Left in The Dark
As the two stepped cautiously down the corridor, Wheatley lighting the path, the feverish chanting grew louder.
"Help me, Uncle Johnson! The cube... My only friend! Cake. Haha. A lie... Little girl... don't be scared- SHE TOOK THE CUBE!"
The scream of rage echoed through the hall into the silence. Then, nothing.
"Running and hiding..." He muttered quietly under his breath. "I'll always need you, cube." Someone started to sob quietly to himself.
Wheatley's flashlight revealed more objects lying on the floor as they walked; horribly mutilated turrets, a cardboard box with a heart drawn on it. A heap of old, stained clothing.
"Stop watching. It's not funny," the voice whispered, so close to Chell that shivers ran down her spine.
As she walked on, a red light from a broken turret flickered pathetically and died out again, and the pile of old clothes shuddered.
As they drew nearer, Chell noticed a matted mop of long, dark hair under the once white cloth.
"Help me, little girl, help me Chell."
Four grasping fingers emerged from the lab coat, long nails broken; followed by a thumb, and a pale, grimy hand, veins protruding. A bony wrist and a long, thin arm slid feebly from under the coat, and the chipped nails screeched against the floor as the arm pushed itself away from the ground, the old, stained lab-coat rising.
A hunched figure stood before Chell, swaying slightly. His skeletal features were hidden under a ragged mop of hair and a beard, but his bright blue eyes were lit up by Wheatley's flashlight, and his nose twitched as if he was sniffing the air for predators.
Chell watched in horror as his gaze met hers and tears spilled down his face-
"It's been so long," He cried, throwing his arms around Chell's shoulders. A pungent smell of sweat, blood and fuel overwhelmed her slightly as she held Wheatley tighter in her arms, struggling to escape the mad mans grip-
But he stood back before she could, his expression changing to a look of utter terror; falling to his knees, he clutched at her ankles, crying into her long-fall boots.
"The cube, the cube! Oh give me the cube, what did you do? What did you do to her?"
Chell stepped away cautiously and watched as he crawled around on the floor, and pulled himself up with difficulty. His look of fear flickered into a grimace of rage as he limped towards her, his blue eyes leering at something in her arms. "You," he accused Wheatley, a long bony finger jabbed at his optic.
"Um- hello!" Wheatley replied, panicked. Chell stared at him questioningly. He knew this man?
"You haven't changed... where's the cube?" He demanded.
"Uh, what cube?" Wheatley asked innocently. "I don't know!"
More tears streamed down the mans face as he attempted to pull Wheatley from Chell's arms into his own. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I miss you. I miss the moon. Who are you?"
His expression of sadness changed again and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he drew away from Wheatley, and hobbled towards Cara-Mia.
"I- I'm Cara-Mia," She replied shrilly, taking a step back. "These are my friends-"
"I know them," the man interrupted. "I've known them all my life. Chell and the moron-"
"I'm not a moron," Wheatley interrupted defensively.
"Don't start a fight," Cara-Mia whispered to him, watching the mans face twist into a frown. "We- we're trying to escape. So, er, we'll be on our way."
"I'm coming too," The man insisted. "Don't leave me here in the dark without the cube. Running and hiding. It's all I've been doing. The cake is a lie, don't go near Her..." His voice trailed off into quiet mutterings under his breath.
"Who are you?" Cara-Mia asked him cautiously.
"I can't remember," The man replied sadly, turning back to a painting on the wall. "What is it... Cube? Cubes not here. No-ones here."
"I remember your name!" Wheatley replied triumphantly. "I have all the test subject names memorised. So not a moron. Anyway. I have them all stored in a file. Your... Um... Doag? Doog? D - O - U - G. Don't know how to pronounce it."
"Doug," Cara-Mia told him quietly.
"Oh, Doug," Wheatley said to himself. "Anyway. Your Doug Rattmann. Apparently. According to the file here. Yes, that's the one that used to bully me all the time. Throw me off my management rail for no reason. Call me a moron." Wheatley's voice was filled with bitterness as he glared at Doug with surprising hatred for such a tiny core. "Anyway, now who's the moron? You've got schizophrenia. Apparently. You moron. Ha - NO NO DON'T DO THAT!"
Doug attempted to snatch Wheatley away from Chell, but she took another step back, holding Wheatley away from him protectively.
Giving up trying to grab Wheatley, he looked back up at Chell, his insane gaze faltering as he reached out for her arm. "I'm coming with you," He whispered, moving closer. Chell could feel his rotten breath on her face, see his blackened teeth. His eyes were sunken and his hollow cheeks were off-white. He had obviously been alone for a long time.
"I saved you, now it's your turn to save me," He claimed. His eyes left hers distractedly and his expression flickered into a friendly grin as he walked towards one of his paintings, talking to it as if him and the painting were having a conversation.
"He's had it," Wheatley muttered. "Absolute nuts. What are we going to do with him?"
Cara-Mia watched the madman doubtfully. "Sneak off now?" She whispered in reply.
Chell shook her head. It didn't feel right abandoning this poor man in the depths of Aperture. He might be mad, and obsessed with her, but no-one deserved to live down here.
And somehow, under that mask of insanity, something about him was... familiar.
"But he's mad, he won't know!" Wheatley hissed urgently. "He could attack me any moment anyway!"
Chell stamped her foot in reply and glared at her company stubbornly. She'd made up her mind, and she was going to do what she wanted.
"I suppose it is a bit cruel just to leave him here," Cara-Mia agreed slowly. "Alright."
Wheatley gave in too. "Fine. You get your way. But if he tries to attack me, you have to watch him. So he doesn't attack me. Right? Got it?"
Chell nodded, and turned to Doug who was still in animated conversation with a wall. Gently she tapped him on the shoulder.
"We're going now," Cara-Mia mumbled fearfully. "Are- are you ready?"
"Yes," Doug replied, turning from the wall and staring fixedly at Chell, slightly cross-eyed. "I can't believe how much you changed, my girl. Ah, where are we going?"
"We- we're going to shut off Her turret lines, and neorotoxin supply," Wheatley stammered. "And then, we're going to - to shut Her down. Um, genius idea. Of mine. Although... we do need a - a portal device, thinking about it. Oh. Um... Okay. Does anyone have any clue? To where a portal device might-"
"Follow me!" Doug interrupted loudly, picking up the cardboard box with the heart drawn on it and running down the corridor with surprising speed. Wheatley glared angrily after him at his interruption.
Chell and Cara-Mia exchanged looks, and hesitantly followed behind.