Chapter Four - Point Insertion

Chapter Four
Point Insertion

Words, then a face, drifted out of the darkness.

"Rise and shine, Mr. Ivanenko. Rise and shine." The words were raspy, metallic, alien.

Below the face appeared a suit and tie, which Kylar's mind slowly interpreted to be a body. A man. The man. The one who sent him here.

Here. He thought. Where is here?

The man in the suit paused, as if waiting for Kylar, and when he had his attention smiled coyly before continuing.

"Not that I wish to imply you have been sleeping on the job... all the effort in the world would have gone to waste until… well, let's just say your hour has come."

Behind the man, images of of city appeared before him, death, destruction. It was all to fast for Kylar.

"The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world." Slowly, light, sound, sense poured in to void around him. He got a sense of motion. A train.

"So, wake up, Mr. Ivanenko. Wake up and smell the ashes." With an unreadable grin, the man in the suit faded away.

Kylar fell to the floor of the moving traincar, alone.

Kylar carefully stood up, grabbing the vertical pole for support.

Where am I?

Outside, a few buildings whirled by, and then darkness, broken only by the flickering artificial light from the ceiling. He looked around, taking stock of his immediate surroundings: piled garbage, dirty aisle-ways, rusting benches, and doors held together by spit and prayer. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit, not his, or at least, he didn't think it was.

A train.

The thought rang discordantly in his mind. In fact, he barely felt connected. Kylar flexed his hand, watchful. It felt unnatural, as if his being, his essence, was separate from his corporal form. The feeling began to pass, and Kylar remembered. Slowly at first, and then in flashes.

Black Mesa... Substance... Doctor Kleiner... Doctor Wolfe... testing, Mass Wave Oscillator.
A Black Orb.

And then, nothing. Kylar's memory ended. Except for one crystal clear image, not quite a memory, but definitely real, something Kylar would never forget. The man. the Stranger.

What did he mean? Another job? Right man, wrong place? Ashes? What the hell is going on?

Kylar sighed as he got to his feet. There was no use drawing conclusions without enough data. He moved toward the car behind him, determined to find his answers.

Kylar pushed through the rusty set of doors that separated one car from another. As he entered the last car, the train came to the end of the dark tunnel, and returned to the light of day. He was temporarily blinded by the new light before everything slowly came into focus.

Looking out the window, he watched a small European city race by, the sparse buildings quickly being replaced by bigger and more tightly woven developments. Everything looked washed out under the sun, which was brighter and more intense than he remember. There were barely any clouds, and in the stark pre-noon sky he could see a towering spire off in the distance. It was massive, anywhere between 500 to 1000 meters tall.

The rail turned, towards the center of town, and Kylar lost his view of the spire. They were subset in the ground now, deeper than the top of the train. The taller city buildings, three to four stories high, lined either side of the rails. Sunlight flickered between the building as they flew past them, casting them in a world of alternating light and shadow.

Kylar shifted his gaze from the outside of the train car to the inside. It mirrored the last car, with its dust and rust and trash, complete with the same large, dirt speckled windows. There was one thing different, however; two men, one black, one Caucasian, were at the other end of the car, holding identical suitcases and wearing the same blue jumpsuits as Kylar. The black man held a rail and looked out the car’s door, suitcase in hand. He was ready to disembark.

The train's stopping in this city.

Kylar's mind kicked into overdrive. He examined the matching jumpsuits, the lack of people, the rundown city, and the tower, a titan on the surface. He realized he needed to figure out what had happened since Black Mesa: fast. He ambled nonchalantly over to the other two. He knew asking any questions would lead to suspicion, but he had little choice.

"Where are we?"

The weary black traveler didn't stop watching the town go by as he responded to Kylar.

"By the looks of it, we're just a few blocks from Grand Station if my memory serves me right. God, this is my third transfer this year. Union never lets you stay in one place for long, it seems."

He stopped for a moment, and looked down from the passing buildings and directly at Kylar's face, sporting a slightly puzzled expression.

