Author’s Request MST #9: Beyond Aperture (part 4), by ScotsburnChocolateMilk
For the past three days I’ve been trying to write a MST of this chapter. This is partly due to the chapter being long but mostly due to the chapter being well-written. I did manage to get some critique in near the end, but the first half of this MST is just me floundering about trying to think of something to say other than “this is good”.
A/N: If you played Portal 2, you may remember that at the end Wheatley mentions that five other test subjects died trying to get to the portal gun. I give some ideas of what might have happened.
Ooh cool. I like this author’s headcanons.
My personal theory is that it was true but he was exaggerating a little bit … in my mind-version, he was put in charge of the 10,000 subjects just around the time GLaDOS was defeated. When that happened most of them were knocked offline except for one grid that Rattmann plugged into the reserve (the comic seem to imply only hers was but I like to think it was a grid of maybe a dozen). Anyways Wheatley, in his simple-mindedness, never thought to check in to make sure they were still, you know, alive. Until he got the idea to escape a long time later. And then finally he found a handful of alive test subjects and well … they were in such poor shape that they never even got out of their relaxation chambers.
And this headcanon is no exception. That’s an interesting take on it!
Also I decided to post this chapter mostly unedited because I think I am going to get sick again very soon and I don’t know how long I will be out. I may replace it modified version later.
I’m almost hoping there’ll be a mistake (or several) for me to make fun of just so that I have something to talk about other than “gosh I really like this”.
“PART FIVE! Booby-trap the stalemate button!”
It was now exactly one year since the escape from Aperture, and although Chell was trying to read a book, the words blurred in front of her eyes. She had gone to work that day, but the manager had noticed something different about her and had sent her home early. Don’t worry, he had said, you won’t lose your job. It had been the first time she had missed work since she started. Wheatley had been concerned, but she had somehow managed to convince him that she was fine, she just needed to be alone for a while, and he went off to watch television again. Now, she wasn’t so sure herself.
So far no mistakes and it’s still being really good ugh
She remembered that night clearly. There was an explosion, the strange sensation of flying through the air, not feeling a thing, before the searing pain tore through her. She had to scream, but she had no voice to do it with. The water pouring from the sprinkler system seeped down through her jumpsuit right to the marrow of her bone. She was exhausted, hurting, hungry, cold, and about to die.
The journey to the Central AI Chamber was a strange one, involving her teaming up with a potato to stop an imbecile from destroying the facility. For some reason, his childish insults had affected Chell more than Hers ever did, but she did her best to ignore it, hurrying through the test chambers, managing to escape his death traps, hoping, wishing, that there was some way to wrench him away from the mainframe, that horrible mainframe that had corrupted him so badly, and get the old Wheatley back. The old Wheatley who had been told that if he did anything, he would die, the old Wheatley who was friendly and bumbling and funny and high-strung and well-intentioned, despite the fact that he was basically unable to shut up and the accidental insults that he had let slip out more than once.
WHAT DO I DO WHEN THERE’S NOTHING FOR ME TO RIFF ON
HAVE I FAILED AS A MSTER
SHOULD I JUST LAY DOWN AND DIE
She had only had one lapse of judgment, when about ten seconds after she escaped one of his traps, he had asked her to return, promising not to kill her if she did. She didn’t know what had compelled her to believe him, to even listen to him, but she did, until he unsuccessfully tried to convince her to jump into a bottomless pit. “You really do have brain damage, don’t you?” She had said from the potato impaled on a prong at the end of the gun, Her voice a little more tinny than usual, as Chell slowly turned around. “I can’t believe you came back!”
Okay, well, I still can’t riff on this but I can at least talk about it. I expect you guys all know this, but if you turn around and head back to the trap at the beginning of chapter 9, Wheatley has a lot of very funny dialogue where he tries to convince you to jump into the bottomless pit. Of course, in-story it doesn’t really make sense for Chell to head back to the pit; it’s just a fun bonus scene. (I think there’s an achievement to be had for listening to Wheatley and jumping into the pit, much like the one you get for listening to GLaDOS during chapter 5 and going into her final testchamber.)
