Unknown year.
Breakdown.
Chell dodged Wheatley's trap, of course. It was mere minutes between realising it had been sprung early and her escape, but to Doug it felt like a lifetime. He was too far behind to see anything, but Wheatley's yelling through the speaker system gave him a running commentary of what was going on. If he'd had the luxury of time to reflect, he would have scolded himself for doubting her, but fear took precedence over all other emotions. She'd been lucky so many times, he dreaded the day that luck would run out. It was down to her as well, of course – her temperament, her skills – but Doug was a realist. For all he admired what she'd achieved, he knew they had both been very lucky. So far.
It all happened faster than Doug could process it. All he could do was keep running while he listened to Wheatley sounding pleased with himself. Then he heard the core's shouts of anger as Chell made a move he didn't like, followed by frantic yells for her to come back.
She made it!
"But for how long?" the cube pondered anxiously, as the sound of crashing echoed back to them. "He's smashing the place up even more looking for her."
"We need to get somewhere safe," he said in agreement, wincing at the noise, and its proximity to his precarious position.
"There is nowhere safe," the cube squawked,
"There is," Doug countered, the thought suddenly occurring to him, "The central chamber. It's the one place he won't smash, isn't it?"
"Even if you're right, who's to say he won't just kill us?"
"He could kill us here. At least this way we have a chance. Chell is…" He trailed off, swallowing. "…Chell is on her own for now. We can't catch up, we can't help. We just need to stay alive. That's what you wanted less than an hour ago."
"I still want that," the cube shot back huffily, "there's no need to get snippy with me. I just think that marching up to the central chamber is a bad idea."
Doug sighed. At the back of his mind, he was aware that he was just arguing with himself. It didn't quell his flutter of irritation at the cube's words, however. "You're entitled to your opinion," he told it firmly, "but I'm the one with the legs."
With that, he took off running.
Chell's lungs were on fire, her body once again grimy with sweat. She risked a quick pit stop, resting her back against a cool corridor wall as she caught her breath. Wheatley took a much more hands-on approach to murdering her than GLaDOS had. She'd dodged turrets, both functional and defective, spinning blades, spiked panels, falling debris. Wheatley had talked almost constantly, and she could honestly say that she hadn't heard a word of it. She'd been too busy avoiding serious and painful injury to listen to him feed his already-sizeable ego.
I miss the days when GLaDOS was trying to kill me, she reflected dryly. Perspective is a bitch.
She laughed silently, recognising it as the hysteria it was, and tried hard to get herself under control. GLaDOS's optic stared steadily at her, and Chell could sense the disapproval behind it.
Okay, enough, Chell, she told herself firmly. Focus. Dad gave Wheatley to you, you put him in charge, it's your job to take him down.
Thinking of her father sobered her instantly. She hadn't been given the luxury of time to properly grieve. She gave herself a little shake, regulating her breathing. Pushing off from the wall, she continued down the corridor. The room beyond the door was a dimly-lit production line. It was quiet. Suspiciously so.
Apprehensive, Chell slowly made her way along the walkway leading down to the motionless conveyer belt. There was an open door at the end of the room, on the opposite side of the belt. The only way to get to it was to run along the production line. She eyed it warily, noticing the spiked crusher at the end, then hopped down off the walkway. The conveyer belt remained still.
Not yet free of all her wariness, she began to walk down it. Although part of her was expecting it, it still threw her off balance when it started moving in the direction of the crusher. She dropped to one knee, scrambling to get back up before she was pulled underneath it. Desperately, she leapt wildly to the side, managing to land awkwardly on the catwalk on the other side of the belt. One hand came off the portal gun as she steadied herself, and GLaDOS gave a quiet, indignant squeak as the potato bumped against the metal stairs.
Chell drew in a ragged breath. The constant narrow escapes were beginning to take their toll on her composure. It was only then that she registered that Wheatley was addressing her.
