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Chapter 2: A Midnight Surprise

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4 Years Later

There had been a hitch.

Actually, there had been several, and, truthfully, they hadn't been hitches so much as utter and total disasters. But, what can you do, when your life is a series of rooms. Specifically, not rooms, and there was something that could be done about it, and had been done about it, but regardless, it had still amounted to a lot of extra work and a lot of extra …baggage… and, truthfully, she was very tired from it all.

She was very, very tired.

But what was important, was that she was alive. That was always a good thing.

"Oi, about 'ow long d'you think it'll take until we're dead?"

Or at least, for now she was.

The speaker was her partner-in-tow, for lack of a better name for their excessively complicated relationship. He lagged behind, clumsy, slow, annoying, and so goddamned nosy. He did not shut up, and, although it was normally grating, she found it especially rubbed her the wrong way when she was trying very hard not to admit to herself that she was—let's see—tired, hungry, sore, hot, thirsty, and lost.

Yes, lost. Just like how he'd asked a dozen times if they were, to which she'd replied each time by angrily shaking her head, no. No, they were not lost. No. No, no, no, no… anything to make him be quiet, so that she could think

"Are you absolutely, completely, one-hundred-and-twenty percent sure that we aren't lost?" he asked, right on cue. "Because, I'm… I'm pretty sure, pretty sure, that we've already passed by that- that particular patch of wheat. I recognize it. I think I do. Seriously. I remember because it was slightly taller than the rest."

Chell raised her hands to rub at her temples in annoyance. They had been walking for a number of hours under a baking hot sun, struggling to find sure footing amidst the close-growing stalks of wheat. She was sweating, despite having already stripped down the old, faithful jumpsuit to her waist, and was developing stress migraine. The events of the past, well—forever, really—had been weird, and finding herself thrown out of the Laboratories in the middle of absolute, utter nowhere was somehow even stranger than most of the things she'd had to deal with within the past day.

And that was saying a lot.

"No—okay, fine, fair enough, fair enough, you probably do know best where it is you're going—as you've been outside 'ere before, haven't you, 'eh? And I haven't. So carry on, yeah, and I'll just-follow along. Bring up the rear, so to speak. …God, is it always like this out here? Haven't 'ad a bit of shade! I'm- I'm tired, if I'm honest, and that thing, that sun—awww, well when's it bloody well going to go away? I'm getting burnt to a crisp."

She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face in exasperation and trudged along, trying to ignore the way his footsteps staggered as he tried to keep up with her. She wasn't too concerned about Wheatley, just now. What concerned her most was that she'd just been chucked bodily into a world she no longer knew. It had been the first thing that had occurred to her, as the tin shed's door had slammed shut behind her. She had no way of knowing whether this world was hostile or not.

And, so, Chell kept her eyes peeled. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end every time a rather strong gust of wind blew in her ear or a blackbird flying low overhead opened its beak and let out a string of musical notes. Even if the world was not hostile, there was still the reality that she had no one. No one but Wheatley. Having been trapped inside of the enrichment center for so long, Chell no longer had any idea of where she'd come from; and definitely no inkling as to where it was she was headed.

There was also the matter of why GLaDOS had removed her from the facility; no matter the reasoning the AI had assured her of, she couldn't help but feel like something else had been in play. It was a long story of how she had come to be here, with the human embodiment of Wheatley by her side. Parts of it, even she herself did not fully understand; all she knew was that there had been a lot of narrow escapes, and quite a fight. She did not leave GLaDOS on friendly terms, nor did she leave on wholly unfavorable ones—the mute lunatic and the crazed supercomputer had come to the closest thing to an agreement as they'd ever come.

As for the intelligence dampening sphere… well, that had been unfortunate. Her footsteps slowed as she thought about it. Technically speaking, Wheatley owed his life to GLaDOS. His core had become damaged beyond repair as they had sought to escape from the facility after a tragic accident, and, despite the relatively large amount of havoc he'd managed to wreak before he'd got injured, the supercomputer had still somehow found it in herself to save his life by transferring his consciousness into a human body.

And now, that very same human body was lagging behind her for the umpteenth time, panting and hoarse and still talking.

"Can you… can we rest," he asked her breathlessly, trying to shield his eyes from the sun, which had sunk lower on the horizon in the direction they were headed and was blinding him. "I can't see a bloody thing."

Chell bit her lip nervously, and glanced over her shoulder the way they had come. Sunset was approaching quickly, and they'd managed to put many miles between themselves and the facility, she knew, and even if—if—for some reason GLaDOS decided to change her mind and seek to recapture them once more (if Chell had learned anything from Aperture, it was to never trust an AI), she would have a very hard time finding them in the wheat field.

Or, at least she hoped so.