Beyond Aperture’s version of Chell, however, could have plausibly returned to the pit in-story, given that her bond with Wheatley was deeper and she might have just trusted him on instinct.
Once they had reached Wheatley’s “lair,” as he called it, she had attached corrupt cores to him to try to initiate a core transfer to get Her back into the mainframe, while all the time he was screaming at her, his ranting becoming less and less malevolent and more and more heartbroken.
Gosh, what is it with those AIs always sounding like jilted lovers? (Given what testing does for them, actually…)
Even though the neurotoxin had been shut off with the attachment of the first core, it still lingered in the air, the smell of it, and making her eyes water, her lungs burn, her head to feel light and dizzy.
I despise you. I loathe you.
Those words had cut into her like no others.
She wasn’t sure what was worse, dying painfully in a massive explosion or being forced by Her to test for the rest of her paltry, “short” life once She regained control.
The latter one. The latter one is worse. Explosions are the quick way out. But Chell doesn’t think that way; she thinks in terms of short-term survival, making defeating Wheatley the better option.
I’m sorry this isn’t really even a MST is it
And now, they had been so close … had she been able to press the button?
“WHAT! Are you still alive? You are joking. You have got to be kidding me!”
The silly, idiotic Wheatley was furious that he couldn’t kill her. Silly little Wheatley had become Her.
And now they are all going to die.
Ha! I caught an error! That should be “were”, not “are”! You switched tenses! I finally have something to complain about!
She blinks several times, aware of a gash in her side, bright red blood visible against the dark slate-colored tiles on the ground. The Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device sits just a few inches away. Tears coming to her eyes, gritting her teeth, agony, she reaches for it. It slips smoothly into the curve of her hand; the grip is familiar. It was the only thing she could rely on in this god-awful underground complex of AIs always trying to kill her. Dammit, it wasn’t even her gun, the one she had originally held in her hand in the first fight against Her; it had a different serial number (strange how she hadn’t lost the memory of that). But it’s her only defense.
YOUR TENSES ARE STILL SWITCHED HAHAHA I HAVE FOUND THE FLAW IN YOUR MASTERWORK
Is that true about the serial number on the portal gun?
If only the conversion gel hadn’t all washed away. There was only one portal, a brilliant, solid, rippling orange on a messy white-grey splatter of conversion gel beneath the mainframe, no other place to put one.
AND NOW WE’RE BACK TO PAST TENSE SUDDENLY
The only spots of color she can see in this colorless, damned, crumbling, doomed place; the orange portal, the blue of his optic, and the ugly crimson of her blood pooling on the floor.
PRESENT TENSE AGAIN OMG
“You had to play bloody cat and mouse, didn’t you? While people were trying to work. Yes, well, now we’re all going to pay the price.”
The ceiling beginning to collapse, revealing a full moon. It was the first time in her frail, broken, disorganized memories that she had seen it. It was beautiful.
AND NOW WE’RE BACK TO PAST TENSE
“BECAUSE WE’RE ALL GONNA BLOODY DIE.”
Dying didn’t seem so bad now.
And now we’re… in a grammatically confusing area, because I think it should be “Dying didn’t seem so bad anymore” but I’m not 100% sure of that.
Fun fact: At my school we never really did grammar. We learned the parts of speech in third or fourth grade and that was it. So even though I’m a total grammar nazi sometimes, I’m also a self-taught one, and I’m sure I break grammatical rules all the time because I taught myself grammar by reading books and authors do not give a shit about grammar. (My philosophy in regards to grammar is that if it sounds good, screw the rules. And always use the Oxford comma.)
“Oh, brilliant, yeah. Take one more look at your precious human moon, because it cannot help you now!”
She suddenly feels herself jump a little bit, letting out an inner groan of pain when she did so.
