Epilogue: Brave New World
"Mr. Greshwald, you have some visitors," the nurse said as she stepped into the recreational room of the hospital.
"Thank you," Greshwald said, turning away from the window. He liked sitting by the window. While the other patients played card or board games or just chatted, Greshwald preferred watching the birds in the nearby trees. But whenever he looked to the west, he could always see that never- ending dust cloud of war.
Dylan, Adam and an alien slave stepped into the room. They were all wearing more casual clothes, except for the slave, who only wore a belt with some pouches. Greshwald waved at them and began to spin the wheels of his wheelchair towards them.
"Greshwald, hey!" Dylan called. "Wow, you're looking much better since we brought you here Well, except for that wheelchair."
"Heh, yeah. I'm stuck in this for life, you know? Gordon damaged my spinal column when he shot me. Can't work my legs anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Adam said. The alien also nodded, but he had set his eyes on a nearby vending machine. He walked over there and signaled for a bottle of soft drink, then began to shuffle in the pouches of his belt. After a moment he was able to dig out some coins, but he immediately dropped them. He groaned and began to try to pick the coins up.
"Well, Dylan, where've you been?" Greshwald asked, rolling away on his wheelchair, with the others along with him. The slave was finally able to pay for his drink and ran after them, trying to hold on to the bottle.
"Fighting. It's been pretty rough, you know. The alien controllers took command and began to spawn new aliens. Those things produce pretty fast. Some have escaped overseas. It's now a world crisis. This is the only break we've got in a long while, and it only lasts for a day or two."
"Cool. But what about those rebel slaves I saw on T.V? I thought they were helping you guys out," Greshwald asked. They walked into a small outdoor area. Dylan and Adam sat onto a bench while Greshwald drove next to them.
"Yeah, well, some of the rebels still stayed with us. But most of them, along with their leader, you know, the one who I fought on the Osprey, went into hiding," Dylan shrugged. "We've broadcasted that we aren't going to hurt them, we even had some of our own rebels search for them, but they haven't showed up. And what few slaves we've got are definitely not enough to combat the other aliens."
"Where are you gonna house all of those rebels?" Greshwald continued asking.
"Well, the scientists are building a place in the Pacific for them. What was it called again, Adam?" Dylan asked.
"Pacific Xen. It's being built to resemble the aliens' own home planet. It's gonna be a big bubble with weak gravity and everything," Adam answered.
Greshwald nodded, but then turned to watch as the alien slave Dylan had come with fought to screw open the soft drink bottle. After prying for a moment, he shred the whole top of the bottle off. The slave just shrugged and drank from the permanently open bottle.
"Who is he, anyway?" Greshwald asked, pointing to the slave.
"Him? Oh, that's just Mudel," Dylan pointed to the slave. Mudel waved back. "He's learning to be our translator. You know, if we try to negotiate with the aliens."
"Yes, I already can speak in plurals," Mudel proudly stated.
"Me and Adam were taking him to teach him what a pizza is, when we thought it'd be nice to stop by and see you."
"Well, I don't want to slow you guys down. It was nice to see you one more time, guys," Greshwald said.
"That's what I wanted to talk about," Dylan said. "Greshwald, when you've recovered, I'd like it if you joined my group in the military again."
Greshwald laughed out loud, then turned to look at his friend. "Dylan, look at me. I'm stuck on a damn wheelchair. For life! I'm no use to you!"
"I know, but you know, you could still be a pilot! We're getting a Black Hawk soon, we could easily rig it to accommodate an invalid," Dylan tried to persuade.
"Dylan, listen, I'm not really into fighting anymore. After I practically lost my legs back in Black Mesa, I didn't want to lose anything more. I'd rather not go and take those aliens on again."
"Oh well," Dylan shrugged. "I can't force you. But I'll leave the offer up. We'll probably have another day off in a month or so, so think about it then. But now, we gotta go get something to eat. Bye, Greshwald." Then Dylan, Adam, and Mudel left for the parking lot.
Greshwald started to go back to the recreational room, but as he traveled, he had a smile on his face. He fondly remembered that day, a few months ago, when he had passed boot camp and was almost immediately sent to Black Mesa as reinforcements. Although he had in a sense lost half of his body there, it had been a great experience. He knew what he would say to Dylan when he would come back in a month. He'd say yes.
Now, the trickier part would be to actually GET him, crippled from the legs, back into the military.
