Before we start, a few things:

• All posts contained within are owned by their posters, no-one is to repost anything from this thread without the owner's consent.
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• Read the Forum Rules and the Roleplay Guidelines before posting.
• Have fun!

Now... Here comes what we've been waiting for...

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A train station. Leaflets and newspapers litter the ground, stirring in a soft breeze. A man in blue overalls stands staring at them... A moment later they erupt in a whirl around him as a train pulls in.
The man looks up, in train there are three people. Two of them have luggage...
One does not; for he brings with him a different kind of burden. A burden that will weigh upon the oppressors that rule the city...
As he departs the train he moves with a certain confused grace, as though he has not been here before, nor has he seen anything like it.
Fate is strange. It works weirldy in that upon the shoulders of man of such normality there will lie so much... So much hope. Power. Respect...
And freedom.

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Daybreak at the Citadel, and the roars of the dropship engine tests filled the air of the cavernous dropship hangar. The floor vibrated with the sheer mass of soldiers moving around. It was the morning patrol transition, and the soldiers from the outlying command posts were being replaced. As the Overwatch soldiers formed neat columns on the hangar floor, one approached the Overwatch Supreme who was stood at the far end, looking out across the hive of activity.
“Soldiers are ready for deployment, Overwatch Supreme.” The soldier grated.
“Very good, Captain.” Overwatch Supreme replied. “Deploy these soldiers as standard rotation dictates.”
“Understood, Overwatch Supreme.” Quickly and swiftly, six dropships descended from deep within the Citadel, their landing sirens and engines blaring. The neat columns filed into the crew compartments, and within minutes, the dropships were loaded, and the heat and noise reached a crescendo as the they launched from the citadel, out into Sector 17's darkest and most dangerous reaches. It was business as usual, as usual as it can be in these times. The resistance was growing by the day, and the Overwatch Supreme forced to deploy more and more forces to counter their raids.

With these increases in activity, the Overwatch Supreme has been working closely with Civil Protection to root out potential resistance members in an effort to eliminate their reinforcements before they have even enlisted. Raids have been intensified, and tactics become more ruthless. The rebels want a guerilla war, and the Combine are ready to do what it takes to destroy them, wherever they may hide, and kill all they harbour, or harbour them.

It's a new day, and the Overwatch Supreme is outbound with one of the expeditionary forces, moving to supervise some high-level Civil Protection operations on the outskirts of City 17. It promises to be a brutal day's work, but necessary nonetheless.

She wasn't the oldest woman there was, but still, she was older than some. She used to be beautiful, but twenty years of depression, oppression, and life in a dystopian society would make anyone look like an old broad. She shifts uncomfortably, scowling. These citizen clothes irk her to no end. They show no freedom. No individuality. Just something else the Combine took from the human race. Her regular clothes were back at Station 12. She wishes she had them. And her beloved magnum.

At the moment, our favorite sour, old broad Natasha Calleny is, shall we say, undercover. While many wanted to LEAVE City 17, she had volunteered to return to help evacuate citizens. She cursed her heart, it was a bit too big sometimes (Sarcastically, of course). She itched once more then slowly made her way to her feet and decided to examine the various graffiti on the walls. Some are inspirational, like the hand holding the Black Mesa symbol, and some are just silly. Oranges and lemons? She knows the poem, but still. Oranges and lemons?

"You all look mighty tasty right about now," she said to the drawing as she boredly leaned against a wall.

Mechanicus Supreme

He stood in the shadows, watching the production line of the new Striders.
Excellent, he thought, the production is on schedule. He turned to one of his many service drones.

+++IS EVERYTHING GOING ACCORDING TO THE PLANS?+++

The drone squeaked and bleeped, then replied
"Yes, my lord. The Hunters are being put into preliminary production now. And things are being prepared for the works we have to come."

+++EXCELLENT. SEND A REPORT TO OVERWATCH SUPREME, SO HE KNOWS OF OUR PROGRESS.+++

"Yes, my lord." The drone walked off towards the exit, using its servo arm to unlock the special-access door. These humans who resist are of some use, thought Mechanicus Supreme as he watched the drone go, They can be processed into those subservient drones. He walked towards the design room, and gazed upon the plans for the newest Combine creations.
Excellent, he thought, the pathetic fleshlings won't know what's coming. He walked back into the production room, to keep the lines going.

