(Untitled)

[remindmeof_me]

"Okay, uh, question...." The man in long-worn and often-repaired Marine Corps urban camo fatigues reaches up to scratch at something just under his helmet with one thumb. "Say you been out of commission a good twenty years'r so on account of forces beyond your control, 'n by forces beyond your control I mean greyfaced

Comments

[just_crowbar_it]

Simple problems don't always require complex solutions -- Gordon knows this.

"..."

[remindmeof_me]

There's a face Shephard didn't expect to be seeing any time soon.

"Freeman."

[just_crowbar_it]

Gordon snorts quietly in acknowledgement. He doesn't recall the man, and with a mouth like that, he'd be difficult to forget.

One thing, though, is for certain; he remembers that uniform.

[remindmeof_me]

Shephard eyes the other man for a while; he's been filled in on enough that... well, let's just say he's got a much clearer picture of the way things stood at Black Mesa than he did when he first got out of suspended animation. Which is why he says, eventually, "Name's Shephard. Corporal Adrian Shephard, USMC. I owe my ass to a couple of Black Mesa eggheads, and I do not intend to go startin' any kind of shit no matter what else went down."

[random_xtras]

"Guess I'd go fer the smack, since the bastiche don't know any fraggin' better," says Mornbein from where she's sitting on the head of her purple and green tyranid hive tyrant.

[remindmeof_me]

".... what the hell ass balls is that thing?" says Shephard when he gets his linguistic cortex back online.

There were Marines in HECU who played 40K. Shep? not one of them.

[random_xtras]

There's a moment's pause as the white-skinned girl fights a case of the snorting giggles, but finally she smirks and says, "My dog."

[remindmeof_me]

"Jesus H. P. Laser-jet Christ." Shephard shakes his head. "You two must be one hell of a hit at the pet store checkout counter. I don't want to know what kinda kibble bill that fucker racks up."