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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandoms:
Parahumans Series - WildbowPortal (Valve Video Games)
Relationship:
Lab Rat/String Theory
Characters:
Taylor Hebert | Skitter | WeaverGLaDOS (Portal)Thomas Calvert | CoilEmma Barnes (Parahumans)Greg VederString Theory (Parahumans)Lab Rat (Parahumans)
Additional Tags:
Being Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver Is SufferingMad ScienceFor Science!Crossovers & Fandom FusionsAlt-Power Taylor HebertInsanityDarkCross-Posted on FanFiction.NetTorturePsychological Torture
Language:
English
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Published:2025-10-26Completed:2025-11-03Words:25,890Chapters:4/4Comments:97Kudos:178Bookmarks:55Hits:4,373
Parahuman Testing Initiative
CHPrime
Chapter 2
Notes:
A lot of fics like to dunk on Coil, reducing him to a punchline with how quickly and efficiently their alt-power Taylor can delete him from the plot before he can do anything bad.
This isn't one of those stories.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
At first, I thought I was going insane.
I kept having weird visions about how things should work in the hospital. Thoughts and calculations of how to assemble…I didn't even know, but I felt I needed to build them. But after spending a week in the hospital recovering from sepsis, I spent some afternoons surfing the web to try and find answers. And after restraining myself from ripping apart the computer I was using, I had found my answer.
I was a parahuman. I was a Tinker. After years of life spitting on me, something was finally going my way.
I could get away from Winslow. I could get away from it all. I was going to be a hero.
I thought about revealing myself to the PRT. I could have worked alongside Armsmaster and Dragon. It could have been great. But that was a bad idea. The PRT would make me join the Wards, and that was…It would just be high school all over again.
Plus, some people online said the PRT put really heavy restrictions on Tinkers, and would make me do things their way if they thought my inventions were too dangerous. No, it would have been best for me to strike out on my own. I could be like Hero, and build things that made a real difference in people's lives.
Once I was discharged from the hospital, I set to work. Dad had been snapped out of the funk he had been in since my mom died, and spent quite a bit of time getting into yelling matches with the school on my behalf, which…it felt nice, but he didn't have to do that. The Dockworkers Union was really struggling.
Still, I got a few days off from school to do whatever I wanted. So I set to work building my first invention, mostly using spare parts and old electrical equipment down in the basement. I had been careful not to go to the scrapyards or the boat graveyard, because the FAQ I read said that gangs liked to watch for recently triggered Tinkers in places like that. I did a little dumpster dive for some old batteries, but that was it.
After a few days of feverish work, connecting wires, letting their sparks fuse them into the plastic, losing track of time while barely understanding what I was actually doing, my first invention was complete!
It was…a box.
No, that was too generous. That would imply that it opened, and I could put things in it. This was just a block. A grey cube. It had weird edges that I had installed for…some reason, and a pink heart inside a light grey circle on each of its sides, but that was it.
It didn't open into anything. It didn't have any buttons I could press to shoot lasers, or ways to transform it into a mobile hoverchair—it just sat there.
What a waste. The best I could figure was that it was meant to be thrown around. Maybe. It was already kind of heavy, and even if I could use it to hit people, there were plenty of things that were way easier to pummel bad guys with. In fact—
"Taylor?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. My dad was standing at the door, looking concerned. "What have you got there?"
"Um." I tried to think of an excuse. If my dad found out that I was a Tinker, he'd report me to the PRT, which meant the Wards, which meant even more high school drama. "It's…I think it's an art project. I found it in the basement, with some of mom's old stuff."
"Oh." Dad's face fell at the mention of mom. I hated using her against him, but it was only a little white lie, so it didn't feel too bad. "What is it? I never saw anything like that before."
"I'm not sure." I replied truthfully. "I had to put it together from smaller pieces, so I think…It's something you put together and then paint? That's why it looks so boring."
"Hmm." Dad looked back up at me, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Kiddo, did you have lunch today? The sandwich I made for you in the fridge is untouched."