Ivan Zakharov

By now Grigori had done more than just bruise Sergei, blood dripping down his head, but he knew that Sergei was a Combine rat. He knew what the Combine knew... He'd been in league with them ever since the invasion... A coward through and through.
"Что Белая пуща?" Grigori yelled, the dim fluorescent lighting casting a shadow across his face.
"Я не знаю! Я не знаю!" Sergei squirmed under Grigori's boot, writhing in desperation and pain.
Grigori's face contorted, "Вы лежите!!" he bellowed, bringing his USP to bear, aiming at Sergei's right knee-cap.
"Нет! Нет! Я не знаю!" Sergei protested, followed by a loud bang as Grigori discharged his USP, the abandoned warehouse now echoing with the screams of blinding pain as Sergei tryied to wriggle free. It was to no avail; Grigori's boot was planted firmly down onto his chest, and movement was impossible.
"Sergei!..." Grigori said expectantly.
"Я... Я не знаю!" Sergei wheezed, the agony heavy on his voice.
"Неправильный ответ." Grigori muttered, discharging another bullet, this time into Sergei's left knee-cap. Once more screams echoed from the worn brickwork.
Sergei continued squirming, until he finally realised where the next bullet would land. "О'КЕЙ.... О'КЕЙ...." he ghasped, relinquishing his fevered struggle. "Лично Данные Ассистент..." he managed, closing his eyes, taking a small handheld device from his pocket. He tapped on a sequence of buttons before handing it up to Grigori, who took it in his free hand, keeping his gun firmly aimed at Sergei's groin. It was a small PDA. Grigori tossed it over to Valentina, who was stood behind the carnage. "Let's see if he does know." Valentina caught the PDA, and immediately started to navigate the user interface. After much frantic tapping of the touch-screen, she suddenly stopped. Her mouth agape, and her eyes transfixed to the screen. "What is it? What does it say?"
She slowly looked up to face him. "Белая пуща..."
"Exact co-ordinates?"
Valentina showed the current screen to Grigori. Upon the screen was a military map section of the entire continent, zoomed in on a section. A large circled dot in red directly at the centre. Beneath it in red letters; "Белая пуща", in the top right corner were the GPS co-ordinates and exact Lattitude and Longitude. "Unbelieveable..." he said, staring at the screen. Without even glancing, he shot Sergei through the head. The sounds of agony and fevered breathing ceased. "We finally found it..." Suddenly, without warning, the PDA went into a lockdown. A message came up on the screen;

"****!" Grigori exclaimed, running for the door. "Ivan!" Ivan was waiting outside, keeping a watch out for any of Sergei's backup. "Sergei knew where our base is. He's sent out a signal for the Combine to attack!"
Ivan went white in the face. "Please tell me you are joking!" he exclaimed, reaching for his radio. "Andrei! The Combine are moving in on the base! Pack everything you can into the other Ural and get out of there! Rendez-vu in the Red Valley. Keep out of sight! Over."
It was mere seconds before his reply came; "Yes yes, I know! I've already taken care of it. They had the nerve to discuss the operation over two hours ago. Over."
"What?!" Ivan yelled into the radio, getting into the passenger seat of the Ural flatbed truck they had brought with them, Sasha already in the driver's seat, starting the engine. Grigori leapt onto the back and manned one of the machineguns mounted on the side rails, Valentina manning the other. "You knew about this? You really should have told me, Andrei!"
"I tried, damn it! They sent out jamming beacons and I couldn't get a signal until I reached the Valley!"
"Tell me you didn't leave the T72 in plain sight!"
"Negative. She's hidden. I suggest you take it before the Combine do. We're going to need that. I hid the MG nearby, but didn't have time to mount it for you!"
"Good. We're on our way to camp now."
"Make it snappy, Ivan. They'll be there soon! Andrei out."
"Step on it!" Ivan called over the engine to Sasha, as they entered the Red Forest. It wasn't long before they reached the camp. "Grigori! You still got the C4?"
"Yeah man." he replied, jumping down from the back. He took out a satchel containing a C4 charge.
"Plant it on the Ural. We're taking the tank." Ivan called as he helped Valentina and Sasha remove the branches covering the T72. As they unvovered it, they saw the box containing the DShK MG resting to the left of the turret.

