Prompt:

Portal 1/2 fic.

Chell dies via the incinerator, respawns... and keeps on dying. Maybe the player forgot to pause the game as they went to do something, I dunno.

But by the time Portal 2 runs around, she can completely identify with GLaDOS's black box situation.

Rating: T

Genre: Humour

I do not intend to take ownership of anything more than the story presented here. Portal belongs to Valve.

Midwest Blues

It burns, it burns!

You have been in pain so long that just the illusion of comfort and the memories of when your very existence didn't consist of pure unaltered agony makes you try to smile. Thoughts become unpredictable and dangerous, everyone screaming for sudden death to put an end to the flames and turn off the oven.

It's not only the suffering, the pools of lava that balm your skin in a colony of ants, but it's also the knowledge that this should have ended hours ago, that you still hold hope that the divine entity takes pity and fixes the misunderstanding that led you to fall into Tartarus by accident.

Even in hell, you have time to brood.

Skin gets peeled off the muscle without difficulty, at some point you stop receiving the cries for help until you are reborn again and miserably fall into your death (punishment) without having a say on the matter. Your destiny has been decided a long time ago.

You can't even see what's on your insides, the fire rapidly obliterates your eyes and transforms them into steam, your skull hangs there still by sheer impact; you can almost hear your gun apologizing for you not being made of resistant plastic too.

The hair that covers your body ignites itself as fireworks, facilitating the metamorphosis, ashes to ashes, you disappear and unfortunately, revive once more.

You have given up your stoic act a long time ago. You want to beg for forgiveness, to trade anything, to pay your fee out of here. No one answers, predictably, and in the end, there is only one thing to say.

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-error-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

You wake up.

There is a buzzing in your head, your right ear feels hot and crumbled, like a piece of waxed paper after making cookies. Your arms and legs have been arranged in the worst imitation of a Jigsaw puzzle you have ever felt, but it still felt pleasant during your nap. It's okay, you had a pretty rough day, you´ll deal with the consequences of sleeping till late later.

Water, you need water. Your mouth feels like the interior of a dried biscuit, you don't appreciate that the last thing you ate was some leftover pizza slice (they are still there, you notice, in the carpet; someone has to clean that up) and now you are full of acid.

You yawn without a care in the world and pop your joints; your disheveled hair almost makes you trip over the coffee table and smack your head on the T.V. Good thing you have quick reflexes.

There is a light breeze coming from the window, rich and musky with the October spirit. The atmosphere could be cracked with a spoon, a crème brulee the shade of an oak tree; it makes a good day for a walk.

You arrive at the kitchen after having a bit of a fight with the stairs, eye boogers threatened your equilibrium and your feet are still trying to decide who is right or left, but at last, you get in on one piece.

You fill the glass, cold sunshine dominates your dry mouth and after a few drinks more, your whole body feels more cooperative with doing simple tasks. You feed the plants a bit, inhaling that musky smell through the open windows.

You look around and see there is no one in there, a rapid check on your memories reveals that they probably went to that Rodeo fair back in Granny´s house. You politely declined, although you still feel a bit upset about the insistence needed for them to leave you alone.

Really, what's so bad about wanting to spend all the weekend home alone? You wouldn't bore yourself to death, you would be playing that new game your friend lent to you a couple of months back! And talking about that…

The plush carpet guides you back to your room, your cave, a mansion not even your sister (that little brat) dares to enter. Maybe it's because of all the scary posters (they are not even that scary, ominous maybe, but Pierce the Veil hardly comes to mind when talking about hideous merchandising, does it?) or the fact that the faint odor of putrid pizza has almost become your natural scent, but you are grateful that for now, your things are free to roam about your alcove without the danger of someone finding them interesting. Or disorganized (I already told you, it's my own system mom, nothings out of place!).

The console's still on, a reaction on the screen forces you to stop and watch.

D-did you- do that on purpose? It hardly sounds like you. I mean, driving the character into the incinerator to respawn infinitely sounds like it gets old fast, more so if there is not even an easter egg (that you know of) It would be interesting to brag about that new discovery with your friend, he is fond of mysteries.

