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The Paint Escape: Chapter 8

“That is literally the worst plan I have ever heard of.” If Henry had arms, he would have crossed them. As it was, he just wiggled his handles in a vaguely unhappy gesture.

“Make a better one if you don't like it!”, Nigel snapped. He could actually cross his arms. The android did so, if with enough force to slap himself, and stared up at the core hovering over him.

Henry didn't sound particularly impressed. “Just because we don't have a plan yet, doesn't mean we need to run valiantly into certain death. I only like those stories in my music you know.”

“We have a plan!”

“Yeah, we do and it is almost guaranteed suicide!”, Henry groaned. “Marceline, say something! If he doesn't listen to reason, his crush will do.”

Nigel and Marceline both froze. For a few seconds the android failed to come up with anything whatsoever, even gibberish. His eyes flickered over the violet core a few steps away but didn't dare to remain. “I-I don't have a crush! No offense,” he added hastily. “You're really cool and... nice... and... you know. B-But-”

The Heavy Metal Core rolled his optic. “Oh bloody- This is still an awful idea. Rick is keeping track of the others for now, so they don't bother us. That's about all the positive aspects so far. The tenacious test subject tried this and the creator knows how she even survived. GLaDOS won't fall for the same old trick again. I'm surprised she didn't flood the whole facility with neurotoxin already.”

Neurotoxin? NEUROTOXIN? And they hadn't ever thought about mentioning the possibility of GLaDOS having a more efficient and deadly weapon than the turrets? Storm felt like randomly slapping one of them or possibly all at once if they had more than two arms. Instead, they breathed. Breathed calmly and glared at the arguing AIs, already making up plans to dismantle them in the most unpleasant way. Not that they were surprised. Furious, yes, and terrified, oh yes. But their capability to be surprised by anything Aperture threw at them had long since waned. The cores could tell them Aperture had bred dinosaurs to hunt test subjects down, and they wouldn't have lifted an eyebrow. The real problem was that nobody bothered to tell them anything. How were they supposed to cope with danger if they didn't see it coming?

They should never have trusted the cores in the first place and now here they were, from an independent human with a plan to an aide in a suicide mission that wouldn't get them any closer to freedom.

“Can you disable the neurotoxin somehow?”, they asked.

“Well... yes, that happened before,” Marceline answered. “But it's going to be difficult and...”

“This is taking too long! Stand around if you want, I'm going to save Fran now.” Before Storm or anyone else could react, Nigel shoved them out of the way and sprinted down the walkway until he turned a corner and vanished.

“Quite the hot-headed fellow, isn't he?”, Mauricio commented.

Storm gave him an exasperated glance. “You weren't exactly helpful either.”

Henry let out a deep sigh. “Plan D then. Glorious.”

“What does the D stand for?”, Mauricio asked, the equivalent of raised eyebrows in his voice.

Henry gave him a level look, the upper face plate lowered. “Plan Dumbass.”

Mauricio let out a sigh, interlaced with a laugh. “The choice of words isn't too far off I'm afraid. Well then, my lovelies, let's save the day.”

Storm stared at the ground and set their backpack down. They would need this when they got out eventually. If they got out. The possibility seemed to slip from their grasp and farther into the distance with every second they devoted to this crazy plan. But a promise was a promise.

“Fine. Let's go.”

The air vents were tiny. Storm didn't consider themselves particularly big or muscular, but even so, their shoulders barely fit through the curves and corners they had to maneuver. It didn't help that their hair got caught in the management rail above them as soon as they raised their head to look where they were going. If this vent was any longer, they would come out of it bald.

“It's not much farther,” Henry whispered. Even at this volume, his voice made their head vibrate. Whoever had programmed the core, he had clearly wanted to intimidate people. It didn't really fit his careful pronunciation, or his elaborate choice of words. Storm gave a grunt that signaled both their dissatisfaction and confirmation, and crawled on. Their back was starting to cramp up, their injured shoulder voiced its protest louder than it should have, and the Paint Gun in their makeshift belt was dripping paint down the back of their legs.

Well, the situation could be worse. They could be dead.

Which they might as well be before this was over.

“Careful.” The silver core vanished from their peripheral vision and Storm felt cool air brush their face. They almost rolled out of the vent head first when it suddenly just ended. They didn't want to think of the consequences. You didn't need to fall far to hurt yourself badly. Instead they barely managed to grab something just over their head to steady them while they slowly slid out. Henry let out a muffled “huff” when they put their whole weight on his handle before they were able to plant their feet on the ground.

“No wonder you put his core avatar in such a ruinous state,” the Heavy Metal Core muttered. Storm raised an eyebrow at him. The cores seemed to be in one or the other level of oblivion when it came to human manners, but an open insult, that was new.

Henry wiggled his handle at them. “I prefer not to lie. The mechanisms aren't made to withstand much more than a hundred pounds. No offense, but I don't think it will be a shock to hear you excel that limit.” Storm looked down their body and agreed that an estimation of a hundred pounds might be a little low indeed.

They shrugged at the core and looked around the room. The shelves seemed to stretch into the edge of nothingness, where the ceiling was hidden by the strange mist that seemed to hang everywhere in the lower levels of Aperture. Most of the front shelves were empty, but after that, it was just rows and rows of storage cubes. Some of them had hearts printed in the place of the Aperture logo, resembling the cube they had seen in the drawings dozens of times.

“If you hear someone talking, just ignore it.”

