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Black Mesa takes its seasonal festivities very seriously, one of them being Halloween.
Everything is coated in synthetic cobweb. There are screamer decorations around every corner. Despite someone having ambitiously painted blood on the walls, administration doesn’t care about the vitally sterile lab being a total wreck. (Admittedly, no one was surprised anymore. Since one of their higher-ups were replaced with someone younger, holidays have been colorful. It was a welcome change.)
Unfortunately, no one thought to tell Gordon “The New Hire” Freeman.
He leaves the tram with this heavy, nervous expression only a scientist who didn’t get the memo would have. Everyone he’s seen while on the tram ride was wearing a goddamn costume! And here he is, strutting over to work in the mega-serious secret government science facility in proper uniform. Why didn’t Kleiner or Calhoun say anything!?
And it’s not as if he had any reason to have gotten clued in. The decor appeared overnight, and they didn’t bother making email blasts or posters.
Gordon locks eyes with the guard at the gate to Sector C, and he averts his eyes as he gets off the tram. Knows the bastard is laughing at him already. When the guard doesn’t turn around immediately to let him in, Gordon sucks in a breath and prepares for the worst.
“Looks like someone isn’t in the holiday spirit today.” The nameless guard squints at Gordon’s ID card. “Dr. Freeman, huh? Damn shame they didn’t hire someone who knows fun.”
Because the guard, who was wearing a shittily put-together costume of Ghostface, was very fun and original. Gordon rolls his eyes, and the guard barks out a laugh. This is it. Gordon’s entire day, just because he isn’t wearing a costume.
He could at least think of something smart to say. Gordon signs. [I’m Frankenstein. Now open the door.]
The guard blinks.
“Frankenstein… Like, Victor Frankie?”
Gordon nods.
“That…” The guard almost looks bashful. What? Gordon looks at the guard a little more, scanning for any sarcasm before realizing that, no, that embarrassment is very real. “...makes sense. You guys would do that.”
While Gordon makes multiple mental double-takes about what just happened, the guard turns around and opens the door for him. Why did the guard take him seriously? That was obviously some kind of excuse, because the last time Gordon checked, he came out of his room wearing nothing that would justify being Dr. Frankenstein but his lab coat and his uniform–
“Don’t forget to go to the auditorium later.” The guard goes back to his post, looking back at Gordon and cracking a smile. “Your first year here, right? It’s a riot. Have a good one, Dr. Freeman.”
By some stroke of luck, that interaction ended both quickly and on a positive note. Gordon decides not to dwell.
The first thing he thinks of when the clock ticked mandatory-Black-Mesa-lunch time was telling Kleiner about it. Then Barney after a righteous beating for not telling him about the goddamn costumes.
Gordon wasn’t some boring, old scientist who didn’t know how to have fun! Give him just a day of preparation and he’ll show up in something better than half the people here! Mid mind-rant, Gordon enters Kleiner’s to see the same level of decoration outside, more or less, and… the scientist himself. Wearing a surprisingly well-placed wig and circular glasses which Gordon immediately clocked to be Erwin Schrödinger. He respects it.
“Ah, Gordon!” Kleiner turns in his chair and greets. He looks Gordon up and down. “I’d heard that you were going for Victor Frankenstein this year?”
[Victor Frankenstein.] Gordon signs while grinning. [I don’t actually have a costume, but the first guy I told completely bought–]
“I see.” Kleiner hums, satisfied at Frankenstein and turning back around, missing the next sentence completely. “I suppose it was the most logical thing you two would be going for. Besides– it would be quite hard to accidentally play the same character as someone else!
Kleiner turns back at him again, finger raised and smiling. “You’re more likely to find seven Galileo Galileis!”
Gordon makes a face at him.
“What?” Kleiner tilts his head, then folds his hands together. “Is it that you find it ironic, Gordon? Well, I assure you that I have been the only Schrödinger thus far–”
[No.] Gordon shakes his head. [I’m not wearing a costume. Why does everyone believe me?]
Kleiner squints at him, then leans back.
“Well, your hair seems to help your case by a lot.”
Gordon facepalms while Kleiner talks on. “While there are an abundance of adaptations, some speculate that Dr. Frankenstein had long hair because the creature had long hair. And there is this very human desire to create something in your own image, especially if you are egotistical and the goal is to create a beautiful human.”
