children since he arrived. No-one even below their late twenties. Breen's word echoed in the back of his mind. Suppressing our reproductive cycle.

How long had they been here? He sure as hell didn't remember any kind of movement like this brewing a few days ago. Surely he would have read something in the paper or seen it on the news if some foreign city was going through this kind of turmoil. The only other explanation was that he had been away for at least two decades. And it had only felt like a few seconds to him.

Suddenly, his throat was dry again, and he even felt a little dizzy.

'You okay?'

He blinked and looked over at the two men stood beside him.

'I…' He shook his head. 'Yes. Sorry.'

The man looked back to his companion. 'That's what happens when you drink too much of the water.'

His friend just offered the barest hint of a smile before turning back to the guarded door at the other end of the courtyard.

Gordon took a breath and continued forward, trying to ignore how the whining of the rusted swing chains sounded like children laughing. As he approached the two doors, one of the officers moved in front of it, and Gordon stopped. He looked around, searching for some other route. Off to the left, an open entrance to the building welcomed him inside, the stale yellow light from inside offering at least some way forward.

With one more glance at the officers, both of whom stared at him intently, Gordon walked into the building. Inside, he found himself at the bottom of a winding stairwell, a metal fence of an elevator shift in the middle. Judging from the rust and decay that had spread across it, this thing hadn't seen use in some time. Gordon walked up the creaking stairs to the next floor, bringing him to a cramped white corridor stretching out ahead of him. The stairs finished there, but at the other end of the corridor Gordon could see some more stairs of a similar design going up further.

Unfortunately, at least half a dozen Civil Protection officers stood in his way. Thankfully they weren't interested in him, all of their attention on a door on the left-hand side of the corridor. One thumped loudly against the thin wood, the banging echoing down the corridor as Gordon cautiously made his way forward.

'Open up!'

When there was no reply, the officer just backed up a step and plunged a foot into the door, cracking the locked door open. The squad flooded inside, and Gordon tried his best not to think about the noises coming from inside. One of the officers remained in the corridor, blocking his path ahead. He sparked on his baton when Gordon approached, raising it behind him in preparation for a swing. Some double doors on the right-hand side of the corridor gave Gordon an option out of this evidently one way confrontation, and he went inside. The officer didn't follow.

He was in the kitchen of an apartment. Long disused pots and pans were strewn across the sink, which looked like it had seen equally little use. Beyond the counter, a citizen sat hunched over a small round table, and as Gordon walked to him, it became obvious he was more than a little drunk from the empty bottles of whisky toppled over on its' surface.

'Was that you knocking?' he slurred, his bloodshot eyes blinking out of sequence. 'I didn't know we still had a door…'

With that, he returned to his alcohol induced slumber on the table. Gordon looked around the apartment, and out the windows beside him. They offered a view down onto the empty street below. It was incredibly odd to see no-one travelling down it, either on foot or by car. That was something else Gordon hadn't seen, outside of those utilised by the local law enforcement. No vehicles.

An open doorway to the next room yielded two more citizens, both of them looking out of the window at the street. An old television droned out Dr Breen's message about the reproductive cycle, and went ignored by both of them. Two double doors like the ones he had used to enter the room stood on the far wall, giving Gordon his exit. The first of the citizens, an older black man with a slight paunch about the belly area, looked over at him in alarm. When he took in the man before him, his shoulders visibly relaxed.

'Oh… I thought you were a cop.'

The citizen behind him, a diminutive woman with brown hair, smiled and shook her head. 'He's one of us.'

The man shook his head, looking at the street below. 'Look at 'em down there…'

Gordon followed his gaze, and saw one of the vans pull up outside. Civil Protection officers poured out of every exit possible in the vehicle. An alarm sounded that seemed to come from somewhere in the distance, echoing down the street. That was an awful lot of officers. He started backing out of the room, heading for the doors. In the distance, the calm voice of a woman echoed out through the streets and in through the windows, saying something about an unauthorised something or other. The two at the window listened attentively before they spoke again.

'I told you they'd be coming for us next,' the woman said with a strange amount of certainty.

Her companion's mouth formed a thin line, his gaze still locked on the officers as they filed into the building. 'Just this once I hope you're wrong.'

He looked up to speak to Gordon, but he was already turning the door handle and backing out of the room. He came back out into the dingy corridor on the other side of the officer that had dissuaded him before. His blank gaze settled on Gordon. Neither of them moved.

Slowly, Gordon started backing away, and gradually turned when he was a few paces from the officer. He risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw that the officer was following him. Gordon's pace increased. He reached the stairs and took them three steps at a time. As he rounded up the flight of stairs, he got a peek down the corridor. Behind the single officer, half a dozen more thundered down the corridor behind him from the stairs, the wooden floorboards groaning in protest as they charged towards him.

Gordon gave up the pretence and started running, taking him up to the next floor. The stairwell was blocked by a barricade of broken sofas, chairs and tables. An urgent voice hissed behind him.

'Hey, you!'

