I'll say this, this is my first fanfic. It IS Portal, I guarantee it. However, you'll have to pay attention to the minor details to understand that it's Portal. Sorry that this exists. T_T'
I've thought for flipping 2 years planning this, and I hope it's good enough... I was stuck for the title... I eventually went with Shattered Humanity. Please note the story focuses around light Wheatell/Chelley, but it won't get sexual. THANK GOODNESS FOR THAT.
Chapter 1: Trapped
The dull colours of reality faded from his sight, he tried to call for help, but he couldn't. It was as if there was cotton stuffed in his mouth that he couldn't spit out. And he knew, even if he could call out, no-one would care. He felt a small tingle, before the remaining colours were muted, and he could see nothing. His hearing disappeared too, replaced with a high pitched whine. The cold feeling that chilled his back suddenly melted, and he could feel nothing. The sickening smell of blood was suddenly interrupted.
All senses down, taste, feeling, sound, hearing, and sight.
He expected to stop thinking altogether, and so he mentally rambled on wistfully, in an attempt to keep his spirits up, although they had hit the bottom, like a rock, and this rock was too heavy to lift.
Several minutes passed, although he wasn't sure. It had felt like hours, but he knew it could have been seconds, minutes, hours, days, maybe even weeks.
This thought caused his emotion to go beyond the bottom, and buried itself.
When suddenly, he thought to himself.
"...Shouldn't I be dead by now?"
Light.
A dim light, slowly fading into vision. The high pitched whine in his ears stopped, and he felt control refilling his body, from the head down. His hearing was restored, and his vision focused.
With vision restored, he looked around, whipping his head around.
"Was that just me being unconscious?"
His surroundings were unfamiliar entirely, he was in an small, concrete, enclosed room with no windows, the ceiling was high, and there appeared to be a network of pipes just below the ceiling. Below the pipes was a yellow, stencil spray painted number, reading "2".
The light didn't appear to be coming from any light bulbs, when he noticed a grey, steel desk with a keyboard, a few buttons, and 5 monitors, the largest in the centre. The monitor in the centre was black, with green text saying, "STARTING SYSTEMS... PLEASE WAIT." The other monitors were displaying random statistics. He had no idea what they were for, or what.
He turned around, and noticed a wooden door, he crept towards it, and slowly turned the door knob, and opened it cauciously, worried, and peered in.
This room was again, without windows. Flourecent lights hung from the ceiling, turned on and illuminating the room with a warm, almost yellow light.
The room was filled with wooden, possibly mahogany bookshelves. Each of the shelves were filled with neatly shelved, worn leather bound books, covered in dust, and in dull reds, greens, and a few royal blues. At the back, there was an oversized arm chair, with a round side table next to it.
He walked in, and the wooden floor creaked under his feet, before flinching and stepping into the concrete room.
The situation was more than creepy, it was downright terrifying. The first thing he thought of, was to call for help. He took a deep breath, and yelled,
'HEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"
He only had enough breath for that one word, before coughing and gasping for air again.
No-one.
He repeated the routine over and over, until tears flowed down his face, but he continued trying, slowly realizing no-one would ever come.