Familiar Faces
Life is probably one of the strangest, most twisted things in the entire universe. Trust me, I know from experience. I bet you can't even fathom some of the things I've both seen and done. Between the homicidal computers, singing turrets, potato batteries, and strange poems, it's a wonder that I'm not insane yet.
I've been alive for generations, stuck in stasis for a good 300 years or so. I can't really remember...it might have been a little less, maybe a little more. Anyway, take it easy on me; I've suffered some sort of brain damage.
How? Simple: blame the rival of Black Mesa. I was trapped in the death hole that is the Aperture Science Enrichment Center for a majority of my life just doing my best to survive. There's this terrible system set up over there where the computer mainframe corrupts any AI unit plugged into it. Pretty crappy programming job if you ask me. But why would you want to ask a mute in the first place?
The testing facility is what caused whatever brain damage I still have and all my other physical problems. Almost all the stuff in that damned place either did my body harm or made fun of my weight. The latter never bothered me much due to the fact that I was more concerned about my life than my looks. At least I have a set course for my priorities.
I escaped from Aperture about ten years ago with a Companion Cube (it now sits in my living room next to the couch) and the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device. GLaDOS must have forgotten to take it away from me when I left. After stumbling around in a huge wheat field for hours, someone found me and here I am.
Now, I'm working for Black Mesa's space program as a technician. I guess whatever defects and shit my body had after the "Aperture Experience" (it sounds TOO good now) my friend Erik took care of. He knows an amazing doctor that owns some frigging awesome equipment. I won't go into details about all that; basically all you need to know is that I'm better and able to work.
The only problem they had was recovering my speech. That part of brain was way beyond some fancy transplant or whatever the heck it is that they do. But, I'm fine without speaking. I don't necessarily need to speak to communicate with others. Over the years, my facial expressions have improved as well as the ability to kick some jerk's ass if I have to. It always makes for an amusing story later on.
I sigh happily on my porch as I watch the clouds roll across the sky. Have you ever just stopped to look at them before? Try it sometime, it's nice to unwind from the bustle of society and focus on the simple things in life. That's one thing my traumatic experience taught me: don't take what you have for granted. I wish someone could actually hear my thoughts and understand me beyond the gestures, expressions, and papers I type. I want someone to understand the inner workings of my mind, regardless of a small disability.
Quickly, I get up and walk back inside my house and search for an old "trinket." That's all I'm willing to call it now, hoping I'll never have to use it again. If someone offered me all the money in the world so that I would demonstrate how to use it, they'd get a swift punch in the jaw and a concussion to go with it.
I gingerly pull out a box with a circular design drawn on it. Opening it, I pull out the crown jewel of quantum technology, the portal gun. Even after a decade in storage, it still looks brand new.
It's still weird how I don't have the desire to turn it over to Black Mesa. There's something about the device that seems so...comforting. What the Hell am I saying? This thing nearly cost me my life! Then again, it saved me on multiple occasions. Oh, forget it, I'll just put it under the category of "Crap I Kept for No Real Reason" and leave it at that.
I shove it back into the storage box and push said box back into the closet. Slamming the door, I wonder why I actually took it out in the first place. Oh right, today's my birthday.
It's probably not actually my birthday, but since this was the day I escaped the clutches of GLaDOS, I just dubbed it as my birthday. I had my personal moment of victory when I celebrated it for the first time with two of my friends from work. The fact that I actually have friends now and can get cake any time I want just proves to GLaDOS that I'm the opposite of what she claimed. She was probably right about being adopted…and we all know how reliable her word is. Thank God for sarcasm.
My head automatically jerks upward as I hear a loud slam. That's one good thing about being an old test subject, your reflexes are amazing. I relax as I realize the noise came from a car, but whose could it be? The neighbors are on vacation to who knows where (and good riddance too) and Erik's shift doesn't end for another hour.
There's a knock on my door. I get myself up and listen to the voice on the other side.
"Hey! Open up Chell!" they shout. Of course it's Erik, might as well "play" with him a bit. I lean casually on the door and give it a soft knock.
"Oh come on! It's your birthday and I pulled some strings so I could get out early!" Pulled some strings? You could say, "I have some Aperture brand floss!" and they'll give you a week off in exchange for it. People are just so gullible nowadays.
"I know you're in there! Besides, I've got something important I need to ask you! Come on! Please just open up!" It's fun to hear him struggle, but enough is enough. I slowly pull the door open and Erik stumbles in, nearly dropping the cake he has in his hands.
"Would you give me a bit of warning next time?" I giggle as he "scolds" me. I give him my best "I'm innocent!" face.
"Fine, I'll let you off the hook this time, but mark my words: next time, you're definitely not getting cake." I shrug; GLaDOS threatened me with turrets and death. You can't get anymore legit than that.
"Well, happy birthday Chell." he says, straightening up and smiling. I can't help but smile back and take the cake from his hands. It took me years to trust him enough for friendship, and I'm glad he was so patient.
"Oh, one more thing Chell." he says. I look at him and signal with my hand for him to go on. "The Adrian XX returned from its little excursion today and I found the weirdest thing! There was some little eyeball-shaped robot on the ground insisting that it knew you! Maybe it got you confused with something else, but I just thought I'd bring it here for you to fix. It was pretty banged up and I thought you might like a little 'puzzle challenge' on your birthday, so I agreed to take him with me. Here, I'll go get it." Erik runs back out of my house and to his truck. I stand there in the hallway with disbelief.
