There was a sharp clash of metal and several sparks shot into the air as two bipedal robots slapped hands with each other, a gesture imitated from a human high-five. The Voice always reacted to their human-like gestures in disdain, but they usually took no heed of it. The high-fives, the hugs, the teasing… they were all necessary parts of their team. Maybe the Voice didn't realize that because She always worked alone.

Another test completed. The androids gurgled in excitement, running into their respective blue and orange assembly pods. The glass coverings slid closed and they meet each other's optics in anticipation of arriving at the next test.

Nothing happened.

There was no spontaneous disassembly and then reassembly in another chamber. Perhaps the machine was broken, but then the floor at least should open and swallow them up to bring them to the next challenge. The two bots stood awkwardly in their pods as the seconds ticked by.

This was unusual…

"Do you remember earlier when I said I needed you to fetch something?" the Voice asked, causing both constructs to look up in surprise. "That was a false statement. Actually, I need you to fetch two things."

The constructs looked at each other again, both thinking along the same lines. Two things to get, two of them. They could make short work of their task and then quickly resume their testing, which the Voice would probably want.

"Orange, your assignment is fairly simple, in accordance to what you are actually somewhat capable of. Blue, I have something… different in mind for you."

They glanced at each other in confusion. Why were they being given different assignments?

"Despite your failures at the recent tests, the two of you have continued to become closer and strengthen your team. So here is your real test. How will each of you fare alone?"

Startled, both robots reeled and then scrabbled at the glass doors of their pods, struggling to force them open. Their efforts had no effect whatsoever on the door. The machine in each of their pods yanked them backwards, already disassembling them even as they stared at each other in complete hopelessness.

Chell didn't remember much of what happened between her overhearing the short conversation over Gaz's watch and finding herself downstairs on the couch almost an hour later, clutching her knees to her chest and staring at nothing.

She slowly looked down at the threadbare patches on the knees of her well-worn jeans. The faded blue denim swam in front of her eyes.

"Wheatley's dead." It had sounded like a passing remark. The boy speaking had been Gaz's older brother—the one who brought Wheatley and the space-obsessed core down to Earth several days ago. And now Wheatley was dead.

Exactly how he must have died, she couldn't be sure, though she could definitely guess. The brief glimpse she had gotten of the boy's surroundings on that tiny screen of the watch had told her all she needed to know. He had somehow gotten himself into the Relaxation Center at Aperture Laboratories. If Wheatley was dead, it was likely that She had snatched the core up and killed him at first glance. And the boy was to blame.

Chell's arms tightened around her knees. But… Wheatley—that core—was merely a machine; he had stabbed her in the back, prevented her escape from the Facility, and tried to kill her. This boy was a human child who had made a mistake. Well, several mistakes, by the look of things, but still. If left alone down there for too long he would be subjected to the same horrors that she herself had been, and he may not survive.

Her eyes drifted up toward the ceiling and she thought of Gaz. The girl's brother was only a couple of years older than her, if that. And Gaz couldn't be more than eleven. The boy was just a kid—a kid who would likely be put through the same tests that had killed people three times his age within minutes.

She closed her eyes and turned her head away.

"Hey."

Chell snapped to attention at once and realized that Gaz had appeared around the side of the couch, carrying two plates of slightly-burned scrambled eggs. She held one of them out. Chell glanced at her, taking the plate and nodding in thanks.

Gaz sat next to her with her own plate and spooned globs of egg into her mouth. "After breakfast I'll take you to see Zim. He might know where Dib and your robot are, at least."

Chell stirred the egg around on her plate. "I know where your brother is. There's nothing you can do for him."

The young girl snorted. "What, and there's something you can do? Chances are Zim's done something with him. I'm going to go talk to him, with or without you. Oh, and if you're thirsty, we have milk. Touch the soda and you die."

Chell took a bite of her overcooked scrambled eggs and coughed a little, setting the plate down on the coffee table and standing up to get a glass of milk. Maybe talking to this "Zim" person might be helpful after all. She supposed that she could have just imagined Dib's surroundings on that screen—no, that was an idiotic thought. She knew what she saw. He was in Aperture. And if experience had taught her anything, it was that there was no possible way to escape Aperture without help.

Still, it was a mystery as to how he had even gotten in there, and maybe Zim could give her an answer.

Thanks to the map, Dib reached his destination faster than he would ever have thought.

He entered the dark hallway indicated on the map, glancing around as he passed through. It was a wide hall. Directly across from him, apparently built into the wall, was a glass case with three sections separated by partitions. Two of the sections had glass fronts and the third was walled off. There were five panes of glass, two fronting each section with unmoving cores behind them, and three more above them on each section. A bright light shone down into the leftmost section from a lamp suspended directly above it.

