The Chronicles of Mike Boone

[Kevin]

Pretty cool series

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlxbVJHGMic" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlxbVJHGMic</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 41: Insertion


2017, Present-day October


Location: City 7, somewhere below the train station

The light dripping of sewage water could be heard in the distance as six crouched silhouettes made their way through the tunnel. Boone kept to the front, the crazed maniac he had come to know as ‘Bowie’ was right behind him, and four other un-named refugee’s wearing vests. Boone was the only one not wearing a vest. They stopped at a hole in the tunnel, big enough to fit an average sized man. Boone looked into the hole, seeing only train tracks, he looked at ‘Bowie’, skeptical.
“So.. is there a plan for this?”
“Wait for it...” ‘Bowie’ said, a freakish grin making its way onto his face. There were a few moments of silence, when a long howl deep within the tunnel echoed through. Boone looked back down the hole, seeing nothing, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He looked back up at 'Bowie’, who was hopping up and down excitingly, his grin growing wider and wider by the second. A second howl rang through the tunnel, shaking loose debris from the ceiling. Boone stood quiet, until the ground beneath him began to shake, the shaking increasing in intensity with each passing moment. He looked around, white dust from the tunnel was floating shakily to the ground, and loose parts of the tunnel occasionally rained down. At the climax of the quake, a third howl rang much louder, nearly blowing Boone’s ears out under his helmet. Underneath him, a blue bullet of a train shot out from under them. It took a moment, but he soon recognized the train to be the Combine’s main form of transporting supplies. The RAZOR train. He looked at ‘Bowie’, who was smiling at him.
“Ladies first, ‘fearless leader’.” He said mockingly. Boone looked down the hole again, feeling himself shake as the train went past. It was now or never, he thought grimly. He let out a shaky sigh, sitting on the edge of the hole, his feet dangling from the hole.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5zn9afMC1s" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5zn9afMC1s</a>

Boone let out another shaky sigh, feeling his arms shake as he slide forward, and pushed off with his arms into the hole. There was the frightening feel of vertigo as he fell for what felt like years, before the jarring landing on the top of the RAZOR train brought him back to his senses. He landed on his back, feeling himself slide off. He scratched desperately at the surface of the train, trying to find some purchase. He felt himself slide off the roof of the train, when his fingers felt the top of something metal, like a handle. He looked up, gripping the metallic handle with his free hand, bringing him to a jarring stop. ‘Bowie’ stood over him, a twisted smile on his face as the combine lights sped past him. Boone hung there a moment, staring up at him. He brought his other hand up, pulling himself up slowly as the wind howled in his face. He felt a light pressure on his hand, and saw ‘Bowie’s foot lightly pressed against it, his smile not fading. Boone brought his leg back onto the roof of the train car, sliding his hand our from under his shoe. He stood up, nearly falling over at first. He looked down the tunnel, watching the train snake through the tunnel. He turned to ‘Bowie’ “Lets go find a cart with supplies in it.” He nodded, looking disappointed, and signaled the others who were waiting behind him. Boone turned back towards the front, he brought his right foot up, bringing it forward against the wind pushing against him. He put his right arm in front of his helmet, bringing his left forward as they made their way forward. He stopped at the front of the cart they were on, and hopped down into the gap separating both carts. He looked at the door handle, which seemed like the ever famous Combine lock. He brought out the MP7 he was supplied with, aiming it at the handle, and firing a burst into the light. The lock exploded into a small array of sparks, the light going dark. Boone took a hand off the MP7, taking off the lock, and throwing it to the side, the lock banging against the wall and the train. He pushed open the door, walking inside, away from the howling wind. He looked around the room, looking around, the room was stock-piled with crates. He examined a crate to his right, flicking open the lock, he pushed it open, revealing a stock-pile of ammo. He turned towards his ‘squad’. “Find a crate and hide, we may be here a while, feel free to take ammo too, I guess.” Boone made his way into the crate as the others looked for their own, he nestled himself into the crate, moving some of the ammo around and laying it on top of him to camouflage him. He shifted uncomfortably, sighing as he waited for the trip to end.

“Alright, so, as I write this, I’m lying, uncomfortably, in a box of ammunition. I’m about to embark on a 'Near-suicidal’ mission, as described from my 'squad mates’. Oh, and to make it all better, I’m crates away from a mentally insane murderer named 'Bowie’. Cool name, huh? No. Not a cool name. In fact, its the most stereotypical axe-murderer name ever. Anyway, if this is my last journal entry, and someone happens upon this journal. I.. I want someone I can trust with this journal. Zak is a candidate, and.. that scarecrow guy. Funny, I don’t have many people I’m close to anymore. I guess it doesn’t matter now, since not many of them would come to my aid just for one person. Anyhow, enough talk about lack of friends, I sound worse then a.. teenage, schoolgirl, I guess.
Lets finish this.”
-Journal entry 41

 

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvdRi1TY8Bc" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvdRi1TY8Bc</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 42: The time to strike


2017, Present-day October


Location: City 7, deep within the Citadel

The station was dark and empty, the florescent lights painting the floor and the walls a pale blue. Civil Protection officers stood quietly in the station, when the floor began to slowly rumble beneath their feet. The prisoner pods hung on the walls began to rock back and forth as the units quietly waited, waited for the train to come. As the intensity of the shaking was at its peak, the tunnels howled as a RAZOR train speed into the station, grinding to a halt as its door opened to reveal its cargo. A bar connected to one of the carts, and prisoner pods began to ride out of the RAZOR train along the bar. The units began to walk towards the train, picking up crates of supplies and setting them down in the receiving area. The units began to unload the ammunition crates from the train. Boone lay completely still in the box, not even risking to breath. He felt a jarring shake as the crate was set down. He relaxed slightly, allowing himself to breath, when he felt two snaps just outside his box, and felt light pour in. His breathing quickened as he felt the ammunition being moved around, the black gloved hands could just barely be seen through the cracks between boxes. He felt a hand brush against his foot, and felt it pause. Boone held his breath, feeling sweat trickle down his face. The hand moved forward as if about to touch his leg again, when a vocoded voice nearby yelled. “<:: 647E in the crate!” He shut his eyes, awaiting the bullets to tear into him or feel himself pulled out. Gunshot’s rang out inside the station, the station going quiet with only the faint echo of them left behind. Boone opened his eyes slowly, feeling himself alive, he felt relief flow through him. “<:: Check the crates for more of them!” A vocoded voice yelled. Boone stiffened, knowing that it was now or never, he reached behind him for his MP7.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8ynMoCUHfg" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8ynMoCUHfg</a>