[That theory is absurd and probably unpopular.] Gordon signs, increasingly exasperated. [I’m not wearing a costume!]
Kleiner pauses. Looks at him.
“Well… aheh.” Kleiner pushes his glasses up. “I’m afraid you’ll have to tell them. I’m not very powerful when it comes to the events around Black Mesa holidays–”
[Who’s them? What event?]
“The Black Mesa Security Team, of course!” Kleiner turns back to the desk, facing away from Gordon. “You know the science team, Gordon. We’re not very spry, or energetic enough to host anymore, so the administration has granted the security team the privilege of being masters of ceremony. As for the event… we have a gathering later. In the main auditorium by the head office. Didn’t you receive the email?”
Gordon groans, and Kleiner doesn’t need to turn around to get the answer. “We should really bring it up to ICT to have your records in the system already. It shouldn’t take this long. How long is left on your break? Their offices are barely ten minutes from here.”
Gordon suppresses another groan. The last thing he wants is to wade through another round of confused stares from people who apparently think he’s the Doctor.
He needs answers. From Barney. Preferably yesterday.
On the way to ICT, Gordon can hear it. Whispering. He considers turning back and asking Kleiner what the hell was up with identifying as Victor Frankenstein and whether or not he’s successfully turned himself into a social outcast, but his afternoon break is ending and Gordon thinks the priority is to finally get himself logged into the system, whatever that entails.
It honestly isn’t as if he wasn’t on their records—why would he even be allowed to be in here if he wasn’t—but digital infrastructure in Black Mesa is terrible and he’s been bitten hard enough to worry about it now. If an event this supposedly big went completely under him just because he wasn’t part of the company chain, then god knows what else he’s missing.
Gordon bumps into a vampire Dr. Eli Vance on the way, along with his vampire wife. Beside them is a small, 4-year-old girl wearing bat wings. Eli picks her up.
“Looking festive there, Gordon!” Eli greets. “Bleh bleh bleh.”
“He don’t say that, daddy!” Bat-Alyx blows raspberries, and Dr. Azian laughs. Eli gently hands Alyx to Azian then gives her arm a playful chomp. Alyx squeals.
“Anyway.” Eli turns back to Gordon. “Was expecting a little more than what we wear every day, but I guess it’s the context that makes the costume, huh?”
[Context?] Gordon raises an eyebrow.
“I agree. When word of you wearing Victor Frankenstein quickly spread to us in BioChem, I was expecting a little more.” Azian nods her head. She dodged that question completely, Gordon blinks.
“Let’s go see Uncle Kleiner now!” Alyx whines. “Dr. Freeman is boring.”
Gordon rolls his eyes. [If only someone told me we were dressing up today.]
“She can’t read sign yet.” Eli apologetically shakes his head. “Wait, this isn’t a costume?”
Dr. Azian’s eyes look Gordon up and down, too, before she leans into Eli’s ear and Eli’s eyes widen.
[What?]
Dr. Azian grins. She tries to readjust Alyx’s wings while she squirms out of grip. “You will find out for yourself, Dr. Freeman.”
[What.] Gordon furrows his eyebrows. He looks at Eli. [What.]
“See you at the auditorium later, Gordon.” Eli smiles warmly.
Gordon could only look behind him as the Vances walked past him and went in the direction of AnMat. Distantly, some voice behind him yells something about a cute matching costume, but the Vances are way too far to hear it. That was directed at him. Gordon snaps his head back around. There’s a security guard at his post, clearly where the voice came from.
He huffs and walks towards ICT.
Having tried and failed to find Barney the entire day, he eventually gives up and makes his way to the auditorium alone. Maybe he’ll find Barney then, but then the beatdown would be public, and Gordon has to collect himself and compromise that he’ll just tell him off via email. He gets there, and the auditorium is chock-filled with more decorations and food. How the hell did all of this appear in just one day?
Some scientists went all out on it, wearing full-blown Stormtrooper armor, medieval plates, or even felt werewolf gear. If this place had a best costume contest, it had to be one of them. On the side of the room, there lists an agenda containing… well, most of the things that a Halloween party should cover. But most of the attention was on the contests prizes-to-win. A standing desk, an air fryer, and gift cards distributed to winners of best costume, best couple’s costume, and crowd’s choice. (Even more reason to get pissed at not being told. Gordon wanted that air fryer.)