Oh. Did I actually forget? PHO said Tinkers sometimes went into trance-like states whenever they built things, but I figured—
And right on cue, my stomach growled.
"I guess I lost track of time?" Stupid, useless powers. Made me spend all day making a useless box, and then made me look like a fool in front of my dad.
He just gave a tight smile. "You're still recovering, Taylor. Let's make some dinner."
I grumbled, but shuffled downstairs with him. Tomorrow would be a new day, and a new chance to make something worthwhile. I'd be going back to school then, and while I was sure the trio would be just as terrible as before, perhaps now they would restrain themselves after literally sending me to the hospital.
We had pasta with meatballs for dinner, an old favorite. Dad tried to make conversation, and I tried to meet him. He asked about the books I had been reading, and I asked about the Red Socks. I hadn't been doing much reading, and my dad hadn't been following his favorite team much ever since mom died, but it was a nice gesture.
We were trying, just a little bit. It was something. As I settled into bed and tried to prepare myself for tomorrow, I had a little spark of hope. Not much, but it was there. I had powers now. All I had to do was figure out how to make them work, and then I would be a hero.
A faint hum carried me off into sleep.
The next two weeks passed. It was mostly terrible, but there was a bright spot or two.
Just as predicted, Emma, Madison, and Sophia went right back to their usual behavior. They called me names, threw my lunch into the trash, and generally made life unbearable. And of course, they got no punishment for throwing me into the locker, because no one had seen them do it, and no one would believe me if I pointed the finger at them, because they never did.
The teachers, of course, were all useless. They offered their sympathies, but never saw the trio humiliate me, and even if they did they wouldn't do anything. I couldn't tell my dad either. I had heard him arguing with people at his work recently. I knew how much my hospital stay had cost him in time and money. He didn't need another distraction.
But after my second day back from school, while I was sitting on my useless cube, which didn't even have the decency to be a good chair, a new idea struck. I was venting on the walls with a laser pointer I had picked up, imagining it was a real laser that I could point at Emma.
After a few feverish hours of work, my toy became exactly that. A low-level laser that would shoot out of my pointer with a push of a button, too fast for anyone to notice, and if I was stealthy enough, no proof that I had anything to do with it! I thought it was particularly clever, as the pointer had a few little gimmicks—I could disguise it as a pen, and even use it as one on top of the usual tinkertech.
I thought about not attacking them. I was a good person, after all. But then I thought back to the locker, and all the other horrible things the trio had put me through.
Fuck it, they could take a little pain. And if no one else was going to solve my problems, I could try to give the three a taste of their own medicine.
I tried it on Madison first, when she was getting ready to spill pencil shavings all over me. I was so nervous that I would be the one caught that I could barely hold my weapon steady. Still, just as I saw her get up to attack me out of the corner of my eye, I took a chance. I hid my pointer inside my hoodie, aimed it at Madison's ankle, and did my best to look innocent.
By some miracle, it worked. Madison hissed and fell back into her seat, glaring down at her leg. She was loud enough that I wasn't the only one looking back at her too, which was a bonus.
Next period, I did the same thing to Emma and Sophia. Both were just as surprised and confused, which made my day. I even managed to overhear them whispering amongst each other. Their best guess was a bug bite or something. Sophia mentioned she would have to look into it and something about her nosy bosses (she had a job?) but they didn't suspect a thing.
I was sorry for ever doubting my power. It was awesome. I still had no idea what the cube did, but it seemed to be helping me build things. I had never heard of a Tinker power working like that, but it got results, so who was I to complain?
And after what it had done to the trio, I decided my invention needed a name. And after it discouraged them from bullying me, I dubbed my laser the Thermal Discouragement Beam! And with it, I could finally fight back!
…But not too much. If the trio noticed the same weird things happening to them over and over, they would get suspicious. I had to find new inventions, new ways of getting myself out of trouble.
And really, Thermal Discouragement Beam? A day after I chiseled its initials into the plastic too…
…TDB wasn't too bad. I would call it that, and think of a better name later.
