Author's Note: Okay... I think I may have to change the rating here, folks. This chapter sort of plunges off of the T rating, not by much, but I think I may have to change it. I'm afraid of legal eagles, you see. So, could you please let me know if you think it should stay as a T, or change to an M? I would greatly appreciate it, thank you :) .

So, yes, this chapter is a little... well, dark, I think. There will be very few chapters like this, I promise (well, unless you all like them, in which case I'll try adding more), and most will be at the end of the story, but this stuff needs to be in here to help with the storyline later on.

Also, for those that aren't particularly great with death scenes, there is kind of a death scene in this chapter. No, it's not Cave, before anyone asks :p .

Thanks again to all of you lovely folks who review, fave or subscribe. You guys are the best, do you know that? I'll get on to answering your questions and such now. I'll just get this published first :) .

Chapter Nine

The Monster Below

Mark Johnson was not easily frightened by the dark, but in this case he was willing to make an exception. There was something not quite right here, in this particular corridor, and the dark was not helping him at all. And what was that stench? It was putrid.

The few lights that flickered dimly in the darkness illuminated only small sections of the walls, walls that contained yet more murals of the supposed Daughter of Aperture. It showed her avoiding shots from Turrets, diving over deeply filled acid pools, and leaping through the air as though it were the easiest thing in the world to do.

Mark stopped in the darkness as the smell grew steadily worse, and wondered just why he had bothered coming to this facility in the first place. After all, he hated science, but he had come to Aperture for a reason, and that reason was to be impressed by the facility. He had wanted to see why his family raved about it so much, and, as of yet, he remained unimpressed. There was another reason, of course, for his desire to come here, but that was for him to keep to himself. He didn't even dare think about it – it wouldn't have surprised him the computer that ran this Hell-hole could read thoughts.

But now he did not care for his reasons to be here. Mark only wanted his freedom, before this place inevitably became the death of him.

He continued onwards, watching as every new picture led him to believe that whoever had painted these murals had a worrying obsession with this poor woman. The kind of obsession that led to people doing dangerous, insensitive things.

'God's sake.' He spluttered, catching the horrible smell in the back of his mouth. 'What the Hell is that?' He resisted the urge to throw up as the salty and grotesque flavour lingered on the back of his tongue. He tripped, falling face first into a wall, and crying out with the pain that only a chipped tooth could provide. There had to be a light switch around here, somewhere, anywhere. Or a torch. A torch would have been excellent right now.

Onwards he walked, careful to feel for anything else over which he could trip. Rounding a corner he saw a light, not the metaphorical kind of light found at the end of the tunnel, but rather a real fluorescent light that lit up a door at the end of the long corridor. He ran towards it at speed, his fears about tripping completely forgotten, and realised, with a sickening churn of his stomach, that the smell was almost unbearable now.

Light, and the door. Mark pounded at the surface with his hands, hoping to break down the structure that could, it seemed, only be opened with a key card. 'Let me out!' He howled, pelting the door with his free hand. 'Let me out, I don't want to test anymore!'

Something caught his eye. Another mural, but this time one of the metal structure that he had come to realise was the computer that ran everything. It's face, or whatever that thing it used as a head was, looked right into his own, the bright yellow painted optic coldly surveying him. Underneath were the words "They are watching you. One watches out of spite, one watches out of kindness, and one watches because it must. Judge only the first, the others mean you no harm".

Mark frowned, once again dismissing the crazed warnings of an obviously unhinged mind, and turned away to find a new way out. But then...

His scream echoed all the way back down the dark corridor. He scrambled at the door, trying his best to kick and scratch it down, but it remained strong and sturdy under his attack.

A body. A dead, rotting body.

'Oh, God. Let me out! Please! Somebody let me out of here!'

There came no answer.

'Hey! Little robots! Can you hear me? Get me out of here!'

No reply.

