The crack of green lightning shone over the burning city. Rain pelted futility against the scattered flames, as the storm roared. The cracks of thunder were just as common as the occasional bolt of gunfire, as City 24, now only know as Hell-Hole by its residents. There was a sound of rocks tumbling, as a blockage on a small overpass fell down. The rocks fell onto a large truck bed, below it, and said truck bed in turn began to fall over. With a screach of metal, the Overpass below was clear.

"You're good!" called a voice from above, as a Rebel leaned over the side. Three other people jogged out, and made their way to the exit ramp. The four-man squad rejoined, but their reunion was cut short. With a bellow of rage, a massive, blue-plated behemoth stormed up the ramp, tossing aside an abandoned car. Screams of pain echoed for miles.

Unforeseen consequences? Yes indeed. For, not even a mile away, the screams would attract something far worse then a horde of Gargantua. And so, the story of City 24 begins. Welcome...

To Hell-Hole.

Roland

"Come on you piece of ****!" Roland grunted through clenched teeth, glancing behind him momentarily as the group of zombies came through the door behind him. His hands were eerily calm in relation to his shaking body as they fiddled with the Combine lock mechanism.

Only a few minutes prior he had stumbled into a room only to see what could only be described as a pack of headcrab zombies between him and the door on the other side. He turned back from the doorway when he remembered; there were Overwatch the other way, and they did not take kindly to deserters. With a reckless abandon he had run and pushed his way through the room and amazingly burst through the door into an alley.
That alley was where he now stood working fervently on the door that was the only possible escape from this dead-end alley.

Another glance over his shoulder let him know that there had been more zombies in the room than he had cared to notice as they filled the alley behind him and shambled closer as one.
"Open!" he screamed at the mechanism even as he connected the last wire and the light sparked and changed to green.
With an audible sigh of relief he moved through the door, slamming it shut and resting his back against it as he caught his breath.

As the zombies began to pound on the door Roland made his way along the hallway in which he now stood, not caring to look in the rooms that branched from it. He forced his way through the door that ended to corridor and out into the open street.

Andrew Murdoch

"It's no good..." Andrew sighed, slamming shut the M60's breech cover. "The feeding ramp is screwed up." He knew the reaction he'd get from Dylan, and for once it was a sentiment he shared; after all, if they were to take hold of the combine supply cache, they'd need it to clear out the fortified CP position. Silence fell over them, bar for the sound of the rain pelting the corrugated iron sheet they had erected to shelter them in the rain. The ruined building in which they had stopped didn't offer much in the way of protection from the elements, with all the floors above them levelled.
"This just gets better." Dylan shook his head, dislodging rainwater from his baseball cap. "What now?"
"We'll just have to do without it." Andrew replied bluntly. "I haven't the parts back at the workshop to fix it. In fact I don't hold much hope of ever finding parts for that ever again. It was lucky we found it in the first place."
Dylan took out his MP-7 almost mournfully "I know."

Suddenly two shotgun blasts rang out. Andrew and Dylan immediately turned to the source. They looked around behind them. Amidst the pile of rubble there was a staircase leading down to the building's basement level, but no movement. Another shot rang out followed by the dull thud as a mutilated headcrab corpse slammed into the wall of the stairwell. Footsteps could then be heard, and the two rebels levelled their weapons on the staircase as a man emerged, tall and gaunt, his short black hair soaking wet.
"Sorry about that, I...." The man stopped, seeing the weapons trained on him. "...found headcrabs..."
"You should be more careful, Pete" Andrew said dryly. "We don't need to be discovered before we even get within a mile of the place." He lowered his weapon and gave Pete an expectant look. "Well?"
Pete took a deep breath as he took shelter beneath the iron sheet with the Andrew and Dylan. "Well, let me put it this way; Looks like we'll be taking the front door."
"What's down there?" Dylan asked.
"Bullsquids.... " Pete winced, "Lots of Bullsquids. Headcrabs... It's a freaking party down there."
"We'd run out of ammunition before we get within a block of the cache. " Andrew mused briefly. "We'll have to find another sewer access point."
Pete put his head in his right hand. "Why are you so adament that we take the sewers? We're wasting time. Every access point we check is a dud. Doors welded shut, packs of Houndeyes, black Headcrabs and God-knows-what. There's a reason nobody takes the sewers, and it's not because it isn't a good holiday destination commanding stunning views of the Baltic coast."