I had also made some progress in decoding my powers. Tinkers, per my research, all had some sort of specialization to their tech. Armsmaster, for instance, was really good at efficiency. Dragon was really good at replication. I didn't have a hard lock on my own specialization yet, but it seemed to have something to do with my first invention.
Whenever I was near my cube, I could…think faster. It helped me come up with tech ideas. When I was at school or the library, I could go on as a normal teenager. But when I was around the cube, I was flush with inspiration. Now that I was paying attention, it gave off an odd electrical hum. Dad didn't seem to hear it, so it had to be something unique to me.
Also, the only thing keeping me from going into 'fugues' as the internet called them was my lack of materials. Which reminded me, I needed to somehow get some money for electronics if I ever wanted to be a real cape…
A problem to solve later. For now, I decided to only use the TDB once or twice a week—maybe I could also use it against some of the gang kids, so the trio didn't think they were being singled out, and to start practicing at being a hero. It was a decent plan.
Still, for the next two weeks, I was living on easy street. In comparison to last year, anyway. The trio only bullied me every other day, which was a big improvement. Walking home was a whole lot easier when I didn't have to do it in a wet, sticky shirt. Which I was doing now, after a good day when Sophia was out sick. Emma only called me a slut once.
I still made sure to document everything the trio did, as usual. Someone would have to believe me eventually…
That was another idea. Film them bullying me. That way, no one could argue that they hadn't seen it. But how to set up something like that? I couldn't just wear a pin like those spy movies. I would need multiple angles to catch everything. The cameras would also have to be small and be able to follow me around. The trio was predictable, but not that predictable. But that also meant—
"Hey, kid, does this smell like chloroform?"
I jumped as a man in casual clothes grabbed my shoulder from behind and shoved a cloth over my mouth and up my nose. I tried to scream, but a sweet smell filled my nostrils as the world began to sway. I tried to grasp at something, but my limbs were already wobbling. I tried—I tried—
Darkness.
I woke up to a bright, uncomfortable light. My head was pounding as I shook it, and I rose up from the cold metal table I had been slumped over. I blinked before frantically looking around the room. It was dark, with no windows and a single metal door. A toilet sat in one corner, along with a mirrorless sink. The only light source was a harsh fluorescent bulb dangling from the ceiling, the kind that movies tricked you into thinking didn't hurt to look at.
Just as I was about to go to the door and start pounding, it swung open. A tall, thin man walked in. He was wearing a black bodysuit with a coiling white snake motif running up one side.
I willed myself not to flinch. Whoever he was, he dressed like a cape. And even if he wasn't…
He pulled out a chair that I hadn't noticed, and sat across from me, folding his hands together like he was sitting down to a boardroom meeting.
"Hello, Miss Hebert. I trust you aren't too groggy?" His voice was polite, but had some odd reverberation. Much more than a cloth mask would provide.
"W-who…" I tried not to look too frightened. "Who are you? What do you want with me? How do you know my name?"
The man subtly tilted his head. "Straight to the questions? Very well, I will allow it. You may call me Coil." I got the distinct impression he was smiling underneath his mask. "You are here because I have need of your services. Your Tinker specialization."
My eyes widened. I had been so careful. How could he know? "I don't know what you are talking about—"
I gasped in pain as something hot stung my cheek. It felt like a needle poking into my skin. I raised my hand to try and do something, but—
I froze. Coil had a laser pointer in his hand. My TDB.
"Recognize your work?" Coil asked, placing the TDB down on the table. My eyes followed it as it subtly rolled towards me before pausing. "Excellent. I hate dancing around a subject." If I could catch him off guard, make a move before he expected it, I could maybe hit him with my laser and escape—
Coil's next words put an end to that. "Mr. Douglas, please bring it in."
Another man walked in, carrying a large gun. He wore black paramilitary fatigues, the kind you would see on the covers of sci-fi books set in the not-too-distant future. He barely gave me a glance before placing the gun down on the table, right in front of me.
I blinked. Douglas gave me no cues, so I had to turn back to Coil. "...What?"