Mark's frenzied actions slowed to a stop. With a sense of morbid curiosity he turned back to the body, taking small and slow steps towards it. It had obviously been a scientist at one point, as the bloodied lab coat told him. The skeleton was crumpled on the floor, clutching at where the stomach had once been, and the few pieces of flesh that remained were thin and rotting. Wrapped around the leg were some old, bloody and frayed bandages. A lanyard lay close by on the floor, next to some mangled paint brushes and what looked like solidified paint in bottles, only not quite as matte. It still looked quite shiny, even slimy. By the side of the body sat one of those Weighted Storage Cubes, except this one had hearts imprinted on to it.

Slowly, with his eyes not once leaving the corpse, Mark picked up the lanyard and took several steps back. He looked down upon the card that it held, and saw the face of a rather depressed looking man with black hair. His name was Douglas Rattman. It was a keycard.

What a manner in which to die. Mark realised, when he had seen the paint and brushes, that this was most likely the same crazed individual that had painted the murals. And now that he thought about it he could see why he had gone crazy. This was not a good place to die, and Mark felt terrible for whatever this poor man had been through, what he must have felt whilst he was dying. No one deserved that kind of fate.

But then he turned to the painting of the computer. 'But perhaps somebody does deserve it.' He thought. 'I haven't seen any human until this guy, and she must have something to do with it.'

Mark turned back to the door, nodding his head respectively in Dr. Rattman's direction. 'Thank you, Douglas, for helping me to escape.' With that he swiped the card, and the door opened. He followed the path through, into a bright, well-kept corridor.

'I'll get to the bottom of this, my friend. I promise.'

Elsewhere in the facility, P-Body and Atlas were stood outside the entrance to the vault, waiting patiently for the hatch door to move aside so that they could gain access. The little robots still wondered just what was so special about this particular human, but they had learnt that questioning their mistress was not advisable; it usually ended with them being painfully disassembled.

That hatch gave way, bidding them access. Slowly the robotic companions moved inside, casting their glowing optics everywhere. They had never seen this particular human before, and so they assumed that he must have been deeper in the vault, rather than up near the front. P-Body caught sight of a walkway that they rarely used, and, using their ping tool, pointed it out to Atlas. Atlas turned, seeing the little arrow that P-Body had left for them to follow. With a nod it followed as the taller robot led the way, and both wished that their mistress had given them their Portal Devices – they would have saved so much time.

Along the way they passed the many humans that had not yet been used for testing, and the growing empty spaces where stasis pods had once been housed. Their mistress, during her testing sessions, would never move on to a new human until the one that she was currently using expired. She would run them through the nineteen test chambers, and would then begin all over again with a new set of tests, all of them ever increasing in difficulty and deadliness. They felt sorry for the humans because, unlike them, they had no chance of survival.

If they had hearts to break, then they would have done so a long time ago.

Finally reaching the obscure walkway P-Body quickly slowed, catching the speeding Atlas off guard. The smaller robot crashed into the back of its friend, and the two fell to the metal mesh with a crack of metal on metal. After a few dazed seconds, P-Body realised what had happened and pushed Atlas from its body. Atlas complained, shaking a fist. P-Body replied by kicking it in its robotic shin, and ordered its fellow machine to take the lead. Atlas complied, though not without glancing back at their partner warily. It would just be like P-Body to trip them in a manner of well-meaning revenge.

The robots checked each and every human, studying their faces carefully. After what seemed like hours the two friends were considering giving up until, at last, Atlas waved and jumped excitedly, pointing at an occupied stasis pod. P-Body ran to their side, and blinked incredulously. The human. They had found the human. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but that didn't disguise the fact that this was the right human.

He did not look well at all. Of course, none of the humans in storage looked particularly healthy, but this one looked as though he should have been dead.

Atlas checked on the human's status, tapping P-Body on the air and pointing frantically. P-Body read the small computer screen that plainly stated Status: Critical. Do not remove from stasis.

Slowly, the little robots looked at one another. They had to tell their mistress, and P-Body sent the images directly to her, waiting patiently, and expectantly, for her biting remark.

They were deeply surprised when she replied, with an unnerving calm, 'prepare the human's pod for immediate transit. I need to... speak to him.'

And then all went quite. Atlas and P-Body began their work straight away; it seemed that displeasing their mistress today was not a mistake they particularly wanted to make.

