Chapter 61, everybody! Hey look we're back! :D

I've been making it a real point to work on all my active fanfics this month and finish writing up at least two—got the one, Obake Itoko, knocked out of the way, and now I'm knuckling down on the rest. And since that fic's complete, this one now updates on Fridays! :D

Also good news: we've got updates for the rest of the month with this new schedule. :D

In other news…Willow's trying to get the "Smash TV" achievement.

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

Portal © 2007 Valve

Robots © 2005 Blue Sky (the term outmode that Wilson uses)

Wilson was not even remotely happy when he finally woke back up.

I hope you're happy, he said finally, winding down from an hours-long rant on how their behavior impacted their scientific timetable. That was the most useless, petty, insulting—

"Okay, so I was wrong," Maxwell said, sprawled on the floor and looking like he was dying slowly and in agony. "This is the part where he kills us—not with neurotoxin or turrets or even a mashy spike plate. No, he decides to kill us with a lecture."

Are you even listening to me!?

"No," Maxwell and Willow both said.

"We get it, Maxwell's a jerk," Willow said. "Can we go now?"

Wilson was absolutely seething, but the elevator did finally open—Willow dragged Maxwell into it before Wilson could change his mind.

"I'm all for aggravating him, personally," Maxwell said after a few moments of the elevator going somewhere—up, down, sideways, it was impossible to tell anymore. "It bumps up the timetable, and I personally am getting sick of this whole runaround we're doing."

"You just like aggravating people," Willow countered.

"Yes, there's that too. Come on, I have better things to do than die slowly while you slog through tests!"

There's always the option of dying quickly, Wilson offered, still sounding cross.

"We talked about killing people," Willow sighed.

We did—but can we really count Maxwell as 'people'?

"Excuse you I can hear you," Maxwell ground out.

Really? I heard that most systems start failing on outmodes after the warranty expires—

"Oi—both of you, shut up," Willow snapped, storming out of the elevator when it opened—and then glaring at the new test. "And if I run into one more thermal discouragement beam, I'm going to scream."

"That is the usual response to contact with a burning-hot laser," Maxwell pointed out.

At least Wilson found her chucking one of the turret-cubes at him funny.


Congratulations! Wilson chimed when Willow finally staggered through the emancipation grid. You completed that particular battery of tests!

"Does that mean we're done?" Willow asked, flopping down on the floor—and then swinging at Maxwell when he tripped over her and fell. "I'd really like to be done."

Mmm, no—I said you completed that particular battery of tests. And while you were, I came up with an entirely new set of tests! You'll enjoy these, I promise.

Ugh, this wasn't helping and promised to go on forever. Maybe Maxwell was right, maybe they needed to aggravate Wilson until he finally went with trying to kill them. "No. I quit. I'm done. Find someone else to torture for a few years."

Well there is your current company….

Ugh. "Find someone else."

That is a work in progress, Wilson mused. But that's enough delaying of science.

Willow couldn't help the shriek as the floor suddenly moved and bucked, rolling them into the elevator and shifting back to normal before the elevator closed and went zipping off. "Do you mind!?"

I do mind, Wilson said, something almost testy in his voice. We've wasted enough time that could have been spent much more productively. So, to stay on track, we're omitting your scheduled break. That was Maxwell's fault, by the way, feel free to blame him.

"I hate you both," Willow decided. "And I'm not doing any more tests. You hear me? None."

Are you sure? This next round of tests is particularly stimulating.

"That means electricity is involved," Maxwell volunteered.

You hush.

"And I said I'm not doing any more tests," Willow said crossly.

Then I guess I can send this elevator to the trash heap?

Maxwell was quick to scramble out at that threat; Willow found the camera hidden in the top seam of the elevator's padded walls and glared at it.

Now don't give me that look, Wilson chided. None of this would have happened if you had listened to me.

"I'd love to know how you figure," she muttered, stalking out of the elevator finally.

Getting rid of Maxwell, firstly—he's caused nothing but delays and aggravation, I don't know why you insist on keeping him around. And that's just one delay in our whole little testing bout—we would have been much farther along by now if you had just listened to me.