"Let me just get rid of this catwalk," he was saying.
Chell winced as something rushed past her, slamming into the walkway beside the exit with a huge, vibrating crash. When she looked up and peered between the gaps in the stairs, she saw that the easy route to the door had gone.
"There we go," he said cheerfully. "I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if I may."
Knowing he would rattle on like an express train with or without her consent, Chell got to her feet, shaking loose strands of hair out of her face.
"I'll be honest, the death traps have been a bit of a failure so far. For both of us, I think you'll agree. And you are getting very close to my lair."
She shot the monitor a sharp look. Lair? Really?
As if reading her expression, he chuckled, sounding a little embarrassed. "'Lair'. Heh, weird, isn't it? First time I've said it out loud. Sounds a bit…sounds a bit ridiculous really."
Chell rolled her eyes, climbing the short flight of stairs up to what turned out to be a dead end. There was a button attached to the railing there, but she couldn't see what it was supposed to do. Pressing it did nothing. Instead, she took the opportunity to survey the area, trying to figure a way to the door.
"But," Wheatley continued, not seeming at all bothered by her lack of interest, "uh, I can assure you, it is one. It is a proper lair. Deadly lair. And, uh, I just wanted to give you the chance to kill yourself now. Before you get to the lair. Uh, you can just jump into that masher just there. Uh, less a death trap, more a death option for you."
She bit her tongue, trying to remain calm. Wheatley's obsession with her death was starting to irk her past the point of mere irritation.
"Sounds crazy, I know. But hear me out, hear me out. Once you get to my lair, death will not be optional, all right, it will be mandatory. No tricks, no surprises, just you dying as a result of me killing you in a very, very gruesome way."
Chell felt a brief flicker of anger, but it died before it could really take hold, pushed aside by what she saw next. As she turned away from Wheatley's monitor in disgust, her attention was caught by a flash of white in the window above. She lifted her gaze, mouth falling open in surprise as she took in the sight of the human figure behind the glass.
He looked like the ghost of her friend. In a surreal way, he was almost colourless: pale clothes, pale skin and dark hair, the monochrome broken only by the alarming rusty red blood stain on his right leg. Behind the tangled, wild hair and unkempt beard, she couldn't see much of his face, but she could tell he was as shocked as she was.
He didn't intend to be seen, she realised.
He was too far away for her to properly make out his expression, but she hoped he could see her smile. Perhaps it was a stupid time to be smiling, but she couldn't help it. He was alive. He was right there, a tangible figure, no longer represented only by the things he left behind. After a moment's hesitation, he lifted a hand and pressed his palm to the glass. Chell's smile widened.
"I tell you," said Wheatley, cutting through her distracted thoughts, "if I was up against impossible odds, this is the way I'd want to go out: mashed with dignity. That'd be the way I'd choose."
Clearly he'd been talking the entire time she'd been side-tracked. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from Doug, the faint trembling of the facility reminding her that she needed to find a way to Wheatley's lair.
He's right, it does sound ridiculous.
"And here's the best part!" the core said enthusiastically. "There's a conveyer belt that will convey you in convenient comfort right into the masher. You won't have to lift a finger. Everything's been taken care of. Didn't have to. Didn't have to do that."
Looking around, she searched for a way to progress. If there was one. She was coming up short. A faint knocking sound pulled her attention back to Doug. He gestured to the button in front of her. When she looked down at it, she saw that its tiny display was now lit green, the word 'active' written there encouragingly. She shot him a quick, grateful smile before pressing the button. The glass transport tube underneath his window dropped its cargo onto the concrete floor below. She jumped as it exploded, not expecting the tube to be ferrying bombs around, but it gave her an idea. Biting back an impish grin, she shot portals underneath the tube and in the wall opposite Wheatley's monitor. She pressed the button again, sending a bomb straight into the screen, cracking it instantly and cutting off the core's ongoing speech.