"Oh, thank god!" Wheatley cheered as she nodded, and Chell shushed him immediately. "I mean," he continued in a whisper, "good. Good. Thank you, great. Should we make camp, then?"

He was suddenly disgustingly cheerful. She swallowed hard, looking around them. All she could see was that the wild expanse of wheat seemed to stretch on forever, covering many miles around them. They were isolated. Shrugging, she set about crushing the stalks in a small circle, so that she and Wheatley could lie down to sleep. Beside her, Wheatley began to do the same.

"I'll be honest, I'm a little bit nervous," he rambled as he worked. "First real night outside the facility, and all that. Kind of a big deal. And no idea what tomorrow'll bring. Due to find some sort of human civilization, I'll say. And there are- there are things out here. Birds, and snakes, and all sorts of creepy crawlies that could find us while we sleep." he rubbed his arms uncomfortably. "Almost makes me wish we could 'ave another one of those—what'd'ya call 'em. Fires. Those are nice, those. Very comforting."

They lit no fire. Chell didn't want to chance it. Not only would it be dangerous because of their environment, but she had a vague, lurking suspicion that the night would not pass uneventfully, and the thought filled her with dread. They might have travelled far, but these lands still belonged to Aperture; it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up again. And, as such, she took first watch, and lit no fire. She did not want to draw the attention of anything that could be lurking, unseen in the wheat.

The last vestiges of daylight left the sky slowly as Wheatley began to snore and the surrounding crickets began to chirp. Orange, green, periwinkle, and then finally indigo bled across the sky. Millions of stars winked overhead, a breathtaking array as the sky was so dark; Chell couldn't even see her own hand when she held it out, a few inches in front of her face.

There was no moon. The world was black and filled with the quiet rustling of insects and mice. Nearby, a bullfrog croaked, and Chell wrapped her arms around her knees. It was going to be a long night.

*~II~II~II~[]*[]~II~II~II~*

Hours later, Chell awoke with a start. Something had changed; beside her, she could feel Wheatley trembling, and then her vision exploded with stars and she inhaled sharply in pain.

Disorientated, she thought she'd been stabbed for a second until she realized that Wheatley had poked her in the ribs, hard. She exhaled with an annoyed huff, rubbing the sore spot and glaring at him as she sat up beside him.

His wide eyes were fearful and reflective in the dark—the sky had changed. The world around them was no longer pitch black and silent. A strong breeze swept the land, loud as it rustled through the dry stalks. A great big, white moon shone low on the horizon, halfway hidden by wisps of cloud, casting a shimmering, pale half-light over them. The effect was somewhat strange: flickering shadows chased each other across their small clearing from the waving wheat and wild wind, and the clouds on the horizon moved fast, throwing a patchwork of light and dark over the land. Suddenly, the clouds shifted, and the clearing was thrown into sharp relief—the moon had revealed itself, and the atmosphere inside the wheat field changed completely.

Not a single cricket was to be heard, and, for a moment, even the wind held its breath.

"What's going—?"

Immediately, Chell grabbed Wheatley and held him tight in a half-nelson, covering his mouth with her hand. They sank down, fully concealed by the wheat. Her own eyes were wide and fearful, for she had just heard something rustling; her gut instinct was telling her that something—or someone—was near at hand.

In the distance, there was the call of a loon and the great bird took flight, circling once before landing a few yards away. Wheatley fought hard against her at the sight of it, frightened. Be quiet, you idiot, she wanted to say to him, but settled for poking him hard in the ribs, like he'd done to her. I think I hear something…

He went still, listening hard. A new sound had rent the silence; distinctly metallic and almost musical, it sounded like keys on a belt. It started off quite faint and then grew, and was accompanied by the sound of heavy boots.

"Huuuh-mons," said Wheatley, his voice muffled from behind Chell's hand.

The two remained as still as was possible, listening hard. The sound of boots became louder—there was more than one pair, that was for sure—and they were passing very near to their clearing.

Unexpectedly, the first pair of boots halted, perhaps a yard away. There was a muffled thump and a low grunt; it was as though at least one of the following pairs had walked straight into the other.

"Oof—watch where you're going, will you?" said a voice, sounding winded.

"Sorry, chief, it's as damned dark as hell out here," someone answered.

"Why've we stopped?" asked a third, louder voice. "What's going—oh. You can't be serious."

Nobody answered. Instead, there was a small, metallic click, the sound of breathing, and the first man spoke again, his voice muffled as though he had something stuck in his mouth. "Smoke break," he said, nonchalant.

A few of the voices grumbled in annoyance, and there was scrabbling and another muffled thump—one of the men had sat down. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted on the wind to where Chell and Wheatley were silent, listening with all their might.

