The Science of Abject Idiocy - last parts - Portal 2
A/N: Just collecting the rest of this on my journal, from the Portal 2 kink meme.
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“We just expected more of you. The accent was misleading.”
Wheatley ignored the man with the nametag standing at the end of his bed. You probably couldn’t go to sleep in your own head, but dammit, he was trying. His real body was somewhere else, somewhere unpleasant. He’d seen it a couple of times for just a few seconds when they’d woken him up to complain.
“Hello in there,” the scientist had said, giving the glass a tap when Wheatley drifted into consciousness; drowsy, indifferent, and nestled between more wires than he could count. “Sorry to intrude but, just a heads up, we’ve induced a state that’s a lot like dreaming. Just trying to monitor some brain activity. So if you would do something. Anything. That would really speed this along. Just have fun with it. The possibilities are endless.”
Once back inside, Wheatley used the limitless power offered within the confines of his own mind to recreate his old apartment.
“Hello in there,” said the scientist, tapping on the glass an indeterminate amount of time later. “I realize I implied that you could do anything, but keep in mind ‘anything’ does, in fact, need to be something. Do something. Be James Bond. Go to the moon. Sleep with a harem of beautiful women. All right? All right.”
After no deliberation, Wheatley had decided to remain in bed. Some time after that the This is Your Life parade had started; after Aperture had, apparently, taken stimulating his brain into their own hands. Unfortunately for them, Wheatley’s life hadn’t been very eventful. Thirty some odd years that amounted to a lot of very unimpressed people and more ex-employers than seemed humanly possible.
“So that’s about all I have to say,” finished the last in a long line of former bosses. He went to stand in the corner with Wheatley’s mother; a very religious woman who’s avatar was having an existential crisis that was making all the other figments markedly uncomfortable.
Wheatley continued to ignore them, pulling a pillow over his head for good measure. He felt tired. Tired verging on misanthropic. “Go away,” he groaned into the mattress and was pleasantly surprised when they did.
It was very realistic. The apartment. It had the same bare walls, the same half-assembled tv stand, (more a precariously balanced pile of metal and plastic, really) the same horrible mattress springs that dug uncompromisingly into his side. It occurred to Wheatley that he could have imagined something nicer. At the very least, he could have imagined some fitted sheets for the bed. Maybe a pillowcase or two, like a civilized person.
The door opened. Someone walked in. Wheatley silently bemoaned the fact that he couldn’t imagine working locks.
“Hello.”
Wheatley looked up. He didn’t recognize that voice.
“Sorry to just barge in like this, but the world doesn’t exist outside that door, so- can’t be helped, I guess.”
“Um,” Wheatley began, trying desperately to place where he knew this woman from. Mostly because she was stripping off layers of business casual with the kind of efficiency someone really ought to remember.
“Caroline,” said Caroline. She was down to a black slip and a pair of stockings by the time she took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Ooh, right. Caroline, I ah-”
“You don’t know me.”
“Oh.”
“I’m a personality construct created specifically for Mister Cave Johnson. But my purpose has evolved over the years. Mostly, I just go where they need me.”
“And they need you-”
“Stimulating you here,” said Caroline, fanning her fingers and pressing them to Wheatley’s scalp.
“And that means…”
“We’re going to have sex.”
“Ah. Outstanding.” Wheatley couldn’t remember the last time he’d had proper sex, and God help him for saying what he was about to, but- “I don’t suppose I could take a rain check?”
Caroline smiled, fingers sliding down Wheatley’s cheek. “Is it because I remind you of someone?”
“No. I don’t… Oh, no wait. Yeah. You do. Who-”
“I get that a lot.” Caroline pulled her hand away from Wheatley and opened her purse. “But, just as a warning, we’re probably going to have sex anyway.”
“What, why?” Wheatley was downright ashamed of how disappointed he sounded. “I mean, this is my dream, isn’t it? No offense, but you’re just imaginary.”