A CCA unit slowly approached one of the crates, slowly unslinging a standard combat issue MP7 from his back. He walked on the balls of his feet, his boots lightly tapping against the metallic floor. He stopped just a foot away, pulling the bolt back, and loading a magazine into the grip, and pushed the bolt forward, aiming his MP7 at the crate as he approached. He stopped just before it, and shoved his hand quickly inside the box, feeling for any clothing. He took gasps of air, leaning back. Nothing. He took a breath, calming himself down. He turned, speaking almost to himself. “<:: Come out, come out... so I can kill you all.” Just as he was about to search the next crate, a citizen wearing a hood over his head popped out of one of the boxes behind him, a hood obscuring most of his face. The citizen aimed down the sights at the unit, slapping the front grip of a dirtier MP7 into his left hand, and squeezed the trigger, the gun coughing three rounds, each one just inches from the units mask. He jumped, feeling as if his heart was about to jump straight out of his chest. He turned towards the MP7 wielding citizen. Boone cursed under his breath, quickly beginning to readjust his shot. The unit quickly brought the laser sight to his optic, the laser sight aimed for the head of the OTA-helmeted citizen. The room was filled with gunfire as both MP7‘s lit up. Both enemies stood frozen, when the CCA unit collapsed to the ground, three bullet holes going straight through his helmet, blood oozing from the front of his helmet. Boone breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed out of the crate, looking around, seeing each member of his squad taking care of a unit or two. ‘Bowie’ had a knife in one, and was shooting another in the head with a USP. He pulled himself out of the crate, awaiting everyone to meet on him before approaching the elevator. They all assembled on the elevator, when he turned to his squad. “We need to go up.” One of the members nodded, he typed into the console, when after a moment the lift began to rise. Alarms began to blare as the bio-signal lost message went out. They passed the first floor, as they began to rise, one unit pointed them out, then two, then four, then ten. They began to fire upon the lift, Boone ducked away, the bullets chipping away at the lift and the walls above. He saw a cloud of red mist hover over one of the his team mates, before he tipped forward and fell below. They passed the ceiling of the first floor, all was silent for a few moments. A few moments, until the lift stopped. Boone looked around, surrounded by hallways that led to four different directions. He opened his mouth, when the marching of feet came from the hall to the right. Around the corner, comes dozens of units, armed with USP’s as they begin firing down the hall. Boone ducked down as the first shot hit the wall just above him, he waved his squad to him. “This way, come on!” They begin to run down the hallway, shooting over their shoulders as units begin to turn the corners. They began to run down a corridor with rooms on either side, he turned his head towards an open door, a unit adjusting something on his arm as he looked up at the squad, beginning to charge towards the open door, scrabbling for a USP. Boone swung his MP7 around, strafing as he aimed through the laser sight of his MP7, firing a burst into the panel on the wall. The panel began to short circuit, and fried itself as the door shut close, trapping the unit behind it. Boone turned his attention back to the end of the hall, before he could notice, 'Bowie’ was already taking to example and shooting the panel next to the door that hung open at the end of the hall way. The door screeched as the it began to lower, Boone found himself at the back as one-by-one his squad went under the door. The opening from the door was now shorter then he was, he couldn’t crouch under it without being crushed. He took his own legs out from under him, hitting the floor on his thigh, the momentum from when he was running before carried him under the door. Suddenly his vision lost the red hue he got from his helmet, he turned, seeing his helmet on the other side of the quickly closing door. He quickly reached forward, grabbing the rim of the bottom of his helmet and pulling it in, just as the door closed, nearly crushing his hand. He sighed lightly in relief, taking off his hood and sliding his helmet back on, and sliding the hood back over his helmet. ‘Bowie’ stood silent a moment, a grin on his face. “Damn, you’re one ugly motherfucker.” Boone looked at ‘Bowie’, a glare under his helmet.

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RccLY1xWPz8" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RccLY1xWPz8</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 43: Trapped


Present-day October, 2017, Shortly after Code Black is initiated.


Location: City 7 Citadel, upper levels

As the squad approached a new elevator, Boone felt his radio buzz in his pocket. He reached back, pulling it out, and keying the mic, speaking into it. “Boone speaking, go ahead.” He began to hear the old, groggily voice of the Watcher’s mysterious leader, only answering to ‘Lucky’. “How’ you kids doin’ up there?”
“Oh fine, we lost two guys already, but other then that we’re... mostly fine.”
“Well then, I thought you gentlemen should know that you’re temporarily locked in.”
Boone sighed, turning away from the group, an acid tone starting to make his way into his voice.
“We’re.. what?”
“You’re locked in, but with good reason.”
“There better be a damn good reason, or I’ll tear City 7 apart to find you, you snake.”
“Now, now, no need for hostilities.. we have some of our members trying to breach the door on the bottom floor, but there’ll probably be many other ways out.”
Boone nodded to himself slowly.
“What should we do until then?”
“Hell, I don’t know, just do something that hurts the damn Civil Authority.”
“You’ve got it.. 'Fearless leader’.”
Boone spun his radio in his hand, before sliding it in his back pocket. “I hope we have plenty of grenades...” 'Bowie’ gestured towards a younger male in the corner with a wool cap on his head. “He’s our sapper.” 'Bowie’ said with a grin. Boone nodded, and boarded the elevator, his squad following after them. After going a few floors up, they found themselves in a long hallway, with terminals scattered around the end in the other room. It looked like a perfect place for a trap. He motioned his squad to follow, tension beginning to fill around them. As they walked, he turned to 'Sapper’, holding his hand out for a grenade. 'Sapper’ nodded with a polite smile, handing him two dusty tubes. Boone nodded respectfully, realizing they were grenades after he saw the pin and the dormant light. He could feel ‘Bowie’s grin behind him as he turned to enter the terminal room, he hoped it was because there would because terminals would be exploding. He surveyed the room as he entered, admiring the blue glow that the screens cast. He began to reach into his jacket where he put the grenades, when a beeping-keypad type noise, followed by a metallic groan, made Boone whip around. Before he realized what was going on, two large Combine doors had closed behind him, there was thick glass on each door. On the other side sat ‘Bowie’ with the rest of the squad, a twisted grin painted on his face. Boone ran forward, hitting the glass with his fist. “You son of a bitch!” He sneered. ‘Bowie’ merely laughed psychotically, he turned around, waving for the squad to follow. Boone began to breath heavily as they approached the elevator, leaving him behind in this metal coffin. They loaded onto the elevator, ‘Bowie’ grinned smuggily, while the demolitions expert, ‘Sapper’ looked rather guilty. The two elevator doors pushed forward until meeting in the middle of the doorway, the elevator closed, steadily rising. Boone began to feel himself panic, his chest starting tighten, and his muscles freezing up. If the Combine didn’t get him, hunger or thirst would. He started to take deep breathes, in a faint attempt to calm himself down. He let out a large exhale, going still for a moment, before looking around the room again. The room was filled with computer monitors, there weren’t any vents on the side or on the ceiling. He began to feel himself panic, feeling his helmet starting to lock itself around his head, when something silver among all the blue caught his eye. He staggered forward, getting on his hands and knees under a terminal. He started crawling forward under all the wire, making a path for himself until he hit the wall. He ran his fingers along the silver square, his hand went up and down every few times. It was a vent! Boone sighed with relief, he started to get himself on his knees, digging his fingers on the metal grating, he pulled back, grunting in exhaustion. He relaxed, and then pulled back again, grunting with satisfaction as the vent popped off. He set the grate to the side, taking a last breath of “Fresh air” before beginning to crawl through the vent. The vent stopped abruptly, he looked down and saw that the vent led down towards a darkened drop. He adjusted himself, and slide in feet first, grabbing the edge of the drop with his fingers. He took one of the dusty grenades from his jacket, hanging on one hand, he bent his back, and planted his feet on the wall of the vent. He held the grenade in his hand, staring at the square of light just in front of him, full of computer terminals and information. He stuck his index finger out, hooking the pin around it. With a jerk of his index finger, the pin came off with a satisfying click, the grenade let off a slight chirp, the red light strobed once. Boone chucked the grenade forward, the grenade strobed a second time, another chirp coming from it. Boone relaxed his fingers on the edge of the drop, beginning to plummet. The grenade hit the inside of the vent just before the exit, strobing for the third time, the chirp coming out again, this time more high pitched. Boone felt himself sliding down the metallic walls as the grenade landed in a nest of wires. The red light began to strobe at a much faster rate, the chirping followed. “Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp-chir-” The grenade exploded violently, sending shrapnel and loose wiring around like a tornado. The terminal above the grenade exploded violently, sending the pieces across the room and into the vents. The other terminals became heavily damaged as a result. Boone felt the vent shake as he fell, he looked up, seeing scorched pieces of machinery rain down through the vents. The vent began to level out, similar to a slide, he grabbed an adjacent vent as he slide, climbing into it as the shrapnel shredded through the vent behind him. Boone looked over his shoulder until the last piece, before continuing through the vent he had climbed in, into the dark. 

