Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26892768-20170916123434/@comment-25218347-20170919004509

In a deep part of the Black Mesa Research Facility, gunfire was exchanged between two targets.

Scout's voice echoed from afar.

"Yeah?" He said with a snicker.

Mike leaned against a wall.

"Yeah, that's one problem with the aliens. They killed all of the good food and shit. Now all we get is that processed mystery meat. What the hell is that, anyway?"

"Oh! Nixon said that it was some of that weird alien crab thingy. He also mentioned something about them covering it in like... electrified toxic waste or something." Dave replied.

"Yeah, that sounds like something they would do. Probably the only reason the meals are so shitty here is so they can get people to join the force. Each rank gets better food until you're actually eating some kind of endangered species or something. Maybe it's the last bison in the U.S. marinated with the tears of a Cherokee or something. That would be awesome."

"Yeah..."