Look at it. Smoke animation, red corners on the screen, black restart, smoke animation, red corners on the screen, black restart, smoke animation…

You pause the game, the beginning of a laugh dying on your lips as you sit down on the bed.

The TV flicks between gradients of grey, each one adjusting to the pause screen until setting eventually on a base color. The static emaning from the device combines nicely with the ever-ending hum coming from your white console, and for the first time in months, you appreciate the mundane stillness of the moment.

Everything is so rushed lately. From your dinner to your homework assignments, nothing seems to have been made with enough time on your hands. You look at your clay figurines sitting on the top of the stereo; the last one was made two months ago! And you promised yourself you would have another two done by Thursday…the sketches are still there, sculpted warriors patiently waiting for you, not pressing or urging anything, just sitting there, untouched, expectant.

You sigh, a long, sad sigh. There is so much to do and so little time…

The downward spiral of things to do and see is suffocating. You should have done that essay already, or contacted that girl they assigned to be your partner in that boring Science Project that is due in some weeks, or even brushed your teeth and get out with your family so you can finally smell the fresh air and escape this mid-west suburban nightmare, and you really want to, you have all the initiative but…

Another sigh, you stretch yourself on the bed and note with a grimace that the sheets need as much of a shower as you do.

You almost instantly make up your mind. Tired of feeling like this, you reluctantly get out of your room and search for a broom and the vacuum cleaner in the service room. One thing at a time, you say to yourself, one thing at a time.

First of all, those pizzas slices have to go. The boxes are almost ripped out of the floor, the grey opaque color now stained with some problematic type of oil that someone has to clean later. On the trash they go.

Second, clean those stains. It takes some time to find the magic potions your mom uses to disappear the imperfections off the carpet, but you found them next to the cassettes, a certainty clever place for hide and seek, but infuriating after your head gets squashed by a cascade of CD´s you accidentally pushed way too hard.

Third, reorganize. You are rather fond of the art of reorganizing, as much as the other occupants of the house may be surprised. The mess of cables at the back of the TV end neatly rearranged and dusted, the clay navy finally found a shelf for themselves after getting rid of some useless boxes at the top of the room. Your sketchbook almost dies in an attempt of suicide, the clever guy found a way of escaping your grasp at the last second and barely avoided a splashdown in the water bucket you were using to clean everything up. You sentence it to the bottom shelf, guarded by your geography book, squashed right next to it. You will think of what to do with it once you are done, putting it next to your psychology book instead may find the reason behind this sudden want to die.

It feels as if your insides are breathing easily again, and not just because the Italian musk has been replaced with "Fresh summer breeze", as the bottle says. You ponder the idea that your mom may be right, but your pride just negates that theory. With all the stuff she says to you, eventually, she would have t hit the mark, right? Numbers, little man, numbers.

With all of that cleanliness surrounding you, eventually, you find that the only thing still dirty is you. A relaxing, warm bath? Consider it done, sir. You grab a towel from the clean laundry after leaving the dirty sheets on the washing machine, reminding yourself of turning it on after you bathe to have it done as soon as possible. The crisp breeze hits you from the little window, autumn color splatting directly on your face; you are looking forward to seeing the sky once you hang them outside.

A fistfight with the faucet later, the heat greets you as a gentle hug, burning off dead skin and frustrating feelings in a revitalizing caress. Somewhere in the middle of the shower, a song overcomes you, and you pathetically try to remember the lyrics without losing the ability to whistle the tune.

How did it go?

T-take me by the tongue and I'll know you?
Kiss me 'til you're stun- no, it was- drunk and I'll show you
You want the moves like Jagger
I've got the moves like Jagger!
I've got the mo-o-ooo-oves, like Jagger

Somewhere in the mist, the shower becomes a stadium, a lonely dancer impressing everyone with his (in)ability to sing and dance at the same time. Ha, you knew you had it in you! Listening to it so much on the radio every time you are picked up from school hammered the thing into your brain, as non-consensual as that achievement may be. Wait, didn't you hate this song?

Turn off the faucet, dry yourself up, tiptoe through the bathroom in search of your dry clothes. The feeling of accomplishment from achieving this simple routine exhilarates you, the journey to your room almost feels like a metamorphosis from some hours ago. Maybe you should do this more often.