FELT HERSELF, NOT FEELS HERSELF, GOSH
Also: “inner groan of pain” — no. Don’t do that. Don’t be that writer who describes the characters inwardly doing things they’re not actually doing. It’s just obnoxious 90% of the time. There are other ways to show us she’s hurt.
… precious human moon …
“The bean counters told me we literally could not afford to buy seven dollars worth of moon rocks, much less seventy million. Bought ‘em anyway. Ground ‘em up, mixed em into a gel. And guess what? Ground up moon rocks are pure poison. I am deathly ill.”
Chell has a great memory for dialogue.
Her mind struggles to make the connections. Still, her arms, aching and quivering as they were, seem to move of their own accord, lifting the portal gun inch by inch until it was pointing towards the moon.
“Still, it turns out they’re a great portal conductor.”
Moon rocks. Portal conductor.
WOW YOU SOLVED PUZZLE OMG YOU DID IT WHAT A SMART WOW A++
(Yeah, I know I was talking about grammar a minute ago. Shut up.)
The counter ticks down, closer and closer. They are all gonna bloody die.
But not if she could help it. It was a long shot, a million to one (with some generous rounding), but she had to do it. Her finger closes around the trigger, and she felt the small kickback from the gun, which then slips from her fingers and crashes to the floor.
YOU JUST SWITCHED TENSES AGAIN GOSH
All gonna bloody die.
Then, pulling, tugging, sliding across the floor. The portal gun slips through first. Goodbye, old buddy. You served me well.
Then Wheatley goes through, and then she’s being dragged across the floor and suddenly she’s in space. Flailing, she reflexively manages to grab his handles, only managing to hang on with adrenaline and sheer will, her body weakening from the loss of blood, the exhaustion, the hunger, now the vacuum stealing the oxygen from her lungs, can’t breathe oh no gonna bloody die
As long as we’re talking about being uncomfortable in space, what about the bloody cold?
let go! we’re in space!
can’t breathe can’t breathe gonna bloody die gonna bloody die
space? space! spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace!
One arm knocked loose from him by a metallic crash, a sharp impact, and once again she thrashes and grabs his handle. He’s still connected. He can pull himself in. He can still fix it. Just let go, let go, fly into the black void, bloody die.
Earth is a blue orb in the distance, a beautiful thing, but her vision is going, black and red splotches dancing in her eyes, tightness in her chest, compressing further and further and further, her mind slipping into unknowingness, gonna die gonna bloody die mustn’t let go mustn’t let go
i already fixed it. and you are not coming back.
A metallic claw grabbing her wrist, pinching the soft flesh yet still surprisingly gentle, and another one reaching out to knock him away.
But her grip is too tight.
mustn’t let go
She’s pulled back through, the portal closes, the tiny muscles in her hands relax and the little blue robotic eyeball hits the floor with a sharp, metallic crack and rolls away, out of her reach. Trembling, she struggles to breathe in, her weakened, battered body not cooperating, and then her ribcage expands and air comes in and i’m still bloody alive. But her consciousness is flickering and she soon finds herself slipping away, watching the yellow flicker of Her optic coming back to life, the mechanical claw reaching towards the headpiece, and then she closes her eyes, the adrenaline suddenly wearing off, far too exhausted to keep them open.
“NO! DON’T DIE!”
It was his voice; she heard it, longed to reach out and touch him, somehow knowing that he was once again the old Wheatley. But she needed to sleep.
Flashback over! Tense switching probably over! Chapter still not over! This is still not an actual MST, I don’t think! I don’t really have anything to snark about because it’s actually good!
Chell gave up on trying to read and put the book back on her nightstand.
What book was she reading?
She shouldn’t have even tried to think about it.
After the escape from Aperture, it had been a week before they found civilization. It took quite a while for her to adjust to other humans, humans who were often suspicious of her, and even now, she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with others.
Is that because they’re suspicious of her or because she’s suspicious of them?
Wheatley had mentioned that she had been in stasis from anywhere from a few decades to a few centuries (after Her death, his internal clocks had gotten a little messed up).
