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Scout: The Aperture Science Test Subject

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It turned out Scout had actually learned a thing or two from the tests, because he didn't have to think before shooting a portal right below him. Falling is quickest, and he dropped straight back onto the catwalk they were on before, with Spy falling alongside him and landing with a less-than-graceful thud compared to Scout’s easy bounce.

 

Scout wanted to rub it in Spy’s face that, yes, these shoes were good for jumping, and that's why Scout was the one who landed on his feet― well, that and his natural athletic ability. But he didn't have time for it.

 

“Move it or lose it, ski mask!” he said, starting to take off, only to trip with his first step.

 

“Oy, careful, mate!” Wheatley said, underneath Scout’s boot.

 

Spy looked up as he was getting to his feet and nearly snarled. “Get away! This is your fault, imbecile!” Standing up, he kicked it off of the catwalk.

 

Or at least, he tried to. Wheatley wasn’t limited to the movements of a core anymore, and he used the wire attachments of the sapper body he was in to wrap himself around Scout’s boot. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m too young to die!”

 

“How old are you?” Scout asked, looking at the robot clinging to his boot.

 

“Well, the concept of―” Wheatley was interrupted from his diatribe by the loud rumble of the catwalk falling apart not more than twenty feet behind them.

 

This time, it was Spy who said, “Run, you fools!”

 

“He can’t run!” Scout said, as he took off. “I’m doin’ the running for him!”

 

Spy was running behind him, quick enough to cuff Scout on the ear. “No time for semantics!”

 

Everything was falling apart all around them, except for one clearly well-defined path.

 

“It’s clearly a trap,” Spy panted as they stopped at an intersection. Going to the right would likely lead them straight to whatever that trap was.

 

The walkway to their left started shaking and caving in.

 

“Only option,” Scout and Spy said in unison, and exchanged a quick glance. Both of them “jinxing” each other would likely be remembered in better detail than anything else about this incident.

 

They ran, and the path they were on led straight to another room, even bigger, even more well lit, with pipes and pumps and armaments in excess. The lady was suspended from the ceiling again; they climbed at least three flights of stairs, and they must have been directly above the room where they met her.

 

“Neurotoxin for the human gentlemen, then when they’re gone, I’ll disable you with the automated memory-purging robots. No funny business this time.” she said to Wheatley.

 

A green fog started to fill the room.

 

“C’mon, there’s still a chance!” Wheatley said to Scout and Spy, both of whom were starting to blink hard and cough. “There’s the… What if…”

 

“We’re gonna die,” Scout said. “I don’t wanna die!” In an act Spy would smirk at for the rest of his life, Scout grabbed his shoulder, starting to tear up, and said, “I’m sorry, Spy! I’m sorry our lives had to end like this! It’s not fair!”

 

Spy nearly laughed as Scout fell to the ground in tears. Poor boy. He had to get moving, though, because the green fog was starting to make him light-headed. He grabbed the sapper off of Scout’s boot. It was a robot, but he seemed to be crying, too― or trying to cry, blue eye dimming and brightening as it made sniffling noises.

 

“What― what are you doing, mate?” he said, sounding as if he was choking.

 

“You aren’t affected by the neurotoxin,” Spy chided, ignoring him.

 

He walked closer to the woman, the robot, the enemy with the orange eye. She swung, suddenly, towards him.

 

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said coolly. “If you had family in this room… I’d suggest taking your last few minutes alive to spend with them.”

 

Spy’s breath hitched in his throat. He turned around to face Scout, still lying on the floor, an incoherent mess, babbling for his ma.

 

He turned back to the robot. “It’s quite a shame I don’t,” he said to her.

 

Then, he took Wheatley, still in his hand. He would remember the label on the metal, “GLaDOS”, and would try to find more information later.

 

He placed Wheatley straight on the metal, right over the acronym. His vision was starting to blur, but that was okay. Automatically, the sapper wires shot out and connected themselves to the exposed cables of the larger robot.

 

His stomach dropped. Nothing was happening. His legs were growing heavy and it was getting extremely hard to breathe. He looked back to Scout. He took a step towards him.

 

Then, he heard a sound that was reminiscent of putting a fork in a blender.

 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” she― “GLaDOS”― screeched. Blue sparks were shooting in the air. “ How?! How?!

 

Oy! Oy! This is weird! ” the eternally oblivious Wheatley added to the shouting.

 

The blue sparks were slowing, and somehow, her mechanical voice sounded like a death rattle. “I know you exactly who you are… I have your information on file… things you didn’t know… and now… you never will .”

 

The glow of her orange eye sputtered out, as did the flow of neurotoxin, and smoke started to fill the room as her metal body hit the floor with a clunk .

 

“How… how’d you do that, Spy?” Scout looked up from his fetal position on the floor. He went from shaken to huffy in half a second. “How’d you do that? Tell me!” He sprang from the ground. “Why’d you wait so long?”

 

“It’s a sapper ,” Spy jabbed a finger towards Wheatley, still attached to the“GLaDOS” marking. “His only job is to disable robots.”

 

“Oh, wait, so I did it? Yes! Yes!” Wheatley laughed. “I did it, I saved us all. I told you I would take care of this!”

 

Spy frowned at the sapper.

 

“Now,” Wheatley said, “to take over this giant robot body that she’s been hogging― hey!

 

Spy slipped him back into his pocket. Then, he took Scout by the elbow, uncharacteristically gently.

 

“I think I can find the elevator from here,” Spy said.

 

“I can find it!” Wheatley said.

 

“We ain’t listenin’ to you!” Scout yelled towards Spy’s pocket.

 


 

“We missed dinner,” Scout said, looking at the empty table. “And it looks like they left us with dish duty.”

 

Spy sighed. “You take some food and go retire. I’ll handle this.”

 

Scout looked up at him. “You serious, man?”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping a tally of how much you owe me. This… incident… added a great amount to that total.” Spy smirked.

 

“You have an odd way of being nice,” Wheatley, who had been silent for a record-setting time, had decided to start speaking again.

 

“You can start repaying me right now,” Spy said. “Take this thing. Keep it quiet. Or entertain it. Teach it to read― if you know how to read in the first place, that is. Don’t destroy it, though.” He tossed the sapper in Scout’s direction. “Oh, and please, keep wearing those boots.”

 

“Because they’re super useful, just like I said, right? Told ya so.” Scout smirked in Spy’s direction.

 

“No, because you look rather ludicrous, and I find that funny.” Spy replied, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a dish. “Goodnight, Scout.”


“G’night, Spy.” Scout said, before walking out with Wheatley, who was silent once more, in his hand.