-----
"Hey, could you go on without me?" Dylan asked. "I'll catch up with you soon. Here's some money for the pizza;" Dylan said and handed Adam some change, then took some flowers from the trunk of the car they had rented for their short break.
"Sure, Dylan," Adam said and he and Mudel climbed into the car.
"Where he going?" Mudel asked as Dylan walked off.
"To the cemetery, to meet an old relative," Adam answered.
Dylan walked into the cemetery built by the hospital and traversed through the tombstones. Soon he arrived at the one which he was looking for.
"Here Lies Adam Henderson. May The Lord Forgive Him Of His Past Crimes And Take Him To His Side," the tombstone proudly stated. Dylan had thought it was a stroke of fortune that they had taken Greshwald to the same hospital where his brother had been buried. Dylan left the flowers in front of the stone and sat down. He usually found it easier to think of his problems when visiting his brother's grave.
"I really failed you, didn't I?" Dylan spoke, unsure if his brother's spirit was listening to him or if he was just talking to a slab of granite. These days, anything seemed possible. "I know I only killed a scientist or two in the garage, but still, that was enough for me to fail. I tried to do good, like you, I really tried. I've been making up for it for these past few months, honest. But I dunno if fighting those aliens will ever make up for those few scientists."
"I hope you can forgive me," Dylan said and stood up. He walked off to join his friends in the pizzeria, shaking his head.
The Administrator stepped from behind a nearby tree and watched as Dylan walked away. Gullible fools were the easiest to manipulate. The Administrator would find use for the marine. Eventually, he would.
THE END
(Well, so I end my first fic. I hope you've liked reading it. And if anyone cares, I have been planning a sequel. Now I'd like your honest opinion, reviewers: would you like to see a sequel? I'm already warning in advance that it will not be based any longer on the games that much. While I could buy Half-Life 2 and accommodate the plot to fit with HL 2's plot, I doubt I'll get the game soon, if ever. Also, not all aliens will be bad guys, as suggested by the end.
But for now, I'm going to be writing a good ol' fantasy story in the Dungeons & Dragons section. I've been a big fan of D&D and other RPG's since I was seven, so I've been planning on writing such a story for a while now. But now I'm going to ask that you'd all review and give me your opinion on a Mercy Is Not An Option 2. Thanks, bye.)
"Mr. Greshwald, you have some visitors," the nurse said as she stepped into the recreational room of the hospital.
"Thank you," Greshwald said, turning away from the window. He liked sitting by the window. While the other patients played card or board games or just chatted, Greshwald preferred watching the birds in the nearby trees. But whenever he looked to the west, he could always see that never- ending dust cloud of war.
Dylan, Adam and an alien slave stepped into the room. They were all wearing more casual clothes, except for the slave, who only wore a belt with some pouches. Greshwald waved at them and began to spin the wheels of his wheelchair towards them.
"Greshwald, hey!" Dylan called. "Wow, you're looking much better since we brought you here Well, except for that wheelchair."
"Heh, yeah. I'm stuck in this for life, you know? Gordon damaged my spinal column when he shot me. Can't work my legs anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Adam said. The alien also nodded, but he had set his eyes on a nearby vending machine. He walked over there and signaled for a bottle of soft drink, then began to shuffle in the pouches of his belt. After a moment he was able to dig out some coins, but he immediately dropped them. He groaned and began to try to pick the coins up.
"Well, Dylan, where've you been?" Greshwald asked, rolling away on his wheelchair, with the others along with him. The slave was finally able to pay for his drink and ran after them, trying to hold on to the bottle.
"Fighting. It's been pretty rough, you know. The alien controllers took command and began to spawn new aliens. Those things produce pretty fast. Some have escaped overseas. It's now a world crisis. This is the only break we've got in a long while, and it only lasts for a day or two."
"Cool. But what about those rebel slaves I saw on T.V? I thought they were helping you guys out," Greshwald asked. They walked into a small outdoor area. Dylan and Adam sat onto a bench while Greshwald drove next to them.
"Yeah, well, some of the rebels still stayed with us. But most of them, along with their leader, you know, the one who I fought on the Osprey, went into hiding," Dylan shrugged. "We've broadcasted that we aren't going to hurt them, we even had some of our own rebels search for them, but they haven't showed up. And what few slaves we've got are definitely not enough to combat the other aliens."
"Where are you gonna house all of those rebels?" Greshwald continued asking.
"Well, the scientists are building a place in the Pacific for them. What was it called again, Adam?" Dylan asked.