After a few minutes' silence, Andrew made his decision. "If we stick to the alleys..." He began, "We should be able to avoid the larger creatures." He moved out from the cover of their makeshift shelter and looked around the surrounding ruins. "Alright, we're clear. Let's move out."

Haven Base: 1800 hours

"And, I told you. They were tryin' to make it in through what's left of the Overpasses."

"But Why! Those are practically a breeding ground for Snarks."

The two voices debated back and forth, as the small camp of survivors, CP's and resistance both, huddled together, waiting out the storm. Most of the survivors were humans, but the vort population was almost as large... And there were two of the Warrior Caste, a relatively unfamiliar sight. The vorts assured them that the "Warriors are only a danger to whom we deem an enemy." The way those two had ripped apart a Gargantuan made the survivors very happy they were not on the receiving end of the warriors sporadic rage.

The main player in this camp, aside from the key Humans, the Ex-Hippy-turned-Hydroponics expert, Mich, the powerful Captain, Roy, the beastiary, Siegfried.

Ah, but I've gotten ahead of myself. Let's get back on track.

Buddy, the most prominent of the Vortigaunts, facepalm'd with his third hand. So far, the two humans, one in charge of the Radio, the other being Siegfried, had been bickering over what route their other allies had taken, even though they said most clearly that they were taking the over pass.

"Gallum Galla Gilla Ma" he thought in his head. Even if the Human's couldn't understand what it meant, they probably wouldn't want to. it roughly translated into: "You are a retard".

Letting the two go at it, Bud excused himself quitely, with hardly a growl to get attention, as he slinked out, trying to be as unseen as possible. Deciding to maybe help in the fight for survival, he made for the gate. Glaring, he shot a baleful gaze at the two Warrior-Caste, who were busy sleeping away their guard duty till it was time to go to bed.

City 24: Mainstreet: 1811 hours

Roughly ten minuets, and an antlion or twenty later, he had made it the Main-street. This place was, despite being pretty much the center of the city, and a pivotal point if the war for City 24 were to ever begin again, was desolate and quite. The slightest clopping noise from his hooves was obscured by the rain.

Something was watching him, and he could feel it. Spinning round, he looked at the blown-out windows and many ally's. Nothing. Continueing, he made not even ten feet, before he heard a sound. Spinning round once more, he saw nothing. He gave a slight growl, before continuing.

He hadn't even fully turned around, when he saw it. Dead-ahead, there was a Charger. And it. Was. Pissed.

"Gluhma" was all he said, before bolting in the other direction, the bellow of the agitated alien drawing slowly closer.

Andrew Murdoch

Night was setting in, and the thick smoke and cloud cover hastened its advance. By their estimation it must have been about six in the evening, and their progress through the winding alleys and backstreets of City 24 felt intolerably slow. Eventually they stopped where the alley they were following met a main road. Andrew stopped the group a few meters from the end of the alley.
"This could get interesting." He murmured, slowly sidling up to the corner of the left wall. Dylan and Pete stayed back, eagerly craning their necks as if to avail them any significant view of the main street. On the approach the right side seemed clear, and when he reached the corner he slowly and carefully peered out to take a look left along the street. After a few seconds of scanning the shelled buildings he let out a quiet sigh and signalled the others to approach.
"Nothing?" Dylan whispered as he came up beside Andrew.
"Nothing Gargantuan." He replied.
"Alright." Andrew whispered. "On my-" He suddenly paused, gesturing with his hand for quiet. Over the sound of the pattering rain, an unnatural call could be heard the distance. It sounded like a Charger, and not a happy one at that. "That sounded pissed." Andrew said dryly as the sound faded. Once more he took a nervous glance both ways. "Okay. You know the drill. Stay low, move smoothly and don't do anything sudden."