"I think I've found it!" Dib said to his wrist-com. He hurried to the case, pressing his hands against the glass and peering inside. Sure enough, there was Wheatley, sitting lopsided at the top of the pile.

"Oh! Oh! You're in? That's brilliant! That's—where are you?" the core asked over the wrist-com. Dib couldn't actually hear him through the glass, so it must have been soundproofed somehow. He fiddled with the switch on the nape of his stealth suit and materialized back into view. He hadn't seen any cameras around, anyway. Of course, that didn't mean there weren't any, but right now this rescue mission was more important than worrying about that.

Wheatley craned his optic over to catch a glimpse of him. "Right, there you are. So, d'you think you can get me outta here?"

"Yeah. Yeah…" Dib examined all the sides of the bin that he could reach but there didn't seem to be any way to access it. It was sealed. "Wait, I can't find a way to open it!"

"Can you hack it?" Wheatley asked.

"Hack the glass?" Dib backed up and glanced around. "I don't… have an axe or anything."

"No, I mean, er, computer-type hack," Wheatley said quickly.

Dib took in the case again. "It's electronic?"

Wheatley scanned his optic over the inside of the bin. "I don't think so… Could you just do a manual override on it?"

Dib ran a hand through his hair. "I can't find a way to access any kind of security grid—"

"Okay, just- just hit it with a blunt object!" Wheatley said.

There weren't any blunt objects around. Of course, Dib did have his grappling hook. Backing away, he removed the compact grappling hook from his suit's utility belt, leveling it at the case. "All right, brace yourself!" he shouted, and fired the hook. It shot forward, driving into the glass case and leaving a jagged spiderweb of cracks in it. The hook clattered to the ground, then snapped back into the trigger. He pointed it at the case again and pulled the trigger once more, jerking a little with the kickback. The hook smashed into the side of the case and the glass finally shattered under the contact as well as the weight of the mountain of cores piled behind it. The cores spilled out onto the ground, bouncing and rolling all over the room before coming to a stop. Most were silent and inactive. Dib assumed they were all dead with the exception of Wheatley, but then he caught sight of another core blinking up at him. This one had a bright pink optic.

"The square root of rope is string," the core said in a fast, processed voice much like the Space Core's, though without the ever-present excitement.

"Ohh, that was brilliant!" Wheatley said, his voice echoing as it was spoken both in person and over the wrist-com. Dib switched off the communications link in his watch. Wheatley had rolled over and bumped into the wall, but he swiveled his inner casing around to fix Dib with a smile. "Clever use of technology there. A-plus hacking job, well done. Now, er, we should get out of here."

Crash.

One last core tumbled down, a bright white light glaring from its trembling optic. It rolled down and settled at Dib's feet, the intense light shutting off to reveal a shivering, pale green pinprick of an optic. Dib whipped his head up to see that what he had initially taken for a lamp illuminating the glass case had actually been that core, suspended from a mechanical claw that was now lowering into the empty bin.

"Warning! Malfunction detected in the Corrupted Cores Bin," a cheerful male voice, the same one that Dib had heard in the Extended Relaxation Center, said. "Defective cores may escape and wreak havoc. Top security protocols recommended."

"Right, and, that would be your cue to pick me up and get out of here!" Wheatley said.

The claw halted in its downward movement, roving back and forth as if searching for something.

"Fact: In Greek mythology, the giant Argus had one hundred eyes covering his body so that no matter which way he was facing he could not be taken by surprise," the pink-eyed core said in its rapid, processed voice. Dib hefted Wheatley into his arms and furrowed his brow at the other core.

"What about him?" he asked.

"Him? Don't worry about him! She won't hurt him, She's after me!" Wheatley snapped.

Dib cast him a doubtful glance. "Are you—NYAH!"

The claw shot toward them, shattering the glass above the bin. It moved down a rail on the ceiling—how had he not seen that before?!—and ended up right above Dib as he ducked away from the flying shards of glass, then it lunged down to snatch Wheatley out of his hands. It was only thanks to Dib's quick reflexes that he managed to dive out of the way this time, rolling across the ground with the core clutched to his chest. Broken glass crunched under him and he winced.

"RUN!" Wheatley shrieked. "Run! Just—RUN! For goodness' sakes RUN!"

The claw snapped out again. Dib scrambled to the side, only to gasp in pain as the claw clamped over his bad ankle and wrenched his foot out from under him, making him crash back to the ground. The claw let go to rush at Wheatley again. Dib pulled to the side, almost choking on the agony spiking through his leg.

"How does it know where we are?!" he cried, dodging the claw yet again and struggling toward the room's exit.