As they worked, they heard dropship engines in the distance, and a number of familiar bone-chilling howls carried down by the wind.
"MG's mounted and the C4's a go!" Grigori called.
"Alright!" Ivan called back. "Let's get this started as quickly as possible! Sasha; Driver! Valentina; Loader! Grigori; Gunner! I'll man the MG! Let's move!"
With choreographed speed, the group quickly entered their respecitve positions withing the tank. Sasha started the engine, her head out of the driver's hatch, and gave a thumbs up to Ivan, who was manning the DShK, before shutting the hatch over her head and accellerating forwards through the forest along the old trails. The sounds of the dropships were getting closer.
"How many Sabots we got left, Valentina?" Ivan yelled back over the tank comms, adjusting his earphones.
"Twenty one!" she replied
"Alright! Grigori! Don't waste them! It took us a lot of bargaining to get those!"
"You don't have to tell me!" Grigori called back, "I nearly died, remember?"

It was going to be difficult, but once they reached the Valley, they would be on the Sector 17 - Sector 14 border, and reinforcements were unlikely to be dispatched quickly enough to keep up. Getting to that point was going to be the hardest part, especially with the dropships closing so fast, and the calls of the strange "mini-striders" becoming so close.

The fight to reach Sector 17 was just beginning...

David Landerson

A dark alley stood before him, barely anything of it illuminated in the dim moonlight. Dave walked confidently through the darkness, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket and his head veiled by his hood.

As he walked the occasional scanner drone flew overhead, their searchlights never hitting near him as he kept a step ahead, moving from cover to cover as needed. This was the norm for him; at least twice a week he'd sneak his way out of his shared apartment and take a stroll around the city, keeping to the back alleys and practising his stealth and keeping himself fit.

But tonight's stroll had been longer and the dawn light was coming over the horizon as David finally pulled himself on to the roof of his apartment building. Following the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the street where the occasional Civil Protection officer would be patrolling most nights, but this morning there was an APC parked out the front.
Dave jogged along the roof, his adrenaline pumping at the idea that he'd been found out, until he came to the half-destroyed attic and began making his way down the decrepit stairs to the inside.

L17Alpha

The charging racks were moving at a fast pace trough the citadel. Most were empty, with the exception of a few that held a few combine footsoldiers, and the rarer which held an elite.
Yet none of these were sought after.
Soon after the command was entered into the system, one of these racks arrived into, what appeared to be a smaller medical room. Clearly of combine origin.
Most of personel in the room were stalker's processing the units that went trough. Yet, these were not the only ones.
On top of that two people, clearly human were inside the room as well.
Who they may have once been in their former lives, is utterly unimportant now. Yet clearly, they are still fully human.
Willing proffessionals that joined the combine. Elite medical staff.

"Is the unit here yet?"
"Yeah just came in, I still can't watch the result of what they do to them. It's barely bearable with the elites, but to see women like this..."
"Well you should have joined the resistance then and be on running out rations and no hygiene now. Or more probably dead.
Just take them as what they are. Machines that can think and nothing else."
"I know I know, but still...Eh let's just activate her, okay?"
"Yeah, attaching the cores. You check the synaptic responses. These don't get taken out of stasis too often. Any idea who's the target?"
"Nope, could be reconosaince and evaluation though"

The two men continued with their work.

Rowan Ophelia

Rowan was letting the sun warm her old bones while she was laying out her tarot cards upon a flat rock in front of her. She looked up to the sky that could be seen through the gap of the trees above before she started to turn the cards. After looking at the cards for a few minutes to be certain of their meaning she got to her feet as quick as she could, picked up her cards and turned towards her home.

It looks like I am to leave my home after living her for...43 years. The cards say that I have to go on a long journey to follow the guardians of the forest, who have been forced to leave, before the agents of Death arrive to destroy all in their path.