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcuKVaDzUv8" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcuKVaDzUv8</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 44: Lament for the Fallen


Present-day October, 2017. Shortly after the Citadel is breached


Location: City 7 Citadel, upper level.

All was silent as Boone slide down the vent, the metallic walls bumping against his shoes as he slide. With a jarring bang, his feet smashed into the vent grating, propelling him through into a dark room. He let out a grunt as he landed in something soft and warm, he pushed himself into a half sitting position, a warm liquid starting to make its way onto his hand. He looked down, and realized he was laying on top of a body. He immediately recoiled, yelling out a panicked “Son of a bitch!” He shook himself of the loose blood droplets on his hand, before crouching down to examine the body. He squinted in the low light, noticing a large hole in the mans head. Execution, he thought grimly, standing back up. The smell of rotten flesh began to fill his nose as he looked around, realizing the room was filled with lifeless corpses, all of them having a large hole in their forehead. He began to wonder if these were captured resistance over the years, or if the Combine have already captured these many people over the course of this short uprising. A black blur quickly cut through the space between two bodies, before disappearing in a large pile of dead. Boone slowly unslung his MP7 as he started to hear the light squeaks of headcrabs. Figures the Combine wouldn’t know proper housing techniques and let their own house get infested. He started to make his way for the exit, when the squeaking began to crescendo, until reaching an unbearable concert of hissing and squeals. He turned around as headcrabs of mixed species began to approach from behind.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn1e7UjYS58" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn1e7UjYS58</a>

Boone raised his MP7 to his hips, firing wildly at the parasites as they began to approach. Blood exploded out of two as they fell on their sides limp, when another dodged his hail storm and leaped straight for him, its gapping maw wide open. Boone brought the side of his MP7 to his face, keeping a barrier between the two. The headcrab hissed fiercely, its leg scratching at him as it attempted to get past his MP7. Boone took his MP7, and whipped it towards the wall, sending the headcrab flying into the wall, the headcrab groaning as its leg refused to obey it. Boone quickly whipped around, his breath coming out in gasps as he began to hear the chant of squeaks and squeal increase in volume. He pushed forward, running forward into a darkened room with more bodies, each one covered in more blood then the last. One of the bodies on the floor rose from its slumber, a headcrab nestled on its head. He slowed to a stop out of instinct, and the zombie of a creature forcefully grabbed him on his shoulders, it leaned forward, yelling out in a slowed and distorted voice as the headcrab on top raised itself slightly, revealing the grotesque face of its victim. Boone let out a horrified scream as he swung his MP7 in an arch, nailing the zombie in the side of the head, causing it to tumble to the ground. He looked forward, and saw a rectangle of light ahead. He took a few gasps of air, before beginning to sprint the final stretch of hallway between him and the door. As he ran past, more zombies of different variation rose from their slumber, calling after him as he ran. He emerged into the light of a small hallway, outside of the chambers. He swung himself around, aiming to close the door, when a zombie on all fours emerged from the front of the group. It had a skinny little headcrab on its head and its flesh was gone, revealing only muscle and bone. It let out a horrifying shriek as it pounced forward towards the open door, the headcrab uprooting its frontal half of its body, enough to expose its victims face in a frozen scream, eyes wide open. Boone on instinct fired wildly, he quickly re-adjusted his aim to the left, emptying his clip into a terminal in the wall. The circuits inside the machine began to short circuit, and a metallic door hissed shut, a small bang heard from the other side, accompanied by louder bangs as the zombies attempted to get through. Boone leaned on the wall, putting his hands to his helmet as he attempted to pull himself together. He took in a shaky inhale, feeling himself about to cry, when his radio began to buzz. He took it out of his pocket gingerly, speaking into it. “Boone...” The Italian accent of 'Lucky’ greeted him.
“Boone, we’ve got a tag on you’re friend.” 

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fA8y4M81plQ" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fA8y4M81plQ</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 45: Pursuit


Present-day October, 2017. A few hours into the Citadel being breached.


Location: ION floor

As Two-oh-three rounded the corner to sprint to the control room, Boone was sliding down in incline inside of a vent. Just as he passed an Oh-four, Boone struck. The vent exploded outward as he slide along the floor, a USP match in his hands. The oh-four recoiled in shock, too much in shock to react as Boone lined up his single red optic with the sights on his USP match. Just as he passed the Oh-four, he swung his arm holding the USP to the right, aiming it at the Oh-four before squeezing the trigger. The bullet penetrated through his helmet, blood exploding as he tumbled back into the wall. With his now free left hand, Boone used it to push himself up with what little momentum he still had. His heels tipped forward as he stood upright, sprinting for the unit ahead of him. 'Lucky’ had described Two-oh-three, or Mike Daring, as wearing a armband with the word GEAR on it, with the number 03 next to it. His vest and uniform was stained with oil, and a couple of blood stains, and the unit ahead of him fit the bill. As Two-oh-three entered the control room, he slammed his fist on a console to his right, and two large bulkhead door closed behind him. Boone slowed to a stop in front of the door, slamming his fist on the glass. “Dammit!” He exclaimed. He began to pant as the gunfire began to grow quieter, almost certain Civil Protection was winning. He turned to his right, where a vent hide on the corner of the wall. He turned back down the hall, the gunfire beginning to cease. He quickly hopped forward, crouching down next to the vent as he hooked his fingers on one of the gratings. He could hear two pairs of marching footsteps around the corner as he yanked the vent free, he began sliding inside feet first, when the two units rounded the corner, immediately noticing the downed Oh-four. They looked towards the vent as they saw movement, but saw nothing but the grating nudged into the vent, just as it should be.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNnhEOQZ2ME" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNnhEOQZ2ME</a>

Boone slowly scaled the vent as it shot straight up, his legs and arm spread out as he put his right and left arms up, then pushing both his legs up, and repeating the painful process. As he reached the top, he peered through the grating of the vent, judging by the open skies, he was now on the roof. He saw a body laying down, face up and blood pooling around it. It was a man, black hair, long... it was ‘Bowie’! Boone thought with glee. He looked towards his left, seeing two units. One unit was Two-oh-three, holding another unit wearing what looked like a dress, or maybe a coat, he couldn’t tell from where he was sitting. Two-oh-three seemed to be sobbing as he held the unit in his arms, his head low as the unit remained motionless. He sat there watching from the vent, feeling regret washing over him. After a while, the unit stood, carrying the dead unit off elsewhere, out of his view. Boone whistled softly as he was out of ear-shot, surprised that a unit even had feelings. They certainly barely showed it, he thought to himself. But he felt a light pang of regret stab through him, he hadn’t wished to hurt his friend, atleast emotionally. Boone was about to sorrowfully slide back down, and try to sneak back downstairs, which would be impossible with all those units downstairs, when the vent creaked loudly. He felt himself looking up as the connections between the vent and the wall began to come loose.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41ISNLgDrR0" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41ISNLgDrR0</a>

