Three... no, four years. Four long years. A lot has changed since then, I've learned just as much, about myself and the world in general. I've gone from a relatively shy home schooler to a guy about to get his degree with a good bunch of friends by his side. And my Half-Life novelization... Not a week went by when I didn't think of it. And after all this time, I think I should explain its origins to you, my readers.

I was fresh off the completion and success of my Zelda fanfic, The Destiny is Yours. I had read S.D. Perry's so-called "novelizations" of the Resident Evil games (and they make me want to smack CoA for hiring her), and wanted to do one of my own. I considered doing one based on Megaman Legends, and of Diablo II. Yet, I decided to write one of Half-Life. I sat down at my old IBM Aptiva (with a 486DX2 75MHZ processor!) and hammered out the first chapter, transferred it via floppy to the family computer, and uploaded it. Due to a failing disk drive, I lost a good chunk of it, but the HL section was small, only twenty-odd stories, most based on Counterstrike (which I avoid like the plague). I uploaded the thing, figured I'd only get about two reviews over the course of a month, then drop it. My jaw hit the floor the following morning when I saw seven reviews, all telling me to go on.

Life intervened two years later, in the form of college. I tried to keep going, but homework demanded my priority, and I was too spent to write afterwards, not to mention that I wanted to finish another fic of mine before it hit the two years mark (which I did). However, I did work on this from time to time, trying on several things, discarding them, and eventually finding something that worked. Then, last year, in the Fall '05 semester, I took a course on creative writing, wanting to further my fanfic writing. I was in awe of what I had learned, in terms of correct style, substance, and structure, and how I was praised by my teacher for my creativeness.

However, it also caused me to seriously consider this novelization, and where I was taking it.

As it is now, you, the reader, have no worries about what's going to happen. You've all played the game, so you know how it'll all turn out. I guess this is to be expected, considering the nature of the fic. However, I'm not satisfied. I knew that I had to include original material, but I didn't know about proper structure when I started. In addition, it was too Gordon centric, with no constant supporting cast. In light of this, I've only arrived at one, possible, conclusion.

I have to start over fresh.

All my previous chapters will be discarded. All reviews will be erased. Tabula Rasa. Clean Slate. And I will take the time to create a proper story, this time not only including Gordon, but Adrian, Barney, Gina, Colette, and a host of other characters, some original, some not, all in the supporting cast. I must take these people and breathe life into them, giving them personalities, foibles, scruples, and dreams. I must take the characters who you are so accustomed to playing as and turn them into people that will surprise you with their actions. I don't know how long it will be until I post the first chapter, but it will happen.

Until that time, however, what currently is will remain on line, and I shall also present you with what I had in the works.

Two figures clad in urban camouflage stood on a cliff edge, overlooking the Black Mesa valley. One of them, a man in a green beret, and with a thick, brown mustache, raised a camera to his eyes. The last glimmers of sunlight painted the far horizon a fantastic collage of pink, blue, and purple with wisps of white clouds thrown into the mix. Stars from above twinkled, their numbers far greater than one would imagine. The desert valley turned a deep shade of read in the fading light.

The camera clicked.

"Now that's a nice picture," the mustached man said, lowering his arms.

"A little memento for your kids?" his companion asked.

"You know, we're in the field. You're supposed to address me as 'sir'."

"Ah, stuff it, Jim. We were in the same class and graduated the same day. You just happened to climb the ladder faster than me.

Captain James Mason smirked, and turned his gaze back over the valley.

"It's strange, Steven. The view makes you forget that the research facility has been overtaken by domestic terrorists."

Master Sergeant Steven Cooper crossed his arms and nodded.

"Sure does."

The two stood there a few moments more and admired the view. Then, they turned around and followed their self-made trail back to the camp.

On the edge of the Black Mesa Research Facility, the US Marine Corps had established a firebase for their assault on the compound. Automated turrets hooked up to power generators kept a constant vigil for any intruders. Prefabricated barriers topped with barbwire encircled the base. Patrols consisting of Humvees and Apache AH-64 helicoptors constantly circled the perimeter. Inside the makeshift compound, there was an almost constant bustle of activity as soldiers returned from expeditions inside the research facility to a hot meal as others piled into transports for another incursion. There were a lucky few who had the time to break outa deck of cards and play a game of poker.