"Funny, I didn't see you get on." He said. Before Kylar could respond, there was a whistle from the lead locomotive, and the man pushed himself up against the glass. "Well, end of the line." He said, grabbing his suitcase from the floor and giving the door space to open. The train's brakes squealed and the car rattled to a halt.

The door opened, and a cool breeze rushed in. The two other men in the rail-car got up and left, leaving Ivanenko alone. He cautiously stepped out into the naked sunlight and looked around him. He was in a massive, open European style grand station, with sheets of light pouring in through the large panes of glass in the ceiling.

Kylar stepped out of the train and onto the platform. Plastic bags and browning Chinese takeout boxes rolled by his feet in the breeze, bouncing off his ankles. He looked up from his feet and towards the station. Strange machines and symbols plastered the walls, mixing crudely with the original architecture.

A robotic creature flew up to Kylar, making variously pitched clicking sounds as it descended to the level of Kylar's head. Adjusting its main camera-like eye, it began to circle him. He attempted to watch it circle him but it was too quick for him. It returned to his face, paced back in forth, then focused its camera on his face, blinding him with the flash.

As his vision returned, he watched the little drone slowly fly away, looking for more people to scan and photograph.

He shook his head until his vision came back to normal and he was able to get a good look at the station. In this wing, there were two trains, both offloading an unusually low number of pass angers, allow of whom were progressing to the central section of the station. In this room there was a massive television suspended by the vaulted ceilings. While most of the other residents pushed by and ignored the monitor and continued on there ways.

The screen flickered from static to a feed of a smiling man. Kylar recognized him immediately - Administrator Breen, from Black Mesa. He had noticable aged since Kylar had last seen him - older skin, white hair. Odd.

Breen began to speak in a booming voice that filled the station.
"Welcome. Welcome to City 17.

You have chosen, or been chosen, to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centers. I thought so much of City 17 that I elected to establish my Administration here, in the Citadel so thoughtfully provided by Our Benefactors. I have been proud to call City 17 my home. And so, whether you are here to stay, or passing through on your way to parts unknown, welcome to City 17. It's safer here." He closed his statement with a reassuring grin before cutting back to static.

Something told Kylar something was very wrong with the world. He pushed infront of the train. the right was a chain link fence - through it he could see a gas-mask wearing cop, beating some sort of batton against his palm, watching some sort of chained creature sweep up trash outside the stations limits. In the other direction was another one of these metrocops, forcefully going through another citizens luggage, Behind them was vast iron revolving door, leading deeper into the station.

Kylar's sense of foreboding did not dim. If anything, it only grew the more he remained in the station.

Breen seems to have aged. A lot. And Our Benefactors? How much have I missed?

He bagan to walk, if only to move. He stepped around some indistinguishable trash, and stared up at the tower, the Citadel. Its construct seemed to be unearthly, nothing Kylar recognized. And, the more he took in, the wronger it felt. As if the Stranger had transported him to a new planet, a new world, and one in which Kylar didn't know the rules.

As he walked, another man in a jumpsuit brushed against the metrocop.

"You asked for this!" The metrocop advanced on the cowering citizen, and landed one, two, three brutal blows with his baton. After, he merely turned and left, as if all anger had suddenly fled. The citizen slowly stood, holding his arm, his cheek already turning purple.

Kylar had little choice where to go, fearing that loitering would just draw attention. He began to walk deeper into the station.

Where am I?

Kylar maneuvered into the next section of the station where he saw the walls were covered with ever-changing arrivals and departures ticket boards, making a distinctive clack every time they flipped.

Kylar spun slowly, taking in his bearings. Behind there was a small collection of benches, with a couple of citizens scattered about them. Ahead was a security station, surrounded by the same unsavory looking police officers that had been jostling citizens outside. Through the chain-link fence that separated Kylar from the station, he could watch the police officers running a scan on the tag on each of the civilians jumpsuits before allowing them passage to the main hall.

Will this uniform cover me? I don't know genuine it is. He thought.

Ahead of him, past the checkpoint, was another giant telecaster, with Breen's smiling face on it.

"Welcome! Welcome to City 17!" The recording echoed.

There was something terribly wrong here, he was sure of it now. It chilled him to his very core, and he felt his blood run cold.

