Alex Makes a Friend - HL2"Soldier, come here." The medic's voice was so low the rebel could barely hear it in the dark basement. He crept over as silently as he could, his SMG held close. "There's several Combine Elite soldiers on the other side of these walls. I'll need you to feed me this line." He held up a compressed air tube leading from a large compressor in the shadowy corner to an overly large nail gun in the Latino's hand. He nodded.
"But sir, the compressor will turn on and make a huge racket." The medic considered this, then nodded to himself.
"By the time it does I should be fine."
"But sir, they'll come and check it out." Now the rebel was scared, what if this medic didn't care about him.
"Don't worry," The latter sensed his distress. "I'll get you out and to safety. You can bet on it. Just keep feeding me this line, and stay quiet." The medic crept forward into a dark hall and the rebel sat there, feeling totally abandoned. How could he sneak past with only a nail gun anyway? He began to pray.
After a RevolutionTodd's face contorted at the sight of the child in the mental ward. He excused himself to a corner of the hall outside and stood there for a few moments grimacing and twitching uncomfortably. Jill walked over sympathetically. It was the second time this had happened on this case.
"Todd, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Like I told Casper, must be something I ate."
"Todd, what did you do?" Suddenly the tall, worn faced man snapped at the young dark-haired girl.
"I protected my country and people from the worst kind of evil, we took the fight to them and we won, saving countless lives and the nation we love! Nobody can say otherwise!" Jill looked at him, hurt, as he turned and stormed down the hall. A few steps away he stopped and half-turned.
"I need a walk. If you come with I'll tell you a story."
The crisp air of dusk was being pushed around by breezes following in the wake of the cold storms earlier in the day. Though it was spring, the air was not warm enough to entice the insects from thei
Village of Death - STALKERSick and tired of hearing the rasping moans that always preceded a hail of bullets aimed in his general direction, a stalker by the name of Nazariy climbed up the steep incline that led to the abandoned village looking over the swamps of Zaton, just north of Pripyat near the center of the Zone.
Though it had been a long time since the last emission which turned all the unfortunately exposed stalkers' brains to mush, there were plenty of them still wandering about. So many that Nazariy wondered if the other survivors were actually killing them. This question was answered the moment he finished his ascent.
As he reached the incline's summit, gunfire erupted before him. Smacking off of the old wooden walls it burst fourth from every direction inside what remained of the small village. He ducked behind some nearby rubble and crept fourth, seeing a group of three zombies lurching forward clumsily as an oblivious stalker in a black overcoat backed towards them.
Raising his SMG, Nazariy fired
The BorderHis uniform glittering in the beginning half of twilight, the Premier of police enforcement stood tall and relaxed in a room draped in gold-lined, red fabric that felt invitingly warm as the sun set. Small swirls of dust followed the officer stepping dutifully onward.
"Sir, we've got a problem. People are starting to break curfew."
"Problem? Why should we care? Just let them get themselves killed, no skin off our noses." The Premier scratched a scab on the back of his hand, watching his surroundings.
"Only problem is, they're not getting killed. Whole communities are growing under our noses in the dark. It's not killing them off."
"I see. We're still protecting everyone, am I right?"
"Yes, but if this spreads... Surely you understand the situation."
"Naturally. Send out troops to enforce curfew every night. Anyone caught breaking it is to be shot on sight. No acceptations. Understood?"
"That's a bit steep, sir. Our oath..."
"Do you understand the magnitude of this situation?"