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Jan. 17th, 2009 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
acts_of_gordThe Vortigaunt was messing with him. It had to be. Gordon had chalked its initial announcement of "This body is yours to command" up to some sort of alien hive-mind thing. Its "Grim piñata" comment upon finding the webbed-up skeleton clutching an ammo cache in its arms had just seemed weird. He'd probably earned its sardonic comment of "What did the Freeman expect to find down there?" after falling into the formerly plank-covered shaft full of water, but it'd gone on to add a gratuitous "Truly, the Freeman leaves no path unexplored." And now, given that he'd just:
- Dropped into an offloading chute that appeared to be his only way out;
- Inadvertently knocked loose the brakes of the cart he'd landed on in the process of doing so;
- Been taken on a downhill run through the mine tunnel so fast that his cart had reduced the headcrab zombies in his path to component parts;
- Plummeted (there was no other word for it), cart and all, into a mineshaft at least fifty feet deep before hitting the surface of the water;
- Had to cling to the rickety wooden emergency ladder leading out of said mineshaft in order to avoid being clocked in the head by the other cart that came careening out of nowhere a few moments later;
-well, after all of that Gordon really felt that being greeted at the top with a cheerful "Ah! No pit would be complete without a Freeman climbing out of it!" was just a little uncalled for. He glared at the Vortigaunt, shook some of the vile, smelly pit-water off his suit, and set off again up the tunnel.
They didn't have to go far. Off to the left, the tunnel wall abruptly gave way to a passage melted through the solid stone by the acid of the spitting antlions, into the kinds of stalagmite-laden caves he'd had to battle his way through twice already. He grimaced, but at least there didn't seem to be any adult antlions around, just the twittering grubs. Two of them were promptly introduced to the business end of his crowbar. His suit hadn't closed up the hole one of the flying chunks of debris had torn in its forearm yet, and he could see active bleeding going on through it. Without a proper medkit to rely on, he needed those raw larval pellets to close up the wound. As he rubbed the stuff in, another sound beyond the twittering reached him: a slow, steady thrumming- no. Not thrumming, thumping. In a very, very familiar WHUMM. WHUMM. WHUMMM rhythm.
Well, that was as good a sign as any. He let the remains of the pellet melt away as the suit closed up and started forward. The stone beneath his feet was a little slick, but he had enough traction to navigate, even as the path along the edge of the dizzying gap below grew narrower. As the WHUMM noises grew louder, the Vortigaunt stepped forward. "Behold," it said. "Across the chasm. That immense repellent device promises surcease from constant antlion attacks. If the Freeman is in agreement, let us find our way to that vibratory haven."
'Hey, look, a thumper' would've sufficed, Gordon thought- but he nodded and started picking his way along the only path remaining to them. It snaked across the gap like one of the ridiculously tiny catwalks he remembered from Black Mesa, joining the other side at last just shy of another grub-tunnel. When the tunnel opened out into the thumper-chamber, he swore under his breath. The chamber was huge and brightly lit, but it was also riddled with antlions- and from the muffled groaning sounds he could just make out over the thumper noise, there were zombies lurching around too. Oh, well, at least there were some generator fuel-drums in gravity gun range.
"Ah!" said the Vortigaunt as the first explosion tore through the knot of screaming antlions below them. "That lift across the chamber promises to further speed our travels." Almost carelessly, it drew back its hands and tensed its shoulders. A moment later the green lightning Gordon knew so well lanced out at one of the staggering horrors below. "Forward, Freeman!"
Easier said than done. The antlions avoided only the space immediately around the thumper, and the chamber was (to put it bluntly) immense. Worse, it was immense in three dimensions, its ceiling easily seventy feet high or more- and the antlions could fly. And there were acid-lions among their number, at least four or five of them. Gordon found that out the hard way. It was a damned lucky thing that the humans who used the area last had kept a supply of medkits on hand, or he'd have lost an ear or worse. The Vortigaunt might've been able to charge his suit's power supply, but there wasn't a thing it could do to patch up his injuries as the alien bugs came screaming at them.
It was a weird sort of mercy that the headcrab zombies were present. The antlions seemed intent on attacking anything that walked on two feet, whether human, Vortigaunt, or post-human. Given that some of the things had been Combine and were still carrying their grenades, Gordon was only too happy to let his enemies tear into each other. Either way, it was one less horror pointed at him. He had troubles enough to contend with.