“Actually, I exist on a computer. So, in a sense, I’m more real here than you are. But you are technically correct. You are the one with the most control over what happens next.” Caroline laid her hand thoughtfully on Wheatley’s left knee. “It’s just… The people in programming - they wrote subconscious cues into my code, so… unless your mind is very well-disciplined-”
“It might be!”
“We’ll see in a moment, won’t we?”
Wheatley looked around the room, not sure of what he was looking for or what they were waiting on. He backed away from Caroline. After a moment, he got off the bed entirely; went and leaned against the windowsill.
Caroline just watched him. Patient. As the distance between them grew, so did the silence.
“All right! Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” - words Wheatley would never have imagined himself uttering before sex.
Caroline smiled and reached for her purse, pulling out a small glass bottle of lubricant. “Excellent. On your hands and knees, please.”
“What? No. No, thank you. Not that I’m trying to tell you how to do your job, but I could probably get better leverage if I… You have a strap-on in your purse, don’t you?”
“I believe so, I- yes. Yes, here it is… Oh, don’t give me that look. I don’t decide on anything here, remember?”
Wheatley shook his head. That was impossible. “This literally could not be further away from what I want. Well, maybe not literally. I mean, I suppose it could be a lot worse - hypothetically. But if we were to chart this on a line graph of some sort. My dream sexual experience would be here, and this would be over there somewhere. Behind the lamp.”
“Dreams aren’t always about what you want.” Caroline stood and motioned downward. “On your hands and knees,” she repeated.
It was alarmingly difficult to refuse her. Wheatley got on his knees. “Do I have to take my pants off?”
“What do you think?”
Wheatley sighed and unbuttoned his pants. He missed the days when he’d been allowed a simple pair of clothes. This was all he was taking off too. Shirt, socks. They stayed on. Fuck her… or vice versa.
Caroline came closer, situating herself behind him. “Just a little lower please.”
Wheatley made a small, miserable noise.
“We can do this on the bed, if that would be more comfortable.”
“Um.” Wheatley considered the offer. “No, thanks. I don’t think it’ll help much.”
“All right then,” said Caroline before shoving several lube-slick fingers into his ass and twisting them.
“Aah- All right then. Yes. This is humiliating. This is the worst thing that ever happened to me in the history of… ever.”
“Aww,” said Caroline, pulling her fingers out. There were sounds of shifting as she lined up the strap-on. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“No. It isn’t. You’re right… And that isn’t a comforting th-ohmygod.”
“It’s in.”
“I noticed!” Wheatley half-heatedly tried to move away, Caroline pulled him back. She moved her hips slowly, gently; gradually picking up speed, mechanically keeping rhythm Wheatley bit down on his hand, lost his balance, bit down on his bottom lip instead.
Somehow, he was getting hard. Which was mind boggling given just how much this hurt. Caroline ground her hips against him. He moaned, tried to pull away, she pulled him back. “Does that feel good?” asked Caroline, rhetorically. God her voice was so familiar.
The room shuddered. The lights flickered.
“Oh darn it,” said Caroline.
Glass shattered, the front door burst open. Animate, endless lengths of cable flooded the room, covering it, replacing the strap-on Caroline had inside him, restraining his arms and legs when he tried to get away.
“Stop squirming,” said a voice. Not Caroline’s, but close.
“Come on,” said a different voice. Not Caroline’s either, not even close. “Come on,” it said again, lowering down from the ceiling, looking yellow and plugged-in and very much like that annoying androgynous thing from before. Except not. “Seriously. Hey, guy. Seriously… Seriously. Get up. Come on.” It wrapped around him, kissed him passionately, the feeling was hot and electric… and repetitive.
Wheatley made a strangled noise, flailing as he sat up. Flailing more when something blue exploded over him.
“Oh! Oh, thank goodness.” Space Core exhaled dramatically, throwing a hand over his heart to emphasize just how terribly relieved he was. “I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up. And I couldn’t drag you anymore. You’re heavy. So I just stopped here and tried to wake you up.”
“With a gun?!” Wheatley rasped. Apparently his voice was back. Sort of. No time to get too excited about that.