"I don't know! Uh, cameras!" Wheatley shouted. "No, there aren't any cameras—signal! Maybe She's got my signal! What's it matter? Point is, we're gonna be—" He yelped as Dib suddenly dropped him onto the ground. "NONONO what're you doing—?"

Dib ripped off his wrist-com and turned the communication back on, causing Wheatley's voice to echo once again. Maybe now it was broadcasting Wheatley's signal. It might be their only hope. He dragged Wheatley away from yet another claw attack and scrabbled to reach the nearest core—the one with the pink eye.

"Why're you on the GROUND?" Wheatley's voice had hiked up several pitches and was very nearly a squeak, his optic a blue point of light that stayed locked on the claw. "We have got to get out of here!"

"In Irish legend, the banshee is a female spirit whose wailing warns of an impending death in a house," the pink-eyed core said, showing no reaction to the current situation.

Dib's fingers finally found the handle of the defunct core and he yanked it over. In an instant he fastened the wrist-com around the core's handle, grabbed it in both hands with a quick "Sorry," and sent it flying across the room.

The claw changed course. It shot after the core, snatching it just before it hit the ground. The claw then pulled the core into the bin, up through a hole in the ceiling, and out of sight.

There was silence for a moment except for Dib's adrenalin-induced ragged breathing.

Then Wheatley spoke up again. "…Oh. Right, well. Let's- let's shove off, then."

With difficulty, Dib pulled himself to his feet, but found he couldn't put any weight on the ankle the claw had grabbed. "Agh—Wheatley, I don't think I can walk," he said, grimacing.

Wheatley's mechanics whirred as his optic rotated to face him. "What? Of course you can. You've got legs, haven't you? I saw you walk—"

"Something's wrong with my ankle." Dib, bracing himself against the wall, gave the core an irritated look.

"Oh! Right. Faulty ankle." Wheatley glanced around nervously. "Well- well you're gonna have to walk, mate. Look—She is gonna find out that core's not me—any minute now, She's gonna find out. Second. Any second now. So even if you think you can't walk—and you can, look, I'm speaking motivationally to you now, you have to listen to me—you can, in fact, walk, so just- just, y'know, pick me up and let's get out of here."

Once again, he was right. They'd already wasted too much time. Dib sucked in a breath, wincing, and headed back toward the core. Every footstep made his head spin and he walked with a pronounced limp, but he managed to pick Wheatley up again and head toward the exit.

"Brilliant! Brilliant. Keep going," the core directed. Dib gritted his teeth and walked faster. They passed through the entrance to the room that housed the Corrupted Cores Bin and headed along the corridor that Dib had come through earlier.

"That was worse than bloody space," Wheatley muttered, presumably about his experience in the bin. "First I think I'm gonna be incinerated, then I'm stuck upside down on a pile of bloody dead cores… And that bloke back there, the one you sent to Her. How's he know so many facts? Unfair, that's what that is."

Wheatley didn't seem too horribly traumatized by his time in the Corrupted Cores Bin. That was probably for the best, actually, as he was the only one of the pair who knew anything about this place.

"Oh! Wait wait wait, stop!" Wheatley said suddenly, causing Dib to stumble to a halt and look around.

"What? What is it?" he asked.

Wheatley jerked his optic up to the ceiling. "Up there! On the management rail! There's a connector. See it?"

Hanging from a rail on the ceiling was indeed some kind of black pole with a large, round connector on the end.

"Attach me to that and I'll be able to move about on my own," the core said excitedly. Dib looked at the connector with a dubious expression. If that thing—that computer—wanted to capture Wheatley so badly, was it really a good idea to plug him right into something attached directly to the facility?

"Come on, won't take two seconds," Wheatley implored. "Just lift me up and—yes, that's it!"

Dib lifted Wheatley up as high as he could, brushing the core's back port against the low connector. Wheatley attached with two clicks and then he was free of Dib's hold.

"OHHH!" Wheatley motored down the rail away from Dib, spun on the connector, and came trundling back. "Look at me! Back on a management rail. Never thought I'd see these things again." He started down the rail at a good pace.

Dib hesitated for a second, still reluctant to put weight on his right ankle.

Wheatley continued talking. "All right, first order of business, getting me out of the Corrupted Cores Bin, taken care of. Done. Tick. Next: Getting out of here. Bit more of an undertaking, if I'm honest. We'll have to—OH!" He screeched to a halt. "Hold on, hold on, I've got it! I'm back in the Facility—do you know what this means?" He whirled around to face Dib, grinning broadly. Dib stared. "I can find the lady! I can find her! And I can get her out—maybe apologize, man alive that'd be great. All right, scratch the 'Getting out of here' plan. Put that on the back burner for now. Next order of business: Finding the lady!"