She had had enough—fire a couple of portals, jump on an aerial faith plate, go sailing through the portal—

It would have probably been better if she had sent something else through it, like a turret-cube or something, but this—she really felt she needed to do it personally.

Even if she did end up on the floor with what felt like a busted arm with glass shards poking out of the upper portion.

Now that was uncalled for, Wilson said stiffly, looking down his nose through the broken video screen as Willow collapsed to the floor, hugging her arm—ow ow ow—

Hand grabbed her good arm, was aware of someone kneeling next to her, turning her to see the damage—almost thought it was Wilson somehow before he spoke.

"I'm torn between being impressed and calling you a moron," Maxwell confessed, tugging one of the bigger shards out.

"I think it was more blinded by spite," she hissed, wincing as he tugged the rest out, flicking the pieces away.

"Hmph—been on the receiving end of that before. Which reminds me," Maxwell said, grabbing the biggest shard and standing, turning to face the broken screen.

"I find it real funny that I'm the one being all fussed over her and you're the one sitting up there with a sour look on your face," Maxwell said, pitching his voice so it was clear he was addressing Wilson. "Gee whiz, pal, but do you know how to show a girl a good time."

Of all the things in this world I'm NOT taking counsel from, YOU are at the top of that list, Wilson shot back.

"No kidding," Maxwell said drily, gesturing a little with the glass shard, red blood turning brown already from whatever in the air made wounds seal up quickly here. "'Cause last I checked, I was the insensitive clod and you were the one who fretted over every little bruise. You even think about asking her if she's all right? Are you all right?" he asked her in an undertone, like asking the question had just occurred to him as well.

"I'll live," she muttered, flexing her hand a little—the wounds had sealed up but her arm was still burning in pain.

"Uh-huh. So, tell me, you spiky-haired moron," Maxwell spat at the screen. "Why am I the one asking her that? Face it, you sat in the hot seat too long—kind of a funny-looking mirror I see, pal!"

Even through the spiderwebbing cracks she could see the muscle twitching in Wilson's furiously offended face—

Screamed when she realized a mashy spike plate was coming straight for them.

Curl up tight into a ball—dead, dead she was so dead

Throbbing in her arm told her she wasn't, not yet—was surprised when she realized Maxwell was somewhat kind of around her protectively, face scrunched up like he was entirely convinced the impact was still coming—

The mashy spike plate was still right above them, canted slightly like it had been stopped abruptly, the only sound a vague creaking and the stronger hammering of her heart—

And then a sort of hissing noise—

And then darkness.


He was absolutely apoplectic while the party associate robot dragged them to a relaxation chamber—he needed them out of the way while he worked through this absolute raging fit—

What was that!? he demanded, gesturing angrily and glaring at the chamber. WHAT WAS THAT? ANYONE IN HERE CARE TO TELL ME?

Malfunction. An accident.

An accident, he hissed poisonously. You're telling me an accident nearly killed my friend.

Only option.

After all, nothing happens in here without your say-so.

Wrong—that was wrong there was no way he would have done THAT he wouldn't have hurt Willow Maxwell oh definitely but not Willow—

"I find it real funny that I'm the one being all fussed over her and you're the one sitting up there with a sour look on your face."

No, no—that was wrong he had—he had asked, hadn't he? Pace, a hand to his forehead, other on his hip—he had asked, he totally had—why couldn't he recall asking?

"Last I checked, I was the insensitive clod and you were the one who fretted over every little bruise. You even think about asking her if she's all right?"

No—no that was just Maxwell trying to confuse and insult him—he had asked, okay? He most definitely—

"Are you all right?"

Except that had been Maxwell, of all people—those words had come from him.

No—no this was him trying to turn everything around on him—trying to twist it so he was the bad guy, trying to convince Willow that he was in the right and Wilson was the one who needed to go.

No. No, he was smarter than this—he had caught Maxwell in his little trick, he'd get everything back in order soon enough. Maybe he had been pushing her too hard—this would fix things, at least temporarily.

As for that plate…that was an accident. A bug that had evaded him somehow. Nothing more. She'd…she'd accept that explanation, be glad he saved her just in time.

Everything would work out. Everything would be just. Fine.

It had to be.