"Pacific Xen. It's being built to resemble the aliens' own home planet. It's gonna be a big bubble with weak gravity and everything," Adam answered.
Greshwald nodded, but then turned to watch as the alien slave Dylan had come with fought to screw open the soft drink bottle. After prying for a moment, he shred the whole top of the bottle off. The slave just shrugged and drank from the permanently open bottle.
"Who is he, anyway?" Greshwald asked, pointing to the slave.
"Him? Oh, that's just Mudel," Dylan pointed to the slave. Mudel waved back. "He's learning to be our translator. You know, if we try to negotiate with the aliens."
"Yes, I already can speak in plurals," Mudel proudly stated.
"Me and Adam were taking him to teach him what a pizza is, when we thought it'd be nice to stop by and see you."
"Well, I don't want to slow you guys down. It was nice to see you one more time, guys," Greshwald said.
"That's what I wanted to talk about," Dylan said. "Greshwald, when you've recovered, I'd like it if you joined my group in the military again."
Greshwald laughed out loud, then turned to look at his friend. "Dylan, look at me. I'm stuck on a damn wheelchair. For life! I'm no use to you!"
"I know, but you know, you could still be a pilot! We're getting a Black Hawk soon, we could easily rig it to accommodate an invalid," Dylan tried to persuade.
"Dylan, listen, I'm not really into fighting anymore. After I practically lost my legs back in Black Mesa, I didn't want to lose anything more. I'd rather not go and take those aliens on again."
"Oh well," Dylan shrugged. "I can't force you. But I'll leave the offer up. We'll probably have another day off in a month or so, so think about it then. But now, we gotta go get something to eat. Bye, Greshwald." Then Dylan, Adam, and Mudel left for the parking lot.
Greshwald started to go back to the recreational room, but as he traveled, he had a smile on his face. He fondly remembered that day, a few months ago, when he had passed boot camp and was almost immediately sent to Black Mesa as reinforcements. Although he had in a sense lost half of his body there, it had been a great experience. He knew what he would say to Dylan when he would come back in a month. He'd say yes.
Now, the trickier part would be to actually GET him, crippled from the legs, back into the military.
-----
"Hey, could you go on without me?" Dylan asked. "I'll catch up with you soon. Here's some money for the pizza;" Dylan said and handed Adam some change, then took some flowers from the trunk of the car they had rented for their short break.
"Sure, Dylan," Adam said and he and Mudel climbed into the car.
"Where he going?" Mudel asked as Dylan walked off.
"To the cemetery, to meet an old relative," Adam answered.
Dylan walked into the cemetery built by the hospital and traversed through the tombstones. Soon he arrived at the one which he was looking for.
"Here Lies Adam Henderson. May The Lord Forgive Him Of His Past Crimes And Take Him To His Side," the tombstone proudly stated. Dylan had thought it was a stroke of fortune that they had taken Greshwald to the same hospital where his brother had been buried. Dylan left the flowers in front of the stone and sat down. He usually found it easier to think of his problems when visiting his brother's grave.
"I really failed you, didn't I?" Dylan spoke, unsure if his brother's spirit was listening to him or if he was just talking to a slab of granite. These days, anything seemed possible. "I know I only killed a scientist or two in the garage, but still, that was enough for me to fail. I tried to do good, like you, I really tried. I've been making up for it for these past few months, honest. But I dunno if fighting those aliens will ever make up for those few scientists."
"I hope you can forgive me," Dylan said and stood up. He walked off to join his friends in the pizzeria, shaking his head.
The Administrator stepped from behind a nearby tree and watched as Dylan walked away. Gullible fools were the easiest to manipulate. The Administrator would find use for the marine. Eventually, he would.
THE END
(Well, so I end my first fic. I hope you've liked reading it. And if anyone cares, I have been planning a sequel. Now I'd like your honest opinion, reviewers: would you like to see a sequel? I'm already warning in advance that it will not be based any longer on the games that much. While I could buy Half-Life 2 and accommodate the plot to fit with HL 2's plot, I doubt I'll get the game soon, if ever. Also, not all aliens will be bad guys, as suggested by the end.
But for now, I'm going to be writing a good ol' fantasy story in the Dungeons & Dragons section. I've been a big fan of D&D and other RPG's since I was seven, so I've been planning on writing such a story for a while now. But now I'm going to ask that you'd all review and give me your opinion on a Mercy Is Not An Option 2. Thanks, bye.)