• Published 23rd Aug 2020
  • 3,559 Views, 337 Comments

Half-Life: Pastel Paradise - I aint no damn brownie



Equestria is in danger. It’s up to the crowbar-wielding physicist, Gordon Freeman, to save the day.

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Expurgation

I rolled to my right, conserving my momentum and using it to stand back up quickly. I pulled a string with my teeth and a chorus of bangs sounded out, quickly killing the bloody-four-blade-legged beast.

I let the string fall from my mouth, where it then sat rather uncomfortably on my cheek, being held on only by a flimsy piece of duct tape.

It sucked, but it worked.

I pressed the magazine release and grabbed hold of the falling object, where I then checked the metal pieces in the plastic case. I popped it back into the weapon when I saw I had a couple left.

After all of that, I continued on. I need to find Princess Celestia and Luna. They can help me. They can get another message out. A warning. Something to warn the citizens of Equestria about these.. things. Creatures. Creatures far worse than what we’re already seeing.

Forget small crabs and electric brown stallions, these things have blade hooves!

But back on track. Celestia and Luna.

I just have to find a way to where they are, and hopefully not run out of ammunition doing it. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Oh.. look at me. I feel like one of those action heroes from Spike’s comic books.

“Yippee-Kai-Hay, motherbucker.” I said in a deep voice, giggling to myself afterwards.

The giggling stopped when I had to roll backwards to avoid being shot and killed by one of those camouflage monsters. I pulled the string, let loose a few shots to the head, and took all of its spare ammunition.

I closed my eyes upon hearing a click, and opened them when the bang went off. My ears rang but I was able to pull the string and fire at the monster I had named (cleverly, might I add) ‘Flashbang’.

The bastards were fast, quick, and the only way you could avoid them was by listening for a click.

But that’s not important.

Gotta keep moving.


“Rainbow, get yer flank back in that bed.” Applejack said, her voice slightly muffled by the pan handle in her mouth.

“No! I can fight!” I said, holding my baton in my own mouth, my voice also rather muffled.

All the while trying desperately to ignore the searing pain in my side. As one does.

“No, ya can’t. You’re inj-“

Clank

Clankclankclank

Applejack immediately went into a more defensive position upon hearing the noise. We both recognized that sound. It was the sound of one of those.. things, walking down the hall. Usually it would walk right past the room.

But this time the sound was close.

Too close.

...

Suddenly, a loud screech rang out as a pair of blades went right through the doors we had closed and locked. The door was ripped off its hinges and thrown to the floor as a bladed monster crawled into the room, with all the grace of a dying monkey.

The foals behind us screamed in fright, and I could tell that Applejack was terrified too. This isn’t your average evil monster. This thing has one goal, and one goal only. A goal that it seems to be great at.

Kill.

Kill everything that moves.

It began to walk closer, and Applejack backed up a step. “Stay back.” She muttered, seemingly talking to it.

It moved closer once more. This thing didn’t understand speech.

“Stay back!” Applejack yelled, charging it and attempting to hit it with her pan.

It jumped out of the way, and landed behind her. I already knew what was going to happen.

But.. Rainbow Dash.. isn’t fast enough. Nopony is.

I shut my eyes, preparing for the sound of a slice and a dead friend. You may think I’m a coward..

but what can I do in this situation?

..

The sound never came.

Two more clangs, and I opened my eyes.

The thing was leaving through a vent on the ceiling.

“What the..?” I muttered.

“What on Equus was that?” I asked out loud, dropping my baton on the floor and rapidly looking around. Where did it go, exactly? Will more come? Will spiders bleed from the walls?!

“Uhh..” Applejack muttered, and then passed out on the floor.

Oh.

I continued to look around aimlessly, for any form of an answer. Did it not see us? No, that’s not possible. It dodged Applejack. Was it intimidated? Also not possible. These things have probably killed an entire castle full of ponies by now.

Jeez. Look at me. I just said a bunch of monsters killed hundreds like it was nothing.

These past few days have messed me up. No joke.

But getting back on track..