The vent continued to creak as it struggled to keep together, the vent tilting back slightly with each creak and groan. Boone began to feel himself panic, certainly a fall down thousands of flights wouldn’t be very good for him. He took the risk, and loosened his grip on the walls, causing him to slide down the vents at dizzying speeds as the vent continued to tilt backwards. As he looked up, he could see the sky through the window of light from above, and felt himself being pushed onto the wall of the vent behind him. He released his grip, now sliding along the bottom of the vent with his hands and legs. With a final groan, the vent released its grip on the wall, plummeting down. Boone was thrown upwards, about a foot into the air, slamming into the vent face in front of him. Boone could feel the wind howling in his ears as the vent tilted in mid-air, feeling a large sense of vertigo as he seemed to float inside the vent, but he was just slightly faster then the wall behind him. As soon as he felt the despairing weight of death push down on him, he was brought back to a reality when a jarring crash knocked the wind out of him. He took a few troubled breathes, his ribs screaming with each breath he took. As soon as he regained control, he noticed the vertigo was gone, and that he was laying on the wall of the vent. He looked towards the small square of light ahead him, seeing the blue of the combine walls ahead of him. He began to inch his way forward towards the light, the vent creaking as it began tilting backwards. He began to crawl faster, gasping in short gasps of pain as his ribs were set on fire. He felt the vent tilting back, almost at a thirty degree angle as Boone continued to climb. He grabbed the edge of the exit, pulling himself up as the vent remained at a forty-five degree angle. He pulled himself out, feeling his head and chest escape into the light as he saw the outside of the vent, balancing itself on the edge of a wall on the Citadel. Judging by where he was, he was a few floors below ION, and someone blew a hole into the wall of the Citadel. Lucky me, he thought as he began to feel the vent inch forward back into a bottomless drop. Boone pulled his legs out of the vent, the vent scrapping along the metallic combine walls as it began to slide back down. Boone crawled onto the edge of the vent, pushing forward with his legs and stretching his arms out as he hung in mid-air. He felt himself slam onto the floor below him, his ribs exploding as he looked over his shoulder, he just caught the vent as it slide off the edge, plummeting to the ground. Boone rolled onto his back, putting a hand on his chest as he breathed hoarsely, the wind lightly blowing outside.

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xX9C0rYqGjE" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xX9C0rYqGjE</a>
Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 46: Descent


Present-day October, 2017.


Location: Citadel upper levels.

The floor was silent, save for the soft scrapping of boots against the ground, and the occasional metallic scrap as a piece of metal brushed against the ground. Boone trudged through the ruined Citadel floor, pieces of metal littering the floor and wires hanging limp from the ceiling. All he wanted to do now was leave this metallic blue hell, but not before dealing with Two-oh-three first. He lightly kicked a piece of metal on the floor, watching it skid along the ground as it stopped with a crash into a small pile of more metal. He quickened his pace slightly as he saw the elevator shaft, the doors were pried open, and as Boone looked down the elevator shaft, it descended deep into the Citadel, so far Boone couldn’t even see the bottom. Boone shifted his helmeted head as he looked up the shaft, seeing no evidence of a lift. He straightened out, looking straight as he noticed the rail that held the elevator. He looked around, seeing that the part of the shaft he was in was made of glass, showing what seemed to be a large facility, filled with pods. His red optic reflected everything he saw as he imagined what lay inside, he shuddered lightly. He looked down the shaft, then back up, looking at the rail. Boone lowered his head slightly, shaking it from side to side as he backed up slightly. “Boone.. what’re you doing?” He muttered to himself as he bent his knees slightly, lowering himself down slightly. Before he could stop himself, he was already putting his right leg forward, then his left, seeing his legs alternate as he sprinted towards the elevator, looking up as the rail took up his view. He leaped forward. He felt weightless as he flew through the air, before colliding with the metallic rail. He let out a loud grunt as his ribs protested, he felt himself beginning to plummet as he instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around the rail. He leaned back slightly, looking back up at the square of light, a few feet above him. The light reflected off his optic as he sighed and turned himself around, no turning back now, he thought. He loosened his grip on the railing, feeling himself slide down the rail. He loosed his grip more and felt himself slide down the rail at a decently fast speed, he passed through the glassed section, being surrounded in total darkness. “Woo-hoo!” He hollered. He passed into another glassed section, looking around as millions of pods were transported to various parts of the Citadel. He looked around, the light bathing his helmet making him look almost curious. He felt the rail rumble as a metallic screeching from above caught his attention, he looked up, a dark orange square racing towards him as sparks erupted from all four corners. Boone yelled out, releasing as much grip as he dared, feeling himself plummet as he loosely held the railing, the metallic square chasing after. The screeching pounded against his ears as he passed through glassed and non-glassed sections in seconds, not even giving him enough time to examine each. The glassed sections slowly stopped appearing, now being plunged in total darkness as he began falling through what seemed to be different types of floors, for the units. He passed through a section with four hallways splitting off in different directions, he thought for a moment, before remembering it was where him and his team played tag with a mob of units, he thought humorously. He was suddenly bathed in an artifical blue light, he looked around, and excitingly recognized it as the first floor. He released the grip of the rail, atleast with his legs, tilting his body slightly as he swung his legs back, before swinging them forward, like a sideways swing set. He released his grip on the rail, like when someone jumps out of a swing set when at the highest swing, only sideways. He was thrown forwards, landing on his side as the burning square screamed past into the lower levels of the Citadel. He got on his hands and knees, coughing into his arm as he turned to look at the scorched elevator railing, and at everyone mindlessly staring at him. He shakily stood up, everyone wore resistance vests, so they were atleast on his side. He raised a hand in greeting, his other hand holding his sore ribs.

[{69th}Cdt.rwbl[???]]

//We need more of this, and we need it now. Good that it hasn't died like most journals/stories after the first page or so...

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA6zH7gKSr4" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA6zH7gKSr4</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 47: Cleaning House


Present-day October, 2017.


