Pipe Dreams
More pipe-crawling, and radioactive shit! Awesome!
--Grif
Grif had made it to Silo D itself. It'd taken a bit more ammo than he'd really wanted, in the last few minutes. Given the explosive barrels and crates that were dangerously prevalent on the catwalks, however -- and how many creatures with indiscriminate firing patterns were around -- he felt it best to take them out from a distance before he encountered them.
Strange banging sounds could be heard within the silo itself, as he crept along the corridor surrounding it. He wondered just what the hell that was about, but had his question at least partially answered as he encountered a scientist slumped on the floor, his injuries obviously fatal.
"Fire the... rocket engine. Destroy the damn thing before it grows any larger!" A final shout, and the man's body finally gave out.
Grif opened the next door, and was stunned for several crucial seconds by what he beheld. Through the window of the engine testing room, three creatures that each looked like a vast tentacle with a vicious bladed beak at the end rose up out of the bottom of the blast pit. There was a scientist in the room with him, who made a run for the Test Fire button. For his trouble,what the labcoated man got instead was one of those tentacle creatures smashing through the window and dragging him out with it.
"No! No, no! Get it off me! Get it off, get it off! Aaaaaah!"
On a platform on the other side of the silo, a guard fired down at the creatures, and was also viciously killed. Grif finally shook his head to clear it of his shock, and, crouching down in hopes that it wouldn't see him, also tried the Test Fire button. A short buzz was all the response that he got. He looked at the panels, and could see that there were lights to indicate the availability of Power, Oxygen, and Fuel, all of which were likely necessary and all of which were dark. Obviously, there was some work to be done.
Gordon? Alyx?
A giant fucking fan pointed upwards, with the power switch below it so I have to run and climb real fast once I turn it on so it'll lift me instead of kill me with its blades? This is the fucking backup route into Silo D's Fuel Room?!
--Grif
He hadn't been sure that the fan would have enough lift to get him -- once he'd accepted that yes, that was apparently the plan -- up to where he figured he had to go, but apparently the difference between Gordon's weight and his own was not so critical as that. After that, getting the fuel and oxygen going wasn't hard, and he continued down to the Power Facility. This, on the lowest level of the silo area, involved more jumping, as some of the floor had gone out and a misstep would drop him down into an inescapable pool of radioactive waste.
"Lovely ambience this place has. I'd almost expect O'Malley to have come up with some of this shit."
Fortunately, he managed, and so found himself facing an elevator to get down to the generator level. When he arrived, he pushed the button for it to descend, which it did for a few seconds, before finally grinding to a halt in mid-air.
"Aw, crap."
He stood there and considered his options. He was too high up to just jump the rest of the way -- even with the Mk.VI, MJOLNIR's shields could only do so much to cushion a fall. If he wanted to chance it, there was a ladder down the wall of the shaft which he might be able to jump to from the window of the car...
Almost on cue, the car shuddered and began to plummet, almost but not quite in freefall. He kept an eye on his descent, and just as the lower level came into view, jumped out of the car to tumble onto the floor, leaving the elevator to sink into the radioactive waste at the bottom of the shaft.
"Jesus Christ, I hate this place more and more."
There was a scientist standing there, observing some gauges. He looked over at Grif on the floor. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, yeah. Just peachy." Grif was surprised to discover that he was, in fact, unhurt, and stood up.
"Good. Because I hope no one expects me to go start up the generator. Smithers went down there and never came back. That is what you're here for, isn't it?"
Grif glared down at the man for several seconds. The reflective visor, coupled with his silence, apparently did as well as an actual facial expression to bring about the discomfort that Grif had hoped for. Finally he said, "Yes, that is, in fact, what I'm here to do, but fuck you for your attitude, too. Now, I'm going to go down there, and I'll see if I can bring Smithers back with me. All right, asshole?"
"Er, yes, all right. Sorry."
Grif nodded and turned towards the corridor to the generator.
Five Minutes Later...
Grif returned to where the scientist was still looking at his gauges. Another labcoated form was slung over an armored shoulder.
"Why, that's Smithers! Where did you find him? Is he all right?"
Grif laid Smithers down on the ground. "He's... well, physically, he's fine... I think, maybe. He was hiding up on top of the generator -- which, by the way, I'd like to note is an absolutely insane design. Do you guys just not have to answer to OSHA at all?!"
"...What?"
"...Never mind. Anyway, there's a pipe busted open with some exposed radioactive stuff leaked out of it. I think some of it might've done something to ol' Smithers' head, here. I finally gave him a shot of some tranquilizer stuff I have on me so I could get him to come with me. It'll wear off soon enough, but in the meantime, I suggest you get him some anti-rad stuff out of the health station over here. Then sit tight, and I'll try to get someone to get you out of here once I reach Lambda Complex, 'k?"
