Chapter 27, everybody! In which we meet one (or more) of the more entertaining members of the Portal cast….

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

Portal © 2007 Valve

They stood at the only place they could find to move forward, frozen for what felt like hours, trying and failing to get their legs to unlock so they could run.

Because the only way forward crossed right in front of the test dummy.

Willow couldn't help but watch every time a turret fired on it, filling it full of fresh lead and making it jump and twitch pitifully. She couldn't help but imagine it was her, or Wilson….

There was a thirty-second interval in between turrets. It was enough that they could make it if they ran.

"Okay, I'm going," she declared, for what must have been the third time.

"I'll be right behind you," Wilson said, sounding like it hurt to breathe. Wait, could he run? He had been painfully slow, like that monster had hurt him irreparably—

A turret finished testing, and she felt a shove behind her.

She took the cue and ran as fast as she could—reached cover—turned—

He was right behind her.

But he wasn't going to make it.

"No!" she screamed, as a turret locked into testing position—Wilson flinched into a ball, anticipating the end—

Clickclickclick—

"I got 'em, right?" the turret asked, in an odd male voice.

Wilson's expression had to mirror her own—she absolutely could not believe their luck.

She ran forward and dragged him to cover before the next turret—this one fully operational—clicked into place. A few stray bullets pinging behind them notified her that it had seen them anyway.

But they were safe now. For how much longer, she wasn't sure. But for now, they were safe.

She just had to keep telling herself that.

"Are you okay?" she asked, having to check him for holes, just to satisfy her fears.

"F-f-f-fine," Wilson chattered, shaking. "I…I thought I w-was…d-d-done f-f-for…."

"Me too," she said, touching his side to turn him around—he flinched away.

"How bad is it?" she asked, remembering the claw that had squeezed his chest before callously flinging him away.

"I'll live," he hissed, holding his arms in a protective position around his chest. "Let's keep moving, shall we?"

She watched him carefully pick his way down the half-rotten steps and decided that if she got the chance, she'd blacken Maxwell's eyes for this.

It gave her some comfort.

"Here we are!" Wilson declared, forcing himself to sound cheerful—Willow treating him like he was made of glass bothered him too much. "The control booth is right over there!"

"Great!" Willow said. "Now how do we get over there?"

Good question—the control booth was on the other side of the turret-filled conveyor belt.

He glanced around, made a positive noise when he spotted the answer. "You're not thinking with portals, Miss Willow."

She followed his pointing finger, glancing around—he could practically see the calculated trajectories zipping around her head—

And then she looked at him.

"I don't think you'd be able to handle it."

Ugh. "I'll admit, I'm not the best when it comes to the more physical tests—"

"That's not what I mean."

He knew that. "So what do you propose we do?"

Her answer was cut off by a defective turret zipping by their heads, on its way to the incinerator. "Uncool, man!" it screamed as it hurtled to its doom.

"Listen," he said quickly, before she could formulate a counter-argument. "Yes, I'm in pain right now—but it'll take three or more months for my ribs to heal. We don't have that time. The longer we take, the longer he has to formulate a strategy to be rid of us once and for all."

"Won't he need someone to test with?" she asked.

"I don't doubt that he has…other resources he can tap—but that's beside the point. I'm fine—now let's focus on escaping already."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but thankfully refrained. "Fine," she said. "But you let me look for a softer landing for you first."

"Fine, fine," he sighed.

She was already sailing through the air.

"Glad we had this little chat," he muttered.