Although to most people it would have seemed a strange set of instructions, the others knew that it was their best chance of passing through without alerting any of the larger creatures. Halfway across the road, Andrew stopped, and eased Dylan back into the cover of a burnt out van. The three crouched in silence.
"What is it?" Pete whispered, peering out of the van's side door frame. Andrew didn't answer. A few seconds later a metallic orb-like object passed over, its flight path slightly erratic.
"Shield scanner." Andrew replied once it had passed out of view.
The group began to slowly slide themselves out. "Didn't know there were any left." Dylan whispered subconsciously as they begain the rest of their journey across the street. A distant rumble of thunder the only sound to break the monotony of the falling rain. They reached the other side without further incident, and began to advance down the alley, each one untensing. The alley was wider than the last, and after a short time the wall on their left turned to chain link fencing through which they could see the loading area of what looked to be a large commercial building.
"Over here." Andrew whispered, heading towards a small brick shed-like structure protruding from the right hand wall. As they moved around the back they found an old flimsy looking unpainted wooden door. Inside, the walls were lined with empty metal shelves with the occasional empty cardboard box or magazine. To their left was a door set into the wall made of thick steel, the faded stencil-mark of the city's old sewer authority just visible.
"Seems nice." Pete said mockingly.

After a brief lookover with Andrew's pistol flashlight, they moved into the shed. It was of reasonable size, and there was plenty of room to move about in.
"I'll check." Pete said, unshouldering his M1014. The other two moved aside as he approached the metal door. To his surprise the door wasn't locked or sealed shut, and he slowly pulled it open. "OH MY GOD!" He exclaimed slamming the door shut. Before either of them could ask a tremendous crash sounded as two dents appeared in the upper panel of the door. After bracing a second hit, Pete pulled the door open and wildly fired his shotgun into the dark room beyond. Pete winced as he heard the sickening sound of a feed jam. He desperately scrabbled with the bolt handle as a Poision Headcrab slowly crawled over the threshold.
"Pete! Get out of the way!" Dylan yelled, trying to get a clear shot past Pete's legs.
"**** it!" Pete replied, kicking the headcrab hard into the wall on the opposite side of the room before slamming the door shut again.
"How many more?" Dylan asked, seeing Pete still struggling with the bolt.
"Zombie." He replied, another hit on the door affirming his assessment.
"Open it!" Dylan shouted. Without hesitation, Pete shouldered his weapon and pulled the door open once more. Dylan proceeded to spray the Zombie with his MP7 as it collapsed to the ground with a gurgling cry. "****! Close it! Close it!" He roared, seeing a group of fast Headcrabs scuttle out from the shadows towards them. Pete wasted no time in shutting the door again. He slumped with his back to the door with relief.

The group basked in the silence once more, catching their breaths. The silence was broken by a sound they didn't want to hear. The call of a Gargantua sounded loudly. The hairs on Andrew's neck stood on end as the ground began to shake with a dull rhythm. The metal shelves rattled loudly with each step; it was getting close.
"So..." Pete laughed nervously. "Headcrab Hotel, or Death Row?"

Roland

The street was barren, empty and the pouring rain was a depressing addition to the already grim scene. It was darkening quickly and Roland needed somewhere to camp out the night; outside was not a place one wanted to be when the darkness hit.
There only seemed one viable option amidst the myriad of destroyed buildings and blocked alleyways, and that was a door leading down into a gloomy, dust-filled basement.

However uninviting the gloom was it was better than what he would be forced to endure in the open... hopefully. A search of the first room yielded a door that led into what seemed an underground passage, probably used by rebels back before City 24 became the hell-hole it was now.

With a sigh of resignation Roland started along the passage, hoping that it was as uninhabited by headcrabs and their ilk as it was by humans.

