Gordon Freeman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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milliways_bar2008-05-12 06:38 pm
acts_of_gord) wrote in milliways_bar2008-05-12 06:38 pm
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[OOM: For Gordon Freeman, the only way out was through. From Lambda, he made the jump to a border-world called Xen.
The less said about certain battles there, the better.
Others, though... other struggles were of more import. They brought him at the last to the battle he never thought to survive, let alone win. But win he did... or so he thought.]
The bar door opens in a gust of brilliant green light. A single armored human figure staggers out of it, stumbles; the light vanishes, and the door with it. Gordon Freeman barely avoids collapsing to the floor, although the Oompa-Loompas are probably going to want a word with him about how crowbars really oughtn't to be used as substitutes for canes...
They would be well advised, however, to time their talk most carefully. A man whose armor- whose eyeglasses- are covered in that much blood, that much yellow-grey ichor- is probably not going to be very tractable over matters of not damaging the floor. He's too busy panting, frantically trying to remember how to breathe without pain, to notice much else for a few moments. Eventually, though, he looks up and very nearly laughs. "Of all the places..." Gordon shakes his head. "Is this real? Am I here? I want a damn sandwich, if it is."
His legs wobble again, and he starts looking for better support than leaning on a woefully inadequate length of metal.
[tinytag: Ella Harkins, Sir Nicholas Fury, Gordon Freeman]
The less said about certain battles there, the better.
Others, though... other struggles were of more import. They brought him at the last to the battle he never thought to survive, let alone win. But win he did... or so he thought.]
The bar door opens in a gust of brilliant green light. A single armored human figure staggers out of it, stumbles; the light vanishes, and the door with it. Gordon Freeman barely avoids collapsing to the floor, although the Oompa-Loompas are probably going to want a word with him about how crowbars really oughtn't to be used as substitutes for canes...
They would be well advised, however, to time their talk most carefully. A man whose armor- whose eyeglasses- are covered in that much blood, that much yellow-grey ichor- is probably not going to be very tractable over matters of not damaging the floor. He's too busy panting, frantically trying to remember how to breathe without pain, to notice much else for a few moments. Eventually, though, he looks up and very nearly laughs. "Of all the places..." Gordon shakes his head. "Is this real? Am I here? I want a damn sandwich, if it is."
His legs wobble again, and he starts looking for better support than leaning on a woefully inadequate length of metal.
[tinytag: Ella Harkins, Sir Nicholas Fury, Gordon Freeman]