Untitled HL2 Fic
Notes/Warnings:
So, I used to do HL2RP on Garry's Mod back in the day. This is a character I used to use and her story during the Seven Hour War. It uses a head canon I used to have, where the events of Half-Life 1 occured in 2000 and the Seven Hour War took place a decade later. I don't remember all the details, but it's not consistent with the most agreed upon timeline for HL2RP nowadays.
Mild descriptions of war and gore I guess? Also it's just kinda cringe, but fuck it I don't care.
Paris, France - 2010 - Hour 3 of the Seven Hour War
“Synths, coming onto our position! Multiple squads plus a crab!” shouted a soldier, just outside of the triage tent. Another battalion went by the flap of the tent, their boots thudding on the pavement of the Champ de Mars.
Traci Loman stood next to her current patient, her scrubs stained with the blood of those wounded against the world’s invaders. Her patient lay there, passed out due to his pain, a blast of dark energy from one of the synth’s weapons having removed a good portion of his left arm. His heart rate was steady, not having lost much blood; the plasma had instantly cauterized the wound
“He’s steady! Who’s next up?” she asked, looking to the combat medic opposite her, the bangs of her medium,blonde hair getting in front of her hazel eyes for the moment. She took off her dirtied gloves and re-tied her hair before taking out another pair.
“Do you speak English, Miss Loman?” the man responded, replacing his gloves as well.
“I speak some, yes,” Traci replied, speaking a decent bit of English.
“Good. Next for treatment is Flight Sergeant Hedston from the Royal Air Force. He’s just woken up and is starting to ramble. I believe he’s in shock,” the medic said, looking towards the entrance of the tent as another wounded man was brought in on a stretcher, screaming in pain. “I’ll take care of him. You get the Brit,” he said before rushing off towards the new arrival.
Traci cleared her throat, thinking back to the time she had spent studying abroad in America. She stepped into another area of the tent, where a British soldier was lying on a cot, barely lucid.
“Flight Sergeant?” she asked.
“That’s right, nurse,” the man replied, more conscious than Traci had expected.
Traci nodded, examining the chart next to Hedston’s cot. “This says you have a concussion and several broken bones. What had happened?” she asked.
“I was on a supply run from England - to keep Paris’s defenses armed. Plane went down in a portal storm,” he paused. “And now I wake up here to the sound of gunfire and somethin’ about ‘synths’? What in the bloody fuck is goin’ on out there?”
“We are...being attacked. Something came through the portal storms. Uhh…,” Traci stopped to think. “They are organized. An army. Reports are coming in worldwide about them.”
“What are they?” he asked, bewildered.
“The fighting persists as talks happen in New York. That is what we have been told. They are known as the Combine.”
Gunfire continued outside, growing louder. The occasional shout of a command broke the constant noise of it all.
“I cannot explain fully. I have just been here for the past three hours. It seems that they are on the winning side though,” Traci said, biting her lip nervously and breaking eye contact.
“Then...shit. Let me fight, nurse. Gimme a gun and I’ll do my part. I’ll take down as many of these things as I-” Hedston started, but was interrupted. A high-ranking official had entered the tent, shouting something to those inside.
“Gunship! Scatter!”
“What’d the Frenchie say?” Hedston asked, wide-eyed.
Traci looked to him, starting to help him up from his position. “We need to leave the tent. Now.” She put his arm over her shoulder and began to walk him towards the entrance. “There is a ship coming. We need to get underground.”
The two clambered out of the tent, watching as soldiers were showing the way for others, guiding them towards the more building-dense areas near the Champ de Mars.
“To École Militaire station, now! Go!” they were shouting, pointing off in the metro station’s general direction.
Traci started to run, Hedston now on his own feet without her help, guiding her through the maze of people.
“Shit! Nurse, run!” Hedston had shouted at Traci, looking off towards the Tower before bolting off with the rest of the soldiers.
Traci stopped, getting shoved as the fleeing troops and civilians went past. The Combine gunship was at the high-point of firing a beam from its midsection, the laser guidance aimed directly at the Eiffel Tower.
It fired, leaving Traci frozen in the spot out of fear. The beloved landmark melted in the middle, collapsing with a screech of bending metal. It rammed the ground with a deafening thud, kicking up a whirlwind of air as it fell, crushing dozens of people beneath it.
Tears streaming down her face, Traci turned, snapping out of her daze, and joined the rest of the crowd.
Shh... don't wake her up.