RP Conversation: Andrew, Dylan & Pete (Deimenried) and Roland (MyNameDidntFit)
Drafted by IM 23/5

> The metal shelves shook more and more as the Gargantua approached. Several shelves came off their hinges causing old boxes to haphazardly slide to the ground.
"It knows we're in here." Dylan muttered quietly. "We need to do something." Suddenly the footsteps stopped. The group could almost feel the heat of the deep rumbling breaths through the brick walls. Without warning, bricks flew from one of the walls as a giant blue limb smashed through the wall.
"Shitting hell!" Pete exclaimed. "Now would be a good time to get the hell out of here!" He got up and put his hand on the metal door's handle. "Yo, Dylan! Lights please!" Dylan scrambled to his feet as another section of the wall was punched through sending the shelving units flying across the room leaving piles of brick and twisted metal. He switched on his pistol flashlight as Pete opened the door. Andrew just froze. He felt trapped, he was between two very dangerous places, and his loathing of headcrabs wasn't helping the situation. "Take that you bastards!" Pete yelled, emptying his M1014 into the headcrabs.
"Alright it's clear! Andy, come on!" Dylan shouted as the ceiling collapsed at the far end revealing the hulking figure of the Gargantua. "Oh for..." He grabbed Andrew by the arm and dragged him through the door as the creature let out a ground-shaking roar. When he and Andrew were safely through, Pete grabbed the door handle and began to pull the door shut. The air suddenly became dry and extremely hot as strange flames lashed at the door, briefly illuminating the room they had just entered. After what felt like eternity, Pete shut and bolted the door. He let out a sigh of relief.
"That was... OW!" Pete recoiled from the door, turning to see it was faintly glowing. The door slowly deformed under the residual heat and the vibration of the Gargantua's footsteps. "Not too smart..." he mumbled to himself. Dylan scanned the room with his flashlight.
"Should be at least a fuse box around here somewhere." he mused, "Found some wiring running from below. Could be down there, let's go."
Andrew let out a nervous laugh "You must be joking right?" In the distance he heard the squeaks and calls of various headcrabs.
"Well, unless you like sitting here in the dark I'd say it's the only option we really have." Dylan replied
"And as I remember it." Pete cut in, "it was your idea to take the sewers in the first place."
"Fine." Andrew muttered apprehensively as the group moved toward the stairwell leading down into the maintenance passages.

> Roland’s hopes were scattered to the wind – or drafts, as it were in the passages – when the sound of a zombie echoed from ahead. It was an easy decision to forgo the use of his last two USP rounds and instead begin searching the area for weapons. Hefting a metre-long piece of 40mm metal piping from a shelf, Roland approached the door beyond which the zombie lay and pushed it open with a foot.
A loud moan was quickly followed by a hiss, “Shiiiiiit!”
Taking a step back Roland swung the pipe wildly and managed to crumple a large black headcrab into the wall barely in time to sidestep the next and slam the door shut. Now, staring down the lone headcrab, Roland’s hands tightened on the pipe and he assumed his best batters’ stance. Almost ready to assume it wasn’t going to jump, Roland shifted his weight forwards the moment that it leapt forward. His awkward stance meant that his swing hit low and the headcrab flipped through the air over his shoulder as he stumbled into the shelf from which his pipe had come with a crash. Turning about Roland saw the headcrab make a futile attempt to leap; its hind legs were broken beyond recognition.
“Little fucker, serves you right.” With a grimace he crushed it beneath his boot, before moving to the door again with a sigh. “Couldn’t just be a normal zombie could it? Nooo; it just had to be a God damn poison one of bloody course.”
Still muttering and cursing Roland opened the door only to close it instantly, feeling the thump of a headcrab crashing into it and reopening it to kill the ‘crab with a downwards swipe. He looked up, his face now glistening with sweat, and saw another headcrab preparing to jump. With a desperate sideways dive he managed to avoid it, landing in a puddle of sludge that he didn’t care to know what it was.
“Great. Not only are there poison headcrabs there’s sludge. Could be blood, could be radioactive, or could be that there’s just a barnacle above me... just fucking brilliant.”
Climbing to his feet Roland looked around for the remaining headcrab and instead came face to face with the carrier zombie. With a sudden, girlish exclamation he staggered backwards out of the way of a sweep of its claws and slipped in the sludge, somehow falling beneath the headcrab’s lunge in the same falling movement.
Rolling to his side to avoid another swing from the carrier, Roland realised two things; one he had lost his pipe... and that he was now lying on top of a live, wriggling poison headcrab. His eyes widened and the prospect and he jumped to his feet, running to the other side of the room, sliding in yet more of the sludge and crashing through a weak wooden door into a corridor beyond.
Groaning in protest at the pain in his body, Roland got to his feet and scrambled back from the door, still facing it; waiting for his nemesis to come meandering through. Instead of seeing the carrier or its child, Roland backed into something, spinning about to see a zombie raising its arms.
“**** OFF YOU DIRTY MONGRELS!” Roland let out a scream as he barrelled into the zombie, spear tackling it into a shelf and running past it, his feet pounding on the concrete too loudly to bother listening for more zombies.