Storm nodded absently, their eyes focusing on a sign mounted to one of the shelves. It was designed in the typical manner of Aperture, simple pictographs in pastel colors, this time depicting one of the heart cubes.

The Aperture Science Weighted Companion Cube will not threaten to kill you, and can in fact not speak. If it should do so regardless, ignore its advice.

Storm shot the neatly stacked boxes a dubious glance and then looked up at Henry. He didn't return it. “Oh yes, that...” Heavy Metal Core flicked his optic in a vaguely dismissive gesture. “They were made to make the humans feel less alone, or so it is said. One of the scientists took his 'partner' with him when he finally managed to flee. Ratmal, or something related. Rattman. I think. I keep out of this kind of business.”

Storm nodded but kept their eyes on the shelves. The cubes didn't appear sentient, but you never knew. By now they were sure Aperture could, and would, do anything. They were literally talking to a metal sphere at the moment, after all.

Which begged the question, why were all these cores down here? Judging from their names, they all had served a purpose at some point. You should think Aperture would have equipped them with personalities to match. Yet Henry for example was no more than another collaborator and quite popular among his kind, despite his rebellious sounding title. They had only a vague idea what Heavy Metal even was, but couldn't shake the feeling that they had known it well once. It probably didn't have anything to do with architecture or chemistry.

“There's really only two types of life for everything sentient in here,” Henry said, as if he had read their thoughts. “Either you help her, or you hide and try to keep off the radar. Most of us are adapting as the situation requires. Nigel made some terrible decisions and I can't blame the others for being angry, but what can you do? In the the end we're all bound to our programming.”

Storm nodded and let their eyes wander over the shelves as they walked. Rows upon rows of cubes, normal or decorated with pink hearts. She couldn't blame them either. The first personal encounter with the supercomputer had left them in a state of shock. They hated to admit it, but without Fran and Brooke's uncalled for help they would be dead now, like a sheep being willingly led to the slaughterhouse.

“Are you scared?”, Henry asked. They were about to shake their head, but changed their mind. Lies hadn't helped them so far, had they? They shrugged their shoulders and kept their steady pace.

Henry wiggled a handle. “I would be,” he confessed. “Going up against GLaDOS... You must have fried his logic processor at some point.”

Storm felt an unexpected and surprisingly painful stab of guilt that came with the picture of a small core, helplessly twitching in their arms. They shook off the memory. If there really was something like a logic processor, he hadn't even been in the android body back then. That... flashback or whatever it had been in the cafeteria was much more likely to-

This whole train of thought was ridiculous. They didn't have time for this nonsense. The kid was just... loyal. In the dangerous way.

“So if I hear something, then what?”, they asked.

“Psssht!”, Henry hissed into their ear, making them jump. They blinked at him. “We're entering the junkyard warehouse. Cubes, mostly, and a couple of cores. Those who aren't defective already went crazy long ago probably-” He threw nervous glances around, even though Storm couldn't see any possible danger. “We don't want to wake anyone, understand?”

After seeing Nigel in sleep mode Storm had their doubts about that, but for the sake of their guide's comfort didn't protest. He was helping them against his better judgment already, and the truth was, you never knew in here.

“Rumor has it that a human employee was in here for too long when they were awake and went crazy. Proceeded to wreck all robots that tried to retrieve him. And a few humans, I hear. Terrible business.” He shivered and his white and red optic flickered over room again. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Storm didn't answer. They passed the last row of shelves packed with cubes and entered the back part of the warehouse. The sight made them appreciate their instinct to listen to Henry's advice.

“A couple of cores,” the Heavy Metal Core had said. A couple.

A couple.

While the assembly at the core belt had felt overcrowded, it didn't stand a chance against the junkyard. The shelves didn't get any smaller as they walked deeper into the warehouse and all of them held hundreds, maybe thousands of cores. Some seemed to be offline completely, their optics gone black with the lids still open, but the vast majority had their face plates closed, which Storm interpreted as them just sleeping. They felt something cold press against their shoulder and flinched. Henry pressed his handles tight to his body, trying not to scratch them, while he stayed as close as possible.

“They say he's still here, waiting for someone to come and dismantle,” he whispered.

Storm wasn't sure if they should be amused by or pity their new acquaintance. But despite the obvious lack of logic in his fear, they felt a shiver run down their back and couldn't get rid of a nagging feeling in their stomach. It was illogical and ridiculous, but they tread lightly nonetheless as they followed the maze of shelves, only Henry's mechanical whirring and their own hollow steps to keep them company.

“Wouldn't we find it faster if we split up?”

“No!” Henry froze, optic scanning the room in a panicked up and down. Nothing moved. “No,” he repeated in a whisper. “You- You wouldn't be able to recognize him. It's difficult even for us, you know, without voices to identify them. You couldn't know if you acquired the right one.”

“Is there a reason you talk like this?”

Henry blinked at them. “What do you mean?” Storm shook their head and dropped both topics. If their company made him feel better, so be it. At least his sophisticated manner of speaking didn't sound forced like the Fact Core's.