"Wait, wait," Dib said. "We can't stay any longer. We've got to get out of here!"

Wheatley's smile faded and he looked at Dib in disbelief. "Well—yes—but… We've got to find her… Come on, mate. Weren't you trying to save the world from Zam?"

"Zim."

"Zim, right. Weren't you trying to save the world from him? Saving people? That's your forte, isn't it? Good old forte? You like saving people. And… Look, mate, I can't find her without you. I'll never get anywhere without a human."

Wheatley looked at him hopefully. Dib raised an eyebrow, gaze drifting down away from the core as he considered it. A human test subject being trapped down here was a terrible thought, actually. And he was the only person around who might be able to help her. Maybe he and Wheatley could continue on, find their way to the surface, and go for help, but by then it might be too late if it wasn't already—and besides, who would ever believe him?

"All right," he said, eyes narrowing in determination.

The core's optic brightened. "Yes! Knew you'd come around. Well, come on, then!" Wheatley turned around again, calling back over his metaphorical shoulder. "Can't afford to wait around all day!"

Zim's house was an inconvenient distance from Professor Membrane's: too far to just take a quick walk over and too close to try to take a bus.

Luckily, the woman Gaz was leading there didn't say much. Gaz liked that in a person.

She walked several paces ahead with Chell following, limping slightly—she'd had a limp since she had appeared on Gaz's doorstep earlier that morning. The woman's eyes were narrowed and face was set in an expression that was probably meant to appear stoic, but which Gaz read easily as determination and maybe a touch of apprehension. Something about those dumb spheres really set her on edge.

Gaz didn't bother saying anything to Chell. After having to go everywhere with Dib constantly ranting in her ear about Bigfoot or whatever, it was nice to be able to walk in silence for once.

When they reached the alien's ugly purple door Gaz pressed a finger to the doorbell and then stood back next to Chell.

Less than a second later the door flew open and Zim lunged out, jabbing an accusatory finger at the two of them with his face pulled into a sneer. "AHAAA—eeehhh." The finger fell limply back to his side and he stared at them. "Um. Hey! You're not Dib."

"No. We're here looking for Dib," Gaz said.

Zim pulled back a little, fixing Gaz with an aloof look. "I haven't seen him."

"You idiot. I know when you're lying." Gaz cracked open an eye and just looked at him.

The alien bared his teeth, stepping out onto the porch. "Rrgh, the Dib's not here. He activated a teleportation device to escape right after he stole the space probe I was examining!"

Gaz opened her eyes more. "Dib doesn't have a teleportation device." She knew only because her father hadn't invented a failsafe teleportation system yet. Unless Dib had stolen it from Zim, he didn't have one.

"What did the space probe look like?" Chell asked in a rough voice, taking Gaz a little by surprise.

Zim looked her up and down with one eye closed. "Eh, it was round, and… blue," he said, twitching one hand as if flicking away a fly. "Now begone with you! I'm busy with stuff." He went back into the house, slammed the door closed, and a few seconds later cracked it open again to peer out and presumably make sure they were leaving. "Why are you still here?"

"You stole Dib's stupid robot?" Gaz asked with a hint of amusement.

"No, Dib stole it from me!" Zim snapped.

Chell stepped forward and pushed the door open wider, looking down at Zim's tiny form. Zim stumbled back a few steps.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The badly-disguised alien drew himself up to his full height and glared at her full in the face. "I am ZIM!"

Chell looked beyond Zim and into the house, then up. She froze for a split second, eyes widening, then shoved past Zim and strode inside.

"Hey!" Zim shouted, starting after her. "Hey! You can't go in there! Get out of my house! That's called breaking and entering! I don't even know you!"

Chell didn't respond. Gaz pushed past Zim into the house as well, following Chell's gaze to take in the ceiling—or, rather, the lack of ceiling. Where the ceiling should have been was a mass of wires and cords that hung down in frayed or melted strands. Dib must have done a number on the base computer.

Chell's hands twitched as if she was trying to hold something that wasn't there and she fell into a slight crouch. In an instant one arm flashed out, snatching Zim by the front of his collar and yanking him closer, bending down to fix him with a look full of loathing. "Where did you come from?"

"Hey! Let go!" Zim yelled, eyes wide and voice laced with panic. He scrambled to get away from her, his boots skidding on the tiled floor, but couldn't escape her grip.

"Don't worry about him. He's just an alien," Gaz scoffed. Chell gave her an inquisitive look, not relinquishing her hold on Zim's uniform.

