acts_of_gord: (civvies (profile))
Gordon Freeman ([personal profile] acts_of_gord) wrote2012-09-29 10:57 am


Gordon has seen this place before. Once, briefly, long ago, a portal opened at the top of the Citadel, the better to bring Dr. Wallace Breen across. The sky Gordon glimpsed then was a vile, lurid shade of red, the vista punctuated by the looming skyward spines of Combine architecture. It was a moment's glance buried swiftly by the need for battle then.

There will be no burying this now.

The sky- what can be seen of it- is just this side of fire, and Gordon has no doubt that it looks the same from horizon to horizon, forever. But there are things slipping through it, tiny specks seen from ground level that resolve to things much, much bigger, skywhale synths and mockeries of birds and other vessels and half-living things he can't name. And on the ground there are the roots of Citadels and smaller buildings- oh, yes, mile-high towers, more than one, some half-opened as the one in City 17 had been, some fully.

And there are things among them that he almost recognizes, striding through the endless shadows.

"We've 'ported in as close as we can," he says tersely.

(There are only humans and trolls here. The Vortigaunts declined to participate. One of them said to Gordon that they would be taking measures at home against 'unforeseen interference'.)

(Gordon appreciates the thought.)

"We're aiming for the direction of greatest spatiotemporal distortion, since that's what the Overmind exists for. Current bearing from this location is two o'clock. Let's move."

Before the things making the electrical crackling sounds that almost resemble speech come this way.
hecu_marine: (brotherhood)

[personal profile] hecu_marine 2012-10-17 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
"The metal I am, the iron you feel
The song of the dead, the chorus of steel-"

Shephard's left off on his displacer cannon and turned to a Combine weapon that vaguely resembles an Overwatch pulse rifle. He doesn't recognize it, but he doubts it matters. It's loaded and it puts holes in Synths when he points it at them and pulls the trigger. Not like he needs a functioning souvenir when this is all done.

"I, I am the blade, I break the oath that you made-"

Something wings him, searing across his protective gear and skittering away. He's not bleeding, it wasn't breached- but the shock of even that glancing impact sends him staggering. He drops to one knee even as he swings around to take aim and fire on the source of the attack.

"I, I am the mace, I am the blow in the face-"

So tear me open, but beware
There's things inside without a care

It's the nexus of the crisis
And the origin of storms
Just the place to hopelessly
Encounter time and then came me

And the dirt still stains me
So wash me, until I'm clean

"what. the shit."
Edited 2012-10-17 04:03 (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (shooting #2)

[personal profile] boston_bruiser 2012-10-18 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
The M60 bucks as another Synth dies, and Voodoo's drawing a bead on another, about to squeeze the trigger-

-when there's a surge-

(blood on the snow, blood on his hands)

-and a burst-

(the car is a heap of twisted, smoking metal, and he can still recognize the occupant, even with a support through their throat)

-and a wave that threatens to split his head in two-

(the fire was five years ago, but he can feel the flames, hear the crackles and sparks, smell the ash)

-blinds him with a supernova of colors flashing across his eyes, bright as lightning, quick as thunder-

(Rabbit, wake up)

-and he crashes back to reality, his body in a ditch, his mind playing catch-up like a greyhound after a ball.

"Where the fuck's that coming from?"
Edited 2012-10-20 23:16 (UTC)
smelltheashes: (Combine)

[personal profile] smelltheashes 2012-10-21 03:38 am (UTC)(link)
That's an excellent question, Voodoo. Maybe the silhouettes approaching from all directions can anser that.

The ones that look like Advisors, but bigger and skinnier and bristling with so many antennae that their flesh can barely be seen.

Assuming you can still see straight at all.