They tried to spot the smooth white surface Morality Core had possessed in the chaos, but Henry didn't let them stop and they couldn't even see the top shelves. It was a tedious task and it wasn't made better by Henry's general jumpiness. He had to change the management rail every time they turned into a new row. He did so in obvious haste, immediately fleeing back to their side when he could. Moreover, Storm had to duck under the management rails every time. Either they had been installed after Aperture had been abandoned, or this room had never been meant to be entered by humans. Either way, it cost them time they didn't have. On top of it, the eerie silence began to get on their nerves. They could hear their heart thumping, loud and fast, even though they forced themselves to slow, deep breaths. The empty eyes of the cores seemed to follow their every step, every action carefully being measured for a weak spot. How many of these had been human once? What did Aperture even leave of their unique personalities, their memories and experience? Not much, probably. It took up space and was irrelevant to their jobs. They were just workers, not human anymore, and eventually got dumped down here when they were damaged or went mad. They were walking in a graveyard, and if Henry wasn't completely paranoid, it could come to unpleasant life any moment. The longer they stayed, the worse the tingling at the back of their neck got, like a giant monster breathing down their back, yet when they turned, the aisle was empty. Of course it was.

Something cracked right next to them. Storm jumped back, and promptly hit their head on the management rail. It wasn't enough to even blur their vision, but hurt enough to make them swear under their breath.

A tiny core with a rust-crusted shell twitched in its spot, struggling to open his face plates. They were rusted shut, and the light seeping through the cracks was pale and flickered in a ghostly white light. The core groaned like an old man, and tiny sparks hit storm's bare arms with the sensation of tiny needles jabbing at their skin. The voice sounded as rusty as the core itself, and it was so weak they could barely make out the words.

“I somebody there?”, it whispered. “Oh please tell me you are there. It's been so long since anyone talked to me.”

Storm stared at the core, unsure what to do. Every hair on their body was standing upright, but the core just sounded so pitiful. How long might he have waited down here for salvation, or just a voice to keep him company, just for a little while. They didn't have much time, but they could bring him along to be repaired at least.

Henry collided with them from behind. Collide was an exaggeration, he barely grazed their shoulder, but it was enough to make them jump. They could hold down the scream that had built in their throat by a hair's breadth. Henry ushered them along without a word. The core in the shelf wiggled more frantically, his pleads growing louder and more desperate, until he suddenly broke off in a shower of sparks. They stared up at their guide. Henry just shook himself in a “Don't even think about it” gesture and led them to the next aisle. In here, the cores lay still, most of them with open, blackened optics.

Well, that was just great.

Storm concentrated on scanning every row systematically, cursing Henry and his pointless paranoia putting them on edge like this. He kept them at a steady pace, not stopping or accelerating, and they could only hope the stark white plastic would stick out of the sea of metal and chipped paint.

“Wait here,” Henry whispered. They were about to punch him for startling them like that, but he was already zipping down the aisles to change on another management rail several more feet off the ground.

“Hi there,” a voice all but purred into their ear. Storm choked down a scream and their heart skipped at least five beats before stuttering back into action. The core wasn't remarkable in any way. The paint was a matte shade of dark gray and made it almost vanish in the shadows. Even the optic barely shone, sporting the default concentric circles in matching gray and pale red rows.

“Hello, lovely.” The core's voice was soft, but held the growl of a feral animal about to strike. “What are you doing here alone?” The optic seemed cracked, and unlike the rest of the cores barely moved while it talked.

“H-hey! Test subject?” Henry's voice was too distant to enter their focus of attention. They probably imagined it. He would never dare to shout in here.

“Are you lost?”, the dark core purred. “Don't worry, I'll help you.” The optic flashed to life in a bloody red glow, leaving colorful spots in their vision. Storm stumbled backwards until they hit the management rail again, just in time to have Henry crash into them from the side. Something crackled next to their ear, like a long-distance phone line connecting.

“Mauricio, we need access to the storage files, aisle F16 to H42,” the core all but begged. “And for the love of Johnson, hurry!”

Storm heard him, and some part of their mind knew something was happening, something dangerous. They took a step to the side, and then another one, keeping their eyes on the gray core. It twitched and rolled in its spot, a series of clicks coming from its body until the first spidery leg had emerged from its body, stretching about half a dozen joints.

Henry shoved them down the aisle and suddenly they were running and struggling to keep their grip on the Paint Gun.

“Aisle G24, right side, third from the top,” Henry informed them in a factual voice. “Also,” he continued, “didn't I tell you to IGNORE EVERYTHING YOU HEAR?!”

“I thought we're not supposed to shout?” Henry groaned but didn't reply. Which aisle was which in here? None was labeled, or at least nowhere they could see, and their legs were getting tired already. “Don't worry, I will be with you soon,” the gray core taunted somewhere behind them. Storm accelerated even more, a sudden burst of panic sending cold claws down their neck. They didn't know where they were headed and left Henry the lead, staring down at the cold concrete in front of their feet.

They had the Paint Gun. Why in all hell weren't they using it? Moron.

Before they could however, Henry made an abrupt turn and their speed almost carried them past the aisle. It didn't look significantly different from all the others and was just as packed. Henry waited for them about half the way down.

“I- I'll wait for you up there,” he announced and sped off.

Storm stared up into the mist far over their head, already shuddering at the thought of having to climb that far. Their hands were sore and their muscles trembled, but they didn't have time to rest. They stuffed the Paint Gun into the makeshift belt and began the ascend.

“Oh where are you, dear friend? Don't you want to play with me?”, the dark core called. Metal clicked on the floor in a rapid pattern, not unlike, but far more disconcerting than rain. When had they last seen real rain, under a real sky? Just getting soaked in water that wasn't processed or came from a metal tube, it was like a little miracle in itself. Add it to the list of things they wanted to do when they got out of here.

