September 15, 2073.

A particularly animated discussion is taking place in a safe government facility. Several men are sat around a large table, guards strategically placed for the appearance of security. Each attendee seems to have their own advisor.

The panic in the air is obvious and infectious, effecting all but one of those breathing it in.

"None of this is going to matter if those damn Reds carry on poisoning us all to death!" one of the men, obviously of a military background, rises dramatically from his seat to exclaim.

The man at the head of the table furrows his brow.

"Though our colleague could phrase it better, he has a point. The Chinese are becoming more adventurous, more dangerous with their use of biological weapons," the man with the numbers gives his reluctant support. "Something has to be done."

This seems to soothe the military man, earning a nod from him and getting him to sit back down. There is a brief, awkward silence. One of the few women of this group turns her head towards the head of the table, she aims to ask the obvious question.

"So what are you going to do, Mr. President?"

He seems stressed. They question his fitness for the job, they have for a while now. But something has kept him making decisions, decisions that have kept them heading in the right direction.

There is a man standing behind the President. He's wearing a blue suit, he is tidy and there is something different in his eyes. He takes this moment to move forward a few steps, leaning down to meet the President's ear. He speaks, slowly and quietly. He rights himself, looking over the table and straightening his tie – not that it needed straightening.

The President eventually nods, finally seeming to spring to life. He clasps his hands together and begins, "You're right. We can't just keep lessening the damage they do or acting after they have done something. We need..." he pauses and looks over his shoulder. His "advisor" nods.

"We need a direct countermeasure," the President resumes. "Something to permanently protect our citizens against biological attack. I've been in talks with the West Tek Research Facility, some of you may be familiar with it as the developer of our Power Armor."

There are confused looks, but gradual nods.

"With the situation as it is, I'm going to initiate the Pan-Immunity Virion Project. The idea of the project is to stimulate the immune system in such a way that it can counteract any of the Chinese's possible biological agents," he cleared his throat, wanting to turn around again. "I'm going to recommend testing begins immediately."

There is, again, silence. A stunned silence, this time. They don't want to ignore the "advisor's" tremendous effect on these events, but they can't help it. The motion is carried.

"About damn time we did something..." the military man grumbles and fixes his cap, uneasily eyeing the man who called the shots.

March 2075, West Tek Research Facility.

The military overseer put in charge of the "PVP" project is sat anxiously at his desk. Experiments have been going steadily, with no significant improvements noted in single-cell organism test subjects. But he's made a breakthrough. Or, rather, a breakthrough had been made for him... or least, offered to him.

Batch 10-011 was the next drastic change to the program as it steps up to animal testing. In its current form, the underwhelming results so far may just become slightly less underwhelming. Unless he accepted the radical change offered to him.

A mysterious stranger who he had seen overseeing (which was his job) the project multiple times approached him one day, after a particularly disappointing round of testing. The man offered him everything he wanted: results. But who was he? Nobody else seemed to notice the man's presence except for him. What did he want from all this?

Footsteps disturbed the paranoid thought process running through the man's mind. He turned, expecting a curious colleague but found something entirely different. He almost jumped out of his seat, and his skin. "You're here. Just like you said you would be. I wasn't sure you were real."

"Of course," the man in the blue suit almost hissed in response. The man stood with an intense stare, clutching a briefcase in one hand – it being marked with something indicating hazardous materials. "Mister Barnett."

"Major Barnett. Major," He uneasily announced. The man probably already knew. Hadn't he 'earned' his title in those piercing eyes? "What... exactly, is this going to do?" The major reached out for the case, his hand shaking.

His blue suited friend's lips formed into something that may have been a smile and simply replied, "It... is going to change things."

He gulped. "I'm not an idiot." He took the case anyway. "What do you want for this? How am I going to pay?"

"My payment will be in the results."

PVP experiments continue at West Tek with batch 10-011, in the wake of successful tests of the virus on single-celled organisms. The Pan-Immunity Virion is renamed the Forced Evolutionary Virus (FEV).

Through the rest of 2075 and all of 2076, FEV went through rigorous animal testing. The results are miraculous. Major Barnett controls research decisions through this period, cutting out testing on insects and plant cells. He seems to have an agenda.

Throughout the research, whenever a new strain of the FEV was implemented in testing, Major Barnett insisted on the inclusion of an element introduced in the 10-0-011 strain.