"Eh? No I'm not! I'm as human as ever!" Zim had his hands clasped over Chell's wrist in an attempt to pull away from her. When that didn't work he let go and hammered on her hands with his tiny fists. He glared up at the ruined ceiling. "Computer! Eradicate the intruders!"

"Urggh… little busy here, Zim," the computer's voice said, the messy wires around the room fluttering slightly. Chell jerked back at the sound of the voice and her face hardened. A shower of sparks rained down on their heads from the ceiling.

Chell straightened up, still gripping the front of Zim's uniform so that he was lifted up and his toes dragged on the ground. Her voice was even lower than usual, and she spoke quietly as if she didn't want to be overheard. "What. Is. That."

Zim, arms falling to his sides, took on a false look of bafflement. "What? The computer? That's completely normal. It's a recording. Of my… dad."

Chell looked about to make a furious retort but Gaz strode over and interrupted, glancing around the room. "So if Dib and his annoying robot aren't here, where'd they go?"

The alien gave one final yank, at last wrenching away from Chell and spinning to the floor. He stood back up and brushed himself off. "I told you, filthy Earth child. They teleported. How should I know where they ended up?"

Gaz sighed, turning away. "Fine, Zim. Come on, Chell. Dib isn't here." She led the way back out of the house. Chell followed, her jaw set and an air of wariness about her.

Zim followed them to the door. "Yes! Begone with you! Leave the mighty house of ZIM!"

Gaz rolled her eyes.

They stepped down onto the walkway, over the yard, and into the road.

"Explain about him," Chell said.

Gaz glanced over her shoulder. "You mean Zim? He's some kind of weird alien. Dib's always obsessing over him. They were in the same class last year."

Chell's brow knit together. "Alien?"

"He's from some other planet, past our solar system, or something." Gaz honestly tried to remember just where Dib had said Zim came from but found that she must never have paid close enough attention to him to remember. Oh well.

Chell drew in a long breath as if trying to calm herself down. "He has access to artificial intelligence."

"More like artificial stupidity." Gaz crossed her arms and scowled. That dumb little robot of his was basically the opposite of "intelligent." She wasn't sure about the base computer, but knowing Zim it was probably about the same.

There was a horrendous crash from the direction they had come from, accompanied by a long, drawn-out and unmistakable Zim-scream. Gaz raised one eyebrow while Chell whirled around.

"AAAHH! Put me down! Unhand me!" the alien shrieked, causing Gaz to turn around at last.

Zim was being dragged bodily from his house by some sort of squat, bipedal robot with a spherical body/head—it looked an awful lot like Dib's newfound friend, actually. It even had one glowing blue eye. The robot looked at them, blinking, gripping a struggling and infuriated Zim by his upper arms. Clenched under the robot's arm was what looked like a book or a laptop or something.

The robot jumped a little in surprise at seeing them and then turned and ran.

"GIR! Assist meee!" Zim howled, flailing and kicking for all he was worth but unable to harm the metal thing holding onto him.

Before Gaz knew what was happening, Chell was pelting after the robot. She ran with fluid, rhythmic strokes as if running came as naturally to her as breathing and was soon gaining ground between her and the fleeing android.

There was no response from GIR. Either he hadn't heard Zim's plea or he was ignoring it.

Without shifting its arms or legs out of position as it ran, the robot swiveled its "head" around in its frame to look behind itself. Seeing Chell in pursuit, it gave a terrified gurgle and increased its speed. Chell was still running after it and they were both getting farther and farther away.

Gaz groaned. Then she started running, too.

"Unhand me! Stand away! I am an Invader! I'll report you to the Armada! I'LL DO IT!" Zim was screeching random nonsense at his captor, still making no headway in escaping. Chell leaned forward, running faster, barreling toward the two. Gaz wasn't sure whether she desperately wanted to rescue Zim for some reason or just wanted to beat the crap out of that robot. Personally, she hoped for the latter.

Just as Chell finally reached the robot, leaping forward and crashing into it, Zim had apparently had enough. Four long, spindly, jointed spider-like metallic limbs sprouted from the metal backpack he wore, lashing out and screeching against the asphalt ground. Chell took this completely in stride, grabbing one of the legs and yanking it hard enough to wrench Zim out of the robot's grip. Zim was flung backwards and sprawled on the ground but jumped up again in an instant, balanced on the tips of the spider legs and making no attempt to hide them despite it being broad daylight.

Of course, if so far nobody had spotted the rogue robot running down the street with a screaming green child, they were unlikely to see this either.

"You dare try to abduct me?" Zim demanded, drawing himself up as high as the spider legs would let him go.

The robot scrambled to its feet, grabbed up the book once more, and hesitated, its gaze flicking between Chell and Zim.