"All right. Thank you."
Up and up and up Grif went, back to the engine testing room. This time, all the lights were on, and the Test Fire button was met with a mighty roar from the engine mounted atop the blast pit, incinerating the tentacle creatures. In the ensuing silence, he wasn't really sure where he was supposed to go next, until he looked down into the blast pit. At the bottom, he saw the hole from which the creatures had emerged, forming a tunnel down into the distance.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Ooh. Say hello to my little friends, Mr. .357 Magnum and Mr. Laser-Activated Tripmine. Didn't entirely enjoy the tumbling-about necessary to get them, but I enjoy the new toys, especially after having had to disconnect the scope from my M6D and finally leave it behind, since nothing else around here takes 12.7mm ammo. The .357 might be the closest thing to that feel, so I'll switch the scope onto that; it didn't quite mesh as well as I'd like on the 9mm.
--Grif
EDIT: Holy God, what the fuck is that giant blue crab-handed thing?! OhcrapohCrapohCRAP runningRunningRUNNING--
For once, Grif was glad to see the Marines around. He had been a bit surprised to see the blue-suited man again, through the window into the Track Control room, and those seconds of standing there could've gotten him roasted if the soldiers' fight against the blue behemoth weren't providing a necessary distraction. By the time that he fought his way to Track Control, though, the suited man was gone... despite the doors to the room being boarded up. Interesting. There was, however, a guard lying wounded on the ground, and it was hard to say if he was ever getting up again.
"Mister... If you can get the power on, that train'll take us straight to the surface. I would try it myself, but it's a long way down to the generator room, and there are... things in the way."
Grif nodded, and headed back out. Marines had gotten into the area, of course, so he had to fight them on the way down to the generator, and on the way back. They were almost more annoying than the aliens, especially when they did things like tripmine all around a lift. Their stocks of supplies did, however, offer up a medkit, which he took with him on his way out. It'd taken him a little while to get back to Track Control, and by then, the guard was looking even worse, if such a thing had seemed possible.
"I'm never gonna make it. You better go on without me."
"How bad is it?"
The guard chuckled, but it obviously pained him to do so. "Pretty bad. Ain't nothin' in that kit's gonna get me moving again... though there is something in there that'd at least put me down peacefully."
Grif was silent for a moment. "Are you... sure that you want that?"
"Please. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. I'm already dead, so I'd rather not do it without any pain."
Grif was no stranger to pain; it was, to some greater or lesser extent, a frequent if not quite constant companion ever since he'd been run over by a tank a few years ago. There were times when the pain -- or the related discomfort of trying to push his broken and badly reconstructed body to function -- had driven him to ponder doing himself in. It had certainly, at least, driven him to drunken despair about the question of why Sarge chose Mad Science over his desire to be quit of Grif, and stitched him together rather than letting him die. He could still make his body work, though, and in the Nexus, had strong chances for recovering himself someday, so he'd eventually tried to put that aside. This man had no such option, and so Grif nodded, and prepared the shot out of the medkit. He looked at the guard, once he had it ready, and receiving an encouraging nod in return, went ahead and gave it to him.
"Thank you." The guard gave a big, shuddering sigh, and was finally silent. Grif looked down at him for a moment more -- at the sense of peace that Grif wasn't sure he'd be able to feel himself for a long time -- but then finally stood back up. The control panel showed that track power was still off, but a peek out the window showed that there were a set of doors that'd opened up. Hopefully they'd lead to somewhere that he could get it switched on. It'd be tricky to get there without getting stomped flat by Big, Blue and Ugly out there, but he wasn't sure he had any option; even plasma grenades didn't look like they'd crack that thing.
He hoped, as he started running, that there was maybe also something down there that could help him take out the alien. As it happened, though, he managed to solve two problems with the flip of only one switch: As electricity pulsed into the track power transformers, it also arced from one to the other and back in fat blue bolts of electricity. The alien monster, caught between the transformers, was fried with so much juice that it vaporized. On reflection, Grif wasn't sure just how surprised he should've been, given how his adventure seemed to have been going so far. After that, getting the train going was pretty easy, though he took a moment first to post to the Nexus, hoping to burn off some of his frustration before moving on.
Gordon, Alyx:
So, is it some sort of Great Black Mesa Tradition that All Two-Part High Voltage Things Must Arc Against Each Other, Despite How Phenomenally Unsafe That Is? Jesus Christ.