"It's quite simple, child." Coii gestured down at the weapon. "This gun is tinkertech, and unfortunately, has sustained damage. I want you to repair it."
"B-but…" I tried to stall. "It's tinkertech! Don't you need to be the original builder to know how they work? You can't expect me to know how to fix this!"
Coil didn't say anything, only shifting his weight. Like he wasn't even listening. He glanced toward his minion. The man's eyes were hidden behind thick black shades, but the handgun holstered to his chest was clear to see. The guard's hand rose, and settled on the holster.
My blood was already cold, but now it was frozen.
My attention quickly turned to the gun in front of me. I didn't see anything wrong with it: it looked like any other gun I had ever seen on TV. It was made of sleek dark metal, though its…clip, it was called a clip, right? Its clip was strange-looking, as if it were a detachable battery. Though the part connecting the clip to the main gun looked kind of cracked—
Suddenly, I knew what was wrong with the machine and how to fix it. I couldn't put it into words, but I knew I needed something to smooth over the cracks, something capable of producing heat—
My TDB. It could work. It could solve the problem, though I would need a bigger power source—the battery-clip, of course. I hesitantly reached for it, and after Coil and his guard didn't react, I picked up the TDB and the battery, disassembling the pointer so I could reach the parts that carried a current, pulled the bits I needed out of the clip, and then got to work.
It was a simple procedure, even if I shocked myself once or twice getting the voltage right. After that, it was easy to smooth out the cracks. It was so simple my eyes began to wander—not upwards to my captors, but over the rest of the gun. I noticed similar wear and tear on the weapon's little screen, which, if I was right, connected to a camera on the barrel. I got to work, and then—
"I believe that is enough for now." Coil didn't raise his voice, but it cut through my trance in an instant. I let go of the muzzle like it was red hot.
Muzzle? When did I start working on the muzzle?
"Mr. Douglas, if you please." The guard pulled out another battery-clip from a pouch and began to fit it onto the gun—it was a bit involved, as there were a number of locks and safety features holding the clip tightly. Even with the guard's obvious experience, it would take a minute for him to properly—
I was suddenly very aware of the TDB in my hand. It was still connected to the old clip, and still significantly more powerful than it had been. Coil and his guard were both more focused on the weapon I had been repairing, or at least they seemed to be. If I could only—
"Please, go ahead. Try to kill me."
Coil hadn't turned to look at me. He was still sitting in his chair, studying the gun. His guard had paused and was glancing between us.
But Coil remained as composed as ever. "Use the weapon in your hand. Kill me and escape." His head finally turned back to look at me. "If you think I will allow you to, of course."
I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them peeling me apart.
He was bluffing. He had to be. The TDB was ready to fire in my hand. The guard couldn't suddenly drop his weapon and unholster his pistol, especially if I attacked him first. And Coil was unarmed. This was my chance. It didn't matter what he said. I could escape.
But I remained frozen. The TDB shivered in my grip. I couldn't do anything.
I had no idea what was happening. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know how many other guards I would have to fight through to escape this…whatever it was. And Coil—he was a villain, the costume said as much. He had powers, and I had no idea what they were. He could poison me with his mind, or change into a swarm of snakes and bite me to death, or turn my fingers into mice—anything.
He knew how I was going to attack. I had no idea how he would respond.
And he just sat there. Like he didn't have a care in the world. Like I was nothing. Like he knew he was going to get away with it.
Like Emma did whenever I got the courage up to tell a teacher.
The TDB clattered onto the table.
The guard studied it for a minute before resuming his tinkering. After a few seconds, there was an electronic beep, and he was fiddling with the electronic screen on the gun.
"Well?" Coil kept staring at me with his hands clasped together. Like he was examining a bug.
"You were right, sir. Good as new." The guard squeezed the trigger, and a red laser fired at the wall. The stone hissed, and after a second, harsh black scorch marks covered the area, leaving a foul odor.
The guard whistled. "No, even better."
"Excellent." Coil rose in a single fluid motion and walked around the table. Towards me. I tried to follow him, I did. But I was trembling. Was he going to kill me now? Was this how I was going to die?