> Andrew hung back as Dylan and Pete advanced down the metal stairs. Pete had dug out his old flashlight to help light the way, although its wear and tear was quite evident.
"Dammit!" He exclaimed as the flashlight flickered out again. He proceeded to hit it a couple of times before it spluttered back to life.
"Shhh!" Dylan exclaimed. He strained to listen for the telltale calls of headcrabs... or worse. The sound of a large crash, like a metal door slammed shut. "What was that?"
"Probably a zombie shambling into things..." Andrew replied quietly. "You know what they're like."
"Over here." Dylan whispered, making his way over to a white box mounted to the wall. "Watch my back while I get this." For a moment he fiddled with the cover. After a minute of futile rattling, he took out his knife and wedged it into the gap between the cover and the wall mounting. It took a few solid strikes, but the cover came free. "Right..." He examined the labelling above each switch. "And this one should do the trick." He flipped the small switch, but nothing happened. "Don't tell me the fuses have blown..." A strange noise echoed through the passages.
"That sounded like a scream..." Andrew whispered. He listened carefully over the clicking of Dylan's frenzied efforts with the circuit breakers. Eventually the room and the passages outside were illuminated with a dull white light.
"Well that's the best I can do without replacing any fuses." Dylan said as he rummaged through his pockets, occasionally pulling out a battery or loose shotgun cartridge, which was promptly snatched by Pete and loaded into his shotgun.
"It will have to do." Andrew replied, "Sounds like somebody's down here and not having a good time. Let's check it out." He beckoned the others to follow as he moved into the passage outside.
"Probably not a good time to remind him he's scared of headcrabs." Pete nodded as he and Dylan followed Andrew through the maze of passages toward the source of the noise.

> Roland was still charging along a haphazard path through doors, sludge, headcrabs and zombies alike when the lights flickered to life. It barely registered with him though, as he shoulder charged through a pair of zombies and raced around another corner and along another corridor. Out of nowhere – or possibly a junction – stepped a figure that Roland promptly hit with his momentum, lifting it into the air and plunging it into the ground with a solid thump before noticing the startled cry it let out. It sounded almost human.
With a surprised expression he looked down into the face of the man he was on top of, “Uh... you’re not a zombie...” Pulling himself up, Roland dusted off the front of his uniform and extended a hand to the man. “Name’s Roland... no hard feelings?”

> Andrew took his hand and clambered to his feet, still stunned. "Uh, no... I'm Andrew." He looked over to his squadmates, "The one who looks like he's about to crack out laughing is Pete. And then there's Dylan."
"Hey." Pete nodded putting his hand into the air in greeting, obviously holding back the urge to laugh. "So um..."
"Don't say it..." Dylan sighed, leaning against the wall.
"...Was that you screaming like a girl?" he beamed.

> Roland let a smile creep across his face, “Yeah, I could’ve sworn I saw your face in the shadows.”

"What can I say?" Pete grinned, "I make all the ladies scream."
"Alright, enough." Andrew cut in, "What are you doing down here running around haphazardly?"