Space Core rolled his eyes. “It’s not a gun. I mean, it’s not a gun-gun. It’s a portal device. It shoots portals.”
Wheatley went to Space Core and wrenched the gun from him. He seriously considered firing a few shots at his head to show him just how painless it was, but decided against it. He got his bearings instead. They were in a hallway. He was naked. Again.
“Sorry about that. I couldn’t exactly stop and dress you, could I?” Space Core said, leaning back against the wall. “I’ve got nothing on under the jumpsuit or I’d let you have it.”
“It’s fine,” said Wheatley. “Really. You’d think it would bother me. But nope. It really doesn’t. Not anymore.”
“Mm. I wish I was that comfortable with my body…”
“So, what is this? Is this a test course? Looks small.”
“Oh, no. It’s not a test course. It’s a hallway. We’re escaping.”
“Really? I’d think escaping would be more… I don’t know… urgent?”
Space Core raised his shoulders sheepishly.. “I don’t know where to go next. I’m lost.”
“You’re lost?”
“Yeah. I didn’t organize the escape or anything. It was some guy named Rick… or Vick. Whichever. He was busting people out. A lot of people. At first I wasn't sure if I should try and escape too, but… I’m beginning to think they aren’t going to send me to space. I‘ll spare you the details, but I heroically carried you out of there … Well, more dragged, really. You’re heavy… And then we kind of fell way behind everyone else.”
“So, we’re just lost now?”
“Right.”
“Well. That’s upsetting. Thanks for rescuing me, I guess.”
“Any time.”
“Do you-“ Wheatley swallowed. His throat felt raw inside. “Do you want to just make a run for it?”
“Just you and me?” Space Core shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not sure what else I’d do… We came through that door, so we should probably go this way.”
Together, they went to the door. It wasn’t one of those heavy, electronic ones from the test courses. It was just an old-fashioned door with a handle and everything. Wheatley pushed it open slowly. An alarm was blaring. A man in a white coat froze when he saw them. Wheatley shot a portal at the man’s feet and one at the ceiling. Despite having a basic understanding of how two portals worked, Wheatley was still quite shocked when the man fell fifteen feet and onto desk
“Oh, my God,” Space Core gasped. “You killed him. Did you kill him?”
“Nooo.“ Wheatley stared at the fellow in the white coat, now motionless on the floor. “He’s probably fine… He didn’t even fall that far.” Wheatley approached the man, stared at him thoughtfully for a few seconds, then carefully surrendered the portal gun to the floor before he had a chance to hurt himself with it.
“What are you doing? Are you - You’re not taking his clothes.”
“What? He doesn’t need them anymore… Hold his arms while I pull his pants off.”
“This is awful. You’re awful.”
“What?” said Wheatley, buttoning pants that were a little too large before reaching for the man’s white coat. “They lied to you about space, didn't they. That you're going there, not that it exists. Obviously. That’s not awful?”
Apparently, that was pretty awful. Awful enough to warrant kicking a dead guy in the stomach. Or an unconscious guy as it were. Space Core yelped when he let out a low groan, grabbed Wheatley by the arm, and set off at a run. Where he was going, Wheatley had no idea. He seemed motivated though. That was something.
Through another hallway, across a catwalk, down some stairs. They stopped briefly to look down at bodies in a hallway a floor below. Bloody and riddled with holes. More men in white coats rushed around them, salvaging whoever they could - whatever they could. “Good thing we fell behind,” said Space Core, undeterred.
“Come on,” said Wheatley motioned to an elevator. He went on ahead and, once inside, just sat down against the wall.
Space Core followed him, standing in front of the buttons panel when the door closed. “There’s a lot of numbers here. What should I hit?”
Wheatley shrugged. “I don’t know. Up? Down, maybe? Lobby?”
“No lobby button… Get up and help me. We’re getting out of here. Seriously. How big could this place be?”
“What about the red button?”