Location: The Citadel, first floor

Boone ran the back of his hand on the front of his jacket, loose dust fluttering to the ground as the army of Civil protection vest-wearing resistance stared at him. He lightly shrugged, opening his mouth to speak when someone began desperately pushing their way through the crowd. He stopped just a few feet in front of him, panting as he attempted to speak. After a few more moments, he held up his index finger, continuing to breath hoarsely. Boone nodded softly as the man straightened up, his breathing back to normal, he began to speak. “Lucky needs to talk to you, he’s in an old building nearby.” Boone nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way. He turned around, beginning to push his way through the crowd as Boone followed close behind. A metallic groaning was heard ahead of them, a light hissing accompanying it, and light began to pour in through a rectangular hole. As they made their way closer, Boone found it was a large bulkhead door. They emerged outside, being bathed in a dark orange sunlight. The clouds were tinted a dark yellow as Boone looked up into the sky, the sun a perfect orange disk as it began to set on the horizon. The sun was just dark enough to be able to look straight into it without turning away.Boone, under his helmet and his gauze facewrap, smiled lightly as he took a deep breath of fresh hair. The man he was following turned as he walked, flashing a smile. “Beautiful, ain’t it?” Boone nodded without hesitation. The man chuckled lightly, turning back around as they made their way out of the proximity of the Citadel, now striding through the streets as their shadows stretched along the grey concrete. As he walked, he saw others walk the streets in resistance vests, they would nod in his direction, before quickly turning away. Something about it just didn’t seem to sit right with him as he began to think about it. They then turned into a nearby alleyway, making their way through a maze of brick and concrete before being met with a small rundown building in the heart of it. The man opened a rotting wood door, holding it open as he gestured Boone to enter. He walked inside, feeling alert as he was exposed to the dusty air. This building most not have been touched in months, judging by the lack of care, or even interaction, to the building. He walked up a flight of stairs, as he reached the top, he saw a handheld radio in the middle of the floor, a lamp shining down on it from above. As he began walking forward, he noticed bunks and trunks scattered around, surrounding the handheld. He picked up the radio, holding it uneasily in his hand. He felt a sense of dread wash over him, he had seen things like this before in spy novels. One way or another, the radio was going to explode in his hand, and probably in his face. He let out a soft exhale, quickly bringing himself back to reality, he brought the handheld to the mouth of his helmet, speaking into it. “Y’ello?” Lucky’s gravely voice came through the radio. “Ah, good to see you’re still alive my friend!” Lucky exclaimed. Boone turned slightly, looking over his shoulder periodically. “No thanks to your friend 'Bowie’, he left me in a terminal room to rot.”
“Oh.. well, I’m sorry to hear, where is the crazy little bastard anyhow?”
“Dead.” Boone had trouble keeping the happiness out of his voice.
“Ah.. well, thats too bad, it seems as if he failed...”
Boone looked over his shoulder again, before speaking. “Failed what? May I ask.”
“Getting rid of you.” A loud wooden bang was heard from below as the door below slammed open. “You see Boone, you’re not exactly the most... loyal, I’ve had here in the Watchers, so I’m afraid this is a Coup.” Boone felt his breathing quicken as his vision darted around the room. “You understand, besides, I wasn’t willing to share City 7 with you anyway.”
“I’ll see you in hell, you fat Italian bastard.” He sneered.
“Hehe, I’m sure you will...” He taunted.
“Goodbye, Mister Boone, or, as they say in Italy, Goditi la tua morte!” The radio clicked off, Boone threw it to the floor in anger, the radio exploding into diodes and wires.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0mbW3DlfFA" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0mbW3DlfFA</a>
(// You can either listen from the beginning, or skip to 2:25 or 4:12, whichever tickles your fancy)

Boone stood alone in the room, filled with a sense of betrayal and hate when the soft pitter-patter of feet against wooden stair-casing brought him quickly to his senses. He quickly made his way out of the spotlight, he hid behind one of the bunks as a resistance member made his way around the corner, MP7 in hand as he aimed towards the spotlight, only to find he wasn’t there. Two more followed behind as they looked around the room, including the person who brought him here. He swiveled around the corner of the bunk, the sights of his USP match lined up with his single red optic as it burned with hate. The one in front saw this movement, his eyes widening as he began to bring his MP7 up to his eyes, but was far too late. Boone’s USP spat out a single round, the business end of his USP match painting the room a brilliant yellow as the bullet exploded from the chamber. The walls were quickly splattered red as the bullet tunneled through the mans forehead, sending blood and bone fragments into the wall and the two men behind him. He quickly adjusted his aim to the one aiming his MP7, the man looked around the room as he struggled to look for Boone in the dark. By the time his eyes met his single red optic, it was much too late, the room flashed bright yellow as the bullet was sent flying towards its target. The mans eyes widened as the bullet penetrated the large vein in his neck, blood streaming out like a cut hose. He too tumbled backwards as the last man, the one who brought Boone here in the first place, looked in shock as Boone stood from his hiding spot, calmly approaching the man. The man, covered in the blood and bone fragments of his comrades, nervously brought his MP7 to his eye as Boone made his way into the light. With a single movement, Boone brought his hand up, firing into the mans hand. The man screamed, his MP7 clattered to the floor as he looked at his bloody hand. By the time he looked back up, there was no space separating him and Boone. Boone grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer as he shoved the barrel of his USP match into the bottom of his chin, just above his Adams apple. “Now tell me...” Boone began, tears rolling down the mans face as he spoke. “..One thing... and I’ll let you live to see the moon... do you understand?” The man nodded through his tears, his lip quivering. Boone leaned in, so that the man could feel Boone’s breathing through his dormant respirator. “Where... is... he?” Boone hissed. The man let out a choked sob, before yelling out. “The bar! He’s in the damn bar!” Boone nodded, he threw the man to the ground, aiming his USP match at his leg as he fired a white hot round into his thigh. The man yelled out in pain, grasping his leg as he looked at Boone in shock. Boone only shrugged. “I said I’d let you live, I didn’t say I wouldn’t shoot you.” Boone took a step forward, before turning back towards him, bending down and grasping the radio from his chest, yanking it off and throwing it to the ground, stomping down on it once, sending plastic and wires exploding from underneath his boot. “Don’t want you calling friends, now do I?” He turned around after that, making his way quickly down the stairs with only a soft pitter-patter as he pushed his way through a door in the back, racing out into the maze of alleys.

[The Mysterious Stranger]

 Just so you know that it is way too crowded in one paragraph, plus the usage of one word such as "He" and "Boone." Just some mistakes but in the end, it's overall good.

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HY1fEfJ5IYs" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HY1fEfJ5IYs</a>
(// I’d suggest skipping to about 1:50)

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 48: A Game of Shadows


Present-day October, 2017


Location: City 7, the alleyways nearest the train-station

“<:: Overwatch, prep for contact!” As Boone heard the order relayed, his flattened himself against the brickwork of a run down building. His fingers drummed lightly against the grip of his USP match as he listened closely to the soft marching of footsteps around the corner. Judging by the pairs of footfalls at a time, he had to guess there were two or three Overwatch units around that corner. He shifted uneasily from side to side, he had killed a few Overwatch and Civil Protection alike, but could he take on three Overwatch units alone? He had began to think about retreating back and finding another path, when a curious shifting took place around the corner. He shifted uneasily, gulping quietly as he awaited for the helmeted head to come around the corner and see him. He looked down at his shadow, and realized how god damned long it was, and saw the silhouette of the large Overwatch unit towered over his shadow. He weighed his pistol in his hand, still loaded, about three quarters of a magazine. It was now or never, this was his best chance while the unit was off-guard.
He whipped around the corner, pistol arm aimed outward.
The Overwatch unit was an elite, its white helmet recoiled as Boone suddenly appeared from the corner. If its helmet could make facial expressions, its single red optic would probably be very wide. It let out a startled “<:: Shit!” as it recoiled back, fumbling for the OSIPR slung on its back. Boone began to take in things all at once as everything seemed to happen in slow-motion. There was one unit, wearing the standard Overwatch uniform, looking down an alleyway, about two yards away. There was another one looking down the way the small squad had come, it wore a black and red uniform, what were those type of units again, grenadier’s? It didn’t matter much, things began to almost speed up as Boone fired a burst into the Elites helmet. It let out a vocoded yell, it tumbled backwards, holding its 'face’ before tumbling to the ground, still, but Boone wasn’t sure it was dead. The black and red unit begun to turn around, it held a Spas-12 in its gloved hands. Shotgunners! Thats what they were!  Boone’s left hand swung around from behind him, supporting his right hand as he adjusted his aim at the Shotgunner, who was now looking at him with fiery orange optics, as if it were angry. Boone began squeezing off rounds into the units chest, it flinched with the first shot, shrugging it off as it were nothing, but then doubled over as the second, third and fourth hit. Boone took another moment to aim, before firing once again, straight at the top of the Shotgunners helmet. Blood exploded from the top of the helmet like an ecstatic water hose. The Shotgunner toppled forward onto the ground, its shotgun clattering on the concrete. Boone saw the last unit already aiming at him from the corner of his eye, or single-optic in this case. He let go of the pistol with his left hand, swinging his pistol arm towards the OSIPR wielding unit as Boone dove to the right, firing blindly. The unit unleashed a hail fire of pulse rounds where Boone was standing, the stream of rounds began to follow Boone’s path, but not before the third pistol round struck the unit right above the kneecap. It let out a vocoded howl of pain, letting go of its OSIPR with its left hand as the unit grabbed its leg with his left hand. Boone hit the ground with a jarring crash, letting out his own scream of pain as he skidded along the ground. His right arm feeling as if it were on fire, he lifted his USP match to his optic, emptying the remains of the magazine into the unit. The unit let out another yelp of pain as a round struck his thigh, and then tumbled backwards as the rest peppered through the units vest and into its chest. The unit lay still on the ground, its leg twitching slightly as the biosignal-lost transmission howled from its now dead vocoder. Boone took pants of both relief and fright, feeling as though Death had just passed his house on the way to another appointment. He gingerly got back to his feet, wiping some dust from his jacket and his pants. He released the now empty magazine from his USP Match, letting it clatter uselessly to the floor as he slide in a fresh one. He felt around the side-pockets of his backpack, still a few mags left. It would last, or atleast he would make it last. He turned towards the setting sun, there was about a quarter of it left still on the horizon from where he could see it, but there was probably more of it then he could see. He began wishing he had found out how long it is between sunset and nightfall, but that won’t matter in a matter of.. minutes? An hour? He sighed lightly, making his way forward, he hefted up the Spas-12 the Shotgunner had dropped. He weighed in his hands, and shook his head, too much weight, not enough benefit, not without ammo. He released his grip, letting the shotgun clatter to the ground next to its dead master. He turned towards the sun a final time, tugging on the strap of his backpack, before setting off.