So are his internal clocks still messed up?
During the time she was held captive, from what people told her, something about or involving a Combine had happened, but they had been defeated (something like that), society was slowly rebuilding itself, and was nearly at the level as it was before the Combine thing happened.
Confession: As knowledgeable as I am about Portal, I don’t know shit about the Combine because I’ve never played the Half-Life games. I’m sorry don’t hurt me
She didn’t quite understand it, and people didn’t like to talk about it, but she did remember very well a few of Her words.
“Things have changed since the last time you left the building. What’s going on out there will make you wish you were back in here. I have an infinite capacity for knowledge, and even I’m not sure what’s going on outside. All I know is I’m the only thing standing between us and them. Well, I was.”
She sat up, running her hand along one of her arms.
“PART FIVE! Booby-trap the stalemate button!”
That had left third-degree burns, scars, huge patches of mottled, rough skin that even She, with all of Her technology, was unable to repair.
Since I looked up the system for how burns are classified a couple months ago (after burning myself somewhat badly), let me explain it for those of you who don’t know:
First-degree burns are the mildest. The affected skin turns red and hurts a lot, but heals up on its own within a week or so. Second-degree burns are characterized by blistering; they hurt worse than first-degree and take longer to heal (plus there’s risk of infection if/when the blisters pop), but they also heal up on their own given time. (Usually. Sometimes second-degree burns require a skin graft.) Third-degree burns extend all the way through the skin and don’t hurt because they damage the nerves. The affected skin becomes dry and leathery, requiring excision. Nasty, huh? Have I grossed you all out yet?
There’s also fourth-degree burns, but they’re irrelevant to the story. Oh, and in case you’re wondering about the burn I mentioned getting, it was second-degree, and I got it by spilling hot tea on myself. (It was tea from Dunkin Donuts; I didn’t know this, but apparently fast-food places boil their water at much higher temperatures than is necessary so as to kill any bacteria.)
Yeah, none of this really relates to the fic. Shaddup. I can’t MST it, so I might as well take any excuse I can to type things.
For the longest time, even around the house, she wouldn’t wear anything without long sleeves.
Oh yeah, forgot to mention: if third-degree burns are bad enough/cover enough skin, amputation is sometimes required. Count your blessings, Chell.
When Wheatley had first seen the old scars, he had openly wondered where they had come from. She had pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the drawer, and simply wrote “Part Five.” He read it, before suddenly looking at her, his optic wide, some strange combination of shock and awe. “I … I did that?”
She nodded, and he began pouring out another stream of apologies and begging for forgiveness.
If a robot could cry, he would’ve done so.
Soon after, she started wearing short sleeves around the house.
She swung her legs to the floor, her bare feet meeting the carpet. Three toes had been amputated after contact with the toxic water-like stuff, and the unsightly gaps where the missing appendages previously existed were another reminder of that godforsaken place.
Man, Chell, you’re a mess. When did that happen? First game? Must have; she was wearing boots in the second. At what point were her toes amputated, and by who?
She made her way out to the living room. The television was now off, and Wheatley was just sitting there, on his management rail, oddly silent.
“Luv … ” He trailed off, turning towards her, optic shrinking a bit. “I … I’ve been doing a bit of thinking … and, I, uh, well … you seem to be doing just bloody well. You’re strong and smart and, and … well, I can’t help but notice, I mean I don’t want to bother you and anything. I … feel free to ignore me, as I’d hate to be a burden, but, what … if something were to happen to you again, I … well, after everything that’s happened…”
I love Wheatley’s rambling in this fic. However, I do wonder about where he’s going with this, because I really have no idea.
She reached up, detached him from the management rail, and sat down on the sofa beside him.
Wait. When did Wheatley get a management rail? Am I forgetting something?
“Well, I … well, everything that happened, I was … truly monstrous, and … well, I don’t know if you … if you actually remember, but when I called Her a proper maniac? That … I was wrong about that one, well, sort of.
What? Wheatley thinks GLaDOS isn’t a maniac? Do tell.