Once she reached the cave entrance she started to make a bundle to carry her meagre possessions of the potions she has made and her fabrics that she has made to make the cave feel more homely. She also gathered the small amount of food that was in the cave as she did not know how bountiful the road ahead would be. After a final look around at the now empty cave she pulled on a shawl and started to walk.

She decided to see where the fates would lead her so she started to walk towards the nearest road to the forest that led away from City 14. Gwen looked up from the rock that she had been lounging on outside the cave. With a small "Meow" she followed Rowan out of the forest.

Ivan Zakharov

It was barely midday, the sun high above, sparkling through the canopy above them as the Red Eagles tore through the forest. Their home, their operations, their connections; everything they had gained was being taken away with every inch they were forced away from the Red Forest. All that remained were their supplies, which Andrei had waiting at the rendez-vu point, and the T72 they were driving. Fortunately the trees were well spaced, and the trails wide, allowing them to move through with relative ease, although engaging the main cannon whilst off the established trails would be near impossible unless the target happened to be dead-ahead. The sounds of the dropship engines were becoming louder, and the outline could be glimpsed through the leaves above. No sign of those... things... yet. Ivan thought, scanning the rear through the DShK's sights.
"How's the front looking?" Ivan called through the tank comms, not daring to turn around himself in case he got caught off guard.
"Clear for now." Grigori replied, "Although we've got a long way to go yet..."
"Don't remind me..." Ivan sighed. The engine noise was now deafening. The dropships were directly overhead. For a moment, they didn't seem to see the tank below... a misjudgement soon corrected as the landing sirens came on. The trails were leading out of the forest, and the trees became denser, forcing them out onto the plains.
"Ivan? There's a little hitch..." Andrei's voice crackled over the radio. "Sector Seventeen Overwatch was notified.... and now... well now there are seven striders crossing the Red Valley about nine hundred yards from my position... They're heading your way."
"We're not going to last two minutes out there!" Grigori yelled over the comms as the tank rumbled out of the cover of the Red Forest onto the grasslands of north-east Sector Fourteen. Immediately the dropships overhead came into view and the sickeningly sterile female voice of the Combine's announcement system echoed out across the plains.
"Combine Overwatch personnel; engage anticitizen vehicle. Code One; Disable; Destroy; Eliminate. Priority One operation."
"Doesn't sound like they're rolling out the welcoming mat!" Ivan yelled, opening fire on the lead dropship, severing the cargo limbs. As if in slow motion, the personnel carriage plummeted to the ground, smashing open on a rocky outcrop, flinging Overwatch soldiers like pebbles across the barren grassland. It seemed a minor victory, as several more honed into view. The air was thick with aircraft as choppers and gunships joined the chase. "I can't keep up! Head for that wood over there!"
"Are you crazy?" Sasha shouted back, "We won't fit!"
Ivan ducked back into the tank, pulling the commander's hatch closed over his head as two gunships opened fire on the exposed T72. "At least stick to the edge! It will limit their field of fire!"
"Fine!" Ivan could tell by the mix of fear and frustration in Sasha's voice that there was a strong feeling of defeat amongst the group. He opened the commander's hatch once more as the gunships stopped to recharge their autocannons. He grabbed the DShK and sent a volley straight at the pair. The Gunships had been specialised to shoot down incoming missiles, but what they couldn't shoot down was a well-placed volley of anti-aircraft fire. The rounds shredded, what can only be described as, the fuselage. A warped scream blared from the injured gunship as the rounds tore through, and it soon started to lose co-ordination, its flight path becoming erratic. The gunship collided with its partner, knocking its line of fire wildly off-aim.
"Alright. That bought us some time..." Grigori called, putting a sabot round firmly in the side of an APC which had emerged from one of the wooded areas to the right, reducing it to a pile of flaming wreckage. "Do we have a game plan or are we just charging blindly towards the Valley?"
"You try finding good cover out here!" Sasha growled back, trying hard to navigate past the mines the choppers were dropping at an alarming rate.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" A voice suddenly rang out over their radios, with a heavy Russian accent. "Leaving so soon? I agree. This is no time for joking, so you just keep escaping and I'll fill you in. You've been good customers for a very long time; I take care of my own. I've set you up with co-ordinates to a suitable encampment site at a secure location outside of City 17. Everybody you should know, or will ever need to know, is in that city. I've set you up with a good friend of mine; a Trader, no less, who has some business for you to get you started."
"That's all well and good!" Ivan yelled, still sending volleys into anything he could acquire in the sights. "But we're not going to SURVIVE that long!"
"Like I said; I take care of my own. Keep moving North, and we'll talk in person. Vasily out."
"This had better be good." Valentina grumbled, shoving another Sabot round into the main gun, closing the hatch. More and more aircraft and APCs gave chase than Ivan could take down. Then came a noise that he had been dreading; the DShK let out a series of clicks as it dryfired. He finally glanced away from the sights to see the feed port empty; no belt of ammunition, just surrounded with disintegrated chain links and 14.7mm shell casings. Finally, out of exasperation, he turned round to the front. The tank was still rolling forward, weaving between mines. Ivan became distant... he had lost hope. Well, I'm sure he meant well.... doesn't look like it will come to anything though....[i]. He felt as if he wasn't in his body. The explosions and ricochets distant. A hunter-chopper hovered in front of them, readying its autocannon when it suddenly pitched up. Milliseconds later, two missiles slammed into the tail, sending the chopper into a deadly tailspin.

