Gordon Freeman

"Alien species've overrun most of Earth's arable land, at least in the areas humans can still reach," Gordon says grimly. "There aren't that many domesticated species left to farm."

As the elevator arrives at the roof he adds, "Tastes like raisins."

Outside the clouds have drifted over the moon. The church is lit up by spotlights; Father Grigori is standing next to a generator. He calls up to them, "Ah, there you are! At last! I will send the cart for you both."

As the device lurches into life and begins to make its painfully slow way along the cables, a nearby drainpipe- you know, the kind that runs from the roof to the ground three or four stories below- rattles ominously.

"It will be but a moment!" Father Grigori calls. "Guard yourselves well!"

Gordon very briefly looks as if he would like to swear. Instead he says to Dinah, "I'll hold them off. Get ready to jump in the second it arrives."

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"Right," Dinah says, stubbornly readying herself to fight or run, whichever is needed. But she intends to fight. She dropped the crowbar down below, but she flexes her hands in preparation.

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It's not as if she has a choice. The cart is coming, yes, but it's moving perilously slowly- and there are three, perhaps four, of the skinless horrors clambering up the pipe. The first one gets a shotgun blast to the head, but the second leaps past its fallen comrade and lets out a hideous bray.

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Dinah doesn't give it enough time to finsh making that noise. She travels forward to deliver a firm Gastrizein and throw it off the roof.

She's not at 100%, but she can still fight.

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Gordon would give her a thumbs-up if he didn't need both hands right at the moment. "Two more coming," he says, "and I'm getting my crowbar back before we go."

He glances up to the rooftops as a distant zombie howls.

"That cart better be almost here."

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"Get it now," Dinah suggests. "I'll hold them."

She does so when they arrive by kicking the one zombie at the other to make them both fall.

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No time for the nod. Gordon shoves the shotgun under one arm- he's going to have to work up a better arrangement when he gets the chance- and locks the gravity gun onto the slip of red and steel just barely visible on the stones below.

The skinless things, for all their speed and unnerving grace, really aren't very well balanced. A good shotgun butt to the head would probably knock them down. A properly trained foot, now, that's something else. Those two zombies will be hitting the cobblestones hard enough to break things...

There's a creak and a thump, and Father Grigori calls out, "Now, brother step into the cart! The handbrake- release it, and come down!"

Gordon glances at Dinah and makes a 'ladies first' gesture. It's motivated more by the sight of the headcrab bite on her arm than any particular gender chivalry, for whatever that's worth.

Edited Date: 2008-07-30 02:45 pm (UTC)

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It doesn't stop Dinah from giving him an annoyed expression, but she's annoyed at still not feeling well rather than any particular gender chivalry, for what that's worth.

After stepping into the cart she leans against the side, one hand resting on her stomach.

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"Not much further," Gordon murmurs, and does his best to avoid shaking the cart unnecessarily when he clambers in.

The ride back is a little faster than the ride over had been, and ends with the cart jarring to a halt just over an impromptu staircase made of cargo crates. Father Grigori sets his gun aside and steps up to offer a hand down. "Greetings to the both of you!" the priest says. "And so we meet at last. You have done well, the both of you."

"My companion's been bitten," Gordon says, indicating Dinah with a jerk of his head. "Any chance you've got medical supplies on hand?"

"But of course," says Father Grigori, who's squinting a little. "Sister, this way, if you will. I have seen to such injuries before."

He indicates the door of the church. Gordon offers an inobtrusive arm if she needs it.

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She takes Grigori's hand down, but not Gordon's arm, whether she needs it or not, and walks carefully but proudly as she follows the Father, glancing arund with interest

She has a lot of questions, but no idea if they'd mark her out as an offworlder or not, so she doesn't ask them.

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"You are to be commended for avoiding my traps," Father Grigori notes with an expression equally pleased and rueful. "The work of a man who once had too much time on his hands, and now finds time for nothing but the work of salvation."

The church itself's been emptied of most of its seating. Not gutted, as that would imply things being torn off the walls and generally ripped apart. It still bears more than a few of the flourishes that mark Eastern Orthodox churches: the intricate metalwork altar screen covered in icons, the wall about halfway down the center aisle with symbolic doors in either side, the stained-glass windows through which the moon is just beginning to shine again...