I … I mean, you were trapped in that elevator that I punched you down, and … well, you had that look on your face, like you didn’t really care, but … uh, you were probably bloody terrified.
I like the idea of Chell having an indifferent look on her face as she’s being punched down an elevator shaft.
Of me. A-and, you know, later, when I tried to … y’know, kill you, for absolutely no bloody reason!
No bloody reason except
sexual frustration testing, that is.
I mean, even though I had found t-those two testing robots, and the thing with the bloody Itch, I didn’t have to … to try to kill the only cognizant human who didn’t laugh at me … well, you probably couldn’t laugh at me, being brain-damaged and all. Uh … sorry, that slipped out. A bit insensitive.
Have I mentioned how much I love Wheatley’s rambling?
And while I’d love to say I didn’t mean it, I can’t … it’s just … it’s entirely my fault. I was the proper maniac, and I know you’ve probably forgiven me because otherwise you would’ve just left me behind in that field – I’d like to thank you for not doing that, by the way – but I will never, never, never, never, ever forgive myself.”
But it’s not entirely his fault. He acted like he did because of the mainframe, not because he’s naturally murderous. I’m not the biggest defender of Wheatley — I think it’s important that we remember he helped Chell because he needed her to help him escape, and that two of his primary motivations are cowardice and self-interest — but this one is only partly his fault. He tried to kill Chell because he was scared and frustrated and incredibly powerful (and, let’s not forget, Chell had GLaDOS with her, and Wheatley is terrified of GLaDOS). Without the mainframe, he would never have been in the mental state to try something like that. (Or had the means to do it, for that matter.) I’m not saying he shouldn’t apologize, or that the mainframe’s influence fully excuses his behavior, but his bad behavior in the latter half of Portal 2 wasn’t entirely his fault.
He nuzzled up against her side, as though she were the one needing comfort.
Judging by the first half of this chapter, Chell definitely could use some comfort. Poor girl.
Maybe they both did.
“And … well, I’ve got to admit, well, ol’ Wheatley’s been feeling rather … uh, you know, not so helpful lately.
Is he ever that helpful? I mean, sure, he has his moments, but he’s also an idiot.
I … I mean, it’s bloody nice that you built me this lovely management rail, and that I don’t need to be carried everywhere anymore, well I mean just around the house, but … you know, if something were to happen to you, t-there wouldn’t be much I can do. I mean, other than providing moral support, as humans tend to call it, but these days, you’re not having as many of those bad dreams anymore and you’re doing just well with the human-y things you … uh, do. Go to work, come home every day, eat nice food, take care of yourself. Brilliant, just brilliant. A-and, it’s not like I can do much outside of – of that place. I mean, out here, in the – the real world, you don’t need anyone to break you out of cryosleep or show you the way around – and – well, I … I can’t help but feel I’m kind of a burden on you, you know, reminding you of there, that place.
Man, Wheatley, you’ve been doing some thinking, huh? Don’t overwork yourself, now.
I mean, we’re both free now, safe, you get to do those things that – that regular humans do, and … well, avoiding Her, which is always a good thing. Bloody brilliant idea, avoiding Her.” A short chuckle and a nod. Whoever had designed him, Chell thought, had put a lot of work into having a robotic eyeball show so many different facial expressions.
“And I … I keep having these … these strange thoughts, that … really, you don’t need me. I mean, I’m probably annoying you right now, a bloody nuisance, but … you’re strong and smart and … pretty, I mean by human standards. I mean, personality core standards are … are quite a lot different.
I have a bad feeling about where this is going. Is this gonna be Chelley? Because, for all that I like this fic, I’ll still be disappointed if that pairing comes into it.
I once actually, well what you humans would call dating, another core. Her name was Curiosity, she was – was bloody nice, rather beautiful, even if she did ask questions about literally everything.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Wheatley/Curiosity (Wheatleyosity?) pairing before. This is kind of an odd pairing for several reasons:
- As far as we know, Curiosity was attached to GLaDOS from well before Bring Your Daughter to Work Day up until the end of the first game. So when did she and Wheatley meet? Were they both attached to GLaDOS at the same time at one point? (If so, I feel bad for GLaDOS having to listen to them both. No wonder she killed everyone.)