“There’s tape over that button that says not to push the red button.” Space Core scratched the edges of the tape for a bit. “Should I push it?” he asked, while almost simultaneously pushing the red button.
The elevator lurched sideways. For a moment, nothing else happened Space Core looked around and was just reaching for one of the buttons with a number on it when they floor rushed up to meet him.
Wheatley grabbed at the flat walls, desperately trying to find something to hold on to as the elevator rocketed diagonally upward. To his right he could hear Space Core, shouting something unintelligible, sounding way too excited over the fact that their elevator had gone rogue in some impromptu attempt to break the sound barrier.
The elevator slowed as it crashed through a wall of debris. Dust rose up around them. Wheatley was missing a few seconds after that. He came to in the general ceiling area, head throbbing, right hand stuck through the tinted fluorescent light cover.
“Are you all right?” asked Space Core, carefully edging up the shattered bits of elevator on his knees.
“Am I - what - I don’t. What just happened? What? I’m fine.” Wheatley blinked rapidly a few times, organic eye finally focusing on the blood dripping down his arm as Space Core worked to free his hand. “Wait. I didn’t understand the question. No. No! I’m not all right! This is awful- This is- What the hell just-Are you all right, by the way?”
“Oh, sure.” Space Core nodded. “I’ve had training.”
“That’s really specific training.”
“Okay, you’re free. Come on.” Space Core shoved one arm out the warped door and shouldered his way through. The dust was settling by the time Wheatley managed to squeeze out after him, crawling free of the considerable pile of wreckage they‘d crashed into.
There must have been a dozen elevators. All crushed together inside an enormous square of yellow caution tape, a square that took up pretty much a whole level of parking deck… Oh.
“Maybe I didn’t think this out that well.”
“What was that?”
It was Aperture's own fault for taking his architectural advice. “Nothing.” Wheatley went to the edge and leaned over the concrete. “We’re outside,” he observed, impressed. “Well, in a parking deck. But we might as well be outside. Look.” Wheatley pointed, indicating the above-ground buildings below, the grid of roads surrounding those Aperture-owned establishments, the busy highway in the distance. He remembered all this. He wondered how long it had been, but didn’t wonder long. “What are you doing?”
“Jumping,” said Space Core, halfway over the concrete already. “Then running… Then hitchhiking… Then figuring out the rest when we get to town. But, right now, jumping.”
“But I don’t have- They didn’t give me any of those-“ An alarm started. No one was in sight, but it seemed clear someone knew they were here. Wheatley clambered over behind him.
“Jesuschristyoureheavy-”
“I am not.”
“Okay, we’re going to hit the ground running.”
“As opposed to me hitting the ground and you just running. Let’s not-” They fell. Wheatley did hit the ground, but only after they had come to a stop and only from a reasonably safe distance.
Space Core had his hand again and they were running, past the parking deck, across the street, toward the main road. Alarms were still sounding, faintly and getting further away. Any moment, Wheatley expected military, police cars, someone suddenly appear in front of them, barring there escape. But that didn’t happen. The highway just kept getting closer. There wasn’t even a fence between them and it. Just a wall of light - which Wheatley only noticed much too late.
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Space Core’s knees gave out beneath him suddenly. He staggered and screamed and fell, curling up in on himself as pain exploded from his legs - almost tangibly. Space Core watched it evaporate into particles and float into the atmosphere. He looked toward the highway, tried to get back up, whimpered miserably when his limbs refused.
In a confused haze, he reached out for Wheatley and found him. “Ah-” the request for help died on his lips when he found him laying there, face down and useless, bleeding out into the grass post-emancipation.
Space Core couldn’t wrap his head around it. They’d gotten so close, they were still close. “Hey, come on.” He nudged Wheatley’s shoulder, felt his body twitch beneath his hand. In his periphery, Space Core could see a vague shape, some sort of vehicle coming to collect them. “Come on,” he repeated, but got no response.
And that was it. Space Core shifted forward and laid back next to Wheatley, who grabbed the front of his jumpsuit before going very still - either dying or already dead. Space Core didn’t want to think about it. He just laid there, stared up at the sky, and thought of space. Nothing else.