"Who are you, anyway?" Gaz asked, drawing level with Chell and stepping forward.

The robot turned to her and paused. When no one moved it shifted its weight from foot to foot and looked from Chell (poised to jump at it again), to Gaz, then to Zim. Finally it made some sort of garbled noise and tilted its "head" up, pointing to a circular, shuttered logo under the right side of its eye.

Chell clenched her fists. Without breaking eye contact with the robot, she reached a hand into the satchel resting against her hip and pulled out a hand gun. She pointed the gun straight at the robot, which gurgled in incomprehension.

Gaz took in the gun Chell was pointing, then her gaze drifted to the object under the robot's arm. Her eyes opened wide. "…That's one of Dib's spelldrives. Where did you—?"

Everything happened at once. Chell fired the gun, causing the robot to shriek, but Gaz had jumped up to knock her hand aside. The bullet hit the ground about an inch away from the robot's feet. It screeched, leaping back. The gun clattered to the ground and Gaz picked it up.

Zim sprung forward, bowling the robot over and knocking the book out of its hands. The spider legs curled under his body and jabbed at the robot, which flinched away and managed to avoid the attack. The robot reached out, grabbed a spider leg in each hand, and ripped them clean out of their mechanical sockets. Zim gasped and staggered back. His two intact spider legs twitched and then retracted back into his backpack.

Gaz was the one to level the gun at the robot this time, stalking toward it. "Why do you have one of Dib's spelldrives?"

"NYEH!"

A sudden chirp from above their heads caused everyone to look upward. A small purple moose was streaking through the air towards the robot.

"MiniMoose!" Zim said, straightening up. "I called for GIR, but—YES! MiniMoose! Assist your master!"

Both Chell and Gaz stood and watched, dumbfounded, as the moose crashed head-on into the robot, sending it careening to the ground once more. The robot climbed to its feet and waved the bizarre moose away. An instant later it dove, catching Chell by surprise and pushing her over. It grabbed Zim by the back of his pink, triangular collar and ran off even faster than before. Chell jumped back to her feet and took off after them again.

MiniMoose squeaked again and took off in pursuit of the robot, latching onto its metal frame. Zim swatted at it.

Chell pumped her arms to run faster, but it was clear that whatever caused her to limp would not let her continue much longer. After a few steps, her foot twisted under her and she was thrown to the ground with a cry. The robot continued running, oblivious to Zim's heightened yelling.

The robot held out Dib's spelldrive in one hand and pressed a button as Chell levered herself onto her elbows, staring after it. She stood and took a few steps forward, her limp even more noticeable than before, but she stumbled and fell back to the ground.

Their quarry grew farther away. Then, simultaneously, the robot, alien, and robotic moose all vanished before their eyes.

So… Zim hadn't been lying about the teleportation thing.

It was quiet for a moment.

Gaz walked up to Chell, looking down at her. "So. What was that?"

Chell emitted some sort of growl from the back of her throat and whipped her head around to face Gaz, her eyes like ice. "You stopped me. I would've gotten him."

Gaz loosely held the gun out for her to take. "I wanted answers that it wouldn't have given us if it was dead. And I don't like guns. You must've really wanted to save Zim."

Grabbing her gun back, Chell stowed it away and climbed to her feet. "That robot—was from the Facility." She didn't elaborate but was breathing heavily with her fists clamped so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Gaz looked away, gazing off in the direction that the robot had disappeared. There was no way it should have been able to get one of Dib's spelldrives.

There was no way.

But it had one anyway, and she knew exactly what that meant.

The third time Dib stopped, leaning against the wall on one hand and passing the other over his weary-looking face, Wheatley decided that enough might have been just about enough. He needed to figure out what was wrong with the human so they could fix it and then continue on their trek to find the lady, before She caught on to what they were doing.

The familiarity of this last thought rattled his casing and he simulated a raspy breath, then did an about-face on his rail and motored forward until he was suspended almost directly above Dib. "Something wrong, mate?"

Dib waved him off. "Fine, I'm fine. I'm just…" He swayed, rubbing his forehead. "I must be tired, I—"

"Oh! That's all?" Wheatley said in relief. "Good. All right. Good news, I have it on good authority that, even though you're tired, you can, in fact, keep going."

Dib slumped against the wall.

Wheatley moved forward, looking down increasingly fretfully. "C'mon, c'mon, just a bit farther! Just a titch! You can rest later, all right? Tell your legs, you can rest later."

The boy took in a deep breath and then heaved himself away from the wall, stumbling forward.

"Yes! Yes, that's right!" Wheatley said. He started down the rail again, rolling backwards for a few feet to keep an eye on Dib.