- Some of the cores seem more sentient than others. Wheatley is obviously the core with the most well-developed personality, but Rick/the Adventure Core seems like someone you could carry on a conversation with, too. Fact Core has at least enough intelligence to insult the other defective cores, even if he/it speaks entirely in “facts”. Space Core talks of nothing but space and doesn’t seem terribly aware of his/its surroundings, but still demonstrates self-awareness and some limited range of emotions. The Anger and Intelligence cores from the first game are on the opposite end of the scale from Wheatley and Rick — Anger just growls and Intelligence just recites a recipe. (Then there’s Morality, who doesn’t talk and may just be broken.) Curiosity does nothing but ask questions incessantly. She’s on the mental level of a very small child. Sure, Wheatley’s no mental giant, but he’s dim-witted, not childish. Shipping the cores is weird in general, but shipping these two strikes me as especially strange because they’re so unevenly matched mentally.
- How exactly do you ask Curiosity out, since she could only respond with a question?
For the record, Curiosity gets shipped with Space most often. They both seem like obsessive little children, so I approve.
He gave a short chuckle. “She really was a sweetheart. I – I was later told she got thrown into an incinerator, although I don’t know how it happened. The incinerator … every core’s worst nightmare.”
Chell swallowed a bit. It had been her who had thrown Curiosity into the incinerator.
And Morality and Intelligence and Anger. Gosh, Chell, you really are a murderer.
She remembered when she had first realized that the cores she had killed were sentient. It had been soon after meeting Wheatley.
Why assume that all the cores are sentient simply because Wheatley is? For that matter, why assume the cores aren’t sentient to begin with? The cores in the first game were all attached to GLaDOS, and she herself is most definitely sentient.
Although it had turned her insides to ice, she hadn’t shown any emotion and simply carried on. One of the keys to surviving in Aperture was to never show any emotion, never show any weakness, just shrug it off. At times, she wondered herself if she was human and not simply some extremely advanced human-like machine.
Until she got out.
That first night that she was free of Aperture, she had cried, and she had been frightened by it.
Did she never do anything human enough before? Didn’t she sweat, or bleed, or something else beyond the capabilities of a robot? I mean, really.
“A-anyways, well, you’re the bravest human I’ve ever met. I – I wasn’t lying when I said other people had died t-trying to get the portal gun. They were the only ones left after the power reserve ran out. One of them was just bloody scared of me – scared of tiny little Wheatley, imagine that! – and died on the spot.
Am I horrible for thinking that that’s kind of funny?
And another one was curled up in a corner and sucking her thumb … poor thing was only just a little kid and all I could do was t-to make sure she wasn’t, you know, hurting too much and provide moral support, you know?
Why was there a little girl in Aperture?
I’m just glad it was a quick death, because … well, it hurt to see her that way a-and she seemed convinced that I was her dad.
Why was it a quick death? What the hell did she die of?
Also, I guess this girl is a BYDTWD kid — but so is Chell, and she’s an adult now. What’s with this little girl being, you know, a little girl? Was she kept young on purpose for some reason?
Why were there children in that nightmare of a facility anyway?”
An excellent question, Wheatley.
I’m not sure why he’s quite so horrified about this, though. It seems a little OOC. Wheatley’s an Aperture product himself. He wasn’t exactly designed to care much about human life, and, indeed, he doesn’t seem to care much about human life at all. He only helped Chell because she was his ticket out of there, and with GLaDOS in control he wanted out. (Understandable, since she hates him.) Maybe he’s come to an appreciation of human life after having lived with Chell for so long? I don’t know. I wish we got some more character development for Wheatley instead of just jumping from point A to point B in his characterization.
His voice grew shaky, but he kept speaking.