A core right next to their hand blinked its optic and let out a yawn that might count as a scream. Others followed, mumbling and rolling around in their spot. Storm hesitated, long enough for one to slam its handle down on their fingers. Storm drew their hand back with a curse. The force of motion made their foot slipped off the board and the next instant, they were only supported by one foot slipping on the smooth metal and their left hand over a sharp edge. The metal dug into their fingers, ready to tear them off.

“Hello? Hello?”, one of the cores called. “Hello and welcome-”

“I got good news and bad news,” another one chimed in. Storm let out a growl that sounded more cougar than human and wrapped their other hand around the edge. The Long Fall Boots were hard and smooth and didn't give much in terms of support, but they could place their toes in the next board and heave themselves up to the next level. Their heart was pounding, but they didn't stop again until they could spot a vague silver circle over them that might or might not be their guide.

“Don't be afraid, my friend, I will help you.” The chuckle made every hair on their body rise. The voice seemed to be right in their ear, but when they looked around, nobody was there.

“Gurkin,” a core next to them announced. “Gurkin, Gurkin, guuuurrrrkiiiinn.” Storm slapped him on the optic. It didn't have any effect. The voices spread through the shelf, multiplying in volume with every waking core.

“Do you think we'll get reactivated?”

“Finally, I can't wait to see my creator again!”

“Wake me up, wake me up inside, I can't wake up.”

Storm heaved themselves to the next level, and the next. Only a few cores even seemed aware of their colleagues or what they said. The others just senselessly talked into the void, to an invisible conversation partner, some even sang or just screeched nonsense.

Storm looked down. A good thirty feet separated them from the bottom now and they hadn't nearly reached the top. The steel bit into their skin, but they wrapped one arm around the post. The Paint Gun was hard to balance with only one hand, even if they just wanted to spray downwards. They splashed blue gel all the way down the aisle, as far as their strength and mobility allowed before putting it back into the belt. A cramp ran through their hand just after that, waves of pain flaring up their entire arm while their fingers clenched and twitched beyond their control. Storm gritted their teeth and slowly lifted their arm until the spasm passed. After hat, they carefully got back into climbing position, just checking over their shoulder for a routine glance.

They shouldn't have.

So far, they hadn't noticed any unease when they came close to the many spiders that had made a home inside of Aperture. Apparently a dark core with five foot long mechanical legs that came rushing towards them was a wholly different issue. The whole world went black and white for a second while their insides turned to ice. Their next pull-up catapulted them upwards so far they almost didn't catch on to the next shelf. They should have heard the awful clicks of the mechanical legs while it leaped over the shelves, but the other cores were far too loud now.

They did hear a curse and a crash somewhere over their head. Henry was hovering in front of the shelf, frantically trying to reach one of the cores stocked there.

“Which one?”, Storm panted, before they even got into reaching distance. Henry turned to them, stared at the oncoming spider core for about half a second, and finally flew into a panic.

“Okay, okay, no worries, hakuna matata, we got this, just portal over there and I will- wait, no, you don't have the Portal Gun. I'll just-”

The dark core giggled, and it somehow cut through the noise like a butcher's knife. “We're going to play tag, my friend. And when I get you...” It giggled again and the sound alone was enough to make Storm's entrails curl into a ball in the next corner. They turned just in time to see the spider reach the last aisle separating them and hit the top of the shelves, ready to leap.

They let go. Wind rushed in their ears and the mechanical and apparently very sharp legs missed them by inches. Instead, they crashed into the shelf where they had been half a second before, resulting in a cacophony of screams and the sound of ripping metal.

They barely got a hold on their Paint Gun while simultaneously keeping an eye on the spider. Time was running so slow while they fell. They had time to adjust their grip on the Gun and half turn around to watch out for that... thing. Henry had done the clever, if not valiant thing, and retreated to a safe distance.

“Ah, this is fun!”, the dark core cheered.

The impact sent a shock through their body, despite the Long Fall Boots. They weren't ready and would have stumbled if not for their instincts kicking in. There was no plan to this. They only wanted to survive. That might was well be their downfall

The Repulsion Gel catapulted them back into the air, right at the mechanical spider, its legs glistening in the artificial lights as it was about to throw itself at them. They splashed it with orange gel just before it took off. The pointy legs suddenly didn't provide steady footing and slipped off the slick metal, carrying the spider far beyond its target.

Unfortunately, it didn't sound too bothered by the unexpected counter strike. “I love those who struggle,” it exclaimed. Storm began to feel sick to their stomach, but they pushed it away. No time for this.

“HENRY!”, they shrieked.

“Catch!” For a second, they hovered, not held by anything as gravity and their upwards momentum were at a perfect balance. Something round and more or less white tumbled past them, spinning wildly. Then gravity won the fight and they followed. According to the laws of physics, weight didn't matter for the fall velocity, not considering air resistance and size. Storm pressed their limbs to their body, and managed to snatch the core's handle about a second before their feet hit the ground again and they bounced upward. The impact ripped at their injured shoulder and they couldn't suppress a groan. Whatever Brooke had used, it wasn't good enough.

“Next exit is two rows to the right, can be closed from the outside,” Henry shouted. They caught sight of said exit at the highest point of their flight, when everything felt light and their arms weren't hurting from the frequent assaults on every joint and their muscles didn't have to carry this heavy equipment and a core. It was a pleasant state, if not for the mechanical spider trying to kill them or worse. They lifted the Paint Gun and sprayed orange gel on the floor before they hit the ground.

