Half-Life NPCs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smelltheashes) wrote2008-09-15 08:37 pm
smelltheashes) wrote2008-09-15 08:37 pm
Donighal
The bolt flies true, and there is one final cry. It echoes, lingering weirdly in the air...
... but then again the gunship itself is lingering in the air, even as the light drains from everything else around. As the once-beast shimmers into translucence a thin line of light draws a doorway in mid-blackness, giving way to a door, and then to a figure.
"Good afternoon, Doctor Donighal," says the pale, gaunt, grey-suited man whose face Donighal might well remember. "I mussst admit, I wasn't expecting you here. You do have a knack for wreaking havoc, don't you?"
He glances over his shoulder briefly at the fading gunship.
"Then again... who better?"
... but then again the gunship itself is lingering in the air, even as the light drains from everything else around. As the once-beast shimmers into translucence a thin line of light draws a doorway in mid-blackness, giving way to a door, and then to a figure.
"Good afternoon, Doctor Donighal," says the pale, gaunt, grey-suited man whose face Donighal might well remember. "I mussst admit, I wasn't expecting you here. You do have a knack for wreaking havoc, don't you?"
He glances over his shoulder briefly at the fading gunship.
"Then again... who better?"
no subject
"I have made a grave error in thinking that you are not at least my equal. Will you grant me pardon, please?"
"You flatter me, sir. And you have the advantage of me. As you have the advantage of Dr. Freeman."
"If you spot him, just remember: I want answers. I think I'm entitled."
no subject
no subject
no subject
His expression becomes impassive, all pretense of human emotion falling away.
"As far as that goes..."
no subject
Seeing his charming host's* facial parts slide abruptly down toward the hole at the uncanny valley's bottom that opens onto HELL ITSELF, he considers being scared. The notion gains strength from the realization that the between-space that replaced City 17 has given way to a setting he recognizes.
They're standing in a large auditorium, the meeting place of the United Nations General Assembly. Some of the humans are staring at a freshly burned human skeleton which still smolders gently on the floor right next to them. Others are frozen in mid-gesture, pointing at a hole in the ceiling. Michael strongly suspects that, if he were to look up through that hole to the limits of his inhuman vision, he might still be able to see a younger Divis Mal passing the boundaries of Earth's atmosphere with his followers.
Then, he accepts what this means. If he kills me after all, he kills me. This is his Personal Space, not mine. Each man owes a death. If nobody else ever knows how or why I ended, I will know, and that will be enough for me.
"As far as that goes, I've found those issues will come up as long as one's involved at all. And, personally, I've found that direct involvement is not easily avoided."
He has faced the fear, and it has passed over him and through him. Where it was... only Divis Mal remains.
* Actually, for a moment, he's reminded of that one line of Strong Bad's — "More like our I'll-murder-you-in-a-back-alley host" — but it passes. The gentleman in question doesn't seem the sort to get his own hands dirty.
no subject
"We'll see... about that."
And the world dissolves in a blaze of green light, which the Donighal is almost certain to recognize as the same displacement energies that accompanied Gordon Freeman's blink into and out of Milliways, all those months ago.