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Yeah. About those windows. Specifically, the one on the far left.

Someone give Gordon something to drink, because he looks like he's about to do a spit-take.

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Dinah looks, and snorts in laughter.

It doesn't settle her stomach, but once she'sstarted she just carries on giggling.

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"I'm a reasonable man, Father," Gordon finally says in a slightly strangled tone, "so I know I'm not seeing this window."

"Hmm?" Father Grigori was too busy retrieving a full medkit- the green vial, some bandages, some painkillers- to notice. "Ah, yes. A reasonable man, perhaps. But these have not been reasonable times for many years, brother."

Gordon claps a hand over his face and tries very hard to pretend that none of this is happening.

"You will forgive me for not knowing you at first sight, of course. I had- aheh- other things on my mind." Grigori gestures to Dinah's arm. "Is that your only injury, sister, or is there other hurt that needs tending?"

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"That's it," Dinah says, tearing at her sleeve to make the hole wider and give him better access.

"It's a great likeness, Gordon."

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"I have no idea how they got that. I've never even been to this part of the world," Gordon mutters.

Father Grigori laughs, a small pale cousin of his booming outdoor cackle. "Your reputation precedes you, brother!" he says, cleaning the bite mark out. "What happened at Black Mesa could not be kept silent. A light hidden under a basket may still shine out through the cracks."

"So you... it..." Gordon shakes his head. "You realize I'm only human, right?"

"So? So were they," says Father Grigori simply, indicating a somewhat more prominent window. "We all do the work appointed to us. Some of us-" He offers Dinah the painkillers as he starts bandaging the arm. "-take on the greater burden, that is all."

Gordon is starting to wonder if the good Father would take it the wrong way if he started pounding his head against one of the church walls.

"Now, sister," says Father Grigori, "do you require anything else? I suspect you do not wish to stay in Ravenholm; I will lead you to the mines, when you are ready."

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"I'm fine," Dinah insists, swallowing the painkillers hurriedly and flexing her arm through the bandage.

Having someone else patch her up is as bad as being bitten itself.

"Will you come with us?"

She doesn't like leaving him on his own.

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Father Grigori shakes his head. "Thank you, sister, but no. A shepherd must tend to his flock... Especially when they have grown unruly."

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"We should go then," says Gordon. "We're headed for the coast."

Father Grigori nods. "I know the way," he says. "Watch yourselves in the mines, and move quickly. The tunnel you wish to take is trapped to prevent things from escaping, but I think you can handle yourselves."

Gordon nods and looks to Dinah. "Ready?"

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Dinah, feeling a little better for the cleaner wound, nods.

"Let's do this. Thank you, Father."

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"You are welcome," says Father Grigori. "Now, come. And tread softly, for we pass through hallowed ground."

Namely, the graveyard. Which looks peaceful enough at first, but this is an old town and an old church, and that means many dead; and it's not long before the zombies start staggering out of the shadows.

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Dinah almost sighs.

But then she doesn't have time for emotions, because she's launching herself at the first few, striking out quickly with fists and feet and keeps them as far back as possible.

So much for treading softly.

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Father Grigori doesn't sigh himself, but there's a brief moment of regret visible on his face in the moonlight. Then, of course, he's firing into the staggering horrors that used to be the people of Ravenholm and shouting, "The grave holds nothing worse for you, my child! Return to your true form!"

Gordon doesn't say anything. He's too busy firing on anything that comes up on their rear. But his is an approving silence, if that helps at all?

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Nobody can really say just how long it takes to battle across the graveyard to the equipment shed at the far end. It's probably best not to think too much on that time anyway. Gordon's got enough experience with this sort of thing to know there are patches of time you don't want to remember in too much detail.

But they reach the shed eventually, and Father Grigori hastens to unlock the gate to the mines. "Farewell, the both of you," says the priest, glancing towards the graveyard proper. "I fear I deliver you to a darker place. May the Light of Lights be with you. Look to your own salvation."

He steps back into the shadows, one hand raised in benediction. It doesn't last long, as he needs both hands to work his gun.

"This way," says Gordon as Father Grigori fires. "The faster we're out of here the better."

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