Dib shook his head vigorously. "So once we find your friend, how do we get out of here?"

"…Ah." Wheatley turned back around, glancing right and left. "That's something I'm—yeah, I'm still trying to figure that out."

"How many exits are there?"

"Oh, who knows," Wheatley replied. "Loads, probably. Trouble is they're pretty tricky to find. Nigh impossible, really. Well, I'd actually say they are literally impossible to find. I told you, I've got a built-in map, but I've never found any exits." He looked thoughtfully down the hall. "The one I do know of, there's a lift to the surface in Her chamber, but last time I tried that idea—"

His entire chassis jerked at the memory, his body swinging forward as he slammed on the brakes. His eye aperture shrunk to a pinpoint.

Dib whipped his head up. "What? Did you see something?"

"No, hah, no." Wheatley forced a nervous laugh. "Sorry. Just thinking about something. Point is, we're not doing the lift idea."

To Wheatley's relief, Dib didn't press the issue. Instead he had a different question. "So, what is that giant hanging robot? The Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System?"

Wheatley winced and glanced down at the boy limping below him. "Oh, that's—She—She's the one who runs this whole place. And She's—ahhh, you might want to stay clear of Her, right, from here on out. She hates humans. And—and cores, She hates cores, too, particularly cores that, eheh, just happen to be me, so… best that neither one of us is captured again."

"I figured that," Dib said weakly, attempting a small smile that turned into a frown as a new thought occurred to him. "It's pretty hazy in here."

Was it? Wheatley looked down at him again. Dib was leaning almost his entire weight on the wall and was using it to brace himself as he made his way after Wheatley. He was going awfully slowly.

Yes, okay, he was injured, maybe, and probably tired and hungry—Wheatley didn't truly understand these feelings, of course, having never experienced them himself—but he did understand that humans needed food and rest in order to function and, well keep from being dead. Preserve their not-dead states. Or maybe he was sick. Humans suffered from all manner of gross ailments. BUT, the point was, his slow-going was likely to get them caught. What if they had to run?

Once more, the human switched to a different subject. "So that computer controls the place and watches everything through cameras," he verified.

"Yes," Wheatley replied.

"Why does she—" Dib broke off, coughing into his fist.

"Why does She… what?" Wheatley turned around again.

Dib coughed again, and when he next spoke his voice was a rasp. "Sorry, my head hurts. I said, why does the computer—" He took a wheezing breath and didn't finish the question, coming to a standstill and squeezing his eyes closed while clutching his forehead. "Wheatley, I think I…"

He dropped to his knees.

"What? No! No, don't do that!" Wheatley said hurriedly, rushing back over. "What are you doing? She could be here at any second—"

"Actually, I'd have to say it's a little late for that."

The voice brought Wheatley jolting to a halt. Dib, propping himself up with one hand, froze as well and opened his eyes again.

"I thought—" he wheezed, "—I thought you said there weren't any cameras and she couldn't see us—"

"I couldn't before," She said pleasantly. "And then you both decided to walk right in front of one of my older testing chambers."

Wheatley whirled around with a screech of metal and saw to his horror that the wall up ahead was made of panels, not plaster, and that one of them was pulled away, and through the gap peered the solitary, glowing, blood-red light of a camera lens.

"I should have known you were the one who was sneaking around my facility with a cloaking device. I tracked your progress through the camera feeds. Did you know it's against company policy for corrupt cores to be removed from the Corrupted Cores Bin? And this core is about as corrupt as they come."

"Wh—what—" Wheatley hunched down in his casing and pulled his connector up as high as it would go.

"You really thought a watch strapped to a malfunctioning core would fool me?"

There were loud clunks and rattles from the ceiling overhead. Finally, a hatch opened, and a husk of a sphere fell out and landed squarely in front of Dib, then rolled to the side.

Dib reached out a shaking hand and prodded it, finding it hot to the touch. Both handles were twisted, one having been snapped off at one end. The metal was blackened and charred, and half of the sphere was gone completely.

It was a core. A half-melted core with a dull optic that had once glowed pink.

Dib swallowed, jerking his head up toward Wheatley. "You said she wouldn't hurt that core!"

"That—that wasn't—" Wheatley gulped.

"In case you were interested, that core and your watch met their ends on a last, happy trip to the incinerator. The two of you might join them, if I'm feeling generous."

Wheatley broke out of his petrified stupor at once. "Come on! Come on!" he urged the human below, his gaze oscillating between him and the glaring red lens of the camera. "Get up! We're leaving! NOW!"

Dib tried to pull himself back to his feet, but stumbled and fell again.

"What are you doing?" Wheatley gasped.