Mason and Cooper walked through the front gate, the guards on duty snapping to attention and saluting the captain as he passed. He returned the salute without missing a step. Cooper stayed two paces behind Mason, their feet in perfect synchronization. Their destination was a helipad on the other side of the camp where the operation's commanding officer was schedualed to arrive at any moment. It wasn't Mason's duty to greet the man, but, out of the present officers, he held seniority.

Mason had heard a great deal about their CO, all of it good. He had first cut his teeth in the Veitnam War, where he proved to be an extremely effective squad leader and officer. After the US withdrew, he had climbed the chain of command rather quickly, coming to his current rank and grade.

Just as Mason and Cooper arrived at the helipad, they heard the CO's escort rapidly approaching.

Rising over a nearby mesa was a squad of five Apaches, four encircling one. They made a beeline for the firebase, the lead chopper verifying his ward's clearance to land. Taking up position around the base, the four escort Apaches while the fifth one landed. The blade's backwash created a whirlwind of sand and dirt, nearly blinding Mason and Cooper. The side door of the Apache slid open and a grizzled old man stepped out.

The man had a pin of a gold eagle with iuts wings spread on both shoulders, signifying his grade as Lieutenant Colonel. His fatigues were well worn, his boots creased and scuffed, as his face. Yet, the man's eyes were clear, and seemed as if they could bore holes through diamonds. His posture was rigid, one that had been adopted over many years of personal discipline and training. Mason and Cooper snapped to attention, their hands coming up to their brows in a salute.

"Colonel Cumberland, Captain James Mason reporting as senior officer.

The colonel gave the two men a sharp salute.

"Where is Major Coomer?"

"The major is currently engaged in the field, sir."

All three soldiers dropped their hands, Cooper and Mason remaining at attention. Cumberland briefly looked over the two men before heading towards the command tent. Cooper and Mason quickly fell into step behind him.

"Captain, are you aware of the current tactical situation?"

"Yes, sir. The surface is secure, as well as all topside buildings and the facilities PA system. Teams are being sent in via the materials transport rail system. However, the Gamma and Lambda labs are apparently operating under their own security system. We're currently trying to figure out how to bypass them."

"And what about Gordon Freeman?"

"He's retreated into the facility, sir. He was able to fight his way past several squads."

"How many casualtiues did he cause?"

"Every soldier he came across he killed, except for one."

What sounded like a low chuckle rumbled from Cumberland's throat.

"So he's decided to fight back, hm?"

Mason didn't respond. The walked continued in silence. They rapidly appraoched the command tent. A corporal standing just inside noticed Cumberland, Mason, and Cooper walking up.

"Room, attention!" he yelled out.

The ten men within the tent instantly shot up, bodies turning towards the entrance, arms held rigidly by their sides. Cumberland stepped in and quickly glanced around the room.

"Carry on," he said. The soldiers returned to what they had been doing. Slowly, Cumberland cicrled the room, hands clasped behind his back, each footstep methodically placed. For some reason, Mason and Cooper remained spellbound to their places by the entrance. A cold pit formed in Mason's stomach. The more he looked at his commanding officer, the more it grew. However, there didn't appear to be any reason for it. Colonel Cumberland's looks were grandfatherly, and he commanded no more respect than any other high ranking officer. Mason wrote his feel off as groundless.

Behind him came the sound of running boots. Looking over his shoulder, Mason saw a corporal with a clipboard heading towards the command tent. The corporal ran right by Mason and Cooper.

"Colonel Cumberland?" the man called out. The colonel halted and walked straight towards him.

"Yes, corporal?"

"Reports from the field," the soldier started, looking down at the clipboard. "We've received a communique from a Private Tower that several members of the Hazardous Enviroment Combat Unit have survived." This peaked Cumberland's interest. There was one soldier in that outfit that had caught his eye as a true leader.

"Is Corporal Adrian Shepard among the survivors?"

"Private Tower claims that he saw his squad's corpsman carrying away the body of Corporal Shepard. No confirmation on the state he was in."

"I see. Anything else?"

"Er, yes, sir. We've been contacted by a member of the Black Mesa Science Team. He wishes to request an extraction squad."

Colonel Cumberland snorted in amusement.

"We don't cater to terrorists."

The colonel started to walk away, but the corporal continued.

"He said he could give us Gordon Freeman, sir."

Cumberland halted. Slowly, he turned around, a grin on his face.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get this fine patriot out."