Chapter 66, Everybody! Still working hard on all active fics this month and angling to get back into the updating swing of things and…and holy cow I think I've got it all written out we are FINISHING THIS YEAR, FOLKS! ;v;/

Moving on…"Harsh but on point" comes from Amphibia and I love that line it's some good stuff. Also…Max wants to get back in the hot seat because he can feel himself being mushy and he doesn't like that. D:

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

Portal © 2007 Valve

Okay, okay…he was close…he was getting close….

They were too.

Finally okayed putting in rockets and turrets to try to deter them—the old turrets—reasoned with them that those were more easily replaceable, after all there's the superior design now, they wouldn't be out anything if she destroyed those.

Quietly redirected the reject turrets while they were distracted, bury the rest of his plan under the busywork, little parts, all separate, pacing frantically as he kept throwing out other suggestions—oh they'd have plenty of new tests once they taught these two a lesson—

Threat to the facility. Kill her.

No—no wait, hear me out, he tried, forcing the orders deeper and keeping his mind on something else—movements were sluggish, couldn't keep his attention split like this and keep moving too. Killing her is too fast—what if—like how Maxwell is—with the nanites—then you could punish her with impunity! Nothing would ever be enough, nothing would ever kill her—you could finally break her like you wanted. Like you did me—like you did Maxwell—like you've done to everyone

He could feel them debating, mulling this over…having her fully in their power was tempting, even as suggesting it turned his stomach—no, just—keep them distracted, keep them focused on this—

You care for her—why this change?

Why? What excuse could he come up with that these things would believe?

I care for her, he admitted carefully. But her attitude is…grating. This—gesture weakly. All this, and she turns her nose at it. Look at his hands. But…adjustments can be made—you showed me that.

The purr of their approval turned his stomach, but it meant they bought his story. You are a much better ruler than Maxwell, have we told you that?

Yes, he said, forcing bile down. Yes you have. Multiple times. That had been such a source of joy…he didn't even know when now—time was an abstract concept when you were operating on multiple levels at once and conducting myriad experiments—

But the important one was done and in position.

Where are they? he forced himself to ask—twitched as the necessary information poured into his brain, going from welcoming torrent to wrenching and invasive now that he was aware of the malignance behind it—but there, close, getting closer, overcoming every obstacle he set up—

Idly, he wondered if this was what Maxwell had felt like, seeing them gunning for him.

Later though—right now he was trying to keep his own panic separate from the panic coming from them, had to focus, but keep those thoughts buried—he'd have to fight his best friend, convince them he wanted her dead or suffering….

He had to make this work.


Willow had a death-grip on the portal gun as they made their way gingerly forward, on high alert for any more traps.

"Think we're getting close?" she hissed to Maxwell.

"We're having rocket launchers and turrets flung at us at every turn, meaning he's desperate and scared—yes, we're getting close," he told her.

Yes, both of those had been recurring issues—at least they were the normal turrets, the ones that could be stopped by a well-aimed toss of a chunk of debris or an office chair. Mostly the latter, apparently Wilson had been through here on his cleaning spree—although why he'd want to straighten offices up was beyond her. It wasn't like he was planning on hiring more people.

"Why are these even still here?" she asked. "The offices, I mean."

Maxwell grimaced at that. "Some things they won't let the central processing unit do away with, even when it doesn't make sense. I didn't care, it wasn't like I was going to do anything with anything, but I imagine it galls him to not be able to convert this to something more…nerdy, I'm going to say."

"Wow," she observed as they neared a corner. "You're trying to make an effort to be nice. We're going to die, aren't we?"

"That's my bet."

Sigh, peek around the corner—

Duck back around when more turrets fired.

"I'm noticing a distinct lack of the spider-turrets," Maxwell observed as she shot a portal on the wall facing the turrets. "Either he convinced the facility that the regular turrets were more appealing, or he's saving them for the big showdown. Which, by the way, is not pleasing to my sensibilities."

"Me neither," she said, ducking around just long enough to fire the other portal and get the turrets wanting to shoot—duck back around and momentarily enjoy the sound of turrets shooting themselves. "I have a thing about not wanting extra holes in me."

"If it makes you feel any better, it's not like there'd be much of you left."

"That doesn't make me feel better." Look back around, see the crispy remains of the turrets—

"Hmm, that could mean I'm either doing it wrong or I'm doing it right. Which is it, I wonder."

"Max."

"I mean normal me would say right but I'm sure you would rather have the sappy wrong way—"

"Max," she snapped.

"What?"

Deep breath—

"We're here."

Her expression had to be concerning with the way Maxwell was looking at her, knew she had to move soon, stop standing there hugging the portal gun to her chest and staring at the opposite wall—

"Hey," he said, almost concerned—wow, this was bad—"Putting it off isn't going to make it any easier."

"I know," she said.

"What is this anyway? I know you didn't hesitate with me."

"Yeah, well you I wanted to kill."

"Harsh. But on point." Shake her shoulder a little. "Now, try channeling that and go in there. You can't tell me you don't want to punch his face in a little."

"Will punching him help?"

"I'm going to say yes, punching will definitely help. Mostly because I'll be entertained by the action."

"It's always about you, isn't it," she sighed, finally turning the corner.

"Of the two of us, I'm the one who's most likely to die messily in the next two minutes," he pointed out, nudging her along as they headed down the hall. "So yes, I think I'm entitled to be a little self-centered."

"Just a little?"

"Har har," he said drily—tugged at his collar and his wrists like he was wanting to adjust a suit. "So. I'm not going to ask you if you're ready, because I know better. If I ask you that you're going to dither out here for who knows how long because you don't think you'll ever be ready to go in there and beat your pal to a pulp. So I'm going to ask you if you're close enough. I'll take close enough."

Deep breath—hold—

Let it out, look at him.

"What?" he asked, when it stretched longer than a few moments.

"Just resigning myself to doing the same thing with you in a bit," she said—let her gaze slide to a nondescript corner, let it go distant. "I don't think I can do it a third time."

"What?"

Shake her head. "I'm just…I'm tired, okay? Tired of running around this facility because some crazy person is trying to kill me. I'm tired of being in this death-trap. I'm tired of running myself ragged trying not to die. I'm just tired."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that, shifted his weight a little bit. "Ah…you know we could always put you in the hot seat—at this point you're the only one who hasn't done it yet, it'd be a change of pace."

She scoffed. "No thank you." Look at him. "Why are you so desperate to get back there anyway?"

He looked away from her at that, scowling. "You're not the only one who's tired of everything."

Sigh. That was the unfortunate truth of the matter—they were tired, they were broken, that was simply what KVAS did to people.

But she couldn't give up just yet.

"Well, come on then," she said wearily. "Let's get this over with."

"Thatsa girl," he said, almost sounding pleased with her—maybe proud—

They pushed the doors open and strode forward into the blackness.