As the tank crested the gentle hill, what Ivan saw was beyond belief. An armoured blockade was assembled in the valley below. Four Tunguskas pelted the choppers, dropships and gunships with huge volumes of anti-aircraft fire, while six T80's rolled towards the Red Eagles' battle-worn T72.
"Glad you could make it!" Vasily's cheery voice boomed over the radio, "Just give us a moment to rid you of those vultures." Within moments, what seemed like an innumerable force was torn to pieces by carefully implimented fields of fire. Soon the Combine were retreating; a sight Ivan had never seen, and never thought he would. The lead T80 turned around, having finished off an immobilised APC, before rolling towards Ivan's T72. "And here he is!" Vasily beamed, as his tank stopped next to Ivan's. "I trust everyone is in one piece?"
"Just about..." Ivan sighed. "If only we'd done this well during The War..."
"Yes, but were were fighting [i]invasion forces back then. That was just an expeditionary force."
Ivan looked around at the armoured column as they formed a protective ring around the two tanks. "So what now?"
"We sent Andrei ahead to your new encampment." Vasily explained, leaning on the pintle-mounted PKM of his tank. "By now he should have it all set up. Speak with Florian. He'll set you up with all the work and provisions you'll need to operate in this sector. I expect you to contact him soon. I didn't save your life for nothing, Ivan Zakharov."
"So I imagine..." Ivan sighed.
"You'd best get going. Just keep going due North for another 20 miles and you'll reach a forest. Nice view of City 17 from there. The encampment is deep within." With that, he signalled the tank commanders to move out back to base, before turning in. The armoured column rumbled to one of the nearby wooded outcrops, disappearing into the foliage.
"I guess we should get moving..."