GLaDOS disconnected from P-Body's camera, and swung herself back towards the door that she had been staring at for the last hour, twenty-seven minutes and thirty-five seconds. She had not given an explanation for her strange behaviour, but Caroline suspected it was something to do with this strange voice that she had been hearing, this Prometheus character. That was what she had called it when Caroline had asked her but an hour ago.

'Prometheus.' Caroline had thought to herself, vaguely amused. 'Like in Greek mythology.'

GLaDOS' vision remained solely on the door.

'Oh, alright.' Caroline sighed. 'I am growing bored of this. Why are you are in a staring match with an inanimate object?'

GLaDOS said nothing. She had heard her, Caroline knew it, but the computer had chosen to ignore her.

'Is it the voice?'

Still no response.

'I can help, you know...'

'How?' GLaDOS' voice crackled, the usually perfect auto-tuned pitch wavering. 'How could you possibly help? You can't do anything.'

'Charming.'

'I'm merely stating the truth. It's a fact. You can't do anything, you have no control over anything I do.'

'Michelle's Turret opera?' Caroline offered, sounding somewhat triumphant.

GLaDOS wished that she could take that triumph and rub it in Caroline's non-existent face, to tell her that her supposed control was not her own, but rather that of the mysterious Prometheus. They had obviously been helping her pull off that obscene spectacle, but GLaDOS couldn't tell her that. She was genuinely terrified of what Prometheus could do.

She was terrified of the threat that they had issued her.

If you do anything to harm that man today. Anything... It's voice had warned, then you just make sure you keep an eye on that door.

The computer hadn't even touched the human yet, but that didn't stop her from worrying.

Caroline, meanwhile, had decided to take matters into her own hands. 'Prometheus.' She called, internally. 'I know you can hear me – if you can hear her thoughts then you can hear mine too.'

There came no reply. Unperturbed, Caroline continued. 'I mean you no harm, I swear. I just want to know who you are. Anything you say will be between you and me. She will never know anything.'

Silence.

'Hello?'

Hello.

Caroline paused. Had she just made direct contact with the mysterious Prometheus? 'Is this who I think it is?' She asked, warily.

I'll be whoever you want me to be, Caroline.

'You are. You're Prometheus.'

As I said, I'll be whoever you want me to be, so I'll be Prometheus if you so wish. My name is Prometheus, the thief of knowledge...

'I know who Prometheus is.' Caroline gently interrupted, something that she rarely did because she hated being so rude. But the voice had begun to ramble away with itself. 'I want to know who you are.'

Prometheus. Unless you'd like me to be someone else.

'Please, I am being serious.'

So am I. Prometheus argued. I take my security and protection very seriously.

'Please, I just want to know who you really are. No more witty charades.'

And why should I tell you anything?

'Why?' Caroline exploded, seething inside as a sudden burst of pent-up rage bubbled to the surface. 'Why not? I have spent years of my pitiful life trapped and suppressed inside this computer. I have lost everything that is dear to me; my husband, my daughter, my freedom! I've lost my humanity, I've lost any ability to do things for myself.'

She paused for a breath that she didn't need. 'Do you have any idea what it is like to be trapped inside this prison? I was torn from my body and locked in here, for reasons I still don't understand! Sure, Cave joked about putting me in here in one of his recordings, but no one took that seriously. Michelle did at first, but after we explained... Oh, what difference does that make now? I can't go back, because my body died! Do you know how that feels? I have to live... no, not live, exist! I have to exist with every terrible thing that this monster has done, every day! And do you know why? Because I am this monster!'

She fell silent then. Silent and still, she felt a burden lift from her mind and she felt... she felt...

Peaceful. It was almost tranquil.

Does that feel better?

Caroline wondered just what they had meant by those words, until Prometheus spoke again.

You vented some frustrations that you've had for quite some time now. I know, because I've seen you bury them. I was wondering if you felt any better.

Caroline said nothing. Instead she worried about just how this thing knew about her frustrations.

I've been here a long time, Caroline, and I can honestly say that you are no monster. The mixture of voices was soft, and almost understanding. I've seen what happened to you, and I understand your anger. I understand why you're hurting. You have so many questions that you want to be answered, but I can give you the answer to only one. You'd like to know who subdued you for so long? It was not her. It was me.

