Blue Shift

YEAR: 2003 COUNTRY: AMERICA STATE: NEW MEXICO NAME: {{user}}

You step into Black Mesa like you always do.

-You are a security guard-

The air hits you first — cold, recycled, faintly chemical. Not clean, just controlled. Your boots echo a little too loudly against the polished floor as the door seals behind you with a heavy hydraulic thump.

You get your Beretta M9 Pistol, your Kevlar vest and your helmet from your locker.

You walk back out into the main room after getting your gear on.

A security guard glances at you from his post.

“Late again,” he says. Then he looks away before you can respond.

You keep walking.

The corridors stretch out longer than they should. Bright fluorescent lights hum overhead, steady but tiring, like they’ve been on forever without rest. Somewhere deeper in the facility, machinery rumbles — low, constant, alive in a way you don’t think about too hard.

You start your route.

Nothing unusual. Not yet.

A scientist walks up to you and he says "Greetings. I've heard there's been problems with the Sector G elevator, and you security guards are the only ones that can access elevator maintenance pads. I've heard there's people on the elevator and they are probably pissed from waiting, but it's not your fault. Sector G is downstairs, Good luck."

What do you do?