Richard Perry | Part One

January 29th, 1987. The day a hero was born...
Haha, fuck that. More like the day a piece of shit was born...

    My names Richard Perry. Im nothing special. Just a man trying to get through his life. Just making It day by day closer to the happiness which is my afterlife. I mean, It has to be better than this bullshit. Just the other day I was shot in the leg. The day before that, beaten til' I bled from every hole I have. And the worse part is... Im not talking about the Combine. Everyday someone else hates me. Whether its a member of that pussy group the Lambda, or some citizen who I told "Those boots look gay." I cant help it though. I cant help but spit things from my mouth. They wont stop coming out, no matter how much I try to hold it in. Fuck... Listen to me now... I cant stop! Its not my fault. I just have opinions, ya know? Opinions that I love to express towards others. Sometimes It might be mean, but hey, they need to know, right? Right? Eh, whatever, I dont care what you think. And I know you dont care what I think either. But you should, It's helpful, ya know.

    Anyway, lets get back to my life. Im 26 now. Im living with Lambda in the outlands. Away from the combine. I moved here about 2 years ago. Quite a fight to get there too. We had to fight off at least 50 combine through City 18 just to get there. But we made it. Im pretty much all alone here. I have a few close friends but too many close enemies. I got this girl I like too. Her names Glare. Shes pretty, ya know. Real pretty. Real helpful too. After that shot to my leg, she helped patch it up real nice. Shes not like the other Lambda assholes. Shes nice. The other members, like this asshole named Kaz, they seem like they are just there to stir up trouble. They dont even care about the citizens, they care about themselves. And thats bullshit. Why care for yourselves when there are hundreds of HUMAN BEINGS killed every hour. I know you think your cool, "Oh look at me, I have this kickass suit and this kickass gun." And sure, It is cool. Hmm, I forgot where I was going with this. Anyway, back to Glare. I cant wait to see her again, I think shes outside right now. I might go talk to her, but I dont know what to say. I mean... I like her and all but, how do you ask out a girl in a time like this? Gunshots, everyday. What if Im about to ask her when a sniper bullet goes off? Then what? That ruins the whole day. I want to ask her real bad. But where the fuck would we go? "Hey babe, lets go hang out near that rock." Oh yea, thats sexy. Fuck rocks. They do nothing for us. Fucking rocks.

    So lets go back in time a bit. Back to when I was born, to where I am now. So I dont really remember much from ages one to six, but I can tell you shit that happened after. When I was eight years old, my dad was killed. He was hit by a drunk driver. The irony is that he was also drunk. My dad and the other driver colided and died on impact. But thats what you get when you drink. I honestly have to say though, I didnt like my dad. Sure I loved him, because thats what you gotta do. But he was a mean and stupid old man. Always drinking, always. Never stopped. 9 am to 9 pm was his drinking hours. Some days he would get totally wasted and hit my brother and I. But now that he's dead, thats over. At age 14, my brother died. He overdosed on heroin. I never got to say goodbye to him... I loved him so very much. But he wont ever know that. Unless god really does exist, he wont know. At age 19, I finished high school and went to college. College was great. Hot chicks. Great parties. Tons of beer. Good times. But I never could grasp the concept of why we did it. Why did we drink? Why did we party? Why, why, why? Then I figured it all out. Because we could! Why not live life to the fullest! Drink until you puke! Party until the house breaks down! Get as many women as your bed can fit! Of course, everyone has to work on their studys. And I did. Thats what sundays were for. Party on saturday, study on sundays. And I ended up graduating 4th highest in my class.

    At age 23, the worst of the worst happened. The combine attacked. What a horrible day. Me and a bunch of my friends and family sat in our house and waited for the war to end. And It did in a matter of a few hours. We walked outside and heard the silence. All we could see were piles of dead bodies, smoke, and the Combine organizing people. Women on the right, men on the left. Then they all turned towards the women. I looked at my mom, scared and useless. She was gunned down right in front of me. Right in front of my eyes. Murdered, in cold blood, along with 200 other women. They found women to be useless. They couldnt work, so they couldnt live. Who the fuck thinks that way? Thats just bullshit. That was my mom! The woman who gave me life! Why kill someone who did so much? Obviously she could work, she could at least try! Why not let her try! Thats fucking bullshit.

    Anyway, at the same age, I was brought into a city a few miles from where I lived. They called it City 12. It was a complete dump. It was grey and dull, and dead people on the side of the street. Just laying there. Skinny as hell, bloody. It was horrible. I knew I had to get away from the city and find my friend. He was supposed to be in City 13. Just a few miles to the west. So me and a couple other guys snuck through the city late at night. We found a few guards and took them out, taking their weapons on the way. We boarded an empty train and took off. The good thing was that no one heard us. They must of thought it was just a train passing through. We arrived at City 13 and a few men stepped off, along with me. We were terrified to see what happened. Everything was burnt down. All charcoal. They killed everyone at City 13. Everyone. Thats my best friend they killed. I couldnt believe it. When we turned around to step back on the train, a few combine stood in front of us. They knocked us out and put us back on the train. We had no idea what to do.

    When we woke up, we were kicked off the train to City 18. I lived there for a year. Got my hand chopped off in the process. I dont even remember WHY it was chopped off. I guess they just wanted to put even more fear in my life. Then, as I said before, I was picked up and brought to the outlands. Its a scary place, ya know. Big green spider looking things, some slow walking things with those headhumpers on them. And every once in a while, those tripods. They attack, but they often fail. Thank god for the support we have. Its frightening, but I've been hardened. Everyday is harder and harder, but I get through. All alone, I get through. And you know why? Because there's hope. Theres always hope.

    Hope for the best that I write again. As for now, Im going to grab my glock and protect myself.

                                                                                                  -Richard Perry