(no subject)
Jan. 23rd, 2009 06:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Gordon knows the sound of those rotors. It's doubtful he'll forget it as long as he lives. Those are gunship rotors, at least one, possibly two. So he's understandably skittish as he hedges up to the mine exit and peers out. The all-too-familiar shape of a Strider is lumbering along an elevated roadway in the distance, followed by tiny moving specks that might be Overwatch or might be Elites, and that not-quite-British woman's voice echoes from speakers somewhere out of sight:
"All autonomous units: Accept mandatory sector assimilation. Coordinated constriction underway. Debride and cauterize. Entering phase nine, enhanced compliance. Deploy advisory control and oversight. Submit and be subsumed."
... this can't end well.
"All autonomous units: Accept mandatory sector assimilation. Coordinated constriction underway. Debride and cauterize. Entering phase nine, enhanced compliance. Deploy advisory control and oversight. Submit and be subsumed."
... this can't end well.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 06:40 am (UTC)If this weren't an industrial site that was already reeking with chemicals, the stink of all the guns and guts would be overwhelming.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 06:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 06:54 am (UTC)Well, from there it's a matter of finding a door out, which doesn't exist, then finding another way out, which does. It's an air vent and it's up near the ceiling, but one forklift and some stacked shipping crates later, Gordon's bashing in the protective grating and wending his way out of the building at long, long last.
The smell out here is like nothing else on Earth. Industrial effluvium does not improve with time, at all. It just builds up and broods in chemical malevolence, waiting for the day of the poor, unlucky bastard in the hazardous environment suit who has to get across it. Gordon stares at the vast vile sea of everything awful that was ever allowed to run into the water here, and starts searching for something he can at least put between his feet and the toxic soup on his way to the only ladder out that he can find.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 06:59 am (UTC)Fortunately for Gordon, this particular pit of chemical filth is in the sights of the mounted sniper rifle. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 07:03 am (UTC)By the time he makes it to the ladder he's almost certain he can feel his nose hairs crisping. It'll be great to breathe freely again... whenever that might be.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 07:15 am (UTC)...someone had a lot of time on his hands.
"You're almost there!" calls Alyx. Unfortunately, in this context 'almost' means 'you've finally reached the riverbed, which is one long stream of industrial waste with sheer cliffs on the far bank. Oh, and there are more zombies, did we mention that?'.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 07:20 am (UTC).... great, now he's going to be stuck with the image of driving a car off that bridge and into the muck from hell in his head.
But there's nothing he can do about that, so his only real option is to lock the gravity gun onto the largest objects he can still move- a couple of giant wooden cable spools- and drag them through the vileness to form a path from one half-sunken car to the next. It'll eventually get him to somewhere he can make his way up those cliffs, right?
Right?
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 07:23 am (UTC)Eventually.
After every zombie that ever fell into this river is done clawing at Gordon's heels.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 07:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-24 07:29 am (UTC)Indeed, at the top of the ladder is a green green grassy slope, leading straight up to the spot where the bridge meets the road.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 01:31 am (UTC)He's got a disturbingly good view of the Combine portal in the distance, swirling with the slow malevolence of a hurricane that hasn't yet decided its course.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 01:52 am (UTC)He creeps forward as far as he dares, peers over the edge. The remains of the river slither by far, far below. He doesn't dare flick a pebble over to see how far it falls. He might find out.
Even the catwalks over the radioactive discharges in Black Mesa weren't this precarious. He can't do this, he-
( if I quit it lasts forever )
-has to, doesn't he. Dammit.
It occurs to him that if the center segment were slanted a little more favorably, or brought into roughly the same horizontal plane as his particular road segment- and if the car's engine is up to the task- he just might barely be able to pull off a crossing. He'd have to gun it for all he was worth to reach the other side before the car's mass caused any further tippage one way or the other, but-
Swallowing, feeling like half his guts've turned to lead, he straightens up and considers his options for getting that next part of the bridge to move enough and no further.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 02:07 am (UTC)That's... pretty much all he can get out, really. Just that lone, horrified squeak. There isn't even room for swear words.
When he remembers that he's got, y'know, legs and things, and the ability to move them, he creeps forward a little bit further. There is no power on Earth or in Xen capable of making him go near enough the edge to look over again, but he... probably doesn't have to go that far. He's holding on with all his might to two things: the gravity gun, and the thought that if he can just remove some of those wrecked cars at the lower end of the bridge segment, it'd probably be enough to cant it in the right direction.
If there is anything else at all in the world he does not have the brain cells available to think about it right now. They're all taken up with silencing his instincts' desperate screams of DO NOT MAKE US DO THIS.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 02:39 am (UTC)TCHOOM. TCHOOM. And another.
TCHOOM. And another. Then, with a low groan, the bridge slowly pivots on its supports, slanting in the opposite direction.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 02:43 am (UTC)What Gordon actually does: hold absolutely, positively still, because just as he's about to start running, it occurs to him that he probably doesn't want to do anything that might cause the bridge's balance to tip too far...
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 02:56 am (UTC)He does, however, manage to move forward enough to see that the bridge's lower end has managed to find rest a few feet above the steep, sloping ground rather than the drop into the corrosive filth below. Punting one last car to the side- he's going to need at least one lane clear for what's ahead- he hops down to the ground and makes his way up to where he left the car. "I hope you have good shocks," he mutters as he slides into the driver's seat.
The last driver must've seen the incoming headcrab rockets and fled in a hurry, because the key's still in the ignition. Which is good, because if Gordon had to find a way to start the car, he'd probably start thinking about what he's about to do, and that is not advisable right now. It'd only tangle him up at a critical moment.
He backs the car up as far as he can get it; he's going to need room to accelerate. One last look to verify that the way is open and there's no more portal storms coming. Then, before he has time to start thinking better of what he's about to do, Gordon throws the car into gear and smashes his foot down on the gas.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 03:00 am (UTC)Bo and Luke Duke would be proud.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 03:04 am (UTC)There's not much road left after that, just the gate out of the complex. Gordon brings the car to a stop and stares at the exposed engine block for a moment, wondering vaguely whether he can get his suit's gloves off, because the palms of his hands are sweating to a disturbing degree. Then, knees trembling, he extracts himself from the car and looks around. "Alyx?" he calls.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-25 03:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: