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Half Life... *Epic trailer narrator voice pause* ...Tha movie.

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Where we are at in life is completely diversified into sense reaching out to all lifestyles. Whether it is gangsters, law-enforcement, smoking, skating, or cooking, life it is at its end on demanding more people to fill in, unless you are intending on joining them at evert muscle and brain cell's devotion to that hobby. The most dangerous, yet magnificent thrill to our universal nature of hobbies, is exercising properties of anything into the use of a specific function. Pharmaceutical medicine, drugs, addictions including caffeine and sugar, and even an educated use of mind-blowing electromagnetic technologies can be so cool, yet intensely dangerous. This is why dedication and education is important to the prideful community of engineers and scientists is important to Black Mesa research. As we all know, the slowest of the runner-ups may as well tighten up the loose screws or take out the trash. Hahahahahahah...

Gordon laughs with colleagues on the mono-rail transport system of the highly advanced and expediated growth of a new culture, religion, or so you may ponder what an Area 52 may be. Research wouldn't be so steady without the most fit scientists who can circumnavigate around a ton of small tasks vs. jumping to the right conclusion of a big problem. However, mental stability is the entertainment of the security staff. Being dedicated rubies of science doesn't come quick without applied submission and persistence. Behavioral guidelines and locks do not enforce guarantee of creativity. This is why another life beyond its geographical location is Mars in its time of breathing atmosphere.

Little projects are only alpha-drive for the feature lollapalooza yielded in delta facilities, governed by gamma power and support. In fact, if gamma was a Black Mesa definition, not a radiation, it would be the centre in which all its energy supports, almost like a giant engine. However, the focus isn't as important as the staff's pleasure evoking a new family of residence among the great world's flight and trajectory of possiblity given from birds against big cats and dogs. That being said, we have the biggest news for you!

When you have the time to think about it or watched enough movies, aliens of paranormal ability is as interesting as ever getting to know why crickets aren't as big as us furry creatures! Unfortunately, being millions of light-years away is an intimidating distance to be sending out expensive equipment and having to wait for the next century for results. So why not consider that chance as close our imaginations. Take a second and a breath of all minerals and properties of the world, and even the genetic code of proteins and enzymes of snake venom, and imagine "what if venom could be better injected than digested?" If you don't see where this is going yet, what if all that was needed to skip years of space travel was as close as imagination itself? What if it all was just a mirror of that alien world we'd like to know as Zen; a mirror indeed! A crystalized message combined with only the greatest utensils applied from teleporting atoms, and the fast power of gamma radiation is but two of only several gods of creation needed to make it happen! Where does it begin? Right here where we live, within us, pointing right to you, Zen! Maybe a friend of terrestial beings isn't long-awaited for you, after all!

As every new journey will dawn an entire new starting point. That is one entity; one man; Gordan Freeman, that is. Only the greatest condonation is adverted with space. The greatest of thanks is waiting in the hottest rooms of all facilities today. Freeman, most illuminated. No physical slack excuses any effort in his brain. That's why he is the greatest. Today starts work like a home-run flying high in the air. It's soaring is the anticipation of the next greatest thriller movie. His colleagues arrived much sooner than the anticipated efforts of Freeman on such a day.

"When you push that crystal in, just know I am with you every moment that passes." Barney, security unit, greets Freeman off the mono-train.

"My body is always first in research. I can both see, yet almost reach you with my iris, and touch you with my wrists when they contract by the beam. My pleasure is in every screw of this place, especially an idea of a perverted black hole, exploited by alien worlds." Gordan's love and brevity is an equivalant feature to a colleague and a coca-cola, only reaching outwards to necessity. "Besides, the room is the nutshell of protecting Earth in the first place. We wouldn't take any other risk without a locked door and pornography." Barney laughs as Gordan exits to the corridor of beeping and the wailing waving mainframes keeping the powers to be emitted across the galaxy.

"How would it be to have the very creatures who don't have to eat in order to survive right here in our laboratory? Mobile plants that feed by an umbilical chord! As of course, be careful when trying to pet them! That is if any decides to pop out at you in the electrical processessing, instead of the given chambers in the back," a scientist greets Gordan at the glass doors, entering the observation deck of the teleportal assimilator chamber. "They'll be exciting. I'm sure our infrastructure could only hospitalize, rather than place them in fear. The small ones, anyways." Gordon's posture and gaze is timeless, waiting for the microtelecommunial radiators warm-up.

"It gets no better than this."

"Either way, there will be dozens of discovery analyzing ideas to work on after we push the buttons and he rolls that baby back into its womb!"
"First seats to the end of the world," the gamma-gauge monitor hunches his back, gazing through his glasses at the large, dark room, as Gordon walks into it.

"Are you ready, Gordon?" A loud, thunderous calling from the intercom awakes like a committee of politicians calling from the past. Discovery is the new culture above gym shorts, color-coded shorts, basketball, and your picture on the wall. We all become stars of this moment.

Gordon waves the all-seeing eye "A-okay" with his hands to them, readying the cart. Every spiritual energy was a new video-card invention, lighting color into a new world; a new dimension upon Earth. Of what must have been eons of blood, heat, or just the dim, crimson red is litten into light upon a second of unison with the mirror-messenger concentration crystal to be ultra-synthesize the meaning of electricity and space all started with a little light of what comes from heat; a breath-taking energy.

"Light the match for us, Gordan!"

"At your will, son!"

If the wheels of the cart squeaked it was nothing to the mass of their solar-sprit. Each inch across the metallic floor needn't another home-run, but of it's own. What would it be like to be Alpha or Omega of God? That reality that bore heavens of water, temperature, civilization, and spirit.

At pause of every memory in life, a thunderous electrical roar steals the strength of consciousness of everyone in the building. Yet the power, amplitude, and its growing to a deeper trajectory of creation grows deep and thunderous.

"Gordon! Get out! Get away!"

If there was a heaven and you could visit it for vacation from Earth, Gordan's mind enters its dream. Welcome, you greenling beings! At teach shock of nervousness in his system, he relocates to a new yonder of reality of the otherside of the galaxy. That Zen borrows just a few moments of his one life back to the Black Mesa.

"Where did he go?"

"Where did HE go? I gotta go! What's going on!?"

"We don't know what's going on, but it's nothing. It's not an explosion! This is supposed to happen."

"Since when?!"

A dark threat enters Freeman's heart. A prospect of danger besieges before his eyes, where his heart stays in his communicated location on Earth. Be it creatures of lightning, a brain of brains, or light-beings chasing daily activities of their terrestial land, they need no hospitality but themselves. As life has its end, so will his work be as soon as this hysteria reaches peak. He stares into the sensory eyes of that alien creature and sees a terror not of joy, but hobby. That heart-changing event returns Gordon with no Earth to live on anymore, but a whole new reality embarked with evolution's time meets Eminem's lyrics sees past the entire facilit like X-ray keeping the color.

The destruction and utter flashing and darkness of the chamber doesn't shock Gordon's new world, but as human bearing a life-protection suit, there is only one thing to do: Escape.

To be continued...

Self-criticism... Technology can enable the crystal's unison without the momentum provided by a human being, but a machine. Therefore, Gordon may as well be a unversal scientist, who also happens to be a technician and an engineer. That is, unless sacrifice was necessary for optimum research.

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Xen is Zen. If a tree falls in an unseen visleaf and get's culled, does it make a sound?

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No, absolutely not. If it does make a sound, it is taking up space. The rendering engine seems to be made for compatibility for more obsolete computers, rather than paid-in-hardly-earned-cash computers(scientifically accurate for expensive computers). Therefore, you wouldn't want a computer making a sound from something unseen.

Pending... logical analysis... puzzle-block compounding... Seeking time and aperture for puzzle-block-compounding for uncovering an accurate history of Black Mesa...

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Emotions solidify in Gordan's veins as he returns to reality of his original being. Having thrill and antipathy unweary and immune to his enhanced body and mind, Gordan goes straight to task, heading towards the hay-wire hangar door.

"It's not over yet. We have them. We just need to capture them! It's only the beginning!"

"We have no idea what they're capable of-"

"We just have to keep our eyes peeled and take each room one at a time.

Gordan approaches the observation deck and enters. The scientists are in panic.