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“We just expected more of you. The accent was misleading.”
Wheatley ignored the man with the nametag standing at the end of his bed. You probably couldn’t go to sleep in your own head, but dammit, he was trying. His real body was somewhere else, somewhere unpleasant. He’d seen it a couple of times for just a few seconds when they’d woken him up to complain.
“Hello in there,” the scientist had said, giving the glass a tap when Wheatley drifted into consciousness; drowsy, indifferent, and nestled between more wires than he could count. “Sorry to intrude but, just a heads up, we’ve induced a state that’s a lot like dreaming. Just trying to monitor some brain activity. So if you would do something. Anything. That would really speed this along. Just have fun with it. The possibilities are endless.”
Once back inside, Wheatley used the limitless power offered within the confines of his own mind to recreate his old apartment.
“Hello in there,” said the scientist, tapping on the glass an indeterminate amount of time later. “I realize I implied that you could do anything, but keep in mind ‘anything’ does, in fact, need to be something. Do something. Be James Bond. Go to the moon. Sleep with a harem of beautiful women. All right? All right.”
After no deliberation, Wheatley had decided to remain in bed. Some time after that the This is Your Life parade had started; after Aperture had, apparently, taken stimulating his brain into their own hands. Unfortunately for them, Wheatley’s life hadn’t been very eventful. Thirty some odd years that amounted to a lot of very unimpressed people and more ex-employers than seemed humanly possible.
“So that’s about all I have to say,” finished the last in a long line of former bosses. He went to stand in the corner with Wheatley’s mother; a very religious woman who’s avatar was having an existential crisis that was making all the other figments markedly uncomfortable.
Wheatley continued to ignore them, pulling a pillow over his head for good measure. He felt tired. Tired verging on misanthropic. “Go away,” he groaned into the mattress and was pleasantly surprised when they did.
It was very realistic. The apartment. It had the same bare walls, the same half-assembled tv stand, (more a precariously balanced pile of metal and plastic, really) the same horrible mattress springs that dug uncompromisingly into his side. It occurred to Wheatley that he could have imagined something nicer. At the very least, he could have imagined some fitted sheets for the bed. Maybe a pillowcase or two, like a civilized person.
The door opened. Someone walked in. Wheatley silently bemoaned the fact that he couldn’t imagine working locks.
“Hello.”
Wheatley looked up. He didn’t recognize that voice.
“Sorry to just barge in like this, but the world doesn’t exist outside that door, so- can’t be helped, I guess.”
“Um,” Wheatley began, trying desperately to place where he knew this woman from. Mostly because she was stripping off layers of business casual with the kind of efficiency someone really ought to remember.
“Caroline,” said Caroline. She was down to a black slip and a pair of stockings by the time she took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Ooh, right. Caroline, I ah-”
“You don’t know me.”
“Oh.”
“I’m a personality construct created specifically for Mister Cave Johnson. But my purpose has evolved over the years. Mostly, I just go where they need me.”
“And they need you-”
“Stimulating you here,” said Caroline, fanning her fingers and pressing them to Wheatley’s scalp.
“And that means…”
“We’re going to have sex.”
“Ah. Outstanding.” Wheatley couldn’t remember the last time he’d had proper sex, and God help him for saying what he was about to, but- “I don’t suppose I could take a rain check?”
Caroline smiled, fingers sliding down Wheatley’s cheek. “Is it because I remind you of someone?”
“No. I don’t… Oh, no wait. Yeah. You do. Who-”
“I get that a lot.” Caroline pulled her hand away from Wheatley and opened her purse. “But, just as a warning, we’re probably going to have sex anyway.”
“What, why?” Wheatley was downright ashamed of how disappointed he sounded. “I mean, this is my dream, isn’t it? No offense, but you’re just imaginary.”