A brief lull in the antlion rush coming up from the side tunnels gave Gordon the chance to sprint for the elevator controls. "You must hold on until it comes, Freeman!" called the Vortigaunt as it threw one of the zombies to the ground barehanded. "The lift is too small for the both of us- I will join you as soon as I can!"
Are you insane? Gordon wanted to say, but he doubted he could make himself heard over the chaos. The spitters were coming after him again, and he could hear the chirping of a nearby Zombine's grenade as it lurched towards him. He had his hands full holding the monsters at bay. Arguing wasn't in the cards.
(It passed through his head briefly, as he emptied both his shotgun's barrels into the face of an acid-lion that'd come much too close, that none of this would've been happening if he'd just kept his mouth shut and stuck with his old teaching job at Boston University. Very few claws and fangs, Boston University faculty. And even the least hygienic of the students couldn't spit acid.)
Whether it was seconds or minutes later he didn't know, but the sound of an elevator coming to a stop cut through the crackling, screaming, groaning hell-sounds around him. "Go on, Freeman!" said the Vortigaunt. No help for it; Gordon blasted the nearest Zombine out of his path and ran for the elevator, jamming his finger on the 'up' button the instant it was in range. The ascent was quick, but even so he had to fend off two leaping, yowling antlions. As the second one plummeted to the ground below he caught sight of the Vortigaunt. Surrounded by antlions and zombies, the creature was nevertheless holding its own, both with claws and lightning. It even seemed, in its own way, to be enjoying the mad struggle. Gordon couldn't help but think of Father Grigori, back in Ravenholm.
When the elevator finally came to a stop Gordon took the opportunity to sag back against one of the walls and catch his breath. He could still hear the struggle below, but it couldn't reach him. How much more like that did they have to face, anyway? And what, for that matter, did the Vortigaunt need him for, if it could hold off that many foes on its own? The mere thought of the creature seemed to be enough to summon it; he could hear its hooflike feet clattering on the catwalk that surrounded the elevator...
"Observe how they fight on below, heedless of our escape," it intoned. Gordon opened his eyes- the Vort had, in fact, found another way up. ""This is all very amusing, but we must not forget the gravity of our errand to heal the Alyx Vance."
Gordon shivered, remembering the puddle of drying blood under Alyx's back as she lay on the table, and nodded.
- Dropped into an offloading chute that appeared to be his only way out;
- Inadvertently knocked loose the brakes of the cart he'd landed on in the process of doing so;
- Been taken on a downhill run through the mine tunnel so fast that his cart had reduced the headcrab zombies in his path to component parts;
- Plummeted (there was no other word for it), cart and all, into a mineshaft at least fifty feet deep before hitting the surface of the water;
- Had to cling to the rickety wooden emergency ladder leading out of said mineshaft in order to avoid being clocked in the head by the other cart that came careening out of nowhere a few moments later;
-well, after all of that Gordon really felt that being greeted at the top with a cheerful "Ah! No pit would be complete without a Freeman climbing out of it!" was just a little uncalled for. He glared at the Vortigaunt, shook some of the vile, smelly pit-water off his suit, and set off again up the tunnel.
They didn't have to go far. Off to the left, the tunnel wall abruptly gave way to a passage melted through the solid stone by the acid of the spitting antlions, into the kinds of stalagmite-laden caves he'd had to battle his way through twice already. He grimaced, but at least there didn't seem to be any adult antlions around, just the twittering grubs. Two of them were promptly introduced to the business end of his crowbar. His suit hadn't closed up the hole one of the flying chunks of debris had torn in its forearm yet, and he could see active bleeding going on through it. Without a proper medkit to rely on, he needed those raw larval pellets to close up the wound. As he rubbed the stuff in, another sound beyond the twittering reached him: a slow, steady thrumming- no. Not thrumming, thumping. In a very, very familiar WHUMM. WHUMM. WHUMMM rhythm.
Well, that was as good a sign as any. He let the remains of the pellet melt away as the suit closed up and started forward. The stone beneath his feet was a little slick, but he had enough traction to navigate, even as the path along the edge of the dizzying gap below grew narrower. As the WHUMM noises grew louder, the Vortigaunt stepped forward. "Behold," it said. "Across the chasm. That immense repellent device promises surcease from constant antlion attacks. If the Freeman is in agreement, let us find our way to that vibratory haven."