"Okay," he said heatedly, "I'll take that as a no, then. Fine. Well. May the best man win. Sphere. May the best sphere win. Swap that, swap that in. Much more clever. Books." With that, his image vanished from the broken screen.
Chell glanced back up at the office window, giving Doug a nod of thanks. He nodded back in return. GLaDOS remained silent. Chell found herself grateful that the angle of the potato meant that there was no way the A.I. could have spotted him.
Turning back to the exit out of there, Chell looked at what she had to work with. There was a pipe of propulsion gel nearby, which provided the answer with a jolt of clarity. She redirected her portal underneath the pipe, sending a bomb smashing into it. The slick orange gel spilled out, bubbling up out of the other portal like a strange, tangerine fountain. She shot again, coating the conveyer belt in the gel. With the burst of extra speed it would give her, she could outrun the momentum towards the masher.
She hesitated, considering all that might be ahead of her. Wheatley's traps had been slapdash but effective so far. It had been quick reactions and luck that had spared her, but at any moment she knew she might make a fatal mistake. If all went well, however, she would try her hardest to get out. She needed Doug to do the same.
She looked back up at him, tilting the portal gun to keep GLaDOS's view away, and raised a hand, one finger pointing at the ceiling. Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she waited for him to interpret her question.
He nodded, touching his hand to his chest in a gesture that indicated a promise. Then he smiled, although it looked forced, and she knew he was wishing her luck. She sent him a shaky smile in return before retreating down the stairs.
Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and jumped onto the conveyer belt, sprinting along the speed-enhancing gel until she shot out of the portal under the pipe, getting doused in the stuff as she did so. She shook the worst of it off, wiping GLaDOS's optic clean, then jogged through the door towards her former ally's lair.
Doug watched Chell sprint out of sight at an unnatural speed. Her exit out of the room was hidden from view by structure of the walls, but he knew when she'd moved on, as the removal of the portals meant the conveyer belt soon looked back to normal.
He was trembling with the adrenaline of being unexpectedly seen. He had timed his look out of the window at precisely the wrong moment, but he couldn't regret it, not after he'd had the chance to interact with her again. She'd been shocked to see him there, but glad after that, he was sure of it. Sometimes the voices tried to convince him that he'd changed too much for Chell to want to continue their friendship, but he'd held fast to his knowledge of her character. She stood by people. She was stubborn that way.
"What do we do now?" the cube asked. "Wait here?"
Doug considered, turning away from the window. "No. We'll follow. But at a distance."
"But…"
"If she succeeds," he went on, cutting off the cube's protests, "and she escapes, we need to be close by."
The cube fell silent, and Doug left the office behind, walking the shuddering corridors with some difficulty.
It's getting worse, he thought, throwing a hand out to the wall for support. We're almost out of time. Either Chell has to prevail soon, or we all go down with this facility.
Would that be so bad? a voice asked. To see all of this buried and gone, never to bother anyone again?
The logic to its words was frightening, and Doug shook his head firmly. "No. I'm being selfish on this one. I want to live. Moreover, I want Chell to live."
"That's a turn around," the cube commented, sounding pleased. "She's good for you."
He nodded in agreement. The sight of Chell, battered but still so determined, had been like a shot of adrenaline to his system, pushing any traces of a defeatist attitude to the far-reaches of his thoughts.
He threw open the door at the end of the corridor, emerging on a tiny piece of broken walkway.
Dead end.
There was chaos ahead. The central chamber was almost unrecognisable, the surrounding area more so. Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully as he surveyed the area, Doug suspected that the chamber wasn't even in its original location. Looking up, he surmised that they were much closer to the surface than he'd known. Why Wheatley would have moved the chamber there was anyone's guess. He had his own brand of logic that drove his actions. The cylindrical room hung alone in the open space, flanked by random, boxy test chambers. The once-dark area was lit with pale, sickly yellow light from the overheating reactor, and the air felt uncomfortably warm. There was no route to the central chamber but for one of the blue funnels from the tests.