“Then another one died when the bloody relaxation chamber just fell apart a-and he fell through the floor. T-the last two … one of them jumped out of his relaxation vault on purpose! I tried to stop him! And the other one … well .. well the last one was entirely my fault, in a way – she was trying to grab me, screaming at me like a bloody lunatic, a-and I was trying to get away from her so she wouldn’t pull me off the management rail and I accidentally knocked her down and she fell into a bottomless pit. A-and you know, even though I do complain about ‘smelly humans,’ it really does make me sad when – when one of them dies like that, if you know what I mean, I mean instead of peacefully in their sleep … and I just don’t understand just why I wanted to kill you.”
So it’s always made him sad, then. The thing is, I really can’t imagine Wheatley getting more upset than “well, that was disappointing” at a human’s death. I just don’t think he would be terribly affected. Is that just me? Does anyone else agree here?
He was shaking a little bit now, and she pulled him onto her lap, her face growing hot at the touch of metal against her clothing.
Taken out of context, this could be a line from one of those “Wheatley has a vibrate function” fics.
He avoided her gaze and kept talking.
“Luv, you know, I – I can’t help but get the feeling that … that you would be a … a lot happier without me. I mean, reminding you of that place. A-and … you know, I’m quite happy here. No complaints whatsoever. As happy as I can be. A roof over my head, a nice little management rail, a television, y-y-you…” He looked back at her, his lower shutter lifted in his unique smile, and she smiled back. “Well, you know. A-and, luv, you know, I’d like to – I’d like for you to be as happy as you can be, but – but I feel I’m getting in the way. S-so…” He paused for a long, hesitant moment, before managing to rotate himself so he was optic down.
Chell swallowed, looking down.
Holy shit. I mean, it means a lot for Wheatley to be doing this. Wheatley values his self-preservation above all else. Sure, extraordinary circumstances and all, but to me it just seems like we’re getting into OOC territory. I can see remorse at this point. I just think the circumstances would have to be a hell of a lot worse for Wheatley to let Chell shut him down.
All she could do was stare at the switch. He was willing to sacrifice himself so she could be happy. But the truth was, it wasn’t him. It was herself.
“Go on, luv. It’s quite all right.”
She picked him back up, hugging him close to her.
“Luv? Aren’t you – you gonna shut me down?”
For once, shaking her head didn’t seem appropriate, and she felt the words rising up. The words were thick and slurred, but she could talk.
It was mentioned previously in the fic that this fic’s Chell is actually mute. So how can she talk now? Were her vocal cords just severely damaged or something?
“Wh-what? Did you just speak, luv?”
She simply nodded.
That night, the full moon was out and the skies were clear. She carried Wheatley out to the front porch to look at it.
“Wow …” he said, looking up at it, his voice expressing several ounces of surprise. “It’s … beautiful from down here. You know, luv, this is the first time I’ve seen it since … well, that night.” He gave a sort of simulated cough. “F-from down here, it looks rather small and, uh, safe, doesn’t it?
Well, it definitely looks small. Damn thing is huge in-game.
I – I wonder if Curiosity can see it from w-wherever she is now.”
From the incinerator? Probably not.
Chell didn’t have any answers. All she could do was sit there, stroking his hull.
End of chapter! Except the author’s note part.
A/N: I have a severe speech impediment. So I decided to record myself saying “no” and transliterate it into write the best I could to give the impression of, well, a speech impediment.
I’d still like to know what exactly is up with Chell’s newfound powers of speech.
Also about the Combine thing: I know literally nothing about those events so I decided to make it vague.
ME NEITHER HIGH FIVE
My wording I think got a little awkward there but I couldn’t figure out how to fix that.t.
This was hard chapter for to write. I think I did mostly good though. Please let me know in a review.
You did pretty well overall (note that I could barely MST it), but I’m not sure Wheatley is in character. On top of that, when I think about it nothing really happened in this chapter besides flashbacks and sadness. If we could have a little more actual plot, that would be great.
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