Somewhere in New Mexico…
     “Welcome to Black Mesa Mr. Trent!” the man shouted over the helicopter. 
  It was Stevenson.  The man who ran the Black Mesa installation.  The most 
secretive Umbrella complex in the world.
     “Hello Stevenson!” Trent shouted back at him.
     The two ran into the installation, then walked to Stevenson’s office.
     “So, do the workers suspect anything?” Trent asked.
     “Not a thing…” Stevenson said, pouring the two of them a drink of 
brandy.
     Black Mesa was so secretive, only Stevenson, Trent, Jackson, Sydney, 
and Weber knew of it’s ties to Umbrella.  Everyone else that worked at the 
plant thought it another legitimate government installation deep in the New 
Mexican soil.
     As the two talked, the helicopter pilot placed the sample above ground, 
covered in the blanket of dust.  A new mineral Umbrella manufactured.  It 
had a greenish tint to it’s black surface.  When the two had finished 
talking, Trent went back to the helicopter.  Stevenson and two workers saw 
him off.
     “What is this…?” one of the workers said, looking down and picking up 
the black/greenish rock the pilot left behind.
     “Freeman!  Get back inside!” Stevenson shouted to the man.
Up in the helicopter…
     “Did you place the sample?” Trent asked the pilot.
     “Yes Mr. Trent…”
     “Perfect…” Trent said, sitting in the co-pilots seat, pulling out a 
gun.  “Nothing personal Bob…”
     *BAM*
     “…we just can’t have any loose ends…”
     The helicopter flew off into the distance.