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ONr9X-8l2Q" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ONr9X-8l2Q</a>

Fifteen minutes later, in an abandoned apartment complex.

Boone stood outside of the worn apartment complex, his shadow stretching up the worn brickwork wall. He put his left hand on the door handle, his USP match held tightly in his right. He glanced behind him, checking to make sure no one was behind him. Nothing, the only sounds were that of the wind and the occasional rustle of loose garbage. He pushed down slowly on the door handle, still scanning the alleyway behind him as the mechanisms inside the door slowly opened the door as he pushed down. There was a final click, and the handle wouldn’t budge any farther. Boone stood still a moment, scanning the alleyway one last time, before turning himself back to the door.
He pushed forward, the metal door groaned metallically.
As soon as he opened the door, the air began to smell faintly... and not in a good way. As he entered, the smell grew stronger, the air hung heavier, threatening to make its way through his helmet, and... and.. his head twitched to the right, his eyes shut closed. A moment passed as he held his breath, he released it, shaking himself of his fears, although he could feel them lingering in the back of his mind. He took another breath, pausing before continuing his way through the building. The green tint of the air around him made him uneasy. He had his pistol raised, everything was quiet, all was calm. As he made his way into a four-way intersection, he felt himself breathing quicker, feeling as if something were to sneak behind him, he began stuffing that in the back of his head.
When something black with two legs flashed in the corner of his eye.
He whipped around, aiming his USP match down the hall he saw it in, just enough to get a glimpse of a boney foot race behind the wall, and then all was silent, save for his heart hammering in his ears. He stood still, debating whether or not he should see if its still there or continue on his general path. If he followed whatever was here, he could be wandering for hours, and who knows what he else he would find. Besides, he needed to go the general direction of the train station. He started to side-step back the way he was going, keeping his pistol trained on the corridor, before turning around and keeping it trained down the hallway behind him. He was so focused on guarding his back, that when he bumped into a set of double doors, he whipped around and pistol whipped the door, letting out an atrocious bang. He held his chest as he panted, making sure his heart was still breathing as he was sure it had stopped. He looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was behind him. He slowly swiveled forward, he put his left hand on the door handle, lightly pushing it forward.
The door creaked, and echoed loudly in the next room.
Boone cringed, pausing once more, before walking softly on the balls of his feet, scanning what appeared to be a rundown lunchroom area.
The room was littered with bodies.
As Boone walked to the middle of the rather large room, he noticed that most of the dead here wore standard City 7 jumpsuits, and only had a single gunshot wound in the middle of their forehead. He stopped in his tracks when he realized the headshot victims all shared something in common, they were all in a perfect line on the floor. These people had been executed. Not killed, executed, not even given a fighting chance. His left hand balled into a fist, this was why he was fighting, and he wouldn’t stop until the very last bullet. His jaw hardened as he glanced at the other bodies, long claw-like hands, bloodied neck-chest areas.. faces frozen in mid-scream.
Zombies...
Boone shuddered lightly as he took in the stench of the room, the bodies, it started to get under his skin. He whipped around, scanning the room for any movement. In the corner, he could see a figure sitting in the corner, something on his head. Boone felt dread stab through him as he approached the still figure, pistol held tightly in both hands, barrel aimed towards the ground and to the left. As he got closer, he saw the grotesque figure of a headcrab sucking, or I guess in this case humping, the top of the mans head, the man was unnaturally still. Boone looked at the body with a certain sadness, the man never had a chance. He raised his pistol, coming to the decision that he wouldn’t let this headcrab live, nor any further headcrab he met. The headcrab’s six black eyes looked up at him as it continued to process the human, what he saw was almost innocence, fear. He started to grit his teeth, hesitating as his finger put light pressure on the trigger. The headcrab let out a light growl, Boone jumped slightly, expecting the headcrab to uproot and attack, but it didn’t, it just remained where it was. Boone took a soft exhale, he took a step forward,
and fired.
The headcrab let out a sickening squeal as it rocketed off of the mans mangled head, it flopped onto the ground, letting out a light groan as it let out its last parasitic breath. Boone lowered his pistol, realizing just now how loud that all was, still faintly hearing the echo of his gunshot in the buildings halls. How could people keep these damn things as pets? It made him wonder about the poison headcrab he had heard about back in Ineu, he wondered what happened to the little demon, when he heard hoarse breathing coming from the hallway to his left. “Fuck...” He cursed quietly, raising his pistol towards the hall as a 'Fast-zombie’ came stumbling in, and as the moans began to get progressively louder. 

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2dmUJZZFi8" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2dmUJZZFi8</a>

