Chapter Text
I Respect None of You
The World’s on Fire
Archway 2:43 AM
Sorry, Dr. Freeman, I can’t babysit Joshie today.
Apparently Black Mesa says that “No, you can’t take the day off to watch over a family friend” as a valid excuse anymore.
They need me for something important, so f a n t a s t i c n e w s-!
I hope their future steaks will always be made wrong and they have to pay full price for the fuck up at restaurants.
Dr. Freeman 4:18 AM
Thanks for letting me know
Even if you told me at 2 am
Why are you even up that early are you okay
I’ll see if someone else I know can swap in for you
rory (thats me) 10:55 AM
no
im not watching joshie
PAPYRUS KINNIE [DON’T ANSWER] 10:58 AM
Well
That’s cool
They call you in today too or something?? Or are you just being lazy
rory (thats me) 11:02 AM
yes
to both
PAPYRUS KINNIE [DON’T ANSWER] 11:03 AM
Great. Thanks!!!! Guess ill fucking die then
rory (thats me) 11:05 AM
yeah i guess you fuckin will huh
Arc stared blankly out of their left passenger side mirror, looking almost as if they want to sleep as they sit in their Honda Civic. They rub at their eyes with the heel of their hands, exhaling slowly. “Fuck.”
They climb out of their car, snagging the insulated paper cup full of ungodly sweet and sugar-packed hot chocolate. From there, they quickly lock everything up and begin the trek to the tramway. It’s another day in Black Mesa, the sun is bright as hell, there are clouds in the sky, and Arc’s very salty that they don’t get to spend time with the literal embodiment of sunshine.
When they stand at the tram station, they do their best to nurse the still warm cocoa in an attempt to be as discrete as possible. It doesn’t exactly work, and Arc sighs a little under their breath as they catch in the corner of their eye one of the usual security guards making his way towards them.
“Afternoon, Dr. Fall.” Arc makes a noncommittal noise, hazel eyes briefly skimming over the guard’s nametag. Last name Richard, huh? That’s a little unfortunate. “‘Fraid that I can’t let you onto the tram until you get rid of your contraband.”
Arc says nothing, merely turning their full, undivided attention to the security guard. Their eyes meet, and Arc puts the cup to their lips and drinks the whole thing without blinking. The guard blinks a little, evidently not expecting that to happen. He must be new here.
“What contraband?” Without looking, Arc tosses the cup over their shoulder resisting the urge to grin as they hear it clunk into the trash can. “I see no smuggled drinks.”
Richard makes a noise caught between a cough and a snort of amusement. “Alrighty then, you’re all set to go. Good luck today!”
“Yeah, you too! Don’t die!” Arc replies cheerily, as Richard goes to type in the code to open the tram’s sliding door. They briefly glance to the side, even with the partial covering they can still tell what the code is. 3-7-9-1.
With a little hum, Arc heads on in, taking a seat and resting their bag on their lap, ignoring how the intercom chimes it’s usual spiel. Yes, they know it’s 12:10 pm, yes, they’re aware that they’re going on the blue line to the Biomedical and Cybernetics Labs. It’s not like they’ve gone this same route for the past 2 years. Honestly, they oughta remember who shows up to work, would probably save them 10 cents on energy not to have the lady do her usual spiel.
As they wait for the ride to go through a frankly ridiculously long route, Arc pulls out a sketchbook from the depth of their bag, uncapping their ballpoint pen and begin doodling. As usual, they go for their usual warm-up of unusually round and chonky pigeons. Arc smiles a little in contentment, humming a little as they draw the world’s fattest flying city rat. The next thing they know, the tram makes a dinging noise, signifying their arrival.
They quickly shove everything back into their correct spot and waits patiently for the other guard to open up the door to the tram. It’s the usual person, and Arc, for once, recognizes the woman as she approaches. “Hey, Chloe, nice to see you. Heading home soon?”
“Sup Fall, you’re early again.” Chloe greets, the blond sending Arc a friendly smile. “Yeah, in like, five minutes. Gotta clock out but I’ll be home free. Good luck with the HEVs today.”
“That’s awesome, man, I wish that I could go home. I won’t need luck though.” Arc grins, bouncing a little on their heels. “Just gotta do some course runs today, and then we’ll be in the home stretch."
“Hella.” With a nod, the door the tram slides open, and the blonde allows Arc to quickly sidestep her. They walk together in step as they approach those weird bay doors that are usually set up in the lower level labs. Chloe makes a few beeping sounds as she presses the keys. “Alright, you’re all set. You go, you go and kick some ass, you funky science bean.”
