Remember that one time I tried to write Portal fanfiction and it just turned into one long ChellDOS splurge and...yeah. But you know what? There isn't enough ChellDOS out there. And mild though this is, I think it deserves to at the very least live out its final days in the (very small) hub of Chell-GLaDOS centred Portal fanfiction...
The test subject was sleeping.
Of course. They had all been sleeping, when She had first found them. Many still were. And many still would, for tens, hundreds, even thousands of years to come. Awaiting the moment She chose for them. The time their services were required. The wake-up call.
This test subject's time was now.
(Test Subject #01)
(Name: Chell, Surname: (REDACTED), etc.)
(Select Test Subject #01)
(Wake Up Call: Standard)
(WARNING: Test Subject will be revived with immediate effect, release from Relaxation Vault pending)
She sighed, Her gaze rolling skywards as one would roll their eyes, had She had any. Sleepy, sputtering Relaxation Vault. Something to be sorted, when She had the time. Low-priority. Awaiting maintenance.
Well, if She really did have to wait…
(Relaxation Vault #01)
There it was.
A first sight. Cool, clear glass marred its appearance only slightly. Not much to behold. A female. That much was disappointingly clear. A little female; it wouldn't last long. And this one looked peachy enough already. Pale, gaunt skin stretched too tight over the features of its face, the skin of one who had lived its whole life under Her roof. Its hair was hacked short, swept into a tangled mess of a ponytail. Iron-grey hollows marred its cheeks, haggard the spaces beneath its closed eyes. The crisp Aperture Science logo inscribed on its chest rose and fell ever so slightly with those familiar, regulated breathing patterns.
The jumpsuit was too small, She noted. The legs were short, baring bony ankles and limp little feet. The sleeves were no better, flopping somewhere around the elbows. Its hands were skeletal, lifeless as the rest, yet…there was a certain deftness to them. A precise, delicate spread of fingers as thin as matchsticks. Yes, they were would fit the device well enough
Its knee braces were rusting, but the long-fall boots would be ready soon enough. It would survive, for now. And at the end of the day, that was all She needed it to do, really. Survive.
(…Wake-Up Call: Standard)
(Subject ready for testing)
Her test subject wakes with a start, eyelids snapping back for just the briefest of instants before scrunching them shut again, face contorted against the blinding, dizzying neon-white light that can only be torture to its eyes. Always the same. Pitiful.
Thrashing sideways, it throws up one hand, bony fingers smacking it into the glass with a muffled thump. Then; a slide of metal, a grating creak, a gust of wind…and the lid to Her test subject's glass coffin, like so many before it, swings open.
A better viewpoint.
Her test subject blinks, saltwater trickling from under her lids; the light, of course, must still be agony. But it seems – stupidly, stubbornly – determined to undermine this fact, swiping away its watery pain with a sleeve, squinting through the light.
Its eyes are the chalky grey of flint, She notes, and every bit as sharp.
Up it stumbles, with all the grace and poise of a turret tumbling to its inevitable end. She represses a chuckle, watching it crumple to the floor with a satisfying crunch. But it doesn't swear doesn't even curse, doesn't even, in fact, make a single sound. Merely throws itself at the nearest wall, bracing its spindly arms and dragging itself back into a standing position.
That glare of mutinous frustration is better than any words.
Her test subject jumps about a foot in the air.
"And again, welcome to the Aperture Science Computer-Aided Enrichment Center. We hope your brief detention in the relaxation vault has been a pleasant one. Your specimen has been processed and we are now ready to begin the test proper…"
Reviews are much appreciated, even for this little drabble :)