Circa January 2077 the FEV research was moved to Mariposa Military Base, the order made by Major Barnett. He wished to continue experiments on volunteer subjects, much to the dismay of the research team. He stated it was, "The next logical step. For everyone involved."

October 23, 2077.

The Great War.

In a hail of nuclear fire, the world is changed forever. Most that do survive, survive thanks to more of the government's "countermeasures."

The blue-suited man stands over the remains of the West Tek Research Facility, where his plans began. His plans did not include the Vaults and he attended no control room with the ability to launch a nuclear weapon. With his case-free hand, he pinches the air. He briefly shakes his head and sighs.

"A... waste." Any further corruption of his agenda is completely unacceptable. Leaving human beings to it will only result in further disaster.

Some things are out of his control now. But there will be one pivotal event involving his creation that he will see goes his way. He just needs the right man for the job.

"Mister Freeman..." That voice. Speaking to him again. He feels like no time has passed at all. This isn't exactly what he expected when the "G-Man" offered him employment. G-Man was the only name Gordon has for this... entity, that he had seen watching him all throughout Black Mesa and then even on Xen.

"Good news," this phrasing did nothing to comfort Gordon. "You get to stretch your hazard suit a little earlier than... anticipated."

Gordon remained, as ever, wordless as the blackness he had come to known began to move with the G-Man still standing there.

"You should consider this a... job on the side. My," he paused and swallowed hard. "Employers and I have interests that reach realms beyond your understanding, Mister Freeman. You will get to visit one."

Things began to take a solid shape as the G-Man's changed into something more abstract. Like Gordon was moving through a facility in slow-motion and he simply hallucinated the G-Man's presence there.

"There have been... complications," the G-Man paused once more and brushed off a shoulder of his suit, as if he was brushing away the matter as a whole. "But there is a way to set them right. This world can still thrive, Mister Freeman."

Large men, soldiers, moved by in all-black armour; armed with weapons Gordon had never seen before. Gordon turned his head to get a glimpse, they were battling machines – machines that seemed to be standing guards of the place. Like Sentries, except on tripods and with laser weaponry.

"There is something for you to stop, rather than..." another pause. "Live through."

The scene around Gordon was more focused now. It looked like a technological paradise with a neon blue blood running through its veins of walls and doors. Gordon felt ground beneath his feet now, ruins of the robots he had just seen were nearby – with corpses of some soldiers nearby as well. The G-Man, now standing fully in front of Gordon once more, almost smirked.

"This is your chance to... change the world, Mister Freeman." He nodded and began to fade away. "Make sure this wasteland is given..." An audible pause, he sounds almost amused. "The waters of life."

As he left, the door that blocked Gordon's path opened. Gordon was still in the HEV suit, apparently for this it was deemed necessary for him to be well-equipped. Not bothering to turn around, something sounding close enough to laser fire told him other things were busy enough with each other, Gordon advanced in to the room.

Oversized computers surrounded him, the middle of the room containing a large spiral staircase. He could faintly hear chatter. He moved quietly up the steps, to catch the end of the conversation.

"...Perhaps... Perhaps there is a problem. I am... I am unsure how to proceed." This from a voice that sounded as if it could be coming from Gordon's suit. Highly Americanised though.

"I think it's time you put an end to this, once and for all," came a response from what seemed to be a young man.

"...Processing directive. New directive accepted. Self-destruct sequence initialised. Civilian is advised to remove hazardous FEV material and exit at once."

Hazardous FEV material. Gordon Freeman knew key words when he heard them.

A console opened up. Gordon moved as the conversation has ended. He saw the young man reach down for the container and begin to move, as advised. He missed his face but was left with the impression of yellow numbers on the back of his jumpsuit: 101.

He left quickly through the opened door, which immediately closed as Gordon reached the top of the platform."

"That boy... that boy might just cleanse these wastelands for me, after all." The voice from the computer seemed content. It then powered down, not available for any further questions. But from the way the building rumbled, Gordon could only believe this was a good thing.

He went the way of the 101 boy, finding the path locked. Not an uncommon occurrence for him. The facility was coming down. The way was blocked. Below there were heavily armed robots and armour-clad soldiers. Again, not an uncommon occurrence.

It was time for Gordon Freeman to find a way out.

2278. Raven Rock Mountain Facility, Capital Wasteland.

The right man in the wrong wastes, can make all the difference in the world.