HALF-LIFE 2: Carry the can

Another day, another beating quota to satisfy.

I keep getting posted to the food dispensers to make sure no one messes with the packets. I kind of feel sorry for them having to eat that shit. I’m not saying my rations are great, but at least it’s recognisable food instead of the powdery crap.

Doesn’t stop me messing with them. Perk of the job. Most of them are too hopped up on Breen’s Private Reserve to remember you from one day to the next. You can mess with them all you like.

Like this one, just standing in the queue waiting for food. I’ll head over and put the scares on her.

“Why were you talking to that man, Citizen?” I growl.

“What man, I never spoke to a man? When?” She stammers back to me.

“This morning in the plaza. Who was he?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t talking to anyone.” She backs away.

“Don’t lie to Civil Protection, we’re here to help you.”

“I don’t...I wasn’t, I don’t remember.” A tear rolls down her cheek as she notices my hand on my stun baton.

“A likely story, I’ll be watching you.” I pull out the baton and hesitate for a moment, before walking off towards the metal wire-frame doors at the end of the hall.

Leaning here all day seems like a good way to look out for people to put the frighteners on. And look here, another one fresh off the train. Time to screw with another newbie.

I’ll do the old can routine. I place a can on the lip of the trash can and knock it off.

“Pick up that can.”

He hesitates, then bends over and picks it up. His eyes are very green, and he looks indignantly at me. This is going to be fun, we got a fighter.

“Now put it in the trash can.” He’s looking at me like he wants to throw it at my head...just you try it and see what happens. I'll wipe that look off your bearded face.