When they did, they feathered the impact with the help of the boots and began to run, spreading the gel as they went.

“You're cheating!”, the dark core howled. Its voice was distant, almost drowned out by the other cores. How could it possibly get even louder in here? The noise hammered against their head, making everything fuzzy and vague. Maybe Henry hadn't been so paranoid after all.

The door did not open to the outside. Storm barely managed to turn around so that their shoulder caught the impact instead of the Paint Gun. It did, but with a burst of pure white pain that completely blacked out their vision for an incalculable amount of time. They could hear the razor feet of the spider hustling towards them, if only in their head. There had to be a handle somewhere! Fiddling the Paint Gun back into their belt took far too long, with their vision still full of black and white static, so they just jammed it under their arm holding the core.

Storm ripped the door open and stumbled through. “Pull, idiot,” they muttered to themselves.

“I got you~”, the dark core exclaimed.

The white core slipped their fingers and rolled off. Their body was full of adrenaline, but nonetheless, a painful shock ran through their muscles when slammed the door shut. Something heavy crashed against it from the other side and metal shrieked. Storm stumbled back and kicked the core down the corridor on accident. It slid over the floor, spinning wildly, and vanished.

They stared at the door, their blood rushing and sweat trickling over their face, with every limb shaking and a pounding headache.

It held. For now.

For a few seconds, they considered just sitting down right here. Just a little rest, only a few minutes.

No. If anything, it was far too loud here. They could still hear the hellhole the warehouse had become, and who knew if that spider thing could open doors. Just to be sure, they slid the bolts on the door closed before making their way down the corridor. Something was fishy. After years of stasis, it shouldn't be a surprise they were a little battered, but it hadn't been like that when they ran through Nigel's testing track.

Speaking of which. That core, now android, was the only reason they were even here. Without him, they would probably be outside already, and this whole rescue mission wouldn't be necessary. It was bad enough having to trust that lying rat, even if the other cores turned out to be nice.

Then again, it had been their choice to take him along. They couldn't even remember why they had made that decision. And it pissed them off.

A lot.

Storm picked up the core they had gathered from the warehouse. Once they had stopped in their tracks, the weariness hit them with an angry right hook. They placed the white core on a shelf and sat down next to it, wiping their face. This was a terrible idea, they couldn't afford to fall asleep now, but oh how sweet the siren song was.

They stared at the gray floor and just let their thoughts wander. They needed rest, and soon, but first there were some things to do. They closed their eyes, letting the colorful spots fade to black for a while. It was so quiet. Finally, they had some quiet. No homicidal AI chasing them or anything else human or not babbling along.

Wait.

Something about that didn't seem right.

Their brain needed far too long to match the vague idea in their head to the current situation. They had to struggle out of a black abyss to even turn the ball of realization into words. They had fallen asleep. Despite the lack of time. Despite everything, with themselves and those they had promised to help in danger.

When they raised their head, the world had turned from gray to a senseless mess of colors, and their stomach couldn't decide if it felt empty or sickeningly full, but their thoughts turned in one solid conclusion:

Henry was still inside the warehouse.

Storm wanted to scream every curse they had at the ceiling, since the heavens were quite a bit away, but had to settle with hissing “Shit!” through their teeth. They heaved themselves to their feet, taking a deep breath so their head stopped spinning, and adjusted the belt. The white core they left on the shelf. It wouldn't run away. Hopefully.

For a terrible moment, they hesitated. Was there any other way out? Henry had to know another exit. Was it right to put Fran's rescue at risk? They had no idea how much time had passed. But if there was another exit Henry could get through, that meant not only he could. They had to check. That thing hadn't sounded like it would give up easily.

“I have to do everything myself, don't I?”, they complained to nothing in particular as they stomped back the way they came. “How are these idiots still alive? I'm not the first human to get through here, but noooo they make a big issue out of it just for me. I wish I could kick their handles up their shell and-”

They let out an annoyed shrug and began sliding back the bolts. It was no use listening for that spider thing on the other side. They could still hear the cacophony in the warehouse, and it would drown out everything but an explosion. They hesitated again, then opened the door, just a crack. There was nothing directly on the other side. The warehouse was much brighter than it had been, the overhead lamps outnumbered by hundreds of colorful optics shining out over the corridors, waving and moving constantly as they chatted either with each other or something only they could see.

Well, their lousy plan had just dissolved into dust. How would they find Henry in this vast hall? The spider AI had seemed far more grounded than most of his colleagues and the other cores would start to chat once they noticed the human passing by. It wouldn't miss another chance of attacking them and they weren't sure if they had enough stamina left to sprint.

A shriek cut through the noise, loud enough to make the other cores fall into startled silence. The scream didn't repeat itself, and the first robots began babbling again, albeit carefully, as if they weren't sure if they were allowed to.

Storm tried to tell themself not to overreact. Then again, they had to finish this in a timely manner, and Henry was luckily built for high volumes. They passed the splotches of paint that had them helped escape either two minutes or two centuries ago and sneaked around several shelves before finding the right corridor.

They had thought the dependence on management rails had been one of the core's biggest design flaws. The rails only seemed to be everywhere, and additionally, a core had little more than two handles with a tiny range to physically do anything. But maybe it wasn't a mistake. For all the madness they had seen, very little in Aperture had ever been built without purpose.

