milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Gordon was untouched by the linguistic and clothing weirdness of yesterday, largely because he spent most of the day at the firing range and didn't even notice. Today's a little wet even for his liking, though, so he's indoors doing various forms of maintenance on his equipment- primarily, the HEV suit and the crowbar. Not that the crowbar needs much maintenance beyond some touching up of the paint, but it seldom hurts to be sure.

He'll settle to reading later. Right now, big damn nerd doing big damn nerdy things to orange and grey bits of body armor.

[tinytag: Gordon Freeman, Dr. John Vattic]

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"Been keeping... educated. Talking philosophy with people. Someone recommended that practicing an art helps calm the mind, and, well... the mind helps itself with philosophy. And as for yesterday, being frank: what the hell."

"I've heard of Talk Like A Pirate Day," says Gordon, "and I'm told things happen around here at April Fool's, but that.... that was kind of ridiculous."

"No kidding. I mean, I even saw some poor people with peg legs, and people with clothes obviously not of their choosing. I mean... that's why I ran away outside. It was just crazy."

Pause.

"Plus, I've always been more of a ninja man myself."

"Software pirate. We look and talk just like everybody else."

John laughs, and jokes, "Any good booty lately, Cap'n?"

"Still working on it," says Gordon, and no more, because- well. Gordon embarrasses easily.

"Oh, I err. Didn't realize it could be taken that way. Er."

John's not 'Coke-can color,' but his ears are a little pinker than five seconds ago.

Gordon shrugs a little. "It's all right. One step at a time." He offers a small smile. "I found out there pretty much aren't any gender roles left in my world, by the way. Alyx came to ask me about those."

"Really? That's... well, I guess when there are no more babies, and humans are no longer at the top of the food chain, that it's a logical thing to have happen. Still, it must've been a shock."

"That and the sheer number of human dead," Gordon says soberly. "Rosie the Riveter times a hundred."

John nods. "A terrible thing to waste. Sentient life, of any kind. And over... you said there were other worlds, before yours?"

"A lot of them," Gordon says. "I don't know how many. The dimension that invaded my world first, Xen? As far as I know, it wasn't even where most of the invading species came from to start with. The Combine had driven them to it- their own worlds'd been conquered or destroyed long before."

John gives a low whistle. "My god. And now all that's converging on Earth. Well, apparently all that speculation about Earth being the optimal planet was right, but in a different light: you seem to be the only ones capable of fighting back. Who would've thought."

"After sixteen years, apparently," Gordon says. "But, yeah. Who'd've thought."

"Sixteen... you were here for sixteen years in your world?!?"

You can see why this might have him a little upset. Being Bound and all now.

"Twenty," says Gordon quietly. "The Combine took their time about getting their assault forces together. The first four years, Earth just had to deal with Xen and the resonance cascade."

"Probably to let our forces get wiped out, weeded out first." John sighs. "My... I can't imagine how it must've felt. Going back to there. I'm so sorry, Gordon."

"I don't think it would've made much difference," Gordon says. "Not from the briefing they gave me. But..." He shrugs. "It's all I've got now."

John nods. "I can stay as long as you'd like, after the battle. I hate having to sit around here, pondering my very existance. And helping in your world... if I can do it, I will."

"That'd help," Gordon says. "We'll have a lot of reconstruction to do if we manage to pull it all off. The more help we have, the better."

"I'm not sure how that works, actually, going to other worlds while you're Bound, but I'd be more than willing. Guns, picking up rubble... I'm like a John of all trades."

"I went to Sir Nicholas Fury's world for a while," Gordon says. "Been there twice. As long as someone else opens the door for you, you can go wherever the door leads."

"Good to know. No Bar-driven monkey business." John nods. "I don't think I've met him, though. Is he one of the people who volunteered to help?"

"One of the first," Gordon confirms. "He's from the 1600s. Got ported into the future of his world, where they've got a dictatorship. I'm helping him with that when this is done, and in the meantime I teach him about modern technology and he teaches me about infiltration and war."

"Sounds like a pretty good deal to me." Unfortunately, he got his training formally, and in the field. Not that Gordon hasn't. "Was his time differential of the Bar variety too?"

"No. There'd been a time traveler from the future in his world. He had to carry him through a portal back to 2090 or so to avoid reality getting torn apart by the walking anachronism," Gordon says. "He just happened to make it into the Bar after that."

"I'm... not even going to bother asking you to explain that, Gordon. I hope you don't mind if I try to keep my headaches to a minimum."

He pauses to take a sip of coffee. "How all does that suit work, anyway? Is it like some hydralic exoskeleton with fringe benefits? Or has it been modded a lot?--besides the neurotoxin part, I mean."

"I could probably explain it, given a whiteboard to work with," says Gordon, "but all right."

"Oh- it was billed as a hazardous environment survival suit when they issued it to me, but honestly, I have to assume it was designed as an augment exoskeleton for the military and we were just the human testers. Although the monitoring and chelation systems built into it work exactly as advertised. There's about eight different monitoring systems in here keeping track of the wearer's vitals and injecting painkillers and medical compounds as needed, plus the radio system and the munitions monitor link. It's got an energy reserve that it can divert to compensate for potential damage to the wearer, but that chews up the power supply in a hurry."

"Chelation? I'm not familiar with the term, sorry. But wow, I can imagine. Doesn't sound civilian at all. Then again, it could've been rerouted research that the government decided it couldn't produce for the military, I suppose."

"Medical term. It's the use of certain types of chemical agent to remove heavy metals and other toxins from the body. Sort of like bio-remediation for chemical spills, only in this case everything goes on inside the body." Gordon shrugs. "At this point we'll never know what the plan was. Just that nobody seems to've been able to produce any more of the suits since."

"Wow. Your world... had some serious issues. Even before the invasion. I just feel sorry for all the people that were innocent. They didn't need to pay for the egos of a few." It's sickening.

"I know," Gordon says quietly. "I know."

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