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- Sep 25, 2020
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- #1
City 24, once a bastion of loyalty and relative prosperity, has finally lost the last of its sparkling sheen. The Wardens inspired by the internal skirmishes of slummers within Twenty-Four, returned to the core of City 24 in force - and did not do so alone. A host of Antlions driven from their hives by Vortigaunts of the Northern tribes have ravaged both land and city, devouring half of City 24's splendor within only two weeks. Never since the October Waivers was such wide spread carnage seen within City 24. Hosts of Rebel and Loyalist elements clashing amidst the chittering hordes of unbiased and eager devourers.
Quickly, The Bulwarks were formed. The final bastions of defense that would either halt the tide of enemy advances, or crumble beneath them. District 43 became the central figure of Combine resistance, all eyes of the West watching its status, knowing it was all that truly remained between them and that which came. A citizen militia - Heartwicks Bulwark - was formed in desperation to stem the bleeding numbers of Overwatch and Protection Units. Poorly trained and armed citizens were sent in droves against the menaces beyond. Almost all perished...
Despite The Administrations attempts at regaining control of the situation, the rebel forces proved too emboldened. Too empowered, too eager for the fights to come. For every skirmish, additional wear was placed upon the Combine lines. As citizens died in droves, manpower became limited and production fell to a halt. Antlion hives that had gone unanswered spilled forth more of its mutant offspring. Bombs blasted what little remained of the Combines bulwark. Supplies dwindled and lives ended - and at last - desperation overtook reason. The Combine and rebels, all at once, played their final hands.
The Combine, having developed a potent VX Nerve agent intended for the hives below, turned their hateful gaze to another target. The Slums. A hive itself of the poor, the forgotten and the rebellious. District 43, battered center of the falling Bulwark, launched its final operation. A large convoy of comprised of its most potent units and assets left the district, charging towards the equipment needed elsewhere. An act which had not gone unnoticed by those they sought to eliminate. During their absence, a massive rebel strike swept through the Bulwarks center. Thumpers, supplies, and even the gates of the nexus itself were blasted away - the very last of homes defense torn asunder. Though many attackers were slain by the returning Combine host...the damage was done.
The end had come.
Antlions and other beasts tore away at assets and lives, dragging both beneath the earth with impunity. Insurgents operated openly with celebratory eyes backlit by a burning city - and a freed one. As such, the canons were loaded, the ammunition deposited. The capacitors charged. A electric crack rang throughout Eastern City 24 - as pods rained down upon the dwellings of the Underclass amidst the night. Most, would never awake again. Those few that did, found themselves crippled, disabled and dying from an invisible force that enwrapped them in a cold embrace. A jealous slaughter - of a victorious enemy.
One final effort of the resistance came to pass - a mass freeing of once enslaved Vortigaunts. One final battle to light up the the dark East of City 24, that no longer shone with production nor loyalty. But rested quietly amidst the darkness reigned by those who fought for what was better, and what was worse.
So arrived that which knew better and nothing more than what it was told.
The Synths began their march into 24 under the cover of darkness, though nobody could deny their presence. In the West, even miles away, the thundering clamber of their massive forms revealed them as audible aberrations. All who were able fled. Not to the North, which was covered by water. Not East which was ravaged by rampant Hordes. Nor did they flee South which was embroiled with the final combat of this short war.
They fled below.
Quickly, The Bulwarks were formed. The final bastions of defense that would either halt the tide of enemy advances, or crumble beneath them. District 43 became the central figure of Combine resistance, all eyes of the West watching its status, knowing it was all that truly remained between them and that which came. A citizen militia - Heartwicks Bulwark - was formed in desperation to stem the bleeding numbers of Overwatch and Protection Units. Poorly trained and armed citizens were sent in droves against the menaces beyond. Almost all perished...
Despite The Administrations attempts at regaining control of the situation, the rebel forces proved too emboldened. Too empowered, too eager for the fights to come. For every skirmish, additional wear was placed upon the Combine lines. As citizens died in droves, manpower became limited and production fell to a halt. Antlion hives that had gone unanswered spilled forth more of its mutant offspring. Bombs blasted what little remained of the Combines bulwark. Supplies dwindled and lives ended - and at last - desperation overtook reason. The Combine and rebels, all at once, played their final hands.
The Combine, having developed a potent VX Nerve agent intended for the hives below, turned their hateful gaze to another target. The Slums. A hive itself of the poor, the forgotten and the rebellious. District 43, battered center of the falling Bulwark, launched its final operation. A large convoy of comprised of its most potent units and assets left the district, charging towards the equipment needed elsewhere. An act which had not gone unnoticed by those they sought to eliminate. During their absence, a massive rebel strike swept through the Bulwarks center. Thumpers, supplies, and even the gates of the nexus itself were blasted away - the very last of homes defense torn asunder. Though many attackers were slain by the returning Combine host...the damage was done.
The end had come.
Antlions and other beasts tore away at assets and lives, dragging both beneath the earth with impunity. Insurgents operated openly with celebratory eyes backlit by a burning city - and a freed one. As such, the canons were loaded, the ammunition deposited. The capacitors charged. A electric crack rang throughout Eastern City 24 - as pods rained down upon the dwellings of the Underclass amidst the night. Most, would never awake again. Those few that did, found themselves crippled, disabled and dying from an invisible force that enwrapped them in a cold embrace. A jealous slaughter - of a victorious enemy.
One final effort of the resistance came to pass - a mass freeing of once enslaved Vortigaunts. One final battle to light up the the dark East of City 24, that no longer shone with production nor loyalty. But rested quietly amidst the darkness reigned by those who fought for what was better, and what was worse.
So arrived that which knew better and nothing more than what it was told.
The Synths began their march into 24 under the cover of darkness, though nobody could deny their presence. In the West, even miles away, the thundering clamber of their massive forms revealed them as audible aberrations. All who were able fled. Not to the North, which was covered by water. Not East which was ravaged by rampant Hordes. Nor did they flee South which was embroiled with the final combat of this short war.
They fled below.
Having retreated from the surface, both Combine and Rebel aligned forces occupy the dark spaces of Genevas deepest underbelly. Insurgents have long since used such tunnels as routes to avoid Combine attention. Now they live in them right beside those they once and still do call their mortal foes. But none fled alone. As the Synths above tear Geneva to ruin, exterminating every single living thing that dares exist without their masters consent, scores of creatures join the humans and Vortigaunts as they dive deeper into the Earth. Bastions of relative safety are erected and across the entire East of Twnety-Four, a silent standoff of survival engages.
There are no citizens. Only survivors.
There are no citizens. Only survivors.