“Maybe it.. maybe it didn’t want to hurt us? At all? Maybe it knew that these kids were.. well, kids?” I theorized out loud.

I scratched my muzzle. “It’s a possibility, but it doesn’t make much sense. Why spare US? Why not everypony else?”

I shook my head. Applejack is passed out on the floor. I should probably pay attention to that instead of.. whatever the tartarus just happened. Hindsight can wait, foresight is what’s important.

As I was picking up Applejack and setting her on a bed, I began to think once more. But not about the monster.

‘I wonder what Gordon and Spike are up to.’


The smell of sulfur and cat piss molested our nostrils as we sat on the giant rising elevator. We were out of ammunition, Spike’s bat broke in half, my crowbar had a tiny crack, and neither of us had any armor or were above 10 percent health.

This, I can say, is one of the worst, if not THE worst thing I’ve ever gone through.

And I went through high-school chemistry! Yeah, I know!

Why do you think I went with theoretical physics?

Shaking my head, I cringed at the amount of dried blood that flaked off. That’s so gross. I need around.. 8 showers. 9 tops. Just to clean off my torso.

Motherfuckin-

“Hey, Freeman?” Spike grumbled, interrupting my thoughts. His voice was hoarse from the amount of yelling and screaming done in the past few days.

“Yeah?” I responded, voice equally as tired and gravelly.

“Do you think there’s an afterlife?”

Well, that came out of left-field.

But do I? Do I believe in an afterlife?

“..yeah. I do.” I started, “I’m not Christian, or, religious or anything.. but I believe cough I believe something is there.” I replied, wiping some blood from my lips. Eugh.

I’m dying, aren’t I?

“Good.”

Well, of course. We’re always dying, every day of our lives. The subtle march of time forward. Death is inevitable.

But early death? It’s.. it’s possible.

Do I WANT it to be possible, though? That’s really the question here.

At this point? I’m.. I’m not even sure. I want to save Equestria, that’s probably the only reason I’m still here; pure anger, hatred, contempt and determination.. but it’s tiring. It’s all tiring. My mood and opinions on the topic of saving the world have changed so many times I’m just.. I’m just over it. Honestly. Being the hero has done nothing except fuck up my mental state and make me question ending it all. Never in my life have I been at this point. Even when I was a teenager, the time where hormones are raging and depression is common.. I was still a rather optimistic guy.

But my normal life just seems like a thing of the past, doesn’t it? I’m in way too deep here. Man.. What was I thinking?

I didn’t even have a choice, did I? No, but technically I did, yes.

Damn it.. Why did I push that sample into the machine? I knew it was unstable. The machine itself was unstable, but the unknown material was making it even more so. We were putting everyone in Black Mesa in danger. Women, ch-

Children..

Did Eli and his family make it out okay?

Kleiner. Barney. Did they all make it out okay?

I.. I hope so.

But I need to stop this. Stop this right now. I do this way too often. Reminiscing. I need to man the fuck up, grow a pair, and continue on. I.. am a man. A man. With a dick. A man with a dick. Not a bitch with a tiny dick.

Do I have a masculinity complex? MAYBE! Do I care? NO! Let’s move!

I began to move my arms to stand, only to realize that one of them was completely paralyzed.

Uh oh.

Awkwardly shuffling around, I used my other arm to push myself into a standing position. I had been laying down on the ground for.. who knows how long.

The elevator stopped moving with a clunk as it reached the top.

That was odd.. had it taken a while to move up, or had we gone through multiple cycles?

I hoped, practically prayed that it was the former. We would have been in so much danger if it was the latter.

But ignoring that for now, I looked over to Spike, and noticed he had his eyes closed. His chest moved up and down, so he wasn’t dead. Just exhausted.

I feel ya, buddy.

“But we gotta keep moving.” I muttered and shuffled over to him, tapping him on the snout when I got close enough. His face scrunched up and his eyes slowly opened.

Light sleeper, it seems.

“Hm..?” He asked, before widening his eyes in what seemed to be a panic. “Shit! Did we fall asleep??” He yelled, standing up quickly and drawing his pistol.