Coil's hands landed on my shoulders. It felt like I was being crushed under a steel tower.
"Good. You aren't acting out." He said into my ear. "I'm glad you know how to behave yourself."
"I…" My voice was hoarse. "I don't…I want to go home."
Coil patted my shoulder. "I will be bringing you more tinkertech to repair. Once you are done with that, you might be able to make some new equipment for me."
"I-I want my dad. I w-want to know that he's safe."
The guard shouldered the rifle and held the door open. Coil languidly stalked back into my view, walking towards the exit. "Work quickly, and I will make sure to reward you. For now, dinner will be along shortly. And for future reference, all my employees address me as 'sir'."
"W-wait!" I tried. "My power—it only works if I have my cube!" Coil didn't care about me. I had to hope that this slip-up would give me some sort of time. "It's in my room, in my house. I can't help you if I don't have it!" I had to hope that he would make a mistake, that my dad would see someone break in, and that would give the police a lead.
Coil paused mid-stride. I held my breath and hoped against hope. I had been kidnapped, but if I could create this one distraction—
"Interesting." Coil mused. "You didn't notice you were sitting on it."
The villain and his guard walked through the door before it slammed shut. I stared down at my chair and saw a pink heart, faintly illuminated by the sickly yellow overhead light.
Thirty-five guns.
I hadn't left the room I'd woken up in. The ones my kidnappers had locked me in. I couldn't find a way out. I had spent hours—or what I thought were hours—trying.
The light never went out. It never even flickered. The guards never came in and out at a traceable time. I was pretty sure they were staggering my rations to throw off my sense of time, too.
I had fallen asleep four…maybe five times. But I could never truly rest. I always woke up in a cold sweat, even more exhausted than before.
I didn't have a good way to count the time. So I counted how many guns I repaired. They were occasionally different models, but never enough to interest me. Some of them confused me, but I always managed to figure it out. There wasn't a problem I couldn't solve.
It was a nice thought. It kept me focused between guns. I was up to forty-seven guns. There were never any interesting repairs. But I kept doing them. Because Coil would kill me if I didn't. I had to stay alive. I couldn't let him win.
I had nightmares. A lot of them. Some involved Coil. Others featured the trio, who seemed quaint now. All of them involved a suffocating, horrible blackness crushing down on me.
The guards never spoke more than a word to me. One man introduced himself as Mr. Pitter, and sat me down to draw my blood before disappearing through the door. I thought about trying to kill them, but I could never summon up the courage. Besides, I was supposed to be a hero. I didn't kill people, even bad people.
Coil had yet to show his face. I thought a lot about killing him too.
I screamed sometimes. I assumed there was a camera or two hidden in the room. With any luck, I startled whichever man was in the security booth once or twice.
I was up to fifty-two guns. It was always the same repairs. I was so bored and so tired and so, so frightened.
"Good news." My eyes jerked open. Coil was standing in front of the door, staring down at me. Like I was a particularly interesting rock. "You've finished all your repair work. Now, you can move on to original projects."
"B-buh…" I groaned. "I want to go home."
"I'm quite pleased by your speed. You really are quite the catch." Coil hummed along. "I'm sure you are bursting at the seams with ideas, given how long you've been locked up with your cube, but for now, you will be focusing on listening and surveillance devices."
"I want to see my dad. Please…"
"They will have to be quite small. Hopefully, they will be invisible to the naked eye." Coil continued on like I wasn't even there. "It's quite the challenge, but I'm certain you'll be up to it. I even have some prototypes for you to work on."
"Let me go…" He never was.
"Your shipment of parts will be arriving shortly. I will be back shortly to inspect your work." He turned to leave, his hand curling on the handle.
"Kill me."
Coil paused. I blinked. Had I really said that? Had I really meant it?
I couldn't back down. Not now. "Kill me. Let me out. I'm not going to make anything else for you." If I gave up here, I…
I didn't know what I was doing, but it seemed to be working. Coil tilted his head, as if he was considering something. He opened the door slightly. "The tablet, please."