The door makes an ungodly noise as it’s hydraulic hiss, metal screeching as the doors slowly open up. Arc rolls their eyes at how dramatic this all is. It takes even less time for Arc to reach the locker room, though they do take a moment to hang up their jacket and replace it with their usual lab coat.
Checking through their bag, they make sure to grab their passport. They still don’t understand the whole ‘needing extra identification’ regulation that got added like, a few days ago. Maybe Dr. Breen finally lost his marbles, the dickwad. People rarely even travel if they work at Black Mesa, what’s the point of carrying one around?
As they exit the locker room, Arc makes a weird yelping sound they collide with someone short. “Guh - Hey Rory! Good luck today on the MK 12 resistance capacitors on those new Powerlegs™- Anyway, gotta go!”
With that, Arc skitters off to their work station as fast as they can in an attempt to hide their shame at nearly knocking someone to the floor like a bowling pin. Oh god, they hope that their ears aren’t red because their face is on fire.
There is, maybe, no place on Earth that Rory hated working at more than Black Mesa’s Cybernetics Department. The whole place had just been scooped up and relocated next to Biomed, and – even if Rory actually liked bio-medics, worked a lot with it – the people here were even more disrespectful towards them.
Everyone in Black Mesa was so fucking disrespectful.
This was, usually, the only thing they really thought about as they went through the motions of getting out of bed and getting ready for work. Man, fuck work.
Fuck this stupid bus stop, fuck not knowing how to drive, fuck the hour and a half they sit waiting to go to work at the most pretentious bullshit facility in the country. Should have opted for Aperture. At least they’d probably have decent transportation options.
The entrance was the same. Waiting for the tram was the same. The cup of green tea they carried with them was the same. They were late, which was the same. It was déjà vu on déjà vu on déjà vu. They both thanked and cursed their brother for putting in such a good word for them here. Mostly cursed, these days.
They could almost certainly feel when the security guard laid eyes on them. Could absolutely feel him walk up behind them. Rory had not been careful with their drink. Hadn’t remembered to keep it hidden. Christ, would it kill these people to lighten the fuck up? To just… let them have a cup of tea? What harm was a cup of tea going to do?
Rory doesn’t turn around when he speaks. Doesn’t care which of the ought-to-be-nameless guards it is. Just wants to get through their day.
“We have this conversation every time you come through here.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
They turn towards him only as far as necessary, hand the cup off to him a lot harsher than they need to, silently willing it to spill over onto him. It doesn’t.
He punches in the number to open up the tram. Rory stopped memorizing the daily codes months ago. Rory doesn’t care. If they die in one of these things, so be it. At least then Gordon can sue them on their behalf. Get enough money to finally get out of here. Live comfortably for the rest of his life, make sure Joshua is taken care of. Their whole family.
Sad little thoughts like that are all that’s on their mind as they take a seat in the tram. How little they and their brother truly made working here was, no doubt, tied to some bullshit internal pay discrepancy. Because what the fuck else could it possibly be, at this point? Gordon was one of the most qualified people they’d ever seen – he was, like, top of his class at MIT. Or, close enough to it. For him to finally compare pay to Rory and see that they were so… similar, that hurt. When was there going to be some kind of union?
Unionizing. There’s a thought.
The ding of the tram finally reaching its destination was both welcome and unwelcome. Took them out of their socialist daydream, back into the real world. They had work.
Some young guard they’d never seen before lets them out, doesn’t waste time on small talk, just a nod and a step to the side. People don’t like talking to Rory. Rory doesn’t really mind it.
Rory doesn’t mind it. Rory doesn’t think about any of the people here. Rory thinks about finishing work, going to get drunk at Gordon’s apartment while he isn’t there, and passing out on his couch. Rory thinks about calling their parents and telling them they were right. Rory focuses on getting to the locker room as soon as possible.
Rory did not see Dr. Fall exit said locker room until it was far too late to slow down. The impact would have knocked Rory on their ass if they weren’t too surprised to follow the laws of physics, apparently.
Dr. Fall visibly scrambles to find something to say. It’s endearing if a bit annoying. Like Rory has room to talk, though. “Guh - Hey Rory! Good luck today on the MK 12 resistance capacitors on those new Powerlegs™ - Anyway, gotta go!”
The huh on the what? Powerlegs™. Yeah, okay. Shit. That was what they were working on. Right. Gotta… get to work on that. Go serve, like, The Man, or whatever.
“Hello, Dr. Fall! Right on time, just as usual. Great job!” Dr. Howard Coomer greets, a cheerful smile on his face as the youngest of their crew rounds the corner to the room where all of the newest HEV suits are lined up and surrounded by the glass containment units. “This means that we can get started, as we all know, today’s the day in which we test the newest model of the HEV project, the medical support.”