I shook my head. “No, just you. We’re fine.”

At least, I think it was just him. Can’t really have cognitive thought in a dream, though, so I doubt I actually fell under.

“Oh thank Celestia.” He whispered, putting a claw to his heart. After a deep breath to gain his bearings, he turned to look at me fully. “So, where to now?” He asked, looking around the environment.

“We might wanna get off this elevator, first things first.” I said, and jogged to remove myself from the contraption- arm flailing weightlessly at my side.

The area we were in now was very red. It was seemingly a bridge between two rooms, the first room being, well, the elevator, and the second room being this new one coming up. It looked like some kind of cave opening, but more.. professional? Like someone tried to make it look nice.

As soon as we walked into the cave-like structure, I took notice of the technology sprouting from the walls. More Xen technology that shouldn’t be physically possible.. standard affair.

When we reached a window, though, was when things got.. weird. Good? Happy? Weird.

We were able to see inside of another room, one that contained strange tubes with things inside of them. Some were things from my world (I’m eyeing that SPAS-12, fuck yes) and some objects were things from Spike’s world. Like a quill and parchment, or a rainbow apple.

Both of us wanting to get the stuff inside, we quickly turned and rushed to the opening in the wall that lead to it.

...But not before crying tears of joy at the holy grail.

A healing pod.

Spike allowed me to go first, and when I stepped inside.. fuck.

It’s better than a hot shower after a cold day. It’s better than peeling the plastic off a new piece of technology. It’s..

It’s better than discovering a formula that works for the elements and energies used in a theory!

My arm regained motion, my bruises and cuts healed, my gunshot wound from accidental friendly fire healed, the burns disappeared. My psyche already felt better, my mood brighter.

I don’t know what I would do without this thing.

Health and Armor now at 100 and 100 respectively, I stepped out and let Spike hop in.

While waiting, I attempted to rub my goosebump-riddled arms only to remember that I was wearing the suit. Damn. This thing that has saved my life on many occasions gets in the way of something I want to do once?! Bullshit! I hate this thing!

I shook my head, chuckling at my own joke. It wasn’t funny.. but sometimes you just need to let out a giggle or two. It’s good for the soul, as they say.

As I finished my thought, Spike stepped out of the chamber.

“Buck..” he muttered. “Augh, man! That feels so good!” He said, showing a rather chipper attitude. “I’m at 110% right now. You have no idea.”

“I think I have an idea.” I said, shaking my head and grinning.

“Anyhow, you want to go kick more flank?” Spike said, pulling out his Glock.

“That gun is empty.” I pointed out. “Ass-kicking might not be too easy.”

“Why you always gotta be such a pessimist Gordon?” Spike said, ‘tsk’ing. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. I saw a new gun in that blue tube room, anyway! Looked like a big black rectangle.” He mentioned, seeming to be thinking back on it. The SPAS..

“Oh, shit! The SPAS! I forgot!” I said, and quickly ran towards the weird technological opening in the wall. I ducked under the passage as I entered the room of tubes.

Searching for a specific object, I damn-near squealed when I saw it.

I reached my hand into the field to grab it, but instantly pulled back upon contact with the field.

That..

Was weird.

The sensation of reaching my hand into the suspension of gravity tube. It didn’t hurt or anything, it just felt so.. different. Like weightlessness and heaviness combined.

Shaking my hand off, I reached back in and grabbed the gun, pulling it out.

I inspected it throughly. A Franchi SPAS-12, pump action. Semi-auto function seems to have been removed, having been replaced by a two-barrel system. Standard Black Mesa security guard weaponry. Folding stocks seemingly missing.. or were never there in the first place. Seeing as how it’s a pump action, though, the stock isn’t really needed anyway. 8 round magazine.

ChkCHK

6 rounds left in magazine, two rounds in the chambers.

I put my finger over the trigger, rubbing it softly. I then put my finger over the other trigger. The one for two rounds.

“Hey!” Spike yelled, scaring the absolute shit out of me.

So much so that I pulled the trigger out of impulse.