The dark core had buried several of its sharp legs into the ceiling and walls, making Henry back up all the way the management rail allowed. It wasn't far enough. He was cornered, and the dark core still had two agile, razor sharp legs to work with.

“I've been in this hellhole for too long. Uncalled for at that,” the dark core said, almost contemplatively.

“You're uncalled for,” Henry shot back. His voice only quivered the tiniest bit, while he pressed the handles to his body. “You were already crazy before they dumped you here. Like hell I'll show you the way out.”

The dark core dabbed a leg at him in an almost casual motion. The tip penetrated Henry's shell with ease, and the core flinched back without being able to go anywhere. He let out a feral growl and broke off when his optic focused on Storm. He couldn't have looked more surprised if he had eyebrows or a face, or if his face plates hadn't been torn to shreds. Storm waved their hands wildly, somehow signaling him to go on, before dashing behind a shelf again. The dark core hadn't seen them, had it?

Their heart was pounding in their ears loud enough to shut out the conversation for several moments.

“Fuck you,” Henry said flatly, when they could more or less hear again.

“Oh, my funny little friend, but I have standards. Also, I know that people tend to get awfully rude when they're trying to hide something...” The dark core chuckled. “Ah, you gave yourself away. What might it be?”

Storm swallowed, but the lump in their throat stayed. They drew their Paint Gun and adjusted their grip. If they lost this device, they were dead. They had wanted to prepare their path of escape, but that was no option. Not anymore. Their hands almost slipped on the handle of the gun. No time for the stereotypical deep breath, no matter how much their hands were trembling. The noise of the babbling cores pounded at their temples.

They did this because it was right. It was stupid, and might kill them, but they did it anyway. Because it was the right thing to do. In the end, the good always won, right?

Henry couldn't stifle the next scream and Storm began to run, splashing paint in front of them. Their finger felt weak on the trigger, but at least the gun wasn't slippery anymore.

“Where is your lovely friend going?”, the dark core said, still turned around to his victim. “I missed so much in here...”

A big splotch of repulsion gel collided with the wall. “Drop!”, they shouted.

Henry spun. “Bad timing!”

“DROP FOR FUCK'S SAKE!” The hit the wall full sprint, feet first and were catapulted upwards in an odd arc. They still found it strange how much the blue gel cushioned the impact into a solid concrete wall, but they were in no position to complain. They caught Henry in the air, his dented and pierced shell scratching their bare skin. The force of the collision should have made them double over if not for the locomotion of their flight. Instead, it pushed them downwards, and their feet hit the ground and they were running again.

Henry's main body spun wildly before he froze with his optic directed at what they were leaving behind. “Are you sure this is the right way, I don't think this is the right way!”

“Oh no you don't!”, the dark core called. It didn't sound upset. No, it was enjoying this.

“You might want to accelerate!”, Henry informed them. Something almost brushed their neck, creating a sharp hiss of air right behind their head.

“You might want to accelerate more!” Henry's baritone voice jumped into falsetto at the last word. “Much, much more if that is possible in any way, please!”

For a brief moment, they caught their reflection in the shining hull of a core. They were barely a dirt-splattered orange figure with a shock of black hair and wild eyes, and a black ball of metal with many, many legs right behind them.

“Why are you running, dear? Bringing me out? How lovely! But I think I'll find it myself, now that the door is open.”

The Paint Gun was heavier than a sack of bricks by now, and their arms were burning from the strain. Still, they slapped the lever on the device with the arm holding the core and turned, their feet still sliding over the trail of orange gel.

The obligatory instruction to the paint test had included the warning not to get covered in the blue gel. Ever. At that point, they had assumed it was toxic in some or the other way, like most things in here. The last few test chambers had taught them differently. Once an object was covered, there was little to nothing you could do to stop it.

The same went for cores. Once enough of their hull was covered, they rolled and bounced off each other, nearing their inevitable escape from the shelf, spreading the repulsion gel everywhere.

“Very clever of you, but not enou-”

Blue paint hit the dark core right on its optic, sticking to the metal and covering every surface as far as it could spread out. Blinded, the spider legs lost their rhythm, but not their speed with which it was rushing towards the human at the end of the trail. It would have stumbled, if it hadn't slammed its legs on the floor to stop.

As it was, that exact spot happened to be a patch of blue gel.

The spider let out a shriek as it took off and was catapulted over the shelves and out of sight.

Storm stared at the spot it had just been, panting, suddenly standing still. There was a catch. There HAD to be a catch. It couldn't be THAT easy.

“I see how you'd be very proud, don't get me wrong, I understand, but it would be appropriate to remove ourselves from here if we don't want to die,” Henry informed them in a polite, matter-of-fact tone.

Storm took a step backwards, then another one, and then began to run. Just get out of here. The first core hit the ground somewhere behind them and they felt paint splatter on their skin as it bounced past them.

They raced into the corridor and dropped Henry to the ground with a barely audible “Sorry” before tucking away the gun and slamming the door shut. This time they closed all bolts and turned the wheel on the door. They wouldn't go back, and if it was the last retreat from GLaDOS's so-called neurotoxin.

Somehow, they managed to stumble to the next wall before collapsing.

The noise from the warehouse was dampened, not drowned out. It sounded like a herd of bulls tap-dancing, or the whole NBA playing basketball in a 15 foot room. The walls vibrated with the force of the cores bouncing around. Would they just keep their momentum, or did the repulsion gel stop being effective at some point? They didn't know and couldn't give two shits about it.