"Is that really the path we have to take?" the cube asked him fretfully.
"I'm afraid so," he replied grimly, his stomach already churning at the thought.
He edged as close to the end of the walkway as he dared, peering into the area where the funnel was coming from. He could just see the corner of a portal-compatible surface. Aiming the ASHPD, he shot into it, sighing in relief when the portal blossomed into life. He didn't think he was up to taking Chell's propulsion gel-assisted route. He returned to the corridor to shoot his second portal into the wall and hopped through, grimacing as the shift in gravity flipped him over. Coming up out of the floor, he managed to stay on his feet, but he stumbled clumsily.
The funnel was directly above him, too high to reach unaided. A runway of propulsion gel led into a blank wall, and he immediately saw what Chell had done. It seemed he'd have to do the same. Shooting his second portal into the wall, he took a deep breath, plucking up the courage. He could see the funnel through the portal. It wasn't unreachable. But if he messed up, he'd have a painful fall back to the ground, no boots to help him land safely.
"We have no choice," the cube told him, "let's just do it."
Gritting his teeth, Doug ran. The gel increased his sprint to impossible speeds, and he was through the portal in the blink of an eye, launched up in the air towards the funnel. The mysterious azure beam embraced him as he tucked his legs up, drawing him in, holding him in its grasp as he began to float towards the central chamber. There was literally nothing beneath him. It made him light-headed to think about it. If the funnel should deactivate for any reason…
"Don't," said the cube strictly. "We're nearly there, look."
He turned his gaze forward, watching the walkway at the end come closer and closer until he could extend his legs and slowly slip out of the beam, dropping safely on the gantry. He breathed deeply, wiping his sweating hands on his lab coat. They were underneath the central chamber, following in Chell's footsteps. Doug could hear Wheatley's voice echoing above, but he couldn't pick out any words.
He headed along the catwalk, up some stairs, through a door to what looked like another dead end at first glance, but which a couple of portals soon made traversable. After a long drop that had him landing in a painful crouch, he emerged into an area near the old maintenance walkways that had apparently accompanied the chamber on its relocation. Bypassing a collection of dead cores, he made his way along the gantry, which hadn't changed as much as the rest of the chamber, although there were more transport tubes leading into the room above. The breaker room at the end of the walkway was exactly the same, although it was surrounded by a collection of small fires.
"Enough!" he heard Wheatley bellow as he moved closer. "I told you not to put these cores on me, but you don't listen, do you? Quiet, all the time. Quietly not listening to a word I say. Judging me. Silently. The worst kind. All I wanted to do was make everything better for me. All you had to do was solve a couple of hundred simple tests for a few years. And you couldn't even let me have that, could you?"
He wasn't sure whether Chell responded to that. He doubted it. Rounding the corner, he spotted GLaDOS attached to the console in the breaker room, her optic flickering as she worked.
"Rattmann," she said, the surprise evident in her voice. "You're alive."
"And you," he replied cautiously. The potato was a strange shade of orange. From the propulsion gel, he guessed.
"NOBODY IS GOING TO SPACE, MATE!" Wheatley screamed inexplicably.
"For now," GLaDOS told him, an edge of concern underlying her words. "These fires are getting pretty close. I need this potato to stay intact until that little idiot up there is corrupt enough for a transfer."
Doug stepped up to the door, eyes sweeping the area for something that would help. The switches that used to line the curved walls of the room had gone, but the console remained the same.
"There's a coolant canister above the door," GLaDOS pointed out.
Glancing up, he saw that she was right, and he reached up to unclip it, spraying the stuff on the nearest flames until they died down enough to be stamped out.
"Oh, thanks," she said earnestly.
Doug frowned at her, not used to hearing her sound so genuine and vulnerable. Before he could comment, however, he heard Wheatley give a cry from above.