"Gordan! It's happened! We've made success! Gordan, -"

"It's a disaster. The half-life of the reactor has caused a residence cascade. Within hours, we could have every species of that universe wash themselves on the shores of this facility."

"Contact everybody on radio. We can clean this up ourselves, you see? You can help us, Gordan."

"What will we do; throw fire blankets over them and tie each one down?"

"Don't you see the monitor back up? An electrical surge is the worst thing that has happened here, but look at them! They aren't so big and they don't look so tough!

Gordan taps on the monitor. A scientist in a specimen receipt laboratory falls into a seizure by the sounds of the hound eye. It's running and hopping around him, as though it responds to every experience his brain is exposed to its large eye.

"I think we lost the tact of the other world out there." Gordan speaks.

"It's only the beginning. It's only been a minute!"

"I'm talking about the United States, UK, or Asia. In other words, they seem like they don't know it, but this is war." Gordan grabs a fire extinguisher near the exit of the darkly lit room. The window of the door separating them from the hall looks of dark water and fainted alarm lights fading onto the walls into its brightness.


The Other Guys

"I've never been so aroused. These are sexual creatures! Just a few blood observations and I want to eat one!" A scientist walks into the room of colleagues gathered into safety, holding a small, soft, fleshy alien.

"How did you catch that creature? Has it attacked you?" They gasp in murmers of chatter.

"None that I have yet to see. This one was sitting still. I thought it was dead so I decided to pick it up."

"Isn't it cute?"

"If the machines are running, we can see how afraid he is. This one just seems secluded and weary."

"Hello there, welcome to Earth!" Bobby shouts to it, with his hands held in front of it. His old voice vibrato is authentic for welcoming.

It moves in his hand, struggling to get out and drops to the floor motionless, then rotates itself towards everyone.

"I think it's getting to know us better. Hello there, creature!" Art takes a step and tries to pet it.

Woohooo! It jumps onto table beside them.

"Umm. It doesn't seem to be aware of our gratitude of its existence." Remarks Frank.

The headcrab rotates itself towards towards him. Like a pin art toy, it forms a smiley face out of the hull of its body.

"Look at it! It's making a face!"

Everyone laughs.

"And it's getting more defined! What a spectacular creature!"

The headcrab mirrors the skeletal structure of Frank's face and polishes itself, facing him in a minute's time.

"Does it stop?" In a shocked voice by Frank. "It's like it's trying to become me now or something."

As it attempts its final touches with a faint pinkish of Frank's old face, it lowers its body, and leaps upwards, attaching its bottom onto Frank's face, immediately connecting its digestive genitalia to his skin, eyes, and mouth.

"Help! Help him!"

"Get it off of him!"

They attempt to pull it off, but it only merges deeper indifferent that of fighting tar.

"There's only one thing left to do!" Mikey prepares to swing a chair at its face.

"Don't kill it! Franky is already dead, don't you see? The only thing left to do is contain the creature and his body and make observations. We're here for the best of our abilities!"

"There will be more of those things if we go out for supplies."

"Then we will go together prepared."

"This is not good. We need more help. We need weapons! We don't know what else is out there! The radioactive teleportation's cascade will continue to fall like a tower over this facility!"

"Which is why we must start immediately! Pick your weapon! Hot coffee; a chair, broken glass, you name it!"

"Why thank you, Schwarzeneggar, we couldn't be any luckier."

"We are scientists! Therefore, we can conclude the best defense with our brains!"


Self-criticism. I try to keep my mind crazy/active so I can always make great results. Before writing this, I was running over some neat ideas for later in the movie for regards of realism. Right now, it's pretty hard trying to come up with them symbiotically. The headcrab smiling is the best one I got, and the visual psychic of the hound-eye seems logical to me. So far, I admit I can't see this in a movie, and I have sympathy for many lazy writers who think they already know a lot about reality. It really takes re-assessing ideas, especially considering how cheesy it feels to us to expect the movie starts on mono rails and the action starts in that big laboratory room. However, the idea of Half Life is no different on how interesting Perfect Dark 64's video game cover is having the reflection of Elvis in Joanna's eyes, making the gamer who notices it assume it's an enemy, when it becomes a friend. That irony is exciting.