“That's it!”, Henry barked. “That's it, I'm done, not my cup of tea, they can all go to android hell for all I care, I'M OUT!”

Storm barely even turned their head. They could tell him how much they agreed, but that wouldn't help them now. If only they weren't so damn tired.

“What?” Henry stared at them with his face plates narrowed. He had come to a halt in an awkward sideways position, but that didn't impede his ability to stare a contemptuous hole into them.

Storm got up, trembling, and almost fell over when they picked up the now badly scraped and hole-riddled core.

“I did my part,” Henry said, a little more defensive now. “I did, and I got cut to bits by that psychopath core for it. I'm not going up against Her. No Sir, thank you very much. And where the hell were you?”

Storm trod along the corridor, standard door after standard door. They didn't answer. “What was that... core?”

Henry misunderstood the question. “They wanted a way to study the human mind – and us, in extension. Serial-killer type humans in particular. I don't know who made up the spider part, though.” He wiggled his lower handle and shuddered. “That's what I heard, anyways. To be honest, I didn't think he was real.”

Storm didn't bother to comment. Walking was enough effort for now. They would have walked past the management rail if Henry hadn't pointed it out. The weight leaving their strained arms was a blessing, if a short one, because they found the white core they had stored there. The reason they had come here in the first place.

The white core was smaller, but not much lighter than the later models, or what they assumed were the later models. And what were they supposed to do with it now? If Henry told them it was the wrong one and they had to go back? They would probably slap him off his management rail.

“Along here, ladies and gentlemen.” Storm followed the directions to a cracked panel that moved when Henry got closer. They squeezed through, somehow shifting their makeshift belt around while balancing the core – it still hadn't given a sound – and found themselves beyond Aperture's working domains once more. They had to walk bent over for a while to avoid fans whirring over their head, and threatening to cut it off, probably, until they reached a round vertical shaft.

Henry stared at it for a while, before he slowly shifted his scratched-up optic to face Storm. They wondered what he saw int heir face, because he drew in his handles and backed off almost a yard.

“I might not have calculated this.”

Storm set down the white core and peered over the edge. The shaft was round and about five feet in diameter. There was no way of telling just how deep this pit was, but it had to be quite a bit, judging from the mist that covered the transition into darkness. The same went for the end over their head, vaguely illuminated by blue light coming out of nowhere. The mist swirled in complicated patterns, sending tendrils upwards from time to time, ghostly hands that wrapped around their legs in a cool embrace, seeping into the fabric of the jumpsuit and their boots. Somewhere nearby, wind was rushing, but otherwise, it was completely silent and the air in here barely moved.

There was a ladder leading up and down right next to the entrance they stood in. This would be a very long climb.

The cold had something good, though: They felt a little more awake now, and the air seemed fresher than anything they had breathed in a long time.

“I'm pretty sure these pass by the Exotic Location test chambers,” Henry said. Storm sighed. They could have gone without that information. Of course this was just a part of the machine called Aperture Laboratories, or whatever Aperture had called itself before it was taken over by crazy robots.

They adjusted their belt, making sure it wouldn't fall, and then picked up the core. What were they supposed to do with it? This one hadn't gotten off as clear as the Morality Core. One handle was missing completely, the other one was badly cracked, maybe from the fall it had been submitted to recently, and the white plastic had scorch marks everywhere. It didn't count as white, really.

“You think the shrimp is alright?”, Henry asked. Storm raised their eyebrows, but didn't say anything. “Nigel,” Henry corrected himself. “Nigel is... he's hard to nail down. He loves his job, but sometimes he acts as if he wants to end up in android hell. He's so easy to get excited about anything ever, but gets bored very fast as well. He's a perfectionist, but I'm fairly sure he knows about his weaknesses, just tries to ignore them. The others used to laugh about him for being such a petty bureaucrat, and yet he stretches the rules where he can. I don't know who programmed him, but they must have like paradoxes.” Storm had to admit that was quite the accurate description for the... the child.

The damaged core in their arms gave a sound like a dozen different animals at the same time and jumped at Storm's throat.

They stumbled back with a croak that would have been a squeak had they had enough breath left and dropped it to the ground, just to leap after it before it could tumble over the edge of the shaft. The core wiggled its handle, still giving a mangled impression of several upset-sounding animals. Storm stared at it, before slowly raising their head to glare at Henry. What was that supposed to be good for again?

“It's dubbed the Anger Core. The tenacious test subject threw it in the incinerator along with its, uh, colleagues, when they shut down GLaDOS for the first time. Not sure how they even survived...”

Storm stared down at the core, before plucking the jagged remains of the handle out of their sockets. They weren't connected to anything and came out easily. The core didn't change its snarling, so they assumed that hadn't hurt it. Now that should make things a lot easier.

“How far up?”

“Three levels, at least,” Henry said. He didn't meet their gaze, but unsuccessfully tried to scratch himself with his handle.

Great. Just fantastic. Without handles, they couldn't tie it to anything, climbing with one arm was out of the question, and the slot for the grip claw of the management rail was melted shut. Even if it hadn't been, they would have been surprised if the core would have followed instructions and went with them. Storm looked at the ladder and stretched their arms, before deciding they didn't have a choice either way. They opened the zipper at the front of their jumpsuit. The core was just small enough to stuff down their shirt, where it came to an uncomfortable rest.

