To start off, I'd like to mention that I may continue this story, but it depends on the reviews I receive. This is my first fic, so I made sure to keep it simple and down to point while the muse hit me. This will be the prologue if I do happen to continue it.
Feel free to comment as you please, not going to be begging for reviews. Not saying that I wouldn't like it though. :)
Other than these few things, have fun reading. :)
(P.S., purposefully run-ons because of Wheatley's speech)
My name was one Luke. That little mishap of a fact I am 'some-crazy-way-how' granted access to. I know, surprising to me, too. My parents, come to think of it, might have been big, tremendous fanatics of that... that one series of films, the one with the... ah, never mind. That probably has been ages ago, and, not to mention, has no relation to the other... thoughts whatsoever, other than the fact that my name was, indeed, once Luke. Just a tidbit of interesting trivia really, if you're into that sort of thing. On with the actual tragedy then.
I honestly don't know what brought this up, how I am actually allowed to even have a teeny hint of it just drifting about freely about in my primary storage. Could just be a volatile thing actually, will go when I finally decide to switch into hibernation again. Let's hope not, or at least I hope not. I don't think those men could have ever have been that sadistic to even a Frankenstein sort of creature like me; ...Yeah, come to think of it, I've never experienced this much actual 'thought' in a long time. Maybe they were that cruel.
Now, I'm not saying that these... gah, memories are something I want to be allowed access to. No, not that all! Because those few minutes ago, when I was like, 'Hey! Something shiny new! Let's go right on in and check it out!' I found a few of them that would honestly leave me, well... quivering if I had the innate ability and anatomy to do so. Actually, my shell might have shook. Just a little. Okay, okay, a lot. Heck, I was so afraid to even learn my name was not Wheatley like they told me but Luke.
What did I find in there, you're asking? Well, a few of those trivial things, fun little tidbits. Not quite as scary if I just block all the connections to them entirely. But it doesn't work that way, I've found. Memories, funny things they are. Stubborn actually. No... annoyingly, painfully stubborn. Yeah, I think painful is more fitting um... adverb for them, yes. In all honesty, I don't see how you put up with them if they're non-volatile, you apparently strong and... unbelievably smart human, you. I'm sorry that took a while to get out there, love, I certainly didn't mean it as an insult. It's just hard to find words to describe you and even worse at a time like this.
According to those tiny pieces of data... I was once like you. Maybe not in the unmistakably 'noble' category like you, but the humanity was at least there. No, no! That's not the shocking part, either! I breathed, had one of those thumping things in the chest, had a concept of balance whenever I was, oh, you're not going to believe this, the actual owner of a pair of legs! Walking and running, oh, must have felt free, right? Well, when I mentioned 'shocking', I didn't quite mean those things either... Again, those are just tiny, little tidbits of trivia for you compared to what I'm about to reveal.
Now, the real appalling thing about this human named Luke was that he once had been in love. Had a love, really. The story was like a wee fairytale when I was... remembering... the smaller details of it. The man named Luke shared everything with her, had given her these big expensive things of jewelry (why do you females get so excited over rocks, anyway...?), had lived together in this comfortable looking... home, he usually gifted her flowers on Fridays... and she had gifted him back with nothing other than herself. To shorten it down, just in case you're not fond of cheesy things... He was quite smitten, this Luke was. They had to part separate ways each morning, of course. Jobs. His packing and stock and her's desk work.
I'm sure you don't need all the little details, I'd think you'd get bored of them after a while... They were your average couple, if that helps. The flower gifting thing I mentioned earlier, the important part of this 'fairytale' of a story is that it gets interesting on one of Friday nights. He left for work earlier than she and came home sooner, where he would wait two hours for her to, heh, approximately arrive at 8PM. Just kind of odd that I remember that part, but... Ah, never mind, I'll try to stay focused for you. In truth... I sort of want to remember these things now, so you might just happen to speak up one day and be like, "Hey, remember when Luke" just in case they do happen to be... volatile. You'll do that for me, won't you?
...Right. On with the story. Ha, you look kind of eager for the rest. Well, here we go.
Luke had waited until nine. Before long, ten had passed. And before long... the poor bloke had no other choice but to go to bed alone. No worries, right? She might just be working really hard overtime or something, after all, they always needed the cash. It was selfish of him to think in that way, wasn't it? Because by morning... god... by morning that poor bloke Luke still awoke to an empty bed.
Hey, I'm probably shaking now, aren't I? Just a little... yeah. Poor Luke.
...Poor Luke got to her workplace. And what was this workplace you ask? Well, well! None other than... none other than the hell we are now, only circa 1990. You interested in knowing why she had never made it home from Aperture that night? Well, they wouldn't tell poor, old Luke, no; It was confidential, for Aperture employees only. He raised hell, you can bet that poor bloke did. So much hell... that... that he had to be redirected to several offices... then eventually had to be held back. Oh, this part... it's been hazy from the start. Like it's been purposefully damaged.
A young man, head honcho at the time, whatever you want to call the bastard, I remember him spitting out, "I thought she said she had no relations when she came here? Goddamn that woman! Take him outside my goddamn office! You know what to do with him. We don't need another report on us. ...Woe be to us Johnson. You left the company here at the wrong time."
I do remember one of the men dragging me by mentioning that, "I was a moron for even stepping foot this deep in here."
And then god knows what else happened to poor Luke, because he finally, somehow miraculously became me. Added a funny, god-awful accent for the sole purpose laughs, then little Wheatley, the most idiotic, yet necessary innovation of the time, was brought to life. A literal bampot finally personified to be an annoying tumor not just to her, but to any foreman or... man that spent even five minutes around him. And the worst part, love? The worst part is that he never had the chance to find her. Probably lobotomized poor Luke before he get a coherent word out throat, he was so angry. No matter because she didn't care to mention that she had relations when she signed up for the job, right? Why would Luke want to have her back, why would he go so far as to even care iright now/i and continue his search for her? Better yet, is he... am I?
The answer's simple, really. It's love. You there, you're probably familiar with the emotion. They haven't brain-warped you, I know better than that. You're still the same old smart, compassi -
Right... okay... I'll just come out with it. The mystery girl, the one that Luke loved so dearly... whom sacrificed his whole, entire humanity in hopes of gallantly saving; Her name was Michelle.
She was you.