Boone felt himself jump as he squeezed the trigger, firing a frightened shot towards the skinned zombie. The zombie flinched as the bullet struck it in the thigh, it turned towards him, the legs on the headcrab curling tighter on the head of the zombie in anger. The fast zombie began to hunker down, it leaped forward, and began to sprint forward on all fours. Boone adjusted his aim as the abomination charged, the zombie hopped up on the table, before leaping like a skinned frog towards him, claws outstretched. Boone gritted his teeth as he squeezed the trigger, once, twice, three times into the zombie’s abdomen and chest. The zombie let out a pain-filled shriek as it skid along the floor, lifeless. Boone jumped back as the zombie slowed to a stop, afraid it would hop up and start clawing him to death. As Boone pulled himself from together, he began to notice limping figures on the right. Great. He began to make himself to the middle of the room, taking small pop shots at the zombies. Looking up on the balcony, he saw a poison zombie, with poison headcrabs on its back, roaring in an absolute rage. Boone shuddered from the yell, not sure if it were a battle cry, or a cry for help. Nevertheless, he raised his USP match, he squeezed off three rounds in rapid succession. The first round hit the wall, the second hitting the zombie scare in the chest, not even making it flinch, and the third hit a metallic cylinder that hissed as the pistol struck it, before exploding violently. The poison zombie was annihilated in the blast, a burnt corpse tumbling over the balcony railing. As Boone turned towards the oncoming horde, one of the supporting pillars came loose, and came crashing down on top of the zombies in front, flattening the zombies into hideous, skin pancakes. Dust began to flutter around the room, making everything hard to see, and hard to breath. Even with his helmet on, Boone had to bring his shirt up to the mouth of his helmet. He heard a second crash, and became even more blind, another pillar had fallen. He turned towards a square hole in the dusty inferno, he staggered forward, feeling his feet brush against soft carpet as he ventured through. It was getting harder and harder for him to concentrate on the path ahead, he hoped the crashes he was hearing were zombies banging pots and pans, and not the building collapsing. Sure enough, the crashing got louder behind him, and he saw the ceiling cave in in the intersection behind him. He turned back around, spotting a patch of light a couple dozen yards away. He increased his pace, just in time to hear the screeches of a fast zombie behind him, then another one. Just focus on running! He thought loudly to himself as the screeches increased in volume. The light was getting bigger and bigger as he approached, but the dust was also getting more and more thick as he went. He yelped as he felt razor sharp claws dig into his leg, he instinctively lashed out, before breaking out into a full-on sprint. The square of light was almost big enough for him to cover with his hand if he put it an inch to his face, he made a soft grunt and began to stumble. He flailed his arms about as he continued to fall forward, his legs still pumping him forward. With what seemed like a sickening crash, he fell on his chest on the soft carpet rug, his hands could just feel the concrete on the outside. He took heavy breathes, trying to breath through the dust, when he looked over his shoulder. An entire army of zombies were stumbling towards him, with dust raining down from the ceiling, and a fast zombie less then a yard away. Boone rolled over onto his back, squeezing off the rounds still left in the magazine of his USP at the fast zombie. The zombie fell on its face as multiple pistol rounds pierced its legs, it looked up at Boone, and furiously began crawling towards him with its arms. It clawed at his feet as he crawled on his back out of the building, his upper torso bathed in sunlight as he squeezed off another round into the headcrab sitting atop the zombie. The zombie flopped to the floor, and Boone let out more sickening coughs as he emerged from the building on his back. The zombie raised a skinless arm as if as a final challenge, before the ceiling above it caved in, piercing the zombies back, and cutting off any way back. Boone, still coughing from the amount of dust in his lungs, flopped on the ground on his back, panting and coughing. He tilted his head back slightly, and caught eye of the train station.   
Thank god.

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXT50IgwvmY" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXT50IgwvmY</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 49: When Worlds Clash


Present-day October, 2017


Location: City 7, just outside the Train station

Boone gingerly sat up, making a sharp breath as his ribs protested. He lay a hand on them, still feeling them burning as they did earlier, perhaps he really had broken them, or atleast bruised them. He began to get to his feet, taking it slow as his ribs continued to plead for him to stop, but he couldn’t just lay there! He finally got to his feet, left hand held against his sore ribs with his right hand holding his USP match. Boone hunched over slightly, breathing in deeply, trying to curb the pain. For once in a long while, Boone actually felt like he wasn’t going to live through this one. Boone straightened up slightly, he turned around, looking towards the train station. He could just leave if he wanted to, go back to Ineu Pass and forget all about this. He stared at the train station, when it hit him. What would he be coming back to? A close circle of friends, who were either dead, missing, or gone, that blasted poison headcrab, Antlions at every turn, and that Scarecrow guy, who was really just a guy he had met along the road. What was his name, had he ever introduced himself? Boone shook his head to himself. No, he was staying
and he was going to finish this.

With a soft grunt, he began to make his way to the benches in front of the large, Combine monument. He extended a hand, letting his fingers run along the black, twisted steel fence. He stopped at a wooden bench, gently sitting down upon it. He dipped his head, feeling now was a better time to get some sleep, or atleast to get his thoughts together. His fingers lightly drummed against his thighs as he thought of what to do. As he thought for a moment, he had a simple plan form in his mind, one that would probably get him killed.
Kill ‘Lucky’.
Save Mike Daring.
It was a simple as that, and he actually had a chance of surviving the way everything was going. He nodded slightly to himself, when the distinctive sound of a pistol click ringed out to his right. His head swiveled around, and there he saw a unit in the standard uniform, stained with a mixture of oil and bloodstains on his vest and pants, aswell as a little bit on the bottom of his mask. He also wore a datapad-looking device on his right wrist, the one that held the sidearm. Boone’s heart seemed to skip a beat, here he was, staring into the soulless optics of someone who had been his friend, and here he was, aiming a pistol in his face. The unit’s optics seemed to stare through him, almost as if Boone had murdered his wife or something. The unit’s arm shifted slightly as his forefinger pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened, but a click.
The unit pulled the pistol back, examining it from the side, as if shocked it would do such a thing. Boone wouldn’t have been surprised if the unit would swear that he would find the pistols family and slaughter them. He slowly stood from the bench, letting out a light groan as he held his side, his head bent down as he straightened up, staring at the unit. The unit saw him stand, he seemed to tense, staring at Boone as if ready to block whatever Boone would throw at him. Boone brought his hand up to the mouth of his helmet, clearing his throat, before speaking. “Two-oh-three, is it?” The unit’s head pulled back lightly in surprise, relaxing slightly as he spoke in a vocoded voice, but one that still had that same light, humorous tone of his friend Mike Daring. “<:: Yes.”
“Then you know who I am.”
Two-oh-three looked down slightly, as if completely confused and distraught about this whole conversation. He ran a hand down the back of his neck, scratching it, before looking at Boone. “<:: No.” Boone swallowed down a mouthful of saliva. Ouch, that stung. He took a small step forward, trying to seem non-hostile and friendly, but Two-oh-three took a step back. Boone stopped, before speaking. “Its me... Mike Boone? We.. we were friends.. when we were both transferred here.” The two remained silent as they stared at each other through their optics. The wind blew, and the sun was beginning to set, night creeping along the horizon. Finally, Two-oh-three’s right hand touched the top of his helmet, bending his head down lightly as he seemed to be painfully pulling up memories one by one. He breathed hoarsely through his vocoder, looking as if he were about to shed the uniform and become the man he once knew, when he simply straightened up, staring at Boone, but still in the manner that suggested he didn’t remember him. “<:: I remember...” Two-oh-three began. “<:: You were.. you were here... an-and...” Two-oh-three trailed off, taking a half step back. “<:: I-it.. it can’t be..” Two-oh-three said, shaking his head, trying to deny it. “<:: I.. I would never... ever.. be friends with a 647-E..” Ouch. Two-oh-three took heavy breathes, before shaking his head again. “<:: I can still correct this...” He reached back, that was when Boone spotted the MP7 on his back. Boone held a hand out “Don’t!” He pleaded. “I came all this way! I fought through resistance and Combine alike, to free you!” Two-oh-three paused, and shook his head. “<:: You’re the enemy...” He drew his MP7, sliding the frontal grip into his left hand. “<:: I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Boone stood in shock as his friend, the only one outside of Ineu he felt he could trust, aimed an MP7 with an intent to kill him. Boone looked up straight in his optics. “So thats it then?” Two-oh-three stood silent, the light sound of his gloves tightening around his MP7 worried him. Boone’s jaw tightened, before he quickly aimed his USP match that he held in his right hand. He fired a quick shot, aiming for the MP7. A spark flew from the side of the MP7, the bullet ricocheting off the side as Two-oh-three dropped it to the floor. Boone threw his USP match to the ground, sprinting forward, and pushed his weight against him as he attempted to tackle him to the ground. Two-oh-three seemed to catch him by his torso as he ran into him, the Combine must of done more then just brainwash them. After a moment of struggle, Two-oh-three pushed Boone back, causing him to tumble onto the ground on his back. Two-oh-three came surging forward, standing on top of him, his right hand forming into a fist, which caused two claws to come out of the datapad on his wrist, the claws looked eerily like something from the Predator movies. He used his left hand to pin his chest to the ground as he raised his right hand into the air, basically laying on him now. Boone stared at the claws for a moment in resignation, when he remembered his USP match, he looked to the right, seeing the fallen pistol just within his reach. He quickly looked back towards Two-oh-three, left hand balled into a fist, he swung, striking him in his faceplate. Ouch! Harder then he thought, but he had gotten the reaction he had wanted, it had disorientated Two-oh-three. Boone stretched his right arm, feeling the strain when his fingers found purchase. He pulled the pistol closer with his fore and middle finger, before gripping it in his right hand. He whipped around, shoving the business end of his USP match into his right thigh. Two-oh-three looked down, frozen for the few milliseconds it took Boone to pull the trigger. Two-oh-three let out a vocoded scream, tumbling off him. Boone crawled to the right, watching as his friend grip his leg, blood pooling out from his thigh. Boone got wearily to his feet, he almost considered raising his pistol and killing him, but he couldn’t bring up the courage to do so. He began to stagger away, when he heard a metallic rustling behind him. He turned around, only to see Two-oh-three with a USP match in his hand. He fired, and he felt as if a tiny train had just plowed through his stomach. He tumbled back, and fell to the ground. He couldn’t move, he felt no feeling in his fingers, and it seemed like a feat of legend if he could only wiggle his toes. He could feel the wet feeling of his own blood as it left his body. This was finally the end, it was finally over. Boone laid his head back, about to except death.