Before I knew it, Coil was kneeling down beside me, holding a screen to my eye level. "You did finish ahead of schedule, and I did promise you a reward." He nodded, as if to himself. "I am a man of my word. Here is your father."
The screen flicked on. I saw a photo—no, it was a video. My dad was sitting on a bench next to his office. He listlessly bit into a sandwich, staring off into space.
He looked older. More haggard. More depressed. But it was him. He was alive.
"Show the date." Coil's voice cut through. The camera shifted downwards, pointing at a newspaper. It was a headline about Lung fighting Hookwolf downtown, and—
February?
It was February? It had been that long? But I hadn't—I didn't—I had only been here—
"Back to Mr. Hebert." The camera panned back up. Back to my dad, still staring off into space. Something was coming up from the bottom of the camera. Not the newspaper, but—
A gun. A pistol. A pistol I had repaired. Gun sixty-one.
"It was difficult to find anyone who cared about you." Coil turned off the screen and returned to his full, towering height. "But I managed. Now, are you going to make him pay for your defiance?"
It took me a minute to realize I was almost hyperventilating. Coil continued to stare down at me, unperturbed.
"No." I finally managed. "Please, no…"
There was the slightest crinkle along Coil's mask. I thought it might have been a smile. "Good girl."
The door slammed shut with a quiet certainty. I reached out and grasped my cube, desperately trying not to cry as it hummed along. The TDB lay useless beside me.
My life continued on. Or what counted as my life now.
It was alright, I told myself. My dad looked more miserable than he had before. He must have called the cops. People were looking for me. I would be saved. My dad wouldn't fail me. Even if he couldn't get Winslow to give me anything more than settlement money and I still had to deal with the trio, he was trying.
All I needed to do was hold on. Maybe I could carve some hidden messages into some of the guns, and hope someone saw them? But the mercenaries used them regularly, and seemed like the type of people to constantly check them for obvious wear and tear. I didn't think I was subtle enough, not yet.
I had to keep waiting for someone to save me. I had plenty of experience with that. This was just Winslow all over again. I was still trapped in a cold, miserable place with no hope of escape.
Stupid powers. If I had never gotten them, Coil would have never found me, however he did that. He wouldn't have kidnapped me, and I would still be back at school being tormented and bullied and betrayed. At least my dad would still be with me.
He was going to save me. He had to. He hadn't been able to stop my bullies, but he had tried. He had to be trying to find me now. I know he was. I know he should.
Then it hit me. His surveillance devices. If I could program one to feed Coil information like normal, but also connect to the internet, something that could send a message…
It was simple. So very simple. All would have to do was build a machine that could multitask with no one the wiser.
I held my cube tighter. It was humming again. It would save me.
"You misbehaved."
I glanced up from my work. A few guards moved in behind Coil, carrying a mess of stuff—technology, clearly tinkertech from the looks of it. But nothing like Coil's usual fare. Mr Pitter squeaked in after all of them, carrying a briefcase.
I fiddled with the wires in my hand. Coil had me working on earpieces that were able to listen in on multiple frequencies simultaneously. "...What do you mean?"
In response, Coil walked over to my table and held up a small piece of technology. A listening device. The listening device.
He knew. Somehow, he knew. I hadn't even fully programmed it yet. "Is it not working?" I asked quietly. I had to bluff. I had to hope that he was trying to play me. "I can get it fixed…"
But he did, somehow. "You are a bad liar." Coil sternly declared.
"I don't know what you are talking about—"
"The supervillain Coil has kidnapped me. I am being held underground in a base with armed guards and a security system. They took my cube too." Coil flexed his fingers, and crushed the listening bug. "Sent to your father, your school, and the ENE PRT's public email address."
"I d-didn't…" I refused to react, I refused to react, I refused to react…
"Very well. Let us play that game." Coil pulled out a phone. "Andrews, kill her father."
"No…" Not dad. He didn't do anything to deserve this! Even if he hadn't been able to save me, even if he hadn't cared to notice me for the last year, even if he looked dead inside the last time I had seen him because he made the mistake of loving me.