“Actually, I exist on a computer. So, in a sense, I’m more real here than you are. But you are technically correct. You are the one with the most control over what happens next.” Caroline laid her hand thoughtfully on Wheatley’s left knee. “It’s just… The people in programming - they wrote subconscious cues into my code, so… unless your mind is very well-disciplined-”
“It might be!”
“We’ll see in a moment, won’t we?”
Wheatley looked around the room, not sure of what he was looking for or what they were waiting on. He backed away from Caroline. After a moment, he got off the bed entirely; went and leaned against the windowsill.
Caroline just watched him. Patient. As the distance between them grew, so did the silence.
“All right! Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” - words Wheatley would never have imagined himself uttering before sex.
Caroline smiled and reached for her purse, pulling out a small glass bottle of lubricant. “Excellent. On your hands and knees, please.”
“What? No. No, thank you. Not that I’m trying to tell you how to do your job, but I could probably get better leverage if I… You have a strap-on in your purse, don’t you?”
“I believe so, I- yes. Yes, here it is… Oh, don’t give me that look. I don’t decide on anything here, remember?”
Wheatley shook his head. That was impossible. “This literally could not be further away from what I want. Well, maybe not literally. I mean, I suppose it could be a lot worse - hypothetically. But if we were to chart this on a line graph of some sort. My dream sexual experience would be here, and this would be over there somewhere. Behind the lamp.”
“Dreams aren’t always about what you want.” Caroline stood and motioned downward. “On your hands and knees,” she repeated.
It was alarmingly difficult to refuse her. Wheatley got on his knees. “Do I have to take my pants off?”
“What do you think?”
Wheatley sighed and unbuttoned his pants. He missed the days when he’d been allowed a simple pair of clothes. This was all he was taking off too. Shirt, socks. They stayed on. Fuck her… or vice versa.
Caroline came closer, situating herself behind him. “Just a little lower please.”
Wheatley made a small, miserable noise.
“We can do this on the bed, if that would be more comfortable.”
“Um.” Wheatley considered the offer. “No, thanks. I don’t think it’ll help much.”
“All right then,” said Caroline before shoving several lube-slick fingers into his ass and twisting them.
“Aah- All right then. Yes. This is humiliating. This is the worst thing that ever happened to me in the history of… ever.”
“Aww,” said Caroline, pulling her fingers out. There were sounds of shifting as she lined up the strap-on. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“No. It isn’t. You’re right… And that isn’t a comforting th-ohmygod.”
“It’s in.”
“I noticed!” Wheatley half-heatedly tried to move away, Caroline pulled him back. She moved her hips slowly, gently; gradually picking up speed, mechanically keeping rhythm Wheatley bit down on his hand, lost his balance, bit down on his bottom lip instead.
Somehow, he was getting hard. Which was mind boggling given just how much this hurt. Caroline ground her hips against him. He moaned, tried to pull away, she pulled him back. “Does that feel good?” asked Caroline, rhetorically. God her voice was so familiar.
The room shuddered. The lights flickered.
“Oh darn it,” said Caroline.
Glass shattered, the front door burst open. Animate, endless lengths of cable flooded the room, covering it, replacing the strap-on Caroline had inside him, restraining his arms and legs when he tried to get away.
“Stop squirming,” said a voice. Not Caroline’s, but close.
“Come on,” said a different voice. Not Caroline’s either, not even close. “Come on,” it said again, lowering down from the ceiling, looking yellow and plugged-in and very much like that annoying androgynous thing from before. Except not. “Seriously. Hey, guy. Seriously… Seriously. Get up. Come on.” It wrapped around him, kissed him passionately, the feeling was hot and electric… and repetitive.
Wheatley made a strangled noise, flailing as he sat up. Flailing more when something blue exploded over him.
“Oh! Oh, thank goodness.” Space Core exhaled dramatically, throwing a hand over his heart to emphasize just how terribly relieved he was. “I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up. And I couldn’t drag you anymore. You’re heavy. So I just stopped here and tried to wake you up.”
“With a gun?!” Wheatley rasped. Apparently his voice was back. Sort of. No time to get too excited about that.
