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A man stands in nothing, waiting.
He is not surprised when he feels the congregation at his proverbial doorstep. The party came willingly, composed of three Vortigaunts. He gladly accepts his guests into his fold of reality, unperturbed. He turns slowly, fingers steepled.
“So… after all your stalling and dithering… your party is ready to move forward in — negotiations, hm?”
“Yes…” one of the Vortigaunts confirms gutturally, “We are willing to compromise for a desirable outcome.”
Another continues: “We have peered into the darkness ahead, discerning the paths that wind from the Eli Vance’s death. None of them will suffice in our strife against the Combine.”
The man allows himself a singular chuckle.
“You do realize, of course, that this entire predicament is but the consequence of your —realignment in coveting Dr. Freeman.”
“We shall not allow the one who shattered our shackles to be enslaved himself.”
“Are you quite sure he will see it that way?” the man asks, pacing through the dark. “Instead of being sold from one master to another?”
One of the Vortigaunts bristles, taking a step forward. “Chal-gur…”
The thrumming of the void halts abruptly. Darkness encroaches, swallowing the streaks of light and the man before them. Only a pair of irises remains.
The center Vortigaunt holds a claw out in front of his companion, ushering him to step back. He then regards the force before them, his voice unwavering: “Perhaps we shall rephrase for your narrow perspective: this is a repayment. The Freeman shall indeed be free.”
The eyes recede and the man remerges behind them.
“Is that what you consider freedom? Crafting and recrafting outcomes for him — again and again — all falling short of a desirable conclusion?”
They do not bother to face him, their backs to their foe.
“And how would it approach the corner we find ourselves in, up against the Borealis? That frozen vessel is unbound by spacetime and unpredictable to us all.”
Shades of the man materialize out of the inky black. They lethargically pace around the group, hands clasped behind their backs in contemplation.
“And what I would like to know is your offer — in exchange for Gordon Freeman...”
A pause, perhaps even hesitation.
“We shall return to you the Alyx Vance.”
A sigh.
“How I wish it were that simple.”
The doubles fade, leaving behind a single individual.
“It is far more than a fair trade in my eyes.” He waves a spindly hand. “But to my employers…”
“Can they not be persuaded?”
“Regrettably, she does not yet qualify for — employment. The requirements are simple: extraordinary endeavors… Therefore, the solution is to ensure a scenario in which feats of such nature are — probable.”
“It speaks as though it has planned. Proceed.”
“My hands are tied for — most interactions.”
The darkness draws back, revealing the cold blue machinery of a laboratory. A woman soundlessly shouts at her assistants while a partially assembled icosahedron towers above them. He watches them with disinterest.
“Your… overseers are already aware of — myself and my services, as occluded as that awareness may be. Yet there are no restrictions, for instance, if I were to — enter an apartment block… and inadvertently make my presence — known.”
For the first time, surprise projects upon the trio’s faces.
“Surely, it does not mean to be intercepted by the Combine? What traction does this agreement hold if one party is compromised?”
The man shakes his head. Like a stage curtain, darkness falls again.
“Even your overseers cannot last for eternity. The instant their grip slackens, I shall return. When that moment comes it is flexible — yet it remains inevitable.”
“Perhaps they shall resort to destruction instead.”
An amused grin splits his thin lips. “I welcome the attempt.”
The Vortigaunts divine on this, their claws clasped and eyes closed.
“I can guarantee you,” the man interjects, “even without your… capacity of foresight, that she will prevail in more than one instance.”
“We can see the thread emerging, and we will turn our eyes to it.” The lead Vortigaunt then wakes from his reverie, regarding the suited man. “Our enslaved kin who find themselves woven there shall assist in your emancipation.”
“I would hope so, or else this agreement would be null.” Another pall casts upon the mans face, his irises scintillating. “And I would be so very… disappointed.”
There is pause as the threat settles in, sinking in the skin like teeth.
“Then, do we have a deal?”
The trio nod solemnly.
Satisfied, he turns to watch the streaks of light flit past, fingers entwined.
“I must admit… this is an intriguing offer coming from a collective that opines itself as virtuous. On the contrary, you had seen this outcome — this dead-end you have manufactured — or else the revival of Miss Vance would have been for naught.” He glances their way, looking positively triumphant as he contradicts them. “You intended to barter with her from the beginning.”
The Vortigaunts refuse to rise to this, remaining steadfast as they reciprocate his glare.
“Only as a last resort. Regardless, the Alyx Vance is now tethered to the Freeman. We do not fear your influence. All things return, inevitably.”
He chuckles at these words.
“Your kind shed guilt in such — amusing ways…”
With a simple wave of his hand the three fade out, cast back to their where and when. The man then reaches into the dark and procures a briefcase. He turns heel, already moving through spacetime, the present receding. With a smile he departed into the apartment, grip taught on the handle of his new offer.