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"God fucking shit, Gordan, we need to get out of here, and I don't know how. Those creatures will take us over! You have your suit. It should allow you to take laps around this facility and you will need to protect yourself!"

"I know, mufuka, we gotta do this shit. I mean me, since I am wearing the HIV suit." Gordan sprays and prays all over the floor. His life is flashing before his eyes without the dying. "You can go ahead and hide while I get outcheer."

Marcus, the scientist, hides under a desk. He said he will sleep there.

Gordan heads out into the hall. It is full of blinking, bellowed, and dimmed lights. They are simply fucking up and shit.

He notices a few headcrabs on the floor wanting to fly on his face, or lunge. Gordan dodges one, but the other smacks into his chest, trying to climb onto his face. He said hell no, ripped it off and slammed it. Instead of finishing them, he ran further down the hall. He said he seriously wanted to do laps, telling scientists to hide like a mufuka.

Walking down Eastbound 4 hall, one full of just educational purposes, meetings, tools, and showers, Gordan discovers a headcrab in a darkly lit room just before an outside square garden by vending machines. So he enters the storage on his left and checks it out. The shelves are stocked with paper towels, toilet paper, cleaning utensils. Inside the drawers, he only discovered a large wrench. Pulling it out, he ran out the room and darted at the headcrab militiatary style. The headcrab lunged the other way, but Gordan managed to catch up, jump, and landed a smack down on the headcrab with the wrench next to a darkly lit corner beside a sofa.

Outside in the small garden, Gordan spots a hound-eye in a bright orange skin with blue triangular stripes. It starts making loud, screeching sounds, piercing into his soul, and calling out to lay down and shout against his life. So Gordan kicks it responding directly to Gordan's past equivalent to being kicked in the stomach. With no other choice, but to kill it, he bashes it with the wrench. The houndeye screeches a sea of saddening screams, calling out for his forgiveness. Darkness builds up as Gordan continues to kill it, in its voice, it hurls out yellow bloody bile from its stomach. It makes a high-pitched hiss a dog makes when its sad before it silences. Gordan stares down at it amid the flowers and plants, and says, "beautiful."

Wtf mufuka, he runs and shit and goes around everywhere looking for people or something. Something necessary for saving lives in an entire hive of people called the Black Mesa. OMFG, he's got no cash. This is ridiculous. He doesn't know what to do, but think about the place he's worked at for many years, going over the structure, where he should go, and if there will be food along the way to make sure he doesn't run to far where he will starve in action. He's confused and he doesn't know what to do. Omfg. A lack of grammar. It's a complete helter skelter, and spell check says it isn't spelt right.

This big arse facility full of shit, you know? All the power utilized and built by third party contractors given blueprints for years. It's been going on for a long time. Built piece by piece discriminately at each inch of necessity, because you should never build a large bathroom if you don't currently have the employees, am I right? Over time, people were hired, offered the knowledge, and became part of it. It's that simple, but still very deep knowledge not ever meant for a society that needs to look after themselves rather than utilizing technology just for a bigger and better home full of fucking sex addicts making babies and losing their shit murdering cause life aint right. Might as well prevent it with a brutality of law, creating more diffusion within culture. However, this place here: The Black Mesa, is the place where there are no limits, and joining it is a sacrifice to live for. All the knowledge you know and the fear you discover blended so well with science and security, you end up with no feeling to tell anybody anything. It's like its own spirit that baptizes you when you join it. You could be a junky living in a house with all that knowledge, yet no one around you may ever know its YOU who knows the truth: Aliens do exist! An illumined knowledge could changed everybody, but isn't worth a whole culture without earning it. Spoiling one's self is as good as death, the #1 reason why spoils aren't distributed, but earned by necessary effort.

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I had typed a different story, but it all got deleted when the page refreshed or some accidental click. So I rushed types another one with similar aspects. Those errors are how my brain feels these days, weeks, or years: like fish/fried eggs. People want me to surely be heterosexual and they will fuck up as much as they want to make sure I am. The day I say "life sucks then you die" like my history teacher once said a few times in one day is the day I lose some great traits of mine, so I can look normal and get old like normal jackarse Christians.

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