> “Night on the streets ain’t so friendly to a man with two bullets in his gun.” He chuckled to himself, “And Pete, I don’t suppose that big gun is compensating for something?”
> "Compensating?" Pete interjected before Andrew could even form a serious reply in his mind, "Nah, man. I think you'll find the word is 'advertising'." Dylan scowled at him, raising his fist slightly causing Pete to flinch, still laughing.
"Yes..." Andrew sighed, filling the silence. "So I take it that way is full of pissed zombies?" He indicated the way Roland had come.
> “Watch out Pete, misinformation is a crime.” Roland winked before turning to Andrew, “Well, there is a lot of that way I haven’t seen but I’d be willing to be it’s more of the same.” He pointed the way he had been running before he’d hit Andrew, “I suppose we should find out what’s behind curtain number three.”

> "Well let's hope first prize isn't a lifetime supply of headcrabs." Andrew sighed. He pulled out his Glock 18c and held it out handle first to Roland. "Sounds to me like you need this more than I do." He proceeded to unshoulder his G3.
> Roland flipped the Glock over in his hand and held it in outstretched arms, looking through the sights. With an unsatisfied grunt he ejected the magazine and began unloading the individual rounds under the scrutinising gaze of the others.
He placed the rounds into a pocket and slipped the empty magazine back into the Glock and handed it back to Andrew. As he ejected the magazine of his USP Match and began loading the rounds into it he half-smiled. “Thanks, I like my gun.”
With his magazine full and another magazine’s worth and more in a zipped pocket he nodded to the trio. “You’ve got the lights so after you, I guess.”

> Shouldering his G3, Andrew raised his eyebrow and checked the sights of the Glock. "Huh." He muttered ejecting the empty magazine and replacing it with a fresh one. "Let's go then." He said, pulling back the slide and replacing the Glock in his makeshift holster and readying his G3 once more. As Roland followed Andrew, Dylan and Pete brought up the rear.
"Get a load of Mr. Fancypants combine-hugger." Pete whispered to Dylan. "Thinks his **** is better than ours."
Dylan sighed. "Oh, come on Pete." He whispered. "I don't think he meant it like that. He just really likes his gun."
"I might look like an idiot..." Pete paused briefly, "Okay, I am an idiot, but seriously, there's something 'bout him that doesn't stack up."
"Well you've done it."
Pete looked expectantly at Dylan "Done what?"
"Crossed the line between idiocy and paranoia." He shook his head and walked faster to catch up with the others.
Pete thought hard for a moment "There's a line?" He muttered. Shrugging, he ran to catch up with Dylan and the rest of the group as they moved through the dank maintenance passages.

"Run faster. Run faster. Run faster. Run Faster. Run Faster!"

Buddy skidded round a corner, as the Charger slammed head first into the wall he was up against a moment before. He had been sprinting for thirty minuets now, and was starting to get tired. he could attack the thing, it's head was far too hard to claw, and his vortal attack would need a moment to charge. He didn't have a second of focus he could spend, with this thing on his tail. Grunting, he tossed himself into a room and slammed the door shut. He waited, his heart beating like a maniac. With a sudden sound of steel crumpling, the door exploded inwards, sending him shooting through a wall. He rolled to the side, as the charger rammed it's head into where he had layed prone.

Flipping to his feet, he nimble dodged out of the way, slamming into a slick brick wall. Gripping himself, he bolted upright, and once more dodged narrowly away. He wasn't prepared for the tail to whack him, and couldn't move away. it sent him through the wall. He layed on the ground in pain, severely injured. Conjuring up his vortal connection, damaged as it maybe, he gentle stroked the link between him and the Charger. Tracing this, he found his way it's life-force. Sitting upright, he reached out, and yanked on this connection. The Charger bellowed in pain, and came crashing through the hole. It looked at him with murderous intent, but it was too late. Releasing the energy he had taken from the earth, he fired a bolt at the beast. The damage sent it into shock, and with a powerful tug, the Vortal energy flowed into Buddy, instantly healing his wounds.

The beast fell to the floor, moaning in pain as it layed in it's death-throes. It's grip on life was slipping, and it was making quite a racket on it's way out. Climbing upon it, he hissed.

