Chapter 32, everybody! In which Maxwell finds out just what they've been doing back there….
Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment
Portal © 2007 Valve
Willow blinked frantically several times to assure herself that yes, her eyes were open, and no, there was no light here.
She forced herself to sit there, despite a growing fear of the dark, and let her eyes adjust. No need to go tumbling to her doom because she was too impatient.
Unfortunately, sitting still allowed her mind to wander.
She hoped Wilson was all right.
On the positive side, he was pretty resilient—he had found her once; they would find each other again.
Something shifted in her peripheral vision. She looked to see—
A platform with a door, illuminated by an overhead light.
And it had portable surfaces.
It was a trap, obviously. Insultingly obvious, to be honest. It had Maxwell's name written all over it.
But as her eyes adjusted, she saw that she really had no other choice. She had been deposited in a way that there was no other path. She had to walk into it.
Well, she reflected, firing the portals, she had to get to his chamber eventually….
She dropped onto the little square and looked at the door. MaXWELL Emergency Shutoff and Cake Dispensary. Good to know he enjoyed a running gag, no matter how unfunny it was.
She tried the door, expecting it to be locked.
Instead, it fell forward, revealing a wall.
Wow, Maxwell noised—even though she had been expecting it, his voice still made her jump. I honestly didn't expect you to fall for that.
She glared at nothing as more walls formed, locking her in a box.
I mean, really, he continued—the box was moving now. I expected the moron to fall for it, but not you—I had a much more sophisticated trap set up later, even, but if you fell for that….I might as well have dangled a turkey leg.
She would have rather he did—although knowing him, it would probably be laced with neurotoxin.
The square beneath her dropped away, depositing her in a glass cube—
In his chamber.
He was standing directly in front of her, obviously having calculated where she'd be dropped for maximum smugness. He was tapping his fingers together, obnoxious grin plastered on his face and failing to reach his black eyes.
Ah, well, now that I've got you—that's a waste, by the way, he added as she tried firing out of the glass cube. Glass isn't conductive to portals, and I can't have you fooling around again. He wagged a finger at her. No, you've proven to me that you're more trouble than you're worth. So without further ado: goodbye!
Turrets dropped down on all four sides—
Clickclickclick—
"I got 'em, right?" one turret asked.
Willow couldn't help but laugh at Maxwell's consternated expression—which switched to full-blown irritation upon the defective turrets exploding and cracking the glass.
My, weren't you a busy bee back there, he observed drily. All right then—let's try the neurotoxin. You didn't ruin that, did you? You did, I can tell by that expression on your face.
She made sure to look innocent as the tube wound down to the glass cube—
"Ow! Oh! OW!"
They both looked up as—
Wilson tumbled through the tube and crashed through the glass, rolling to a halt by Willow.
"Ow," Wilson moaned.
I hate you, Maxwell declared flatly as Willow checked Wilson over. I really, really do.
"Warning," that chipper announcer said suddenly, as Wilson relegated himself to a sitting position. "Central processing unit 87% corrupt."
"What?" the three of them asked flatly. Willow was surprised to note that Maxwell looked stunned at the information as well.
And what brought this on, you traitorous chunk of data? Maxwell snarled.
"Admin detected," the announcer declared. "Proceed with central processing unit replacement?"
What?
Wilson blinked. "Wait—that's me they're talking about! YES!"
"Central processing unit, are you ready for transfer?"
NO! Moron! Maxwell barked angrily.
"Stalemate detected," the announcer said, still in that happy tone. "A third party will have to press the stalemate button to facilitate resolution."
"Seriously?" Willow couldn't help but ask. "There's a button for that?"
A panel slid open on the other side of the room, revealing said button on a plinth. Judging by the way Maxwell reacted, he had not been in control of that.
Wait—if he was the central computer….
She exchanged glances with Wilson.
"I'll take care of the input," Wilson said, wincing as he righted himself. "You take care of that button!"
Maxwell snapped back to face them. Don't you dare—
Willow was already running around the room. After all, they had basically defanged him by wrecking the turrets and neurotoxin—what else could he possibly have up his—
Something black flashed in her peripheral vision, and she skidded to a halt just in time to avoid being impaled by a pitch-black sword Maxwell had thrown.
He held out a hand—impossibly, smoke swirled, solidified into a wicked-looking sword—
Oh, yeah. He still had those.