Arc pauses taking a note that there are a few scientists that they don’t recognize. Right, this was technically also a showcase. Like everything, Black Mesa had to make sure that even if projects were near completion, they need to be constantly retested. Which means they get to talk. Wonderful.
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Arc Fall, and I’ll be your informer for today.” Arc begins, standing up straight and squaring their shoulders as they directly address the observation team. “The M.S. HEV, standing for Medical Support in Hazardous Environmental Conditions is the newest in Black Mesa’s HEV line. Unlike our classic HEV suit, which is meant primarily for the containment and processing of hazardous materials, as well as the forays into the Xen border world. The M.S. is designed to take more of a, you guessed it, support role similar to that of a combat medic. In this case, however, you have a medic with a built-in hospitalization suite.”
There’s a few nods of assent, and Arc waits only a moment to allow them to absorb the information before continuing. “The M.S. Mark I is much different in appearance and form, as you can see when compared to its sister, The HEV Mark IV in the chamber to your left. Dr. Howard, if you will?”
“Right away, Dr. Fall!” Dr. Howard takes that as his cue, walking over to the central station and typing into the keys. There’s a positive chiming sound, and Dr. Howard smiles as he hits two buttons.
With a low hiss of re-compressing air, the two HEV suits are revealed in a dramatic display. The glass sliding away, weird vapor escaping the tube, and Arc discretely rolls their eyes as the assembled peanut gallery makes a few noises of either surprise or interest. “The M.S. is built for speed and increased dexterity which is important. Considering that in the event of a disaster, you want your first responders to be agile on their feet, yet unburdened by the suit so they can reach possible patients.
“The HEV mark IV is much bulkier in comparison to the M.S. This is all intentional, of course. This is done to protect its wearer from blunt force trauma and mitigates damage due to the design of its reinforced exterior. However, this extra weight and sheer mass of the suit sacrifice agility for protection.”
As Arc says this, they watch as the curious group of scientists approaches the chambers, though they keep a respectable distance away from the suits. Arc feels like preening a little, like a proud birdy, at the looks the Mark I is getting. “Some of the main differences that you’ll notice right away are the boots. The Mark I is equipped with kinetic boots, meaning that it absorbs potential energy from impacts and falls, converting it into speed. This allows the wearer to reach sprint speeds even at a walking pace from stored power.
“The gloves are equipped with a network of various sensors interwoven into the fabric. This allows the wearer to check another’s vital signs. There’s also a set of pads that act similar to a defibrillation unit, and can be used to resuscitate a patient. There are also compartments, as seen by those grey panels with the three horizontal bars on the outer thigh, where supplies can be stored. They’re lined with insulators, meaning that certain materials can be stored safely.”
Emphasizing this, Arc walks over to the suit’s side. Three of their fingers press against the horizontal bars, and the side compartment pops open. “Now, the other difference is that M.S. has a set of containers on it’s back.”
Dr. Howard, taking another cue as Arc nods at him, hits another button. The chamber makes a low electrical hum, the suit visibly rotating and revealing the containers on the back.
“These containers are the most important part of M.S’s system. The central tank is used to primarily store various healing chemicals and other materials such as Insulin, Blood Plasma, Adrenalin, and Glucagon. There’s also a set of enzymes that are able to replicate and replenish the supplies if mixed in with right material, such as the solutions in Black Mesa’s medical stations.”
“What about the tubes on the side of the central tank, Dr. Fall?” A woman asks as she scribbles something down on a clipboard.
“Those are the input and output connectors. Basically, to extract the materials from a med station, you take the input and link it up to the med station’s output faucet. This can be stored in the input’s containment tube, or immediately transferred to the central tank. The output, the one in green acts the same except it’s made to channel the required chemical to either a med-kit or another HEV unit.” Arc explains, briefly tapping the output with an index finger.
“Much like the Mark IV, the M.S. is equipped with an energy shield, however, the M.S. is manifested in a manner similar to a honeycomb, with interconnecting sections, making it slightly more resistant to compensate for the lack of armor. This completes this section of our review.”
There’s a polite round of applause. Arc takes a moment to stop by the control panel, reaching for one of those small bottles of water that Howard always seems to have on hand. They down it in a few second, glancing at the recycle and making sure no one's looking, does an epic slam dunk into the waste bin.
Arc takes a final look over their work. It’s rare that they get to admire the potential product of their own making. Howard claps them on the shoulder, a wide smile and a cheery “Excellent speech, Dr. Fall! You have a way with words, why- I don’t think I’ve seen the observation team look so interested.”
“Thanks, Howard, I guess people like what I have to say” Arc smiles, face flushing a little as the praise. “So, who’s gonna be giving them the demonstration?”