Gordon whipped his head around to the corridor behind him. A skinny, brown haired citizen beckoned him over to the room he now poked his head out of.

'In here!'

Without pause, Gordon rushed inside.

'Head for the roof. There's no time to lose!'

A desperate voice from down below yelled 'CPs!', and the man roughly grabbed Gordon by the arm, almost tossing him across the room and towards the doorway into the next. Gordon looked back unsurely as he heard the heavy marching approach.

'Go!'

Gordon turned and started running again, sprinting through a bare room with only a worn, unoccupied sofa in the corner. Through another corridor ahead of him, he could see more stairs. Several loud cracks and thumping noises came from behind him, the screams and yells coming shortly after. He headed for the stairs. From down below, even more CPs ascended the stairs, flicking on their batons when they saw him.

Gordon headed up, the breath quickly burning in his lungs as he raced to the next floor, which turned about to be the top one. Another citizen in the corridor beyond so very much mirroring the one below beckoned him inside.

'Come on!'

Civil Protection was practically on his heels by now. Gordon charged through the door, weaving past the man in the doorway and into the small room beyond. A wooden staircase led up somewhere above. Behind him, the man slammed the door shut and propped his body up against it, gripping the doorknob for dear life.

'Keep moving, head for the roof!'

He turned and started climbing. One of the steps gave way as he stepped onto it, and Gordon ignored the way the broken wood scraped against his leg through the denim as he clambered up into the attic area above. Sunlight seeped through the broken wooden roof, and a large hole at the far end allowed Gordon a way out onto the rooftops beyond. He heard the door down below collapse, and he started running yet again, his shirt sticking to his back from the sweat.

He dropped out of the hole and onto the concrete roof below him. A wooden ramp took him up to the next roof, the tiles of this one making it difficult for Gordon to get a grip. He tried not to look down as he scaled the roof, making his way to the only exit he could see; an incredibly thin ledge running along the building in front of him. The familiar deep whipping noise of a helicopter assaulted his ears, and Gordon looked up to see something like a cross between a larval insect, a helicopter, and a fighter jet. The gleaming white armour atop the larval shape of the creature led to a wider, circular section at the back where a rotor kept the thing aloft. Two small flipper like protrusions hung off either side of the creature at the mid section. Much like the tall monstrosity Gordon had seen roaming the street earlier, this had a singular cannon shape poking out the front. Fortunately, it and its partner - the latter of which appeared a few seconds after the former - were headed somewhere else.

The wind from the vehicles (creatures?) made him slip, and Gordon soon found himself skidding headfirst towards the ledge and most likely off onto the pavement well over four storeys below. As he reached the ledge he grasped out at some of the tiles beneath him. His fingers finally found purchase, and he stopped himself just as his head jutted out of the edge. He looked down at the ground below him. It was strange how, even after he had scaled a canyon hundreds of times higher, falling off a four storey building still frightened him.

Two wooden planks beside him formed a bridge over to the small rim of the building that would be his way forward. As he slowly crawled his way across them, he saw CPs gathering below, pulling out handguns he hadn't seen them wielding previously. Behind him, he saw more CPs hopping out of the hole in the building he had just escaped from. Tightening his jaw, Gordon got to his feet and started shimmying his way across the wall, hoping the CPs were more squeamish about heights than he was.

The officers below started firing, the bullets chipping off bits of cement around him as he edged along. One bullet hit the wall just behind his ear, and Gordon gasped loudly, almost falling from the shock of the pain. He quickly slammed his back into the wall, and kept on going. As he reached the next ledge, something sharp and painful hit his left shoulder, and Gordon immediately clutched his arm. He looked down at the blood seeping through the cheap denim, soaking it.

So that was what if felt like to be shot without an HEV suit.

It wasn't nice.

He hissed, gritting his teeth and continuing on down the now metal ledge of an entirely different building. This one brought him to two long since broken windows leading into another attic area. Gordon almost fell forward into it, struggling to get to his feet while he clutched his arm. A long, rectangular gap in the floor indicated some stairs, and Gordon headed for them. Two steps down and they collapsed beneath him. Gordon instantly tumbled the rest of the way, slamming right shoulder first into the ground, hitting his head against the pale blue wall.

Dizzy, breathless and bleeding, Gordon had to scrape his shoulder along the wall to pull himself to his feet and stumble into the corridor beyond. It led off to the left and the right, both ways blocked by closed doors. Gordon headed for the right first. Before he could even reach the handle, the door flew open, three CPs waiting for him. Gordon turned and limped to the other door, only for the same thing to happen there as well.

The CP in front of him sparked his baton alight and swung it at his head. Gordon ducked, but couldn't avoid the baton of the CP behind him, and it struck him in the side of the head, banging his head back against the wall. He saw the officers converging on him as he started to drift out of consciousness.

'Over here!'

Gordon's eyes flickered open upon hearing the charged female voice echo from somewhere behind the CPs. They looked around and charged towards someone at the left hand door.

'No you don't!'