Alas, you arrive at your sanctuary, a changed man by every sense of the word. The washing machine chirps in the distance, you don't worry about checking when it will go off, an adorable tune notifies when a cycle is done, so keeping up with its schedule won't be a problem.

Now, where were we?

You hit play, and the game reboots. Oh yeah, you were almost at the end of the game! Huh, you hadn't appreciated it as much before, this is actually not bad. A bit of a puzzle game with generous amounts of creepy atmosphere, it may be because the only things you play recently are shooters, but that is a breath of fresh air! How long did it take, one or two hours? Not bad at all!

If you remember correctly, this is the part where you redirect those beams to the chassis-thingy. Your friend hasn't shut up since the game came out, and that was like, two years ago! It must be true that you live under a rock as he said, aside from some storefronts in the game aisle, you hadn't as much heard about what this puzzle thingy was all about from sources other than him.

You think that looking up some videos may do you some good, people already see you as a nerd, might as well soak yourself with some actual knowledge these geeks have, wouldn't hurt to play the whole act.

Well, let's get this over with. Finishing some figurines after this doesn't sound bad, you think. It's time to recapitulate and show your progress to the guys, they were excited with last month's dragon concept, a surprise figure at lunchtime will knock them out of their minds. You laugh a bit, the buttons fitting perfectly on your clean hands. It's not usual, but you are looking forward to Monday more than you want to show.

A clack of keys freezes you, the familiar voice and steps ignite your curiosity,

"Jason, we are home! We brought some leftovers from Granny´s -!"

"Coming, mom!"

"Did you know the biggest lesson I learned from what you did?"

Oh good, she´s about to start rambling again.

"I discovered I have a sort of Black-Box quick save feature"

W-what?

"In the event of a catastrophic failure, the last two minutes of my life are preserved for analysis"

Sounds fun, huh? Suits you right. Although I remember it took a bit more than two minutes to get you to shut up.

"I was able -forced, really- to relive you killing me. Again, and again, forever."

Again and again…that sounds familiar. I don't remember you being so upset when that almost made me disintegrate all that time ago, in fact, if I remember correctly, you were enjoying it.

"You know, if you had done that to somebody else, they might devote their existence to exacting revenge."

Revenge? That didn't cross my mind last time, I was in too much agony to even fathom another state that was not the one currently ripping my skin off my bones. You could have helped, by the way. But you didn't. Just to remind you.

"Luckily I am a bigger person than that."

Lucky me, I guess. Did they give free morality lessons on the underworld? Couldn't check myself, you know, every time I tried to enter someone slapped the door on my face while I stood there like an idiot.

"I am happy to put all of this behind us and get back to work"

About time, If you ask me.

"After all, there are a lot of things to do, and only 60 more years to do it-"

Finally, you make some sense. Did you hear that, big guy? You better do things right this time, no Incinerators included, in my opinion, we are better without those. Try some deadly pits first, the splat may be worth it. I have never drowned to death by the way, if you are thinking of trying that. Hell, launch me to the moon if you want to, I don't care! Your sadistic fantasy has to continue in some way or another.

Great, now he´s exploring the place. You know what? Fine, let's get a look at that stupid graffiti again, we have all the time in the world, count every glass shard in the way, we haven't seen enough of those yet.

By the way, if you do decide to leave me hanging out of the blue again, can you be so kind as to abandon me at a checkpoint? Or a den, maybe? I know you are crazy busy all the time, but if you did that I would really, really, appreciate it—

A/N: Hello there, readers! Long time no see, again, only that this time, I took twice as much time I normally do to publish a new chapter. Sorry about that, I have been distracted these past couple of weeks :( I will try to update more regularly on here, those fills are not going to write themselves!

So anyway, here´s a second-person fill, thought I would never get around to write it, but I did it! I am curious about how you guys feel about this one, I tried to write some 2009-2010 inspired scenarios with it, if you lived through that, share your experience, please! It might be interesting to know how each of us lived through that time, I can hardly believe 10 years have passed!

Thank you for reading everyone, hope to see you soon!