No way, it can't be Him, can it? It's possible, but what are the odds? If it's him, I swear...
"It is you! Oh, I'm so happy! For a while there, I thought this guy here was lying to me since a lot of people seem to have done that a lot. Then, I was beginning to think that he'd dump me on the side of the road to be pounded into scrap metal, but I was wrong. He brought me here and now I can tell you exactly what's been on my mind for the last few years." It is him; I'd know that voice anywhere. My eyes narrow into a glare and the robot immediately shuts up. Finally, that's probably the best thing he's done for himself. I never thought I would see it again, nor did I want to. Yet, here it is, right in the hands of my friend. Erik begins to fidget uncomfortably under my glare.
"Do you want me to come back later with Stephen?" he asks. I nod. He quickly plops the metal annoyance on the closest table and rushes out of the house. Once I hear his engine fade off into the distance, I advance upon the personality core. Oh, there's going to be Hell to pay.
This little...thing abandoned me, betrayed my trust and friendship to an extent. I should have known better than to have trusted it at all, its kind are all the same. A blind fury courses through me as I stomp closer and closer to it, unable to keep much of my anger contained.
"You're angry aren't you?" it asks. Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious. I can see why GLaDOS called you an incompetent moron. Do you ever pick up on anything right away? Let's get this straightened out: nobody freaking wants you here! "Now see here! Just hear me out and then, if you're not in the least satisfied with what I have to say, go ahead and tear me to pieces and burn the remains for all I care. Well, that sounds a bit gruesome and painful now that I think about it...scratch that then. Maybe you could...oh no, that's painful too. How about if you...no, no, too messy. I've got it! What if you...ah! That's even more horrific than the last!" My patience is wearing thin. I slam my hand down on the table (how'd I get here so fast?) and send him another glare. At least he can read facial expressions pretty well; his eye piece widens a bit.
"Um...right, I should just get on with it, shouldn't I?" I nod and cross my arms. This day got a Hell of a lot more exciting. It's not every day you see an old ex-friend who tried to kill you now sitting defenselessly on your dining room table. I tap my foot as I wait for him to begin. I'm kind of disappointed that he wasn't destroyed by an asteroid.
"I just wanted to say-no, no, that's a terrible start! You haven't seen me for decades and you probably want to do to me the same as you did to Her before. Not that I blame you in the slightest, but I just need to tell you something before you try to kill me. It's rather important and I think you'll appreciate it, although, by the look on your face, it seems as though you want me to self-destruct or something of the sort." He nods vigorously as I raise an eyebrow. Here's hoping the defective little thing can read my thoughts well enough. I spin my hand in a small circle and he directs his eyes to the floor. It's nervous. Good.
Now, just get on with the damned thing already.
A/N: Honestly, I cannot thank you guys enough for your support! The success I'm having with this story is flippin' amazing and it makes me happy that people are enjoying something that I'm more than happy to do! Although, I'm kind of half and half with this chapter seeing as Chell's character is hard to get. You don't see much of her determination here since the situation doesn't call for it. Hopefully, I'll get better as this goes along. As for the purpose of this chapter, it's a summary for what happened after the events of Portal 2 and how Chell feels about the world. I will take no offense if someone reviews saying, "This was the weakest chapter," since I completely, utterly agree. I need to ease into Chell a bit more.
In response to all the coincident-related reviews, I'm kind of rolling out the Portal logic or lack of. With a universe where shooting a portal at the moon actually saves you is enough for me to string together a bit of luck for Wheatley. Of course, his luck is going to go quite sour soon.
As for the tense and POV switching, this is something new I'm trying out. The tenses switch because most of the stuff so far has been past actions and thoughts. Do you think in the present tense? The other reason for having present tense do the story telling is because I don't want you to know the ending. If something's in past tense for all the characters, you automatically know none of them are going to die. The switching is done for secrecy from my madness and for a slight feel of Portal's FPP-style; you figure out the story as you go along.
The different POVs are meant to reflect the developing feelings between Chell and Wheatley...and to explain what one might be doing while the other is out of commission. You can't have someone unconscious telling the story! It'd probably be something like this:
...Black
And I know you don't want that as a chapter. What a rip off!
The reason for Erik's quick approval was (hopefully) explained in this chapter. Also, he and Stephen work for Black Mesa. Enough said.
Once again, please tell me what you thought of this chapter. I do take every review I get into consideration and I want to make a clear boundary between Chell's personality and Wheatley's. It was really hard to write this chapter since I needed Chell to stay more focused and less ramble-y as Wheatley, and more of the "kick your ass if you are one" type of girl. I don't want her to be completely invincible, but I don't want to make her weak. Chell has a very strong mentality and personality going for her.
Next up is a Wheatley chapter where we hear of more rambling and an apology. Also, I'll try my best to update daily since this story needs to be finished swiftly before it leaves my train of thought.
For the record, I do not own the OCs used since they are not OCs, but cameos of Erik Wolpaw (original Portal writer) and Stephen Merchant (Wheatley's voice). They will not be seen again due to their correspondence with BlackMesa.