"Oh, metal ball," the voice called lightly. "I think that might be partially your fault."

"What?" He turned his attention back to the camera.

"Remember when you and that lunatic test subject were running around in my facility, mindlessly wrecking things? …Yes, I see you do."

Wheatley tried desperately to wipe the stricken look off his face but it didn't quite work.

"If you'll recall, you did extensive damage to my neurotoxin generator. Which has now, you'll be happy to know, sprung a slight leak due to the weakened structure. And after all this time… I honestly have no idea how that could have happened."

Dib lifted his head, his eyes wide and unfocused. "Neurotoxin?"

"What with the rate of the gas escaping, I'd say you have mere minutes until you lose consciousness. Especially if someone were to, say… help it along a little."

"Dib! RUN!" Wheatley yelled, at the same time as Dib, horrified, said, "You gassed the facility? I read that it was an accident!"

All along the hallway, vents at the top of the walls flew open and yellow-green clouds billowed out, spreading into the air and filling the hall with a greenish haze.

"Why yes, I did," She said. "I also forged the report claiming that it was an accident. It's so nice to be recognized for one of my greatest achievements."

With what must have been a herculean effort, Dib threw himself to his feet, staggering forward in a lopsided run, desperate to get away from the gas. As Wheatley continued to yell—encouragement, threats, gibberish, he didn't even know what was spewing from his synthesizer at this point—Dib gasped, wheezed, coughed, and clutched at his throat, tears streaming down his face. And then he fell to the ground. Just like the scientists from so long ago.

He was still moving, slightly, but he didn't get up. He didn't get up.

"Come on! Stand back up!" Wheatley zipped over to him, darting back and forth on the rail. Dib didn't respond. Wheatley stopped, narrowing his optic down at the small form. "What, that's it? Little bit of neurotoxin and you're givin' up?" When Dib still didn't reply, the gravity of the situation hit Wheatley full-force and he swayed on his rail.

Dib was literally too sick to move. He couldn't get up, any more than Wheatley could suddenly sprout a pair of wings and fly. So, it all came down to a decision.

What to do? What to do?

"What do you suggest I do?" Wheatley asked Dib desperately. "I would help you, mate, honestly I would, but—I—can't—" He turned back and forth, agitated. "Maybe I could, I dunno, lower myself down and you could y'know grab onto my handle, but I can't lower myself down that far and I sort of doubt you'd be able to, to grab on, at this point—"

Metal footsteps echoed down the hallway, along with the squeak of pistons. Wheatley retreated backwards in horror, his optic a mere pinprick of blue.

"Look, okay look." The words spilled from his processor in a rush. "If I stay here, I'm gonna be captured, and tortured. Neither of us wants that. I'm sure neither of us wants that. So if I stay, then both of us will die, as opposed to—to—just… one… one of us…" He stammered, his synthesizer working hard to produce a ragged breathing sound. "It'd be useless—pointless—mad… Mad, to stay, but…" He blinked rapidly.

Dib opened two glazed-over eyes and shifted his head, looking straight at him.

"It's not my fault!" Wheatley burst out. "This whole thing, it's not my fault! Maybe—maybe if you had held onto me when She grabbed me when we first got here, or earlier if you'd bloody woken up and kept me from being thrown out a bloody window—"

"Are you seriously blaming your own ineptitude on a corpse?"

Wheatley ignored the voice and closed his optic, raising his voice. "Maybe if you hadn't pulled me down from space in the first place—I hated it there, but right now I wish I was orbiting around the moon again instead of stuck in this place—Maybe then we wouldn't be in this predicament! And you!" He spun around, fixing his fiercest glare on the camera behind him. "Why don't you just SHUT UP?"

The voice was silent.

On the floor, Dib stirred, giving a weak cough like he was trying to say something.

Wheatley shook himself, avoiding the boy's gaze. "Sorry, mate, you're on your own. I can't stay here any longer." Before he could change his mind he turned, sagging for a moment but then straightening up, and churned the wheels in his connector to motor down the rail as fast as he could.

Dib wheezed again. "Wheat—"

He couldn't even get the whole word out. The world was a blurred mess and his head was nothing more than a heavy mass that throbbed behind his eyeballs. He strained to see something, anything, and watched impassively as a single blue light up near the ceiling stared down at him, then turned away and vanished into the haze.

Dib closed his eyes.

"…Hm, it seems that little idiot is even more faithless than I thought. I'll have to go on to more… drastic measures. Still, this takes care of one loose end in my Facility. Goodbye, human."

The words went in one ear and out the other and Dib wasn't sure whether he actually registered them. The only thing he felt before his vision went dark completely was a cold, metal hand closing around his wrist.