"Great," GLaDOS said to herself. "Here's another core," she added, and he heard her voice echo through the speakers in the main chamber, "this one should do it."
"What are you doing?" Doug asked.
"We're knocking him out and attaching corrupt cores to the chassis," she explained. "If I'm right, this last one should be enough to start a transfer."
As if on cue, an announcement sounded above. "Warning: Core corruption at one-hundred percent."
"That's it!" GLaDOS hissed in excitement. "You should stand back, Rattmann, unless you want to go up there too."
Puzzled at her use of his surname rather than her usual favourite 'Rat Man', Doug obediently stumbled back out of the breaker room just in time to see the console rise, taking her out of sight. He heard Wheatley give a pained moan.
"Manual core replacement required," the announcer said.
"Oh! I see!" Wheatley spoke up with a chuckle.
Why is he laughing? Doug wondered nervously. He shouldn't be laughing at this point. Something isn't right.
"Substitute core, are you ready to start?" asked the announcer.
"Yes!" GLaDOS cried eagerly. "Come on!"
"Corrupted core, are you ready to start?"
Wheatley's response was coldly mocking. "What do you think?"
"Interpreting vague answer as 'yes'."
"Nononono, no, no!" he backpedalled, sounding alarmed. "Didn't pick up on my sarcasm!"
"Stalemate detected."
Doug bit his lip anxiously. If Chell managed to get to the stalemate resolution button, the whole thing would be over in seconds. He glanced up at the ceiling, but it was completely intact, yielding no views of the main chamber. Unsure what to do or where to go, he gripped the railing with a white-knuckled hand, wondering just what was going on above him. He heard GLaDOS and Wheatley shouting over each other, respectively persuading Chell to press or ignore the button. There came the sound of portals activating, then an explosion shook the structure, sending Doug into an instinctive crouch.
"Part five!" yelled Wheatley triumphantly. "Booby trap the stalemate button!"
Doug dropped his portal device, which fell to the walkway floor with a metallic clang, and clung on to the railing. Eyes wide in horror, he felt his heartbeat increase as the fear swept over him.
"What happened?" shrieked the cube.
He didn't answer, too stunned to react, his mind cluttered with a single thought. Chell…
It was Wheatley, surprisingly, who renewed his hope. "What? Are you still alive?" he raged. "You are joking! You have got to be kidding me!"
Doug took a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he fought to regain some measure of calm before he lost control completely. The cube began quietly humming.
"Well, I'm still in control, and I have NO IDEA HOW TO FIX THIS PLACE!" Wheatley went on, sounding enraged, and rather like he was using it to mask his utter terror. "Oh, you had to play bloody cat and mouse, didn't you? While people were trying to work. Yeah, well now we're all going to pay the price, because WE'RE ALL GOING TO BLOODY DIE!"
A few tiles dropped down from what was the ceiling for Doug, the floor for Chell, falling down into the pit along with the debris that had broken them. Desperate to know what was happening, Doug glanced up, but all he could see through the gap was dark wall.
"Oh, brilliant, yeah," said Wheatley, his voice louder now. "Take one more look at your precious human moon, because it cannot help you now."
Doug heard Chell fire the portal gun.
"What the…!" Wheatley said in surprise. Then he gave a panicked shout. "Aggggghhh!"
There came a strange sort of rushing sound from the room above, and Doug felt a persistent tug that had him clinging to the railing all the tighter. His portal gun was swept off the walkway, shooting up towards the missing tiles where it promptly got stuck, the gap too small for it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the console return back down to the ground in the breaker room. GLaDOS's potato form was no longer on it.
"I already fixed it!" he heard her say, her voice no longer muffled and tinny. "And you are not coming back!"
Before Doug could form the thought about who she was talking to, a broken section of railing flew past him, knocking the portal gun aside. Then something hit him on the back of the head. His vision sparked and blurred, then went dark, and he never had time to find out if Chell had survived.