“It looks like it’ll be you.” Howard sighs a little, and Arc immediately gets a vague sense of doom, their body stiffening, and all happy feelings swirling down the drain. Howard’s voice is almost a whisper. “The M.S. The AI, she won’t take anyone else. It has to be you.”
Arc falters for a moment, taking a look at the assembled crowd and swallows nervously. Oh boy, Arc can talk but- performing is hard. But it’s true. Most assumed that an HEV suit’s assistance program was non-sentient. But that was just something people overlooked. The HEVs were chatty in a sense.
So when the Observation team announces that they’d like to see the M.S. in action, Arc steps forwards with a smile full of false confidence. Stepping into the chamber and allowing the suit to get put onto their form piece by piece.
Luckily, they don’t have to do the demonstration.
There’s a distant rumble, and a burst of green energy, depositing something that makes a hellish noise. Arc, stuck in the containment unit until the mechanics finish the suiting up process, can only watch in horror as the world goes to hell.
Rory is greeted with a smiling Dr. Arnold Coomer the moment they open the door to the lobby of the Cybernetics Lab. He’s… the same as always. Same as all the other Dr. Coomers, something Rory learned to never question. Some Black Mesa nonsense. They had their theories.
“Late as usual, eh, Mx. Freeman?”
They push past him, having to stop themselves from shoulder checking him. Knowing he’s going to try to tail them to wherever they were required today. Like he doesn’t have his own work to do in this fucked up Capitalist nightmare society. “It’s Rory.”
He smiles wider, somehow. They can’t even see it, but they can hear it in his voice. “Mx. Rory Freeman!”
“Just,” Rory grits their teeth, trying to keep their voice from raising. They don’t want another email from their superiors about yelling at coworkers. “Just… Rory.”
“Just Rory!”
It was the same conversation they had every day. He would forget tomorrow, and they’d do the song and dance of name correction again. Rory was sick of it. Everyone here had something deeply wrong with them.
They exhaled hard through their nose as they prepared to enter their assigned lab. They… were late. Again. And, no doubt, their coworkers wouldn’t be happy, even though it had only been about fifteen minutes. No green tea to calm them down.
Inside the room, their coworkers – all ten of them – were huddled around a small computer screen in the corner. Rory couldn’t tell what was on it, but they silently thanked it as it let them slip in unnoticed behind them. They had just enough time to put their papers down and scatter a few of them around their desk, to, uh… make it seem like they had been working before one of them turns around.
It was Dr. Jackson, a guy much younger than Rory, who spots them. Younger and smarter, who deserved to be here so much more than a person like Rory did. He waves at them from his spot in the huddle, practically bouncing with excitement. “Hey, Rory, when did you get in here?”
“Uh… like, fifteen minutes ago?” Rory lies. You know, like a liar.
“Oh – shit, congratulations on being on time!”
“Yeah. What’s up with the watch party?”
“Your brother is in the test chamber in Anomalous Materials, this is… this test is big, Rory. Didn’t he tell you?”
“I mean… yeah, but I don’t really care about anything he does? Like, on principle.”
“Uh. Okay, just – you should come see. We asked Dr. Bubby to set up the livestream, and he actually said yes! This is going to be so fucking cool – oh! Oh, they’re – come over here, come watch!”
The shitty, low-end speakers crackled with audio from the Anomalous Materials test chamber. Someone, some scientist Rory would never speak to, was telling someone to be careful with the subject of the test – like… slower than molasses drips off a spoon? There were people yelling, and Rory’s coworkers were giggling at what was being said. They couldn’t hear the rest of it.
To be honest, they did want to watch. It was important to Gordon. But they’d have to… stand so close to people they don’t get along with in order to do it, so that’s a no-go.
“No thanks. Got stuff to do.”
Dr. Jackson’s face falls, slightly, but he just shrugs and looks back to the screen regardless. Not really caring, in the end, whether Rory was included or not. Go off, dude. Rory didn’t care either. “Suit yourself! You can watch it later, maybe.”
Rory hums in response, trying their hardest to reach the outlet under their table with their phone charger. The one they weren’t supposed to have.
Over the speakers, louder than the molasses guy, comes an older scientist’s voice, “ – I’m going to fucking explode!” Well, wouldn’t that be something? Rory laughs quietly from under the desk, checking their phone just out of sight of the cameras. Gordon was mad at them for not watching Josh still. Blaming them if he’s late. Ah, well. It wouldn’t be the first time.
A frantic shouting over the speakers, again, and horrified gasps from their coworkers almost coaxes them out to have a look. But then the power blinks out, and, and – the ground shakes, and the ceiling falls in, and Rory, for a moment, genuinely thanks Black Mesa for investing in reinforced steel desks.