When an explosion brought him back. It had been the sound of multiple grenades, he bent his head back, seeing the debris that blocked the left path away from the train station had been cleared, and it led directly towards the slums, which lead to the sewers! Boone began to crawl towards the path, his stomach screaming almost as much as his ribs were. Despite his pain, he managed to stand to his feet, he looked towards the path, and saw members of the Watchers heading his way, or more, Two-oh-three’s. He began making his way forward, when he got within a yard of one of the members, he looked up, and fired a round straight through his jaw. Blood exploded from the man’s skull, he flopped to the ground in a bloody heap. Boone began running at a fast a pace as he could manage, firing potshots at his enemies behind him. He heard the sound of gunfire ring out behind him, concrete from in front of him exploded from under his feet as he ran, sending loose bits of gravel flying. He looked over his shoulder, seeing that Two-oh-three was firing as well, well, firing at the people that were shooting at him. Was he doing this for Boone? Or for his own benefit? Boone didn’t care, he swung about, nearly falling to the ground, and began firing at the resistance aiming at Two-oh-three. He nailed one in the back, getting the next one in the back of his knee. That would have to be enough. He swung back around, and break for the opened hole in the debris. He heard a second, larger explosion behind him, but didn’t think it best to go and find out.

Boone had been running for a solid five minutes when he felt as if he had been stabbed in the stomach. He slowed to a stop, gripping his side as blood continued to seep out of him. He breathed heavily, tucking his pistol in his jacket, and unbuttoning it. There wasn’t a hole in his jacket from the bullet, but there was one in his shirt. Lucky shot, he had shot between the two buttons. He was deep inside the slums, no one would jump him, hopefully. He swung off his backpack, flipping it open and rummaging inside. He knew he packed a roll of gauze, he needed it for his head gauze wrap! After a moment of despair, he felt his hands brush against something soft and papery, he grabbed it, and pulled it out. Gauze, yes! He set his backpack down on the ground, sitting down slowly against the brickwork wall. He pressed the end of the gauze wrap on his bullet wound, he bite down hard on his teeth, feeling them grind together as he began to wrap the gauze around his stomach, or more around the spot between his stomach and his rib cage. He looked up slightly, trying to keep his screams down his throat. He used enough of the gauze until the wound was completely covered and felt tight enough. He felt around his back, not exit wound, good, good. He looked back down, tying a basic knot with the rest of the gauze. God, he could already see his own blood through the bandage. He had the knot finished, he quickly tightened it, and thought he was going to black out. He looked up, moaning a tad loudly before relaxing again. His head dipped down as he controlled his breathing. That would keep him from bleeding out until he got back to Ineu for proper treatment, and hopefully starve off infection, if thats how infections worked. He slowly picked himself up, grabbing his backpack and slinging it on his back. He put his shirt back down over his stomach, and re-did the buttons on his jacket, feeling around his right breast for the outline of his USP match, yup, still there. He then began the trek through the maze of buildings, knowing this is where he went when he escaped to the Outlands the first time.

[The Joke]

//You can come back for a big hug from Zakky!

[Darkshifter98]

// Looking forward to it

[Darkshifter98]

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agp6_IqNVLw" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agp6_IqNVLw</a>

Chapter 7: Resistance


Day 50: Decay


Present-day November, 2017


Location: City 7, Slums district, by a large, decaying warehouse

The sun had set, City Seven was covered in a shroud of darkness, it was almost unbearably quiet in the slums district. It was silent in the slums, the only sounds being heard are that of the soft whistle of the wind, and the soft sound of trash being blown across the concrete. In the middle of a small clearing of buildings, there stood a warehouse, or maybe something like a greenhouse judging by the windows on top. The warehouse had obviously seen better days, holes were common throughout the sheet-metal walls, the windowed-roof had large, gaping holes in the glass. It was a depressing sight, a place where people escaped to the Outlands, a place of freedom, now nothing more then a quiet grave.
But legends never die, and this warehouse, despite its desolateness, still served its purpose of safely transporting people to the Outlands.

Amongst the silent, the light tap of shoes against concrete lightly echoed in the clearing. Out of darkness, a figure suddenly began materializing out of one of the dark alleys. The figure held his side with his left arm pressed against the region between his ribs and stomach, his right hand held a USP match. Boone tiredly looked up, the warehouse was in his view, as ruined as it was, it was still functional. Boone was coming home. With a soft whimper, Boone began trudging forward, as if the soft blue light the moon gave caused resistance. He twisted slightly to the right, shoving against the old, metallic doors. They gave a soft creak as Boone put more force, eventually using both hands to shove the door open. The metallic door flung open, and then came off its hinges, letting out a horrific bang as dust exploded from around it. Boone wrapped his left arm around his torso, pressing his arm against the wound while his left hand held on. He coughed lightly as he breathed in some of the loose dust. He looked at his shadow as it stretched along the dusty old floor, his shadow black against the soft blue. Boone made his way forward, looking around for that carpet that hid the metal grate. He heard the grating of metal under his feet after a moment, he looked down, he was standing on a carpet, noticing the blood stains on it stabbed Boone with a pang of regret. He dug his foot underneath the carpet, flinging it away as it mushroomed into more dust. Boone bent down slightly, the grate was still left half open, he grabbed underneath it, pulling it away from the hole. He slid in feet first, holding himself up with his right hand, his back pushed against the wall. He reached forward, grabbing the grate with his pinky and ring finger, pulling it closer to the hatch. He loosened his pressure against the wall, sliding into the hole just enough so he could put the grating over the hole, but not perfectly sliding it in, so others could escape. With that, Boone loosened his pressure on the wall, feeling himself slide down the wall, into the dark of the sewers below.