milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: pensive

Entry tags:

alyx vance,
voodoo

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It's been a day and a half since the distress signal from Australia was picked up. The Resistance has been working to get things wrapped up in South America so that no one will be left high and dry when they depart. This means a lot of work packed into not a lot of hours, especially for someone who is ostensibly supposed to be on maternity leave. Thank God for Milliways.

Alyx has sagged into a comfortable seat in a corner booth and ordered enough chicken chow mein to feed a small army. When it arrives, a small folded pastry-thing alongside the platter catches her eye. It takes her a second to recall just what it is; when it does, she carefully cracks open the fortune cookie.

What breaks in a moment may take years to mend.

Now there's a rosy thought.

tiny plottag: Misfortune Cookies

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Here, have a SEAL.

Voodoo has to really crane his neck to get a look at the fortune, but somehow he does it.

"That doesn't sound good."

Ya think, Voodoo?

Alyx turns to frown at the strange man who is clearly making an effort to read over her shoulder. "D'you mind?"

Edited 2011-02-05 04:09 (UTC)

Voodoo raises his hands in a "chill out" gesture, then motions to the four feet of space between them.

"I'm not even in the same booth, lady. And it's a dime-a-dozen fortune. Don't see what you're getting so riled up about."

In retrospect, it was so not worth straining his neck for.

"You're still reading over my shoulder. I don't know about your world, but where I come from, that's rude."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Jesus."

Pigs, you may commence flying. Hell, you may commence freezing over.

"That's better," says Alyx primly.

Voodoo sits back in his booth and thinks for a while. Eventually, he turns back to Alyx.

"Look, we got off to a bad start. Name's Voodoo," he says, extending his hand for a handshake.

She hesitates a moment before accepting the handshake. "Alyx," she says. "Alyx Vance. Is 'Voodoo' a nickname, or...?"

"Yeah, it's a nickname. It's what they called me in the teams. SEAL teams, I mean."

Technically, he's still in the teams, but if Alyx asks? He's gonna lie his ass off.

"You work with seals?"

Alyx is not that well-versed in the terminology of the US military.

Voodoo was really not expecting that.

"What? No, hell no. That's the guys in the Marine Mammal Program. They're...they're more or less naval commandos. And like I said, I'm not in anymore. Got out five years ago."

If Alyx pays attention, his answer might almost seem rehearsed.

"So you were in the military."

She tries to keep the oh, God, not another one tone out of her voice. She is not entirely successful.

Voodoo picks it up easily enough.

He decides to tread lightly. Very lightly.

"Yeah. What's that got to do with anything?"

He's going to regret asking that, isn't he?

Alyx pinches the bridge of her nose. "I just--it's nothing. Really."

This man had nothing to do with Black Mesa, she tells herself very firmly. Calm down.

Edited 2011-02-05 05:18 (UTC)

"O-kay then..."

He's still picking up some very bad vibes, but he figures it's best to let sleeping dogs lie.

Probably best to switch topics.

Like, now.

"Uh...how far along are you?" he asks, gesturing to her belly.

"A little over six months," replies Alyx. "I'm told I look further along than I actually am, because I'm having twins..."

"Picked out any names yet?"

"Mm-hm." Alyx smiles. "Hope Annabelle Freeman and Eli Barney Freeman."

Voodoo wasn't expecting that, either.

"Wait, Freeman? As in Gordon Freeman? Skinny dude with really thick glasses, goatee, and a crowbar?"

"Yup." Her smile gets a little broader. "He's my fiancé."

"Oh."

To be fair, Freeman didn't look like much when he first saw him.

"Saw him at the range the other day. He's an okay shot."

"You should see him on the battlefield."

"Why, what's he do?"

Gordon doesn't look big enough to be a machinegunner, so Voodoo's guessing he's probably a rifleman. He'd never guess the answer Alyx'll probably give him.

"Generally? Lead the ground troops and beat the shit out of everything with his crowbar."

Voodoo cocks an eyebrow at that.

"What, in a pahka and beanie? Not a single SAPI on 'im?"

Until he finds out about the HEV suit, he's calling bullshit on that.

"Oh, he's got custom-made power armor. He's not dumb enough to go in in his civvies."

Voodoo grunts. "Good to know."

"So how long has he had that crowbar? You think he would've picked up something with a blade by now."

"In general? Since the Black Mesa Incident more than twenty years ago," says Alyx. "That crowbar in particular? I had it made specifically for him after the Combine vaporized his old one."

"He mentioned the Combine when I talked to him," says Voodoo. "Didn't go into much detail, though. What are they?"

Alyx pushes her plate back a little and shifts in her seat to face Voodoo directly.

"Okay. Before I start, what did he tell you?"

Voodoo shrugs. "All he said was that they called themselves the Universal Union. That and they were putting you guys in the hurt locker. Why?"

Alyx takes a deep breath.

"Twenty years ago, in a secret research facility called Black Mesa, there was an experiment in quantum teleportation that tore open the barrier between my universe and the one next door. Aliens from that universe started appearing all over the planet at random intervals, for years on end. Then, just when it seemed like things were starting to calm down, the natives of the universe next door to that one arrived as an invasion force. They were the Combine. They teleported directly into the hearts of major cities and attacked from within. We call it the 'Seven Hour War,' because that's the amount of time that passed between the Combine's initial arrival and Earth's unconditional surrender. We've been fighting to take back our home ever since."

"Shit. Seven hours?" Voodoo doesn't like the sound of that.

"So if these guys forced a surrender in seven hours...how've you lasted so long?"

"By staying under the radar and moving around a lot, mostly. It's only in the past few months that we've actually mounted any serious offensives against them."

"So you've got popular support, but aren't you worried about reinforcements?"

He means Combine reinforcements, of course.

"We've cut off their means of reaching their homeworld, at least for now," says Alyx. "But sooner or later we're going to have to hit them where they live."

"You guys got a plan? For assaulting their homeworld."

"...not really, yet," admits Alyx. "We're just doing recon at this point."

Voodoo perks up at the word "recon", but then remembers he's trying to maintain a cover.

Ah, screw it. If she asks, he'll say he's a private contractor.

"If you guys need help with recon, I'm up for it. I just wanna get outta this goddamn bah."

The words he'd never thought he'd say.

"I appreciate the thought, but we're using unmanned drones for that," says Alyx. "A human would need a pressure suit and an oxygen tank to go to the Combine homeworld. The atmosphere's like Venus only slightly less corrosive."

"So how're you gonna pull off the assault? More drones? Freeman didn't say much, but I'm guessing pressure suits and O2 tanks ain't exactly common where you come from."

"If need be, we'll get supplies from Milliways. We've done it before."

"Right." He looks around the bar again. He'll probably head outside soon. He's getting antsy.

He slides out of his booth and slings his M4 over his shoulder, then nods to Alyx.

"See you around."

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