"I have severed your Vortal cords, Warrior. Be at peace." he said, and with that, he painlessly siphoned out it's remaining life. Green energy crackled around his fist, and he slowly stood, energized. He looked around for the first time, now that the beast was dead. He was in a sewer of some sort, a way-station or some-such. There were a multitude of items, ranging from hammers and nails, to planks and metal sheeting. Useful items.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a radio transmitter, and placed it in the middle of the room. It would help others to retrieve the resources later on. Sighing, he made his way out of the room, and took the right. Right was his lucky hand, so why not?

RP Conversation
Involving: Roland (MyNameDidntFit) and Andrew, Dylan & Pete (Deimenried)
Drafted: 8th Jun 2009 via IM


>The group were making good progress through the tunnels, the only sound their footsteps echoing from the damp walls and the sounds of dripping water in the distance. Andrew and Pete scanned the route ahead with their flashlights, stopping every so often to check a side room where the door had been destroyed or forced open by some mysterious predecessor.
"****." Pete hissed as his flashlight flickered out. He began to strike it against his hand in some attempt to force it back to life. "Come on.. come on!"
"Forget it." Dylan whispered, seeing Pete's vain attempts to restore light. The group continued by the light of Andrew's pistol, which was slowly growing dimmer.

>The others were running out of lights and Roland doubted any of them could see in the dark any better than he could, and that wasn’t all that well anyway. Using their hands as their guides wasn’t entirely something Roland felt like doing right now, either.
“We need to find a light, or a way to make these overheads work.” He stated with a sigh.

>"I don't understand it..." Dylan sighed, "There must be another circuit of this section, or at least some sort of generator."
"Yeah, that's if we're lucky." Andrew replied bluntly as the light from his pistol's flashlight finally became indistinct from the darkness of the passages.
Dylan tried desperately to avail some sort of sight in the pitch black of the tunnel. "Well, if anyone has any bright ideas I guess now would be the time."

>"Well, we c-“ Roland was cut off as, almost on cue, the sound of sparking electricity penetrated the silence. “We could see what that was.”

>"Well, it sounds electric." Andrew half-laughed, "That at least sounds promising." The group continued their blind advance, the walls their only marker as to their direction.
"Is it just me or is it getting warmer in here?" Dylan mused. A strange smell filled the air as they advanced. "Eugh.. Pete!"
"What?" Pete retorted defensively.
"That... was.. NOT... cool..." Dylan hissed.
"Hey, I haven't done anything." He replied. Again, the sounds of electric sparking could be heard
"Found one!" Dylan exclaimed.
"Found what?" Andrew replied. Without reply, a series of clicks came from Dylan's direction, and slowly the room's lights faded on as they warmed up.

>“I almost wish you hadn’t...” Roland spoke in a hushed tone. “This looks awfully like a Voltigore nesting ground...” As he finished the sentence the electrical sound peaked up again, followed by the thud-thud of something headed their way.

>"This..." Dylan began as he looked around at the nests that surrounded them "...looks bad."
The thudding became gradually louder until, from the doorway at the far end of the nest room, a huge form appeared.
"I think now would be a good time to GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" Pete exclaimed as the flickers of purple lit up the Voltigore's features.
"Go! Go!" Andrew yelled as the flickering ball of lethal energies struck the wall near them.
"Ah! ****!" Dylan exclaimed, stumbling as he briefly spasmed as a small part of the energy lashed at him before blasting a chunk out of the wall.
"Come on, man! GET UP!" Pete shouted, pulling Dylan to his feet.
He shrugged off Pete's grip "I'm fine!" He insisted as they ran back down the now-lit passages, unrecognisable with their features now clearly visible.

>Roland had started running before the others, not waiting to see his foe as they had, and was now in the front of the pack as he sprinted through the now well lit corridors. A corridor that branched to the left flashed by and caused Roland to slide to a halt and move back to it; stairs. Going up.
“Up here! Go!” he yelled at the others as he directed them up the stairs.

>Pete and Dylan took the lead up the stairs, sprinting as fast as they could.
Andrew stopped only to turn back and took aim with his G3. He put two rounds in quick succession, one into each of the foreleg joints causing the Voltigore to become unsteady and strike one of the walls. As he and Roland began their ascent of the stairs he briefly saw the Voltigore haul itself slowly back to its feet sqealing in anger. Should have known that wouldn't buy too much time... he mused to himself.

