Chapter 33, everybody! In which things are about to really suck….

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

Portal © 2007 Valve

The fight would have been hard enough, what with the neurotoxin and the rockets flying everywhere.

But no, the tall guy with the long reach had to have a sword. A ridiculously sharp sword, at that—it had sliced through a computer station with no problem at all, and she was willing to bet that she or Wilson would provide even less resistance.

They couldn't even be helped by the notion that those cables would trip him up—they somehow moved before he did, slithering out of the way before he could attack.

It helped to cement in her mind that the…thing…in front of her was not human. That, and the fact that he was showing no ill effect from the neurotoxin flooding the room, even though Willow was already reeling.

Why don't you both give up? The monster in front of her asked. It'd make things a lot easier in the long run, and it saves me a good chunk of trouble. I'll even make your death quick—that's a selling point, isn't it?

She responded by firing a portal. The one Wilson had set up had already swallowed a rocket, and the one she fired disgorged it at close range.

GAH! the tall guy yelped as the rocket impacted into his side. Aside from looking furious, he didn't seem much affected. ALL RIGHT! NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY! YOU TWO ARE DEAD MEAT!

Willow couldn't quite shake the feeling of déjà vu, what with fleeing from a sword-swinging Maxwell once again. She had darted through a few portals at first, but he had caught on quickly and swapped them out, leaving her only one option—running away.

Will-you-just-stop-and-DIE-already! Maxwell snarled, swinging frantically. She dodged away, ducking behind an unoccupied computer terminal—

The top was neatly sliced off.

Trust me, you don't want to push that button, Maxwell told her, switching abruptly to a conversational tone as he brought the sword down. She jinked away, rolling to her feet as he pulled the sword out of the terminal. What, you think I'm lying?

Despite the imminent danger, she couldn't help but give him a look.

What? You do? Come on, have I ever lied to you? A muscle above his eye twitched, as though even he realized that was a stretch. In this room? he quickly amended.

"Yes," Willow said flatly, then raised the portal gun, pointing the operational end of it straight at him.

It had the intended effect—he flinched away, quickly squinching his eyes shut—

And in that split second, she bolted.

Cables slithered.

She poured on the speed—come on, just a little more—

She could practically feel him behind her—

"Willow! Look out!" Wilson yelled.

Willow dove into a roll, heard the sword swish behind her—

Came up out of the roll, and slammed her hand down on the button.

"YES!" Wilson cheered.

He was drowned out by Maxwell.

NO! he screamed, still running for her—

And then suddenly all the cables went taut.

Willow had to wince. If he were human, the whiplash just then would have killed him. As it was, he was quite capable of twisting and struggling as the cables reeled him back to the center of the room, a remarkably thin fish sensing its doom.

"Please remain stationary," the announcer declared—probably aimed at Maxwell. "Central processing unit replacement to take place in ten, nine, eight…."

Willow edged to Wilson, unable to fully tear her eyes away from Maxwell's struggling. But when it was evident that he wasn't getting away, she ran the rest of the distance, bouncing up and down in lieu of hugging Wilson.

"We did it Wilson! We did it!" she cheered. Wilson was similarly ecstatic, but without the jumping—understandable. But once they got out of here, they could find a proper doctor instead of the quacks that populated this place—

You…you morons, Maxwell snarled. He had been reeled to the center of the room, and the cables holding him in place were turning gray. Think about it for a minute—they're replacing the central processing unit. That's me. They didn't offer to do that until you showed up. Now think about it—tax that one brain cell of yours: what precisely do you think they're replacing me with?

Something cold sank deep in her chest as what he was hinting at sank in.

She heard slithering over the countdown.

"Willow," Wilson said slowly, reaching for her.

Oh by the way, Maxwell continued, this time in a conversational tone. This is going to hurt. This is going to really hurt.

And then Wilson was gone, slamming into the floor and being dragged into a hole, scratching and scrabbling and screaming—and she was running after him, throat tearing as he vanished, with one plaintive last—

"WILLOW!"