It doesn’t take long for the lights to dim and for someone from the security team to take the stage with a mic. No one’s listening for the first half, of course. Until he detailed the costume categories and then the prizes, and everyone went back to not listening again. No one really cares, half of them came for the food and the arguments over who deserved best costume and how it was rigged.
Finally, the first name is called. Best costume goes to… an impressive, freakishly realistic bipedal alien. It had a large, red eye on the center of its strangely shaped head and a hand that protruded out of its torso, but two arms ending in three fingers each. Gordon nods in agreement—this thing deserved that standing desk and the standing ovation.
The person in costume takes off the head and is revealed to be a woman from BioChem, one of the scientists heading a major classified project. She gives a short speech and she walks off the stage with the alien head in her hands. There weren’t any couples costumes he’d seen that weren’t the Vances, so this should be a very easy guess. If there were competitors, the vampire costumes were still impressive! No one would–
“This one is a special case, actually. See, this year, we actually told the winners ahead of time if they won, so that they’d come to this event with their costumes properly set-up for the showcase.” The host interrupts the cheering to walk on the stage. “But after being told about the pair that came after them, they humbly decided to withdraw from the competition. Ladies and gentlemen! Put your hands together for…”
Gordon thinks about it being a shame to forfeit the air fryers when it was a guaranteed win.
Almost misses the fact that it’s his name being called.
The cheering suddenly gets deafening, and Gordon is pushed around by the crowd. Halfway across the auditorium, he looks at the stage and sees Barney, wearing metallic fixtures and clothing covered in faux blood and machine oil. Frankenstein’s monster. Gordon is basically hauled up to the stage by another security guard, and Gordon covers his face from the lights pointed directly at them. From the side of his vision, he sees the host taunting Barney with the mic down, and Barney rolling his eyes.
The host taps on the mic again.
“Aren’t they just adorable?” The host turns from the crowd, then to Barney. “Was this planned or what? We know you and Dr. Freeman get real close when-”
Barney takes the mic with the weariness of a man questioning every life choice. “I’ve got a few faces to break in after this,” he sneers at the host, then at the technical team. “But I’m gonna be honest. I got a kick out of it, too. No, this wasn’t planned. Didn’t even see him until now. Props to the Vances for helping me with the costume, and thank you very much.”
He bows, and the crowd claps in return. Gordon knows it’s a face, and Barney is pissed. The host walks towards Gordon and Gordon kicks himself for not using the time to come up with anything.
“He uses sign.” Barney grits his teeth.
The host pauses for a moment, before smiling again. “Well, it looks like you know it. Why don’t you go translate for him?”
The crowd starts clapping again, and Barney takes in a breath. The host hands Barney the mic.
“I didn’t know there was anything going on today.” Barney translates diligently, then cracks a smile halfway through. He gives Gordon a look that said seriously? and Gordon nods. “I went to Sector C like I do every day. Guard at the door gave me hell, and I came up with an excuse. I’m Frankenstein, the doctor.”
“It didn’t make sense to me then that he took it so quickly, but apparently that was me striking a match and holding it to a stick of dynamite.” Barney rolls his eyes, and Gordon grins. “What happened, did I lose a bet?”
Barney looks at the crowd, speaking for himself. “No, my friends are just evil pieces of shit.” The crowd laughs. “Next question.”
“That’s all. We shouldn’t delay any longer.” Barney nods, then hands the mic back to the host after saying a quick thank you. The crowd claps again, and Gordon’s shoulders loosen, looking at Barney’s flushed face with worry. [I feel like I should be apologizing–]
“Aren’t the couples supposed to kiss?”
A voice shouts from the crowd. Before the host says something smart, Barney grabs the mic and points at them. “We will not be doing that! Enjoy the rest of your night, everyone!”
Barney storms off the stage before anything else happens and Gordon takes it as his cue to leave, too. He turns and Barney is gone again, but the third costume is getting called and the guards are ushering him to take the prize and go.
Gordon thinks, if Barney didn’t want the air fryer, he’ll take it instead.