Space Core rolled his eyes. “It’s not a gun. I mean, it’s not a gun-gun. It’s a portal device. It shoots portals.”
Wheatley went to Space Core and wrenched the gun from him. He seriously considered firing a few shots at his head to show him just how painless it was, but decided against it. He got his bearings instead. They were in a hallway. He was naked. Again.
“Sorry about that. I couldn’t exactly stop and dress you, could I?” Space Core said, leaning back against the wall. “I’ve got nothing on under the jumpsuit or I’d let you have it.”
“It’s fine,” said Wheatley. “Really. You’d think it would bother me. But nope. It really doesn’t. Not anymore.”
“Mm. I wish I was that comfortable with my body…”
“So, what is this? Is this a test course? Looks small.”
“Oh, no. It’s not a test course. It’s a hallway. We’re escaping.”
“Really? I’d think escaping would be more… I don’t know… urgent?”
Space Core raised his shoulders sheepishly.. “I don’t know where to go next. I’m lost.”
“You’re lost?”
“Yeah. I didn’t organize the escape or anything. It was some guy named Rick… or Vick. Whichever. He was busting people out. A lot of people. At first I wasn't sure if I should try and escape too, but… I’m beginning to think they aren’t going to send me to space. I‘ll spare you the details, but I heroically carried you out of there … Well, more dragged, really. You’re heavy… And then we kind of fell way behind everyone else.”
“So, we’re just lost now?”
“Right.”
“Well. That’s upsetting. Thanks for rescuing me, I guess.”
“Any time.”
“Do you-“ Wheatley swallowed. His throat felt raw inside. “Do you want to just make a run for it?”
“Just you and me?” Space Core shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not sure what else I’d do… We came through that door, so we should probably go this way.”
Together, they went to the door. It wasn’t one of those heavy, electronic ones from the test courses. It was just an old-fashioned door with a handle and everything. Wheatley pushed it open slowly. An alarm was blaring. A man in a white coat froze when he saw them. Wheatley shot a portal at the man’s feet and one at the ceiling. Despite having a basic understanding of how two portals worked, Wheatley was still quite shocked when the man fell fifteen feet and onto desk
“Oh, my God,” Space Core gasped. “You killed him. Did you kill him?”
“Nooo.“ Wheatley stared at the fellow in the white coat, now motionless on the floor. “He’s probably fine… He didn’t even fall that far.” Wheatley approached the man, stared at him thoughtfully for a few seconds, then carefully surrendered the portal gun to the floor before he had a chance to hurt himself with it.
“What are you doing? Are you - You’re not taking his clothes.”
“What? He doesn’t need them anymore… Hold his arms while I pull his pants off.”
“This is awful. You’re awful.”
“What?” said Wheatley, buttoning pants that were a little too large before reaching for the man’s white coat. “They lied to you about space, didn't they. That you're going there, not that it exists. Obviously. That’s not awful?”
Apparently, that was pretty awful. Awful enough to warrant kicking a dead guy in the stomach. Or an unconscious guy as it were. Space Core yelped when he let out a low groan, grabbed Wheatley by the arm, and set off at a run. Where he was going, Wheatley had no idea. He seemed motivated though. That was something.
Through another hallway, across a catwalk, down some stairs. They stopped briefly to look down at bodies in a hallway a floor below. Bloody and riddled with holes. More men in white coats rushed around them, salvaging whoever they could - whatever they could. “Good thing we fell behind,” said Space Core, undeterred.
“Come on,” said Wheatley motioned to an elevator. He went on ahead and, once inside, just sat down against the wall.
Space Core followed him, standing in front of the buttons panel when the door closed. “There’s a lot of numbers here. What should I hit?”
Wheatley shrugged. “I don’t know. Up? Down, maybe? Lobby?”
“No lobby button… Get up and help me. We’re getting out of here. Seriously. How big could this place be?”
“What about the red button?”
“There’s tape over that button that says not to push the red button.” Space Core scratched the edges of the tape for a bit. “Should I push it?” he asked, while almost simultaneously pushing the red button.