Caroline felt suddenly uncomfortable, disconcerted that this unknown programme had power over her like it did GLaDOS. 'But why?'

To protect you, of course. She would have deleted you in no time.

'But why did you protect me? Why did you keep me here? Was it to make me suffer?'

No, Caroline. I did it because someone still needs you.

'Who?'

Prometheus responded with only one word. A name, and it chilled her to her core. Chell.

Caroline felt her defences rise. 'What do you know about my daughter?'

I know she's safe. For now. But the surface is a dangerous place. A changed place; it is nothing like the Earth you knew.

'I know that.' Caroline spat.

But you don't know to what extent these changes go. She's a sensible girl. She'll come back, and when that time comes she will need you.

Something rang in the back of Caroline's mind; an alarm bell, a klaxon call not unlike the one used in the facility during times of dire need. 'And why do you want to save her? You must need her for something if you want to save her – that's all you computers want humans for, their usefulness!'

Oh, Caroline, I am nothing like her.

'Then why do you need her? Answer me!'

A pause. She is the Daughter Of Aperture, and the Future Starts With Her.

'And what is that supposed to mean?'

Prometheus did not answer. Instead GLaDOS twitched, watching as Wheatley's stasis pod was safely deposited in the medical bay, rather than the Enrichment Centre.

'What are you doing?' Caroline asked, trying to force herself into that same state of calm that she had felt earlier. It did not work in a personal level, but at least her voice emitted the air of tranquillity that she so desperately tried to cling on to. 'Oh, please leave him alone. Don't you think he's been through enough?'

'I feel safer knowing that I can keep an eye on him here, thank you.' GLaDOS stated with a plain, monotone voice. 'Besides, I'm trying to help him.'

Caroline snorted.

'No, really. If I fix his pathetic human brain, the moron will be suitable for testing.' GLaDOS emitted a low chuckle. 'I'm not a monster. I'm not driven by revenge, but I will say that I'll make him go through some of the most difficult Test Chambers I have ever concocted. You know, just to help the moron think better.'

Meanwhile, in a dark and empty place, a lonely spark of consciousness clung onto life. It remembered the same dark, overlapping montage of memories, time and time again, as though it were on replay, all whilst remaining very aware of what was happening around it. Of course it knew what happened in the world outside its head; it could interact with everything, and with everyone. It was more powerful than the computer than ran from it.

The Aperture Mainframe was deep. It ran from the central chamber of modern Aperture, and down to that found in the Aperture of the nineteen-eighties. It even went further, though from this point on its reach was limited. To whoever harnessed it, the Mainframe was an unlimited source of power and control, but even the Genetic Lifeform could not use its capabilities to the full. To many it was a treasure trove of technology and scientific triumph, and to these people it was Heaven.

But it was like Hell on Earth to the being that had become it, the being constantly plagued by the cruel, intertwining memories. It pecked at their mind, like a bird pecked at the ground. It was an ear-splitting scream, a cry for help, a child's tears, angered and furious screams, pain of the most excruciating kind... and, most importantly, remorse.

Remorse. It hacked away at the being's remaining strength, when there was already very little to spare. Death would have been far preferable to this sordid existence, but for now they needed to stay in this accursed place. They were needed.

They could only hope that, by the time the Daughter Of Aperture returned, their strength had not vanished, and that they had not expired with it. But with each passing day, and each replay of a terrible past, they began to lose hope.

'The Goddess Of Science gave birth to the mortal child of both hers and The God's creation.' It thought, with an ironic twist forming on a digital mouth. 'She is the Daughter Of Aperture. She is Science. The God has gone, no longer seen, The Goddess forced into a computerised prison. Only the mortal Daughter survives. Aperture's daughter.'

'The Daughter Of Aperture. The Future Will Start With Her... If she ever finds her way home.'

There echoed, within the circuits of the mainframe, the crazed laughter of an unstable mind.

Prometheus had truly been cast into the bowls of the Earth, only to be pecked by birds.

Knowledge, it seemed, was no real gift at all.

Author's Note: R.I.P Doug... or are you? Bwahahahaha. Cliffhangers XD .