SUBJECT: Jackson "Jazz" Meadows, Age 32

OCCUPATION: Photojournalist, The Albuquerque Star

His usual assignment is the local sports beat, but today he's dreaming of something bigger. After hearing some strange reports of an earthquake at the Black Mesa Researh Facility, Jazz has decided to investigate. His editor only let him go under the assumption that he'd be turned away at the gate. After all, there's no way he could get inside.... right?

Black Mesa's reputation among the locals rivals that of Area 51, despite the semi-frequent press junkets and commercially available products. Everyone knew something more was going on behind those imposing gates and walls of concrete. With this in mind, Jazz has driven the 25 mile track leading to a supposed maintainence entrance to the facility.

Arriving at the southern access tunnel, Jazz finds the guard shack deserted, the gate half-open. "So this is high security?" he thought. He listened for any signs of life, anything that might indicate where the guards went. Nothing. The desert was as quiet as ever. Camera in hand, he ventures through an unlocked door adjascent to the tunnel.

Just around the corner, in the darkness, he heard the sounds of someone shuffling about, apparently drunk, or maybe limping. "This should make a hell of a story...." he thought, apprehensively.

Camera in hand, he walked into the darkness.