Goood... now act. said a faint, raspy voice, almost non-existent, gently rustling the hairs on his ear. Startled, he twisted, to find himself once again alone.

Michael leaned back in his chair. His sturdy metallic boots rested on a simple steel desk, papers scattered here and there. A cup of liquid sat steaming at his feet and all was quiet. Michael went through his normal routine, scanning through the news feed presented to him on his helmet visor. Crime rates, graphs, and among other things, pictures of Wanted and Captured men all flashed across the screen.

As the pictures passed by, he noticed a familiar face and froze the image on his visor. Michael knocked over a stack of papers as he swung himself into an upright position, and ran to the print station. Out came the image, and staring with deep intensity at the photo, as if he had seen this man in another life. He tried hard to think back. Searching deep within himself for old memories, he remembered. Tearing at his tactical vest, Michael tore at hidden pockets and tools until he retrieved an old-style picture of a man. Printed on the bottom of the picture were the words:

KYLAR IVANEKO: REBEL SCIENTIST. PROTECT AT ALL COSTS.

Michael folded the image with one hand and shoved it into his coat pocket. Checking when the news feed had last been updated, Michael saw a time stamp listed for early that morning at the train station. If he was in luck, all of the other high-ranking Metrocops would fail to get the message in time because of their ritualistic beatings of prisoners housed within the concrete barriers and steel walls of the Metropolice Station.

Jumping to his feet, Michael exited his small office and walked down the hall to find two men standing at the entrance of the Station.
“You two, come with me, we have a criminal to catch.” “Yes sir”, the two shouted back in unison, enthusiasm obviously reflected in their tone.
Stepping through the heavy metal door of the police station, he made a quick visual sweep of the train station. Among the few citizens walking across the floor, he spotted one man, separate from them all, dazed and confused. Michael checked the photograph. It was him all right.

“Grab him! That’s the man we came for.” The two guards ran up to the disoriented Ivaneko and began to beat the scientist. Michael walked slowly over to the scene. “That’s enough! I can’t have his lungs punctured. I need to talk to this slime. Bag him and throw him in the Shark. I’ll be with you shortly.”
The two men answered in unison, “Yes Officer Tyre!”

Ivaneko sagged to his knees as the two guards dragged him to the car. With astonishing ease both guards quickly and efficiently pitched up Ivaneko and threw him in head first. Michael looked back to make sure the guards followed protocol by standing at attention at the entrance of the vehicle. Once he was sure they would behave as mindless sentinels, he turned and walked toward the tracks to ‘report in’. Instead, he used a code the Rebellion had given him to bypass the security setting on his helmet communications. Michael quickly sent out a short wave message:
“This is Shiva, contacting Kleiner and Dupree; Kleiner and Deupree. I have Ivaneko. I repeat, I have Ivaneko. Within the next 20 minutes, he will be in the back quarters of the station. I repeat, pickup Ivaneko in back of station, 20 minutes.”

With that said, Michael returned to the car. “Alright men, let’s get this scum to the station and find out what he knows.” “Yes sir!” It was a fairly short drive before Michael slowed the car to a stop. “Sir?” one of the guards asked. “Quiet, I see someone out there, stay in the Shark.” Michael barked before leaving the vehicle behind and wandering into a muck-covered alley way. There he found a grungy looking man. “You’ll do.” The man looked up in utter terror to see the metrocop before he was quickly deprived of any chance to scream for help when he was met by a swift knee to his abdomen. Michael dragged the man back to the car and threw the him into a separate compartment for equipment on the side of the vehicle.

“What was it Sir?” One of his subordinates asked.
“Damn barnacle chewing on a civi. Nothing worth blinking about, wonder why my visor sent me an alert. Damn things need to be tuned up every now and then.” They pulled up to the station and were met by to more guards. Michael went around back and opened the prison bay, and stared at Ivanenko with distaste.
“Take him to the Purgatory Room; I’ll be there shortly to begin the interrogation.”
“Yes sir, Officer Tyre, Sir!” Was the simple response. As Ivaneko was dragged off, Michael retrieved the bum from the Shark.

“What…what did I do?!” The grungy man said in a faint whine.

