The Things We Do For Science Chapter 49: Paradoxes, a Portal + Don't Starve Crossover fanfic

Chapter 49, everybody! In which we find out what happened to Maxwell, paradoxes are discussed, and we once again gleek about with Repulsion gel….Sorry for the spotty service this month, but things have been…well, spotty. And inspiration has been elsewhere, so….Moving on!

Everything hurt.

His mind was a blank slate but for the pain, and his…his blood felt…funny. Like he could feel it going through his veins.

And then there were voices.

Little whispers, orders, commands, summaries, loads and loads of nonsense information trying to clog his brain and keep him from having a single original thought in his head…there was something important…there was something important and he lost it. There was something important and he couldn't remember what it was.

He had no recollection of anything but the dull pain.

Make it stop….

Surprisingly, it did—and as it did, he started to become more aware of things. How his eyes were closed, and he was collapsed in some sort of chair, and yet he was aware of the entire…facility…and everything that went on in it. A bustling hive, with him at the center.

Detest. He remembered that. He detested this place for some reason.

No you don't, the voices hissed. You are in charge of this facility. You are its king. Consider the tests you can run, the science to be accomplished.

He had never been much fond of that, to tell the truth.

Watching test subjects scurry like the rats they are—

That sounded more appealing.

—stopping enemies of science—

And he cared because?

Because they will kill you—they detest what they cannot comprehend. They cannot comprehend you. Look at them, even now.

And then suddenly he could, not from his own two eyes (which, he was fairly certain, were still in his head), but from a myriad of different angles—a room, with lab coats milling around, monitoring…monitoring him, his brain waves, his heart rate—

"Still even," one said.

Of course, the voices purred. We record everything because we must—but these, these false scientists, we don't tell, because you don't want us to tell.

That had been his want, yes.

He could see himself, crumpled up in a metallic reclining chair, hooked up to a myriad of cables and looking so small and weak and pitiful—

Don't be. You are our king. Lead us. Physical forms can be altered.

And a guy standing in front of his prone form, sneering down at him and asking why it hadn't done anything yet—

He had no idea why, but he hated him. He hated him with a passion.

So put it to use. Give us commands. What do you want us to do? Tell us, and we will do it. For science.

He'd do it for himself, thank you very much.

"Will someone tell me why this—goon won't respond?" the guy snapped finally.

Bingo—he knew a stage cue when he heard one.

His eyes snapped open—his real eyes—the goon had his back to him.

Big mistake.

Oh, I don't know, he drawled. Maybe you just weren't worth my time.

The guy spun around—

He lunged for him, cables moving and guiding him as his blood suddenly surged with power—

He pinned the guy to the ground, hands around his neck as the innumerous cables in the room wrapped around the others, hoisting them into the air—he was barely aware of them being ripped to shreds—

All he cared about was choking the life out of this…this insignificant ant.

He had felt a surge of satisfaction as the guy's expression shifted from anger to fear—he knew he was going to die, was scrabbling at his arms, his chest—

"Stop," he hissed, still trying to bat him away, desperation lacing his voice. "Stop…stop please…Max, stop…."

Max?

That stirred a memory somewhere….

There was a flash of recognition, a fresh surge of hate for the man before him—

He leaned until they were nose-to-nose. Don't, he growled gravelly. Call me Max. That was not for him.

And then he stood up, taking the guy with him easily, as if he weighed no more than a rag doll, held him one-handed, rolled him to his chest so his back was to him, one hand still clenching his neck, the other gripping his skull.

I've changed my mind about killing you right away, he said, switching to a conversational tone and ignoring the guy's pitiful attempts to get loose. I've decided I'm going to kill you slowly—very slowly. We might even make a whole production of it—'how long can a guy linger.'

"They're going to stop you," the guy managed.

Who, your little nerd friends? he asked, indicating the room at large. Or do you mean those others scurrying about outside? I wouldn't worry about them—you'll be joining them shortly.

"You can't do this…."

He tightened his grip, enough that he could feel bone fracture beneath his fingers.

Watch me, he snarled.

"Hey! Watch me!"

Maxwell didn't—he was much too busy burying his face in his arms and trying very, very hard to ignore the young girl literally bouncing off the blue walls.

"We're going to die down here," he muttered. "I'm going to be stuck down here for life, all because some stupid kid can't leave repulsion gel well enough alone."

"Aw, come on!" she yelled. "Live a little!"

Maybe if he ignored her, she'd go away. He had relatively recovered—he could make it to the escape elevator on his own. Maybe. If he was extra careful. Aw, who was he kidding? He had lost too many nanites before she…bleh, helped him…he was lucky he was able to move at all.

But at some point, she finally stopped. Yay. The sounds of pure joy had been grating.

And then she kicked him lightly.

"When you renege on your deal and throw me back on the testing tracks, there'd better be repulsion gel involved," she declared.

He looked up at her. "Huh?"

"Come on, I'm not stupid—I know better than to think you'll honor our agreement. You're probably planning to dump me back into the incinerator at least."

That was so close to the truth it was scary. And it made him worry a little that he was apparently that transparent. "If that's what you think, then why are you—" helping me—"dragging me all over?"

"Because I need someone to swap out for Wilson, duh," she said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I'm not about to plug myself in, so it has to be you."

He took a moment to picture the absolute horror that would be her in charge of the facility—everything would be on fire, of that he was certain. "So I'm your patsy."

"Yeah. But you get the facility back, so you can't tell me it isn't a win for you too."

Yeah, but she didn't have to say it so plainly. That was his job.

"So how much longer is this going to take?" she asked.

"Another hundred years, if you coat another room like this," Maxwell muttered.

"Come on, this was fun. You do know what fun is, right? You know, that thing that really shouldn't involve the abject pain and torture of test subjects?"

"Oh, is that what we're calling it now? Then yes, that was fun. And then you come along and ruin it all."

She curtseyed, tucking a long-fall boot behind the other and holding up an imaginary skirt. "I only aim to please."

"Then what's with you talking to me? I liked it better when you were giving me the silent treatment."

She sat down next to him. "Why did you save me?"

"Oh great, this again?"

"It's a question that requires an answer."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I leave you here and you can make your own way back."

Oi. He couldn't answer that—he didn't even know!

So he went with his old standbys.

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm not doing so hot here," he said. "And as I'd rather get back sooner than later, I'm kind of in the need of an obliging sap here. You're a time-saver—and, when we get back, you'll be the distraction. Happy now?"

"That sounds like your sort of reasoning," she said. "And yet I still think you're lying to me."

"You think everything I tell you is a lie, so that's par for the course."

She nodded. "This is true. Come on then," she said, standing.

Maxwell blinked. "Hold it—you think everything I tell you is a lie, and yet you accept that as the truth; detecting any faulty logic there?"

"Unlike you, I can handle paradoxes," she said, hauling him upright. "Now come on, break's over."

He forced himself to drop the line of paradox-thinking—that was the fastest way to short-circuit himself. Wait a minute….

"Maybe we could tell one to your boyfriend. A paradox, I mean," he said as she dragged him along. "Nail him while he's distracted."

"How duplicitous," she said. "And just like you. And one more thing: stop calling him that. He's not my boyfriend."

"Right. I'm just blind and deaf."

"And dumb."

"At least I'm not daft."

"It's the same thing."

Long pause.

"All right, I'll give you the point, but I'm still ahead," he argued.

"Whatever helps you cope," she replied primly.

Ugh.