'Hey, look, a thumper' would've sufficed, Gordon thought- but he nodded and started picking his way along the only path remaining to them. It snaked across the gap like one of the ridiculously tiny catwalks he remembered from Black Mesa, joining the other side at last just shy of another grub-tunnel. When the tunnel opened out into the thumper-chamber, he swore under his breath. The chamber was huge and brightly lit, but it was also riddled with antlions- and from the muffled groaning sounds he could just make out over the thumper noise, there were zombies lurching around too. Oh, well, at least there were some generator fuel-drums in gravity gun range.
"Ah!" said the Vortigaunt as the first explosion tore through the knot of screaming antlions below them. "That lift across the chamber promises to further speed our travels." Almost carelessly, it drew back its hands and tensed its shoulders. A moment later the green lightning Gordon knew so well lanced out at one of the staggering horrors below. "Forward, Freeman!"
Easier said than done. The antlions avoided only the space immediately around the thumper, and the chamber was (to put it bluntly) immense. Worse, it was immense in three dimensions, its ceiling easily seventy feet high or more- and the antlions could fly. And there were acid-lions among their number, at least four or five of them. Gordon found that out the hard way. It was a damned lucky thing that the humans who used the area last had kept a supply of medkits on hand, or he'd have lost an ear or worse. The Vortigaunt might've been able to charge his suit's power supply, but there wasn't a thing it could do to patch up his injuries as the alien bugs came screaming at them.
It was a weird sort of mercy that the headcrab zombies were present. The antlions seemed intent on attacking anything that walked on two feet, whether human, Vortigaunt, or post-human. Given that some of the things had been Combine and were still carrying their grenades, Gordon was only too happy to let his enemies tear into each other. Either way, it was one less horror pointed at him. He had troubles enough to contend with.
A brief lull in the antlion rush coming up from the side tunnels gave Gordon the chance to sprint for the elevator controls. "You must hold on until it comes, Freeman!" called the Vortigaunt as it threw one of the zombies to the ground barehanded. "The lift is too small for the both of us- I will join you as soon as I can!"
Are you insane? Gordon wanted to say, but he doubted he could make himself heard over the chaos. The spitters were coming after him again, and he could hear the chirping of a nearby Zombine's grenade as it lurched towards him. He had his hands full holding the monsters at bay. Arguing wasn't in the cards.
(It passed through his head briefly, as he emptied both his shotgun's barrels into the face of an acid-lion that'd come much too close, that none of this would've been happening if he'd just kept his mouth shut and stuck with his old teaching job at Boston University. Very few claws and fangs, Boston University faculty. And even the least hygienic of the students couldn't spit acid.)
Whether it was seconds or minutes later he didn't know, but the sound of an elevator coming to a stop cut through the crackling, screaming, groaning hell-sounds around him. "Go on, Freeman!" said the Vortigaunt. No help for it; Gordon blasted the nearest Zombine out of his path and ran for the elevator, jamming his finger on the 'up' button the instant it was in range. The ascent was quick, but even so he had to fend off two leaping, yowling antlions. As the second one plummeted to the ground below he caught sight of the Vortigaunt. Surrounded by antlions and zombies, the creature was nevertheless holding its own, both with claws and lightning. It even seemed, in its own way, to be enjoying the mad struggle. Gordon couldn't help but think of Father Grigori, back in Ravenholm.
When the elevator finally came to a stop Gordon took the opportunity to sag back against one of the walls and catch his breath. He could still hear the struggle below, but it couldn't reach him. How much more like that did they have to face, anyway? And what, for that matter, did the Vortigaunt need him for, if it could hold off that many foes on its own? The mere thought of the creature seemed to be enough to summon it; he could hear its hooflike feet clattering on the catwalk that surrounded the elevator...
"Observe how they fight on below, heedless of our escape," it intoned. Gordon opened his eyes- the Vort had, in fact, found another way up. ""This is all very amusing, but we must not forget the gravity of our errand to heal the Alyx Vance."
Gordon shivered, remembering the puddle of drying blood under Alyx's back as she lay on the table, and nodded.