Before he could say anymore, Michael silenced him once again with a punch to the stomach. Michael thought he could nearly feel the edge of his knuckle reach the man’s spine. As the man slumped to the floor with a dull thud, Michael retrieved a black body bag from a compartment in the car and forced the man inside. He walked away with body bag in hand, making his way to the Purgatory Room. Michael noticed his two guards standing at their posts at the entrance of the room. They possessed a powerful but silent presence. Michael dropped the body bag behind a corner of a wall.

“You two, return to the Shark. We’ve got a full day today.”
“But Sir? Won’t you be coming with us? And what happens with the prisoner?”
Michael replied with a fatherly sigh. “Listen, I think you boys are old enough to walk the beat without me holding your hands. And you don’t have to worry what will become of the prisoner, that’s above your paygrade. I will deal with him in a manner that will please the Union, that is all you need to know. Dismissed.”

“Yes sir, thank you Sir!” They responded with a sharp salute. As the two men trotted away in a military-like jog, Michael retrieved the partially squirming body bag. He dragged it into the room where Ivaneko was sitting in a small aluminum chair. Untying the bodybag, Michael began to speak,
“Hello Doctor. I don’t have much time so listen closely. I am part of the rebellion and I have been informed that so are you. Quite the big shot, you must be to stir up this much commotion. When you exit this room, there will be a hall to your right, if you keep going straight down it, there is a single door. You are to exit through this door and walk behind the concrete barrier immediately to your right. That blocks you from the view of the Sentinel Towers we have around here as lookouts. Wait. There will be someone whom you might know. His name is Deupree. He’ll take you to wherever you have to go. Now, did you understand all that?”

Ivaneko stared down at the blood stained floor which his feet rested on and slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. Now I need you to switch clothes with this man.” With what seemed like a single swipe of his hands, Michael stripped the grungy man of his clothes. The man seemed to shake all over, trembling without a word. “You do the same, you hear me?!” The old man shook his head and the two began exchanging clothes. Once both were dressed Michael swiftly took the baton from the belt of his suit and struck the old man just under his right eye. His face seemed to cave-in, leaving blood pooling across the floor and running down the sewage vent in the middle of the floor. Ivaneko had a look of pure terror. Michael saw questions, outrage, and a tormented look flush across his face in a matter of seconds. Their eyes leveled. But before the Doctor could say a word, Michael flashed his buton upward and pointed it at Ivaneko.

“Leave… now.”

The words Union and Resistance drifted through Kylar's head. While he was unsure, he was beginning to piece together what might have happened since Black Mesa.

There's been a... takeover. That would explain the police force, the violence, the kidnappings. But, based on Breen's face, 'Our Benefactors', and the giant tower, suggest something... else. Something not human.

Kylar decided it was in his best interest to listen to the man in front of him. The name "Duepree" meant nothing to him, but Kylar knew he'd have to trust someone. On his guard, just in case, Kylar regained his form. The other man lay on the ground before him, unconscious.

Poor fellow. Still, I guess it was necessary.

He quickly walked out of the building, glancing once behind himself as he did, watching Michael begin to arrange the room as if after an interrogation. He slowed down, knowing that if he tried to sneak about it would only look more suspicious. He cut in close, hugging the barrier as he left Purgatory.

He was watching from the adjacent building, a pair of binoculars pressed against his eyes. He stood there, still as stone, waiting for Ivanenko to emerge from behind the barriers.

An instant later the Doctor appeared, peaking out from behind the concrete barricade. He looked left, then right, before disappearing from sight again.

On the roof, the man took the binoculars down from his eyes and slipped them gingerly into the pocket of his gray suit, where they vanished inside the material. He looked at his watch, and for an instant, the muscles of his face contracted. He appeared to frown. Late. Looking up, the man grabbed the briefcase at his feet, and turned away from the street. With a flick of the wrist he brushed a pinch of dust off his shoulder, and his face returned to its uncannily neutral yet smug expression.

Looking confident, the stranger advanced into the shadows, and in the exhale of the midday breeze, disappeared.

Chapter Five - Apprehension and Evasion