"I dunno why we've got to do this at night," said the second man who'd spoken, sounding perturbed. "Hey, chief, mind if I borrow a smoke?"

"I thought you were trying to quit, Hadley?"

"Yeah…" said Hadley halfheartedly, "but recent events, you know. And hey, if I'm gonna choose a place to do it, it ain't gonna be in this damned wheat field in the middle of the night."

"Fair in point," said the chief, and there was a beat, and then the sound of Hadley lighting his own cigarette.

"So what is this about, anyways," said Hadley with his mouth full. "I thought this was a daytime mission. I never signed up for this all-nighter bullshit."

"Aw, 'Had, quit your whining, it could be worse, you know," said another one of their companions.

"I like my sleep, Jammers," said Hadley. "Even if you don't. So how 'bout it, Chief?"

There was another pause, in which one or more of the men smoked on their cigarettes and a few more sat down.

"You know very well what the situation is," came the Chief's answer finally. "The reason we decided that the attempt would be better done at night is simple. We don't want anything to wake up."

"You think this thing sleeps?" exclaimed the man called Jammers, outraged. "You really think that going in at night is going to make a god damned difference?"

"Remember your orders, Jammers. We're only supposed to take a look around."

"We're all doomed."

"Nonsense. They just want us to make sure that the—situation—has not changed. Our main priority is still the Project. But they've been… picking up some strange signals from down here, that's all."

"Doomed," repeated Jammers. "Doomed, doomed, doomed…"

"Cut it out," said Hadley, before addressing the Chief. "I thought you said that this place was dead?"

The Chief took a few minutes to answer. "The situation has changed, Hadley. There's been a lot of …activity… in the past week. We're not exactly sure what we're dealing with anymore."

"But we've been coming down here forever." Hadley sounded surprised by this new piece of information. "There's never been any signals originating from this place. You've been there, you've seen for yourself! There's no way—"

"Exactly. That's why we've got nothing to worry about. The place was trashed. It's broken beyond repair. They just want to know why suddenly, there's signs of activity. I mean, the place was abandoned thirty years ago. There shouldn't be anyone else down there."

"So they've sent us as scouts, is that it?"

"Yes."

Hadley was silent, but Jammers swore loudly. "Bullshit! Whatever's down there, it ain't dead, and it sure as hell ain't sleeping."

Hadley sighed loudly, and there was the sound of him patting his comrade on the back. "You need to stop listening to ghost stories, Jams. Nothing's lived in that facility for thirty years or more, the Chief's right."

For a few minutes, the men did nothing but puff on their cigarettes. Then, someone stood, spat, and stamped hard on the ground with one foot, as though he were extinguishing his cigarette.

"Well, that's that," said the Chief solemnly. "Time's up. Smoke break's over."

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Chell slowly let out her breath, stunned by what she had just heard. "Mmfff," came Wheatley's strangled voice from behind her hand, and she released him apologetically—she had nearly forgotten that she had been holding onto him, so deep was her interest in the conversation.

"Thanks," he said meekly, to which she did not reply.

Chell's mind was reeling. She was scared, both for the men, and for herself. Part of her wanted to stop them, wanted to warn them about what they were walking into; but the other part, the smarter, more logical part of her brain, was telling her to wait, do nothing until the men had wholly disappeared into the night, and then run.

Beside her, Wheatley's face was screwed up in contemplation. "So those men…" he whispered, more to himself than anything else. "They're… they're going to…" and then it hit him, and the force of what had happened, everything that they had overheard, came crashing down around him like a tidal wave. Instantly, Wheatley was on his feet, and before Chell could stop him, before she could even so much as think about tackling him to the ground, he'd opened his mouth, inhaled a deep gulp of fresh air, and had shouted:

"STOP!"

A millisecond later, Chell was on him in the dirt with her hands around his mouth. The force of the tackle had knocked the wind out of him. He may have been a foot taller than her, but she still had the upper hand. They struggled for a moment, the blood rushing in her ears, panic slowly numbing her brain for she knew that the mysterious men had heard Wheatley's shout, and that even now, the noises of their scuffle would lead them to their location, the muffled thump of her fist knocking into his side and the resulting squeals of pain—

And then, there was a bright, white light that illuminated the clearing, and Chell and Wheatley both froze, blinded, with Chell's fist posed comically halfway to Wheatley's side, aimed for another punch. The light was so bright that she could not see the man who held it; however, she could definitely make out the bright red laser aimed straight at her chest. She'd met more than enough turrets in her lifetime to know—this man meant business, and perceived her as a threat.

"That's right," said the voice that had belonged to the Chief. "Now stand up, nice and easy, and put your hands behind your head."

She had been right. The world was hostile. Chell slowly rose to her feet.

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