HALF-LIFE 2: EPISODE ONE: Be still my beating heart

I hate these Razor Trains. You see them gliding about the world all the time, and my stomach turns when I think about what’s inside them.

Now I’m standing face-to-face with the contents. Stalkers. Gordon and I have just contained the Citadel’s core and are using this train to get the hell away from it. But it’s full of Stalker pods. Those poor creatures, former humans. The thought is too much.

And then we crashed. De-railed, we tumbled over and over in the darkness. I came to rest underneath an upturned Stalker pod with its occupant snapping and screeching inches from my face. Fear washes over me, panic drips from me, my heart beats a heavy pounding in my chest.

But he’s with me. At my side. He pulls me from the creature. Saves me from the terror. He holds me as I cry into his chest, but I realise that my heart hasn’t stopped pounding. It’s beating faster, but so much less painfully.

It’s warm. It’s love. He doesn’t even need to say a word, just hold me. His eyes, those burning green eyes, staring deeply into mine. If we weren’t underground and heading through the hell-choked tunnels I’d have kissed him.

The moment love blossoms. Mutual care. He doesn’t need to speak. I know he will never do anything but be there. Next to me.

Gordon and Alyx, together to the bitter end. Be still my beating heart, except when he holds me again. I hope it happens soon.

HALO 2: Not even me

It all happened so quickly, I’m not even sure how they missed it coming towards me. Those vile Brutes, always be mindful of those so quick to betray another species.

I was assured the Elites would merely be cast out, not murdered in their droves. But for power, I lusted for power. For the final end of all others, of the Ark’s salvations from the Flood and the destruction we wrought.

I yearned for Halo’s cleansing flames to absolve me of my sins. But there is no salvation here. A regretful being am I. Mercy was my name, I gave none even though I craved it the most. Ironies of a wasted life.

All of the most careful planning and faith in the Path has led me to this point, clutching my neck as a Parasite digs its tendrils deeper. I will not yield to it. I will not give it the satisfaction.

Truth, Regret and I. We plotted and preyed, twisted and betrayed, and for what?

Regret is dead. Truth has betrayed me, the Elites. It’s all gone, dust to the winds. Tartarus was called from my side as he reached to save me. I am alone on this landing pad, suffering the failures of my grand designs.

The Great Journey waits for no one, not even me.

The Demon strides to my side, staring in the direction of the departing ships.

“Your pal, where’s he going?” His faceless visor stares down at me.

My last gasps of clean air, choked only by the Parasite’s tendrils allow me a parting shot: “Earth...to finish what started. And this time...none of you will be left behind.”

He pulls the Parasite from my neck, but the damage is already done. A scream is all I can manage before the end.

Truth’s last words ring in my head: “The Great Journey waits for no one, brother. Not even you.”

Not even me, and for once Truth wasn’t lying. 

ARKHAM KNIGHT: Super weapons and creative accounting

Seriously, the amount of money it’s taking to put together this operation is almost the same as the national budget of a small country.

I don’t really know how the hell I’m supposed to be budgeting this endeavour. Why do they even need an accountant? There’s no budget to keep to. Every time I get to the bottom of one pool of money they point me at another.

I have no idea where these people are finding all this money. They built up an army of drone tanks, militia forces, aerial drones, watch towers, barricades…essentially everything you’d need to seize and hold an entire city.

Then there’s this Special Projects Division I keep seeing on my budget sheets. They’re pouring millions of dollars into it, something called Cloud Burst and Project Armour Knight appear as line items on at least four balance papers.

I work and work for weeks before curiousity gets the better of me. I start pulling a few late-night shifts and hack into the system to find out more about the group’s plans. Reams of data unfold before my eyes, terrifying things, horrendous plans, weaponised chemical dispersal, and an armoured suit that looks…like…Batman’s suit?

What the hell is going on with this bunch? I can’t be their accountant with all of this stuff going on. I need to tell the authorities, I need to get out of here.

I start printing off the sheets so I can take them to the police and become so engrossed that I don’t even hear the door open behind me. A gun goes off, I hit the floor, my office is burned to the ground.

I was so close…

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I'm taking some cues from a fellow blogger and loosening the update deadlines on my blog. Due to being a father, I've been a bit lax over the last couple of weeks with my insistence on Wednesday and Saturday updates. From now on, I'm going to be using the "mid-week blog" and "weekend blog" titles to keep things updating regularly, but give myself a tiny bit of leeway. Hope this is okay with all youz. Thanks for reading. T.

FALLOUT 3 / NEW VEGAS / 4(?): Musings from a mysterious stranger

I’ve walked the scorched wastelands for what feels like an eternity, although it’s only been 200 years.

Settlements have risen and fallen, vaults have sprung open and survivors have walked in and out of my life. I’ve helped build towns, I’ve saved lives, I’ve watched people try to save others, I’ve intervened, I’ve stayed on the side, always wondering why I was given this gift/curse (I can never decide which it is).

Mutations are commonplace in the wastelands. Super Mutants, Ghouls, Rad Roaches, all results of radiation’s effect on living cells. Me, I was blessed with rapid cell regeneration, rendering me effectively immortal.

At first, I used this gift for the task of rebuilding the world, but I received no thanks worthy of my time. I’m an immortal, a God among the normality of human life cycle.

So what do I do now? I follow people. Having stumbled on an ancient cache of stealth boys I decided to follow those I deemed worthy of my time and act as an agent of chance, appearing at random to tip the balances in their favour.

It is my choice whether to act or not. It is my choice to let them live or die. I am truly their superior being and...well, well, well, what have we here?

A traveller has just walked straight out of the Lucky 38, past the Securitrons. Is he an agent of House? An interloper? The next big player? 

Either way, I've found my next project. Will I save you, or let you prove yourself...it's too early to decide. 

HALO 2: Threatening stars

Clouds of dirt and brick fragments fill the air, ricocheting off of armour plates and shattering visors. Pvt. Dodgshon is running full speed towards what he hopes will be good cover from the advancing horde.

He slams into the brick work of the wall, rolling back slightly as he realises he’s landed on a fallen trooper’s dead body. He pulls himself onto his knees and edges close to the wall, trying to pull his head into his body as he does so.

Plasma scoring marks the entire top of his piece of cover, and it’s as if a hail of blue fire is erupting from the sky above him. He lifts his rifle over his head and fires blindly into the horde on the other side of the wall. He hits nothing, but there’s a lull in the fire.

He looks back towards his own lines and sees several troopers screaming at each other and pointing at something beyond the wall. Dodgshon fires blindly over the wall again, and once more receives no return fire. He edges himself closer to the wall, and moves up to look over the top.

Wraiths, their iridescent armour reflecting the sun’s light, are advancing as the Covenant forces pull back. There’s hundreds of them, gliding forward towards the troopers desperately trying to hold Reach. Their barrels raise into the air and they fire their parabolic plasma projectiles as one. Dodgshon stares into the sky as the plasma slowly arcs towards his comrades, blue fire shining in a fully-lit sky. Their impact on the ground is deafening and awesomely destructive.

Dodgshon barely makes it to the ground to shield his face from the blasts. He hears the whirring chaos of approaching Wraiths and screams in pain as the wall he’s hiding behind begins to crumble on top of him. The last things he sees are tiny stars of daylight shining through the collapsed rubble above him. 

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This week's blog was inspired by Halo rather than based on anything particular. I missed this Saturday's update due to a bad soft-shell crab (seriously!). Normal service will resume on Wednesday morning. Thanks.