As he drifted away, Gordon heard the CPs grunting as something solid seemed to hit them over and over again. Thumping and cracking noises were randomly interspersed, quickly followed by the grunts of the officers as they tumbled to the floor. The last thing he felt before he lost consciousness completely was a gentle grip on his shoulders.

When he opened his eyes, Gordon was staring up at the ceiling. He looked around hazily.

And then a face Gordon had never seen before drifted into view, knelt over him and smiled a wonderful smile.

'Gordon Freeman, I presume.'

The same mechanically calm female voice rang out through the windows, and the woman looked up intently. Gordon still couldn't hear too well, his ears ringing from the gunshot near his head and the beating he had just sustained. Also, the woman before him was more than a little distracting. She seemed like such an oddity. She was mixed race, certainly, her medium length black hair clipped back and held there by a thick brown hair band that ran from behind her ears and over the top of her head. The smallest sliver of red ran up the middle of her hairline. She got to her feet, dusting off her pale, worn jeans. Her tight jeans, at that.

Gordon shook his head at the thought, and clambered to his feet.

'We'd better hurry,' she said, looking out of the windows behind them as Gordon took in the wreckage around him. They were standing in the room beyond the right-hand doorway of the corridor. Civil Protection officers lay all over the room, splayed in positions both painful and ridiculous.

The young woman continued on, oblivious. 'The Combine can be slow to wake, but once they're up, you don't want to get in their way.' She turned and walked to an open elevator door that he hadn't noticed until now. 'Dr Kleiner said you'd be coming this way.' A small chuckle croaked from her lips as she stepped inside. 'I don't think it occurred to him that you might not have a map.'

Gordon, dazed and more than slightly confused, stepped inside the elevator beside her. Nodding, she pressed a button beside the open entrance of the elevator, and the chain linked gate slid shut in front of them. The elevator started its' creaky descent. Unsure of what to say, Gordon looked down at his arm and realised that it wasn't driving him mad with the pain anymore.

Instead, the torn sleeve of his denim shirt revealed a neat bandage wrapped around the arm beneath. He looked to the woman in surprise.

She smiled. 'Field dressing. You spend enough time with medics, that's what you get. It's not great, but it should do until you…' She shrugged. 'Well, it should do.'

Gordon just nodded, not sure how to reply to that. Instead, he managed the only other thing he had said to anyone today that seemed to be of importance.

'Thank you.'

A puzzled eyebrow rose on her face, but she quickly covered it with a charming smile. 'I'm Alyx Vance. My father worked with you back at Black Mesa?'

Gordon's face could have pretty much dropped off his head at that point. She was… who?

Still smiling, she self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 'I'm sure you don't remember me, though.'

She was sure he didn't remember her? How could he forget? He only saw her two days ago. And she was baby! Alyx Vance was a baby! She was two years old, for Christ's sake. And now she was… she was…

Well, she was certainly not two years old.

Alyx smiled and folded her arms in front of the undersized Black Mesa hooded sweatshirt she wore beneath her worn leather jacket. 'Man of few words, aren't you?'

The elevator came to a clanging halt, and the gate loudly opened for them, folding into the wall. Alyx left a speechless Gordon stood in the elevator, walking out into the dingy excuse for a basement and around the corner.

For a few moments, Gordon wondered if she was just a figment of his imagination, something that his blood-deprived brain had come up with to make the idea of being beaten to death by a corrupt police officers more palatable. But then she popped her head back around the corner, nodding in the direction she had disappeared in, and Gordon was forced to confront the concept that… maybe, just maybe… this was Alyx Vance. This… woman was the two year old baby he had awkwardly tried to look after for five minutes while waiting for Eli And Azian to finish cooking in the kitchen.

Where Does Hl2 Take Place

Gordon swallowed heavily and followed her around the corner. On the wall there, a yellow picture of a tyrannical Dr Breen overseeing what Gordon assumed was City 17 was plastered onto the badly painted white wall.

'Remember him from Black Mesa?' Alyx asked, pointing a thumb at the picture. Gordon noticed that she was wearing fingerless gloves, like those body builders wore. Not that she looked at all like a body builder. 'Your old administrator.' She laughed again, shaking her head. 'Don't get my dad started on Dr Breen.'

She reached for a small power box beside the picture, and tugged down on a pipe leading out below it and into the ground. With a clang, something released and opened up the thin strip of wall that the picture of Breen occupied. Behind it, a dark, barely visibly corridor led to another door at the far end. Alyx nodded down the corridor.

'Through here.'

Half Life Combine Logo

She led the way, checking over her shoulder when she was halfway to check that he was coming. Gordon watched her go before he slowly started following in her footsteps, trying not to stare as his brain still caught up with this miracle that was standing before him. So the Man had sent him to the future.

And while there was a lot Gordon didn't like about it…

It was certainly going to be interesting.

--

(A/N: I was originally going to wait until I wrote the whole thing before I started posting this, but then I figured that most of the people who frequent the Half-Life section would have grown old and had babies by the time I started releasing it that way. So here it is.

Reviews welcome, as always!)