>As Pete reached the top of the stairs he saw a metal door. Without a second thought he pushed the bar and the door flung open out onto a metal catwalk, a short staircase leading down to the quad below, wide alleys leading off in all directions. Before he had time to catch his breath the piercing ring of a fire alarm filled the air.
"Oh **** OFF!" Dylan blurted out, covering his ears. "You fucking idiot!" He yelled, straining to be heard over the ear-splitting ringing.
A hurt look came across Pete's face. "What me? How the hell was I supposed to know-"
"IT SAYS "FIRE DOOR" IN BIG FUCKING LETTERS!" Dylan shouted.
Pete moved so he was almost toe-to-toe with Dylan "Oh, so you'd prefer it if we walked around looking for another door then?"

> Roland reached the fire door as Pete and Dylan were still yelling at each other and hastily shoved them out of the way, reaching up to disable the screeching alarm. Only seconds later he had the case off and disconnected the wires as the siren faded away. Dylan and Pete were still yelling, with Andrew doing his best to quiet them down, but it didn’t stop a noise reaching Roland’s ears that sent a chill down his spine. Turning to the others he spoke up, “Guys. Shut up. Now.”
They took no notice. With a sigh Roland pulled the arguing pair apart, “Chrissakes will you both just shut the hell up, we have more important issues than your goddamn lovers’ quarrel!”
Finally taking note the two stopped their argument, letting the night be filled with two sounds that were far worse; the screams of incoming fast zombies and the thumping of the Voltigore forcing its way up the nearly-too-narrow staircase.

> Andrew felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Silleuhettes of thin wiry figures began appearing on the rooftops as shadows of others were cast high on the alley walls by fires and outdoor lighting. Screams echoed all around them, replies becoming closer and more frequent. They were surrounded, the walls felt like they were closing in. He jolted as he heard a crash from behind the closed fire door as the Voltigore once more fell in its struggle against both the stairs and its own injuries.
Andrew shook his head, staring blankly out over the quad. He held the grip of his G3 tightly "This is going to get interesting..."

The street below the party were baren, the shufflining of most zombies being underground or in buildings. But, more than likely seen by them, one of the Manholes slowly slid away. Preparing themselves for what ever might come out, be it some Xen monstrosity of a Combine experiment gone awrie, they were all around confused when a Vortigaunt appeared.

Taking stock oh his surroundings, Buddy had only a moment to think before the screech of a Fast zombie rang in his ear. diving away, he scrambled from the thing, averting his eyes. Which, was hard enough as Vortigaunts have eyes in the back of their head. It lunged at him, and he rolled out of the way, finally working up the nerve to release it from it's agony. He let loose a bolt of energy, and took what little life it had for his own. He moved quickly, hearing one of the Humans he thought he saw call out, before reciving a slap to the head. He responded as usual.

"It appears your predicament may require outside assistence!" he said, before adding with a slight grunt "You may wish to 'Hold on for dear life'" he said, slightly snickering at the Human term. Letting loose a bolt, he fired it at some nearby scaffolding. Like a Rube Goldberg machine, it set off a chain-reaction, knocking over other parts of buildings, Combine walls, and eventually toppling an odd surviving power line post. The post creaced and swung, before falling towards their balcony, creating a not-so-convenient rout for their escape. Bowing, he turned and let loose a torrent of energy at the zombie packs, most finding their own way towards the undead beasts, others finding inconvenient grounding places.

Sighing, he looked to see most of the survivors making it down the makeshift ramp. "We must return to Fortress Haven, it is imperative that we loose these agressors in the process. Night falls; we will not survive with out shelter." He knew that, should he die, it would be but an inconvenience, but for these Humans, it was something so much more Dramatic. He motioned for them, the screames and growls of Zombies lighting the night sky with the silluets of skeletal figures.

But one, went unseen by all, even when it ripped a passing zombie in half, parts of the corpse slowly disappearing with a wet, squelching sound.