After 3 miles, they passed two burning T80s near a pile of collapsed Striders. Guess they were the 'backup' Andrei mentioned.... 3/4 of a mile from the forest the engine finally gave out, leaving them to abandon the tank. After a quick inspection the group decided that it wasn't worth attempting salvage; the armour was almost all sheared away, and it was a wonder the engines worked at all with massive perforation and deformed components. Ivan dismounted the DShK, and the group moved on. Soon they came upon the forest. It was much darker than their native Red Forest; the canopy was thick, and the forest floor had much fewer shrubs. After a long walk, they came upon Andrei and another man talking next to a parked Ural truck. The man was heavy-set, wearing green combats and a brown hooded jacket. He also had a balaclava, which he had pulled up onto his head. His boots were thickly encrusted by mud and dead leaves; the hallmarks of a Trader's contact. Andrei glanced in the weary group's direction, his face lighting up.
"You made it! When I heard all the commotion over the comms I thought you wouldn't break through!"
"Well, we had a little help from an old friend." Ivan replied wearily
"Shows that we Traders are worth something, eh?" the stranger beamed, holding out his hand to Ivan, who cautiously shook hands. "I am Florian. Vasily told me all about you! The Red Eagles! And now, it seems, I am the official Trader to the Red Eagles!"
"You're the Trader?" Valentina exclaimed.
"That's is correct!" Florian replied, "We here in Sector 17 do things differently, because the Combine do things differently. Traders are often found personally attending deals. And why not? No Bandits out here! Nobody to blackmail us or screw us over on the deals."
"No Bandits? What happened to them all?" Ivan asked.
"Combine took care of what few there were." Florian laughed, "Most people out here are either Mercs or Rebels, or just refugees hiding out from Overwatch. Which reminds me. Don't piss off the Combine out here. They aren't like the pansies of Sector 14. If they find out where you are, they will send a lot more your way than you encountered on your recent escapade." Ivan looked at him in disbelief, unable to imagine how the Combine could be any worse than those who nearly destroyed his tank and killed his group.
"You sure this place is safe?" Grigori was looking nervously around the clearing.
"Absolutely!" Florian beamed. "Patrols come past my caches before even getting near to this place. We take them out there and then. No problems. They've tried repeatedly to attack us directly, but their assault forces find nothing but muddy trails and empty trees. They rarely send patrols now, but we are prepared nonetheless. Anyway, I assume it is Ivan here that takes care of organising the jobs?"
"That's right." Ivan replied.
"Good, good." surprisingly, Florian took on a more serious tone, dropping his joviality. "Let me fill you in. Most of your jobs will come from the Rebels. I'd be careful not to look too threatening to them. They've been.... unpredictable of late. Chattering incessantly about "Gordon Freeman" and The Cause. And, of course, they've stepped up their guerilla war against the Combine to boot. They have A LOT of work for Mercs in this area." He paused briefly, "Anyway, I have talked long enough. Here is a PDA with all the information we have regarding Sector 17; maps of explored areas, locations of Rebel and my own contacts; everything you will need to get started."
"Thanks." Ivan smiled, taking the PDA. "Huh... not a lot on this map..."
"Yeah, some areas have proved harder to explore than others. Portal Storms have made exploration painfully difficult. There are, however, paths that can be taken to avoid such anomalous activity, but we have yet to find them."
"No White Forest?" Valentina asked, looking over Ivan's shoulder.
"Get in line." Florian replied flatly. "The Rebels have been trying their hardest to find a safe route for a long time. Apparently some scientist from 'Dark Mesa' or something is looking for it. You'd best cosy up to the rebels if you want any chance of finding it. Good luck, Mercenaries. I'll be in touch."

With that, the Red Eagles set about setting up their new home in Sector 17; The start of a new life. Hopefully a better life...

David Landerson

The door creaked open as David's hand gently guided it as he stepped through onto the stairwell's top landing, closing it behind him David started down the stairs just as a commotion broke out below.

Hushed voices and rushed footsteps only briefly preceded the sound of a door crashing in and the unmistakable sound of Combine boots and stun-sticks beating their way through the apartments below.

Even as the sounds below continued a single pair of boots thudded up the stairs towards David's location. With a muttered curse and a glance around Dave dashed into a nearby room and closed the door almost completely, staring through the small gap that remained as the footsteps drew closer.

Finally a single man reached the landing, he wore the usual blue overalls and his face was half covered by an orange looking moustache and a pair of thick-framed glasses.
'So familiar...'
As the man disappeared through the door to the roof the recognition finally clicked.
'****... That Freeman guy? This saviour that everyone is talking about... Could it really?'
David wasn't given time to consider the man any further as two Civil Protection officers rushed up the stairs with guns drawn and Dave drew back into the room in which he stood as they ran past, following the man.

A hit of instinct told David to follow, see what this guy was about and, if he could, help out a bit. Even if the guy wasn't this legendary Freeman his likeliness would at least raise morale.
With that in mind Dave pulled his stolen stun-stick from its place within the lower part of his pants leg and ran up the stairs to the roof.

As he emerged he saw the two CPs firing along the roof at 'Freeman' who was now making his hasty escape across the rooftops. Slowing his pace David readied his baton and crept behind the officers before quickly delivering a blow to the back of each's head, knocking them out.

With a glance in the direction that the man had gone Dave grabbed the CP's spare pistol magazines and took off at a sprint after the man who could just be the most important man in the sector.