I shook those treacherous, horrible thoughts away. "Don't…please, I don't…"
"I see. Belay that." Coil snapped the phone closed, inspecting me.
"I don't—"
"You've given up on him." Coil said. Like he knew what I was thinking. Like he was in control of what I was thinking. "He can't help you, so you have discarded him. How pragmatic." Was that his power?
My eyes widened. "Of course I care about my father!"
"Don't be silly. You would stand by as you listened to him be strangled to death, just to try and spite me. You are as cold-blooded as they come. I'll make a note about that in your file." Coil gestured to his guards. They took my tools and pinned me to the table. "I will admit, I have not been as clear as I should have been. That ends today."
Mr. Pitter pulled out a syringe from his briefcase. It was full of a pulpy brown liquid that smelled like disinfectant even inside its containers. "Keep her still." He muttered.
"What are you doing to me?" I shivered. "I'm doing what you asked, I promise! I really can't—"
The needle went into my arm, and suddenly the world was warm.
It made sense. It was like I was standing in an open field, with the whole world at my fingertips. An endless horizon that was all mine, so very far away from where I was now. An endless, everlasting satisfaction with my cube in my hands. Something that was all mine, and even if Coil was standing there, and the darkness was coming back, and I was still being held down—
I sucked in a shuddering breath as reality came rushing back in. All the happiness in my life faded away in an instant. I was still here. Still pinned down. Still rotting away and miserable.
"How is it performing?" Coil asked.
"Her reaction is as advertised." Mr. Pitter answered. "Vitals are all where they should be. It's a solid trial run, sir."
"Good." Coil reached down and gently grabbed me by the chin, raising my head so I was forced to look at him. "And the side effects?"
"We'll find out in a few hours, but I have no reason to doubt them."
"What did you do to me!?" I shrieked. "What the fuck was that?"
"Tinkers usually have a compulsion to create. It usually becomes a minor neurosis, even in the least obtrusive cases." Coil explained patiently. Like he was talking to a dog he had smacked with a newspaper. "I gave you something to enhance that feeling."
Something foul churned in my stomach. "But…why…"
"I gave you the chance to work for me, and you tried to run. You are my property now. I expect you to behave as such." Coil let me go. "You've felt the high. Complete your work in the next two hours, without any feeble escape attempt, and Mr. Pitter will return with an increased dosage."
Coil once again turned to leave. His men let me go and fell behind him. "Fail, and you'll experience the low."
I tried to resist. I really did.
I tried to sit there with my cube and ignore the world. I thought I could do it. People went cold turkey all the time, right? It wouldn't be easy, and my cube kept buzzing in my ear, but it would be doable. I just had to hold out. That was how highs worked, right? I had endured a year of endless, horrible bullying. I was tough. I could make it through this. That was what I kept telling myself.
Then the itch started.
It was subtle, at first. I felt it in my fingers. A sensation under my skin. I tried to scratch it away, but that only made it worse.
The itch travelled up my arms, through my shoulders, and I kept scratching, and the itch kept spreading.
It travelled up my neck and into my brain. And then it became unbearable. I tried everything: slamming myself into the walls, tearing at my scalp until my hair started to come out, and doing my best to drown myself in the toilet bowl. Nothing worked. The itch was still there. Gnawing at my bones.
I was past the point of no return. I didn't care what happened. I needed an out. I grabbed my TDB, pointed it at my head, and even as my fingers shook and twitched—
And then my cube pulsed with another hum. Another idea popped into my head: how to fix a power supply issue that had been nagging me.
More importantly, the itch lessened, just for a little bit. I swallowed and lowered my TDB to look back on my work—
And before I knew it, I had completed the project. I didn't know how long it had been, or how long I had worked, but it made the itch go away, just for a little bit, and the project was complete by the time I was lucid. And I had nothing else to work on.
And then the itch returned. And I didn't have anything to work on.
I tried it all again. The scratching, the toilet water, reconfiguring my cube, the TDB. Nothing made it stop, it just kept going on and on and itching and digging under my skin and making itself