...

The safety was on. No rounds wasted.

“You kind of left me back there,” Spike continued.

Realizing I couldn’t be mad at him because what he said was completely true, I instead removed my finger from the trigger of the gun. Trigger discipline. Always treat a gun as if it is loaded. Never point the gun at someone else. Remember the rules, Freeman.

I turned to Spike, and held out the gun.

“Hey- oh, wait, is this the new gun?” He asked, cutting his own thought off. “What is it?”

“This is a shotgun.” I said, beginning to enter nerd mode. “It’s capable of firing one or two rounds at a time, powered by a pump. Instead of using magazines, it uses individual shells. Like the revolver, but without a speed-loader. Allow me to demonstrate,” I said, and grabbed a box of shells from a nearby tube.

I aimed down the shitty iron-sights, and pulled the single-fire trigger.

Nothing happened.

-oh, wait.

I flicked off the safety.

I re-aimed down the sights, and pulled the trigger once more. A loud BOOM resonated throughout the small room as a scatter of buckshot went straight into a cracked rock, cracking it more in the process.

“It fires a spread of shots instead of just one bullet. Now, look.” I said, and pulled the trigger again.

I showed him that I was pulling it, and he gained a look of intrigue. “Why isn’t it firing?”

“This is why, my boy.” I said, and pulled the pump. I then pulled the trigger.. and it went off. As expected.

“Wait, so, you have to pull that thing after every shot?” He asked, seeming to easily catch on.

I pulled the pump, and nodded. “Yep. This gun is usually used either semi-automatic or pump, but Black Mesa seems to have a custom version of it to make it only work as pump action. The reason? Well; I’m not entirely sure. But it works.” I said, shrugging.

“I see. You mind if I give it a try?”

I nodded, handing it off to him and walking behind his back.

He fired, pulled the pump, and fired again.

“What’s this other trigger do?” He asked, putting a claw over it.

“Fires two rounds at once.” I replied.

He pulled it, and could barely hold on when it went off. “Woah!” He yelled, and laughed. “That was awesome!” He pulled the pump, using more strength than the normal pump to do so. Two rounds, two chambers, more effort. Makes sense, right?

He fired it one more time, and chuckled again. He pulled the pump.

He attempted to fire the single shot, but was confused when it didn’t go off.

“Did it jam?” He asked, beginning to inspect the gun. “Or does it just not work like that..”

He continued to inspect, and I let him do so. He wound eventually figure it out.

Though, when he began to look down the barrel, I moved it away from his face and back into my hands. “It’s magazine is empty, guy.” I explained, grabbing the box of shells.

“Oh.” He muttered.

“Now, look, I’ll show you how to reload it.” I said, and pulled out a shell. I popped it in, and continued to do so until the magazine was full.

Going for badass points, I put it vertically off to the side and pulled the gun downwards to pull the pump and chamber the shell.

“Why did you pull the pump after reloading?” He asked.

“That’s how the gun works.” I began to explain. “The pump both ejects spent shells, and chambers a round. It’s like pulling the slider on the Glock.”

He nodded. “I see.”

“Yep.”

...

“So.. who gets the gun?”

We were both waiting for the other to say that. I’m glad he said it.

“There’s only one of them and two of us.” He continued.

I put a hand to my chin.

“You.” I said, and handed it to him.

“What? Why??” He asked, barely holding onto the gun. He didn’t expect me to do that, I would have to guess.

“Because.” I said, and pulled out my crowbar. “Your bat broke.”

..

“Right. It did, didn’t it?” He said, scratching his neck.

“How does that even happen, by the way?” I asked.

Spike was too embarrassed to admit that he had dropped it, and it had fallen hundreds of feet down the elevator shaft.

Freeman would have laughed.

Author's Note:

Uh.. I’m back?

Reasons this mf was delayed for about 8 billion years: video game fun, writing not so much, music playlist got boring

But I bought some new songs, got bored of my stupid games, and wanna be back on the grind. We don’t have much left to go guys. We’re in the end game now.

I love y’all, and..

Thanks for reading!