Sleep-like Death :: Shameful fan-fiction for chell and rattmann
Author Note : This is why I decided when I was in the sixth grade that I'd rather be a Mangaka and not a professional fan fiction writer....cuz i suck at the english language and it's demanding vernacular. Well, got that off my chest! Happy Reading! ...or not. ;_____;
Regret came too late as Chell descended the empty elevator shaft. But time and time again, she couldn’t help the feeling that she had left something…down there. Guilt welled up for some mysterious reason. As crazy as it seems, the feeling was so bad, she gave up her newfound freedom at the surface just for a nagging in the pit of her stomach. As if…something was waiting for her. And more strangely she felt that someone else had done the same for her. Mindlessly, crawling through forgotten passageways, she was following in the footsteps of a ghost. After a while, Chell began to think going back into the depths of her life’s prison seemed insane, a futile venture to find something she couldn’t grasp in her mind.
Alas, something did catch her mind’s eye. A trail of red. A different shade from the writings on the walls, but just as mysterious. More-so, It looked pitiful. A trail of blood. Was it from the one who painted on the walls? The only other human she knew could have been with her. Is he even alive? The time between when she first woke up and her second sleep could have taken many years, surely this person was gone. Which was what her thought was ever since finding his drawings again for the second time. …But the red on the floor, it made the secretive man more human to her now than ever. What had become of him?
She followed the trail which lead her to a computer, then continued on to bringing her back to the rejuvenation vaults. The trail ended at the pods. Messy red and paperwork all over the floor…and a companion cube. A slight reminiscence to her own pod-chamber came and went in her mind. Was this even the same one? Glancing from paper to paper, she comes across a photo… then her name…the word tenacity. “Tenacious” is mouthed grudgingly in her memory by a well shaved man. She is brought back by noticing a low hum in the room. Was it the companion cube? Or was it…
Chell hadn’t even thought of looking inside the pod until now. She is slightly horrified of what she might find. Anxiety builds as she reaches the warm machine. Her eyes remained averted until the need for closure became stronger than the fear of finding death.
There is a person sleeping in there. She now more confidently recognizes this person. It was his mouth that muttered “Tenacious”.
At the moment, he did not look like a corpse, but his gaunt cheeks could convince otherwise. So is he-
dead or alive?
There’s only one way to find out.
A push of a button.
Cryo-sleep air steams out from within.
the lid unhinges and opens revealing
a mess of a man.
Ragged hair and paint stained clothing.
Chell looked upon the death mask of her guide and faceless companion.
Vitals are flatlined.
No hope for the ones who seek redemption.
Any thanks and goodbyes from Chell would fall on ears which could no longer hear, she reasoned with herself.
But a gesture must be done.
For memorial.
Chell leans in, staring at his face, his head resting on the side of his pod. She had not even notice when her eyes began to water, but it blurred her vision of the only other human being she had known for who knows how long that it angered her. She screamed in rage as she wiped her face. Hysterics have now come like a wave. She began to smile like a lunatic. She’s met him. She finally met him.
She laughs now.
"And I thought would would look much older, like with white hair and a long white beard."
No reply, of course.
Eventually, among the papers she found a name-tag with the spitting image of the man who had given her that interview so very long ago.
"Doug."
She squeezed his hand.
"Wake up - only for as long as i need so i can thank you. There’s so much to ask…" she knows she’s rambling now, illogical unreasonable, dangerous for testing. "so many things to tell you - but…"
Gone.
Then a thought.
A prompt from a very old memory. Was it from a movie or book? An action to wake or bring back a person very close to you. She leans face to face with him now. How time in aperture has changed him from his clean cut face.
She leans in closer, expecting to graze and lock onto cold lips.
…which fail her as the electrifying sensation of warm breath lingers on her lips. She becomes as still as a sleeping turret. His breaths are shallow with a slight trembling.
Her next thought being, “I need to get him out of here.”
http://rattmannfandom.tumblr.com/post/98349583520/very-sketchy-sorry-had-a-idea-prompt-chell
snowghoul
jbbartram-illu
theartofmadeline
2087
dededos
germansingergirl
kianamaiart
titsay