They met Henry's unreadable stare.

“What?”

The core blinked. And blinked again. And again. “I- I thought- I thought you were-” The sentence trailed off unfinished under the human's deadpan stare. When it was apparent Henry wouldn't finish it, they inched their way to the edge and put a foot on the first rung.

The climb was long and an outright nightmare in their exhausted state. On the positive side, there were a billion things that could go wrong, like the Central Core manipulating the ventilation or one of the rungs or the whole ladder just breaking, yet none of that happened. By one or the other miracle, they safely reached their destination, even with their whole body trembling and burning.

Storm waved off Henry's attempts at getting them to hurry and leaned against the wall to catch their breath. Their hands felt like the skin was slowly burned off, a side effect of the rusty metal, and the cool breeze had turned from a refreshment to the painful touch on a fever-hot body during a cold.

“What did we get that for?”, they got out.

“Nigel said there were a variety of animals in that processor. GLaDOS is afraid of birds, you know?”

“And?”

Henry tried to blink, but the upper face plate got stuck and only dislodged after considerable effort and a rain of sparks. Or what was left of it. Some parts had fallen off after being almost completely separated from the rest, and the metal was bent and had developed into little more than a mess of sharp edges.

“Well... uh... that should be enough distraction for Her. To get Fran and Nigel out.” They looked. Henry backed off a little more. “You... you get me right?”

Storm slowly, very slowly cocked their head about two degrees, forcing themselves to take deep breaths. They weren't sure if they were going to start crying or screaming. “We. Got. This. To imitate. A Bird?” They barely managed to press the words through their teeth, clenched painfully tight.

“Uh, that... was the plan... Mauricio, he told you, right? ...Right?” He trailed off under their stare. Storm retrieved the scorched core from their shirt. It had grown quiet during the ascend, and only now started growling again.

“We. Almost. Died,” they said. Henry wanted to back off even more, and hit a closed hatch. He gave a startled squeak. Storm hadn't moved.

“Y-Yeah...”

Storm threw their hand up, the other one still clutching the damaged core. “I can imitate a bird, you walnut! This whole endeavor was unnecessary!”

Henry stared at them. “B-But... do you have the sound files? You couldn't-” His optic contracted until only a pale white dot remained. “Oh,” he whispered.

They wanted to scream and slap somebody, but what came out was a wide, wide grin that hurt their cheeks. Their lips were dry and cracked and they tasted blood and something even more distasteful, probably paint.

“Yes,” they said in a low voice, not dropping the smile. “Yes, Henry, Oh is definitely the best way to describe this situation.”

“Listen, I- I couldn't know! I mean, perhaps I could have, but it didn't... I was never in extended contact with humans,” he stammered. The hatch moved, but Henry hovered on the edge, unsure if he should make a tactical retreat. Storm gave him a sweet smile.

“No, no, it's fine. Let's go to the next part of >How to die in the most complicated and stupid way in a facility filled with stupid robots<.” Their hands tightened on the white core. It chirped and barked, and made a variety of sounds they couldn't identify, and then settled for purring. Storm dropped their gaze from the shivering Core down the hall to the one in their arms.

Animals. Petting.

They ran their hand over the scorched surface. The purring grew louder with each stroke until their hands vibrated from the noise, a low, steady sound of pleasure. The shell was rough and uneven, but cool under their aching hands.

Well, they thought, this one couldn't possibly screw them over, intentionally or out of ignorance.

They let out a whistle. The core stopped, then continued purring, this time in what felt somehow questioning. They whistled again, trying to put in a melody of some sort. The core chirped back, first one, then another and finally a whole swarm of bird voices.

Henry flinched so hard he banged against the metal of the hatch. “W-Well that will most certainly get her attention.”

Storm raised an eyebrow at him and followed the way the corridor took them. After several seconds of hesitation, Henry followed. He showed them a cracked open panel that once again led to the back roads of the vast complex. The next time they had a chance to peek out at the open roads, they were back in the Enrichment Center, crisp and clean and designed to impress. Behind the scenes there was dirt and rust, something was always moving, but none of it sentient.

Hopefully.

“Wait.” They stopped. Henry did as well, his optic spinning rapidly. Storm didn't step back, even though they wanted. It looked alien and robotic, and made them more uncomfortable than it reasonably should. Of course it was. He was a robot, for Tesla's sake. And yet they wished he wasn't.

“Hello gorgeous,” Mauricio purred. They looked around, but the only one there was Henry. The voice was coming from him, probably via radio waves of one or the other kind. How simple.

“I'm glad you're here,” Mauricio said and the tension in his voice told them things were already going very, very wrong. “You're running awfully late, I'm afraid. Things are not-”

His voice was drowned out when all speakers in the vicinity, probably in the whole facility, burst into the static hum of an open line.

“One more chance, boss,” Nigel's voice echoed through the empty corridors. He sounded lonely, and scared, and more than all of that, determined. “Let me show you what I can do. I'll have them here in no time.”

“Really.” GLaDOS drew out the word, as if she was trying it like a candy and not sure if she liked the taste. “How do you presume to do that, testing associate?”

There was a long pause. “They trust me.”

“Do they now,” GLaDOS said softly. “Well, then show me. Prove yourself.”

“Yes, boss.” He sounded as if he had a bad cold all of a sudden. “I'll bring you the rogue cores... and the test subject. It'll be a piece of cake.” Another long pause. “They'll never see it coming.”

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