The elevator lurched sideways. For a moment, nothing else happened Space Core looked around and was just reaching for one of the buttons with a number on it when they floor rushed up to meet him.
Wheatley grabbed at the flat walls, desperately trying to find something to hold on to as the elevator rocketed diagonally upward. To his right he could hear Space Core, shouting something unintelligible, sounding way too excited over the fact that their elevator had gone rogue in some impromptu attempt to break the sound barrier.
The elevator slowed as it crashed through a wall of debris. Dust rose up around them. Wheatley was missing a few seconds after that. He came to in the general ceiling area, head throbbing, right hand stuck through the tinted fluorescent light cover.
“Are you all right?” asked Space Core, carefully edging up the shattered bits of elevator on his knees.
“Am I - what - I don’t. What just happened? What? I’m fine.” Wheatley blinked rapidly a few times, organic eye finally focusing on the blood dripping down his arm as Space Core worked to free his hand. “Wait. I didn’t understand the question. No. No! I’m not all right! This is awful- This is- What the hell just-Are you all right, by the way?”
“Oh, sure.” Space Core nodded. “I’ve had training.”
“That’s really specific training.”
“Okay, you’re free. Come on.” Space Core shoved one arm out the warped door and shouldered his way through. The dust was settling by the time Wheatley managed to squeeze out after him, crawling free of the considerable pile of wreckage they‘d crashed into.
There must have been a dozen elevators. All crushed together inside an enormous square of yellow caution tape, a square that took up pretty much a whole level of parking deck… Oh.
“Maybe I didn’t think this out that well.”
“What was that?”
It was Aperture's own fault for taking his architectural advice. “Nothing.” Wheatley went to the edge and leaned over the concrete. “We’re outside,” he observed, impressed. “Well, in a parking deck. But we might as well be outside. Look.” Wheatley pointed, indicating the above-ground buildings below, the grid of roads surrounding those Aperture-owned establishments, the busy highway in the distance. He remembered all this. He wondered how long it had been, but didn’t wonder long. “What are you doing?”
“Jumping,” said Space Core, halfway over the concrete already. “Then running… Then hitchhiking… Then figuring out the rest when we get to town. But, right now, jumping.”
“But I don’t have- They didn’t give me any of those-“ An alarm started. No one was in sight, but it seemed clear someone knew they were here. Wheatley clambered over behind him.
“Jesuschristyoureheavy-”
“I am not.”
“Okay, we’re going to hit the ground running.”
“As opposed to me hitting the ground and you just running. Let’s not-” They fell. Wheatley did hit the ground, but only after they had come to a stop and only from a reasonably safe distance.
Space Core had his hand again and they were running, past the parking deck, across the street, toward the main road. Alarms were still sounding, faintly and getting further away. Any moment, Wheatley expected military, police cars, someone suddenly appear in front of them, barring there escape. But that didn’t happen. The highway just kept getting closer. There wasn’t even a fence between them and it. Just a wall of light - which Wheatley only noticed much too late.
-----------
Space Core’s knees gave out beneath him suddenly. He staggered and screamed and fell, curling up in on himself as pain exploded from his legs - almost tangibly. Space Core watched it evaporate into particles and float into the atmosphere. He looked toward the highway, tried to get back up, whimpered miserably when his limbs refused.
In a confused haze, he reached out for Wheatley and found him. “Ah-” the request for help died on his lips when he found him laying there, face down and useless, bleeding out into the grass post-emancipation.
Space Core couldn’t wrap his head around it. They’d gotten so close, they were still close. “Hey, come on.” He nudged Wheatley’s shoulder, felt his body twitch beneath his hand. In his periphery, Space Core could see a vague shape, some sort of vehicle coming to collect them. “Come on,” he repeated, but got no response.
And that was it. Space Core shifted forward and laid back next to Wheatley, who grabbed the front of his jumpsuit before going very still - either dying or already dead. Space Core didn’t want to think about it. He just laid there, stared up at the sky, and thought of space. Nothing else.