--Grif
--Grif
Grif had made it to Silo D itself. It'd taken a bit more ammo than he'd really wanted, in the last few minutes. Given the explosive barrels and crates that were dangerously prevalent on the catwalks, however -- and how many creatures with indiscriminate firing patterns were around -- he felt it best to take them out from a distance before he encountered them.
Strange banging sounds could be heard within the silo itself, as he crept along the corridor surrounding it. He wondered just what the hell that was about, but had his question at least partially answered as he encountered a scientist slumped on the floor, his injuries obviously fatal.
"Fire the... rocket engine. Destroy the damn thing before it grows any larger!" A final shout, and the man's body finally gave out.
Grif opened the next door, and was stunned for several crucial seconds by what he beheld. Through the window of the engine testing room, three creatures that each looked like a vast tentacle with a vicious bladed beak at the end rose up out of the bottom of the blast pit. There was a scientist in the room with him, who made a run for the Test Fire button. For his trouble,what the labcoated man got instead was one of those tentacle creatures smashing through the window and dragging him out with it.
"No! No, no! Get it off me! Get it off, get it off! Aaaaaah!"
On a platform on the other side of the silo, a guard fired down at the creatures, and was also viciously killed. Grif finally shook his head to clear it of his shock, and, crouching down in hopes that it wouldn't see him, also tried the Test Fire button. A short buzz was all the response that he got. He looked at the panels, and could see that there were lights to indicate the availability of Power, Oxygen, and Fuel, all of which were likely necessary and all of which were dark. Obviously, there was some work to be done.
Gordon? Alyx?
A giant fucking fan pointed upwards, with the power switch below it so I have to run and climb real fast once I turn it on so it'll lift me instead of kill me with its blades? This is the fucking backup route into Silo D's Fuel Room?!
--Grif
He hadn't been sure that the fan would have enough lift to get him -- once he'd accepted that yes, that was apparently the plan -- up to where he figured he had to go, but apparently the difference between Gordon's weight and his own was not so critical as that. After that, getting the fuel and oxygen going wasn't hard, and he continued down to the Power Facility. This, on the lowest level of the silo area, involved more jumping, as some of the floor had gone out and a misstep would drop him down into an inescapable pool of radioactive waste.
"Lovely ambience this place has. I'd almost expect O'Malley to have come up with some of this shit."
Fortunately, he managed, and so found himself facing an elevator to get down to the generator level. When he arrived, he pushed the button for it to descend, which it did for a few seconds, before finally grinding to a halt in mid-air.
"Aw, crap."
He stood there and considered his options. He was too high up to just jump the rest of the way -- even with the Mk.VI, MJOLNIR's shields could only do so much to cushion a fall. If he wanted to chance it, there was a ladder down the wall of the shaft which he might be able to jump to from the window of the car...
Almost on cue, the car shuddered and began to plummet, almost but not quite in freefall. He kept an eye on his descent, and just as the lower level came into view, jumped out of the car to tumble onto the floor, leaving the elevator to sink into the radioactive waste at the bottom of the shaft.
"Jesus Christ, I hate this place more and more."
There was a scientist standing there, observing some gauges. He looked over at Grif on the floor. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, yeah. Just peachy." Grif was surprised to discover that he was, in fact, unhurt, and stood up.
"Good. Because I hope no one expects me to go start up the generator. Smithers went down there and never came back. That is what you're here for, isn't it?"
Grif glared down at the man for several seconds. The reflective visor, coupled with his silence, apparently did as well as an actual facial expression to bring about the discomfort that Grif had hoped for. Finally he said, "Yes, that is, in fact, what I'm here to do, but fuck you for your attitude, too. Now, I'm going to go down there, and I'll see if I can bring Smithers back with me. All right, asshole?"
"Er, yes, all right. Sorry."
Grif nodded and turned towards the corridor to the generator.
Five Minutes Later...
Grif returned to where the scientist was still looking at his gauges. Another labcoated form was slung over an armored shoulder.
"Why, that's Smithers! Where did you find him? Is he all right?"
Grif laid Smithers down on the ground. "He's... well, physically, he's fine... I think, maybe. He was hiding up on top of the generator -- which, by the way, I'd like to note is an absolutely insane design. Do you guys just not have to answer to OSHA at all?!"
"...What?"
"...Never mind. Anyway, there's a pipe busted open with some exposed radioactive stuff leaked out of it. I think some of it might've done something to ol' Smithers' head, here. I finally gave him a shot of some tranquilizer stuff I have on me so I could get him to come with me. It'll wear off soon enough, but in the meantime, I suggest you get him some anti-rad stuff out of the health station over here. Then sit tight, and I'll try to get someone to get you out of here once I reach Lambda Complex, 'k?"
"All right. Thank you."
Up and up and up Grif went, back to the engine testing room. This time, all the lights were on, and the Test Fire button was met with a mighty roar from the engine mounted atop the blast pit, incinerating the tentacle creatures. In the ensuing silence, he wasn't really sure where he was supposed to go next, until he looked down into the blast pit. At the bottom, he saw the hole from which the creatures had emerged, forming a tunnel down into the distance.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Ooh. Say hello to my little friends, Mr. .357 Magnum and Mr. Laser-Activated Tripmine. Didn't entirely enjoy the tumbling-about necessary to get them, but I enjoy the new toys, especially after having had to disconnect the scope from my M6D and finally leave it behind, since nothing else around here takes 12.7mm ammo. The .357 might be the closest thing to that feel, so I'll switch the scope onto that; it didn't quite mesh as well as I'd like on the 9mm.
--Grif
EDIT: Holy God, what the fuck is that giant blue crab-handed thing?! OhcrapohCrapohCRAP runningRunningRUNNING--
For once, Grif was glad to see the Marines around. He had been a bit surprised to see the blue-suited man again, through the window into the Track Control room, and those seconds of standing there could've gotten him roasted if the soldiers' fight against the blue behemoth weren't providing a necessary distraction. By the time that he fought his way to Track Control, though, the suited man was gone... despite the doors to the room being boarded up. Interesting. There was, however, a guard lying wounded on the ground, and it was hard to say if he was ever getting up again.
"Mister... If you can get the power on, that train'll take us straight to the surface. I would try it myself, but it's a long way down to the generator room, and there are... things in the way."
Grif nodded, and headed back out. Marines had gotten into the area, of course, so he had to fight them on the way down to the generator, and on the way back. They were almost more annoying than the aliens, especially when they did things like tripmine all around a lift. Their stocks of supplies did, however, offer up a medkit, which he took with him on his way out. It'd taken him a little while to get back to Track Control, and by then, the guard was looking even worse, if such a thing had seemed possible.
"I'm never gonna make it. You better go on without me."
"How bad is it?"
The guard chuckled, but it obviously pained him to do so. "Pretty bad. Ain't nothin' in that kit's gonna get me moving again... though there is something in there that'd at least put me down peacefully."
Grif was silent for a moment. "Are you... sure that you want that?"
"Please. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. I'm already dead, so I'd rather not do it without any pain."
Grif was no stranger to pain; it was, to some greater or lesser extent, a frequent if not quite constant companion ever since he'd been run over by a tank a few years ago. There were times when the pain -- or the related discomfort of trying to push his broken and badly reconstructed body to function -- had driven him to ponder doing himself in. It had certainly, at least, driven him to drunken despair about the question of why Sarge chose Mad Science over his desire to be quit of Grif, and stitched him together rather than letting him die. He could still make his body work, though, and in the Nexus, had strong chances for recovering himself someday, so he'd eventually tried to put that aside. This man had no such option, and so Grif nodded, and prepared the shot out of the medkit. He looked at the guard, once he had it ready, and receiving an encouraging nod in return, went ahead and gave it to him.
"Thank you." The guard gave a big, shuddering sigh, and was finally silent. Grif looked down at him for a moment more -- at the sense of peace that Grif wasn't sure he'd be able to feel himself for a long time -- but then finally stood back up. The control panel showed that track power was still off, but a peek out the window showed that there were a set of doors that'd opened up. Hopefully they'd lead to somewhere that he could get it switched on. It'd be tricky to get there without getting stomped flat by Big, Blue and Ugly out there, but he wasn't sure he had any option; even plasma grenades didn't look like they'd crack that thing.
He hoped, as he started running, that there was maybe also something down there that could help him take out the alien. As it happened, though, he managed to solve two problems with the flip of only one switch: As electricity pulsed into the track power transformers, it also arced from one to the other and back in fat blue bolts of electricity. The alien monster, caught between the transformers, was fried with so much juice that it vaporized. On reflection, Grif wasn't sure just how surprised he should've been, given how his adventure seemed to have been going so far. After that, getting the train going was pretty easy, though he took a moment first to post to the Nexus, hoping to burn off some of his frustration before moving on.
Gordon, Alyx:
So, is it some sort of Great Black Mesa Tradition that All Two-Part High Voltage Things Must Arc Against Each Other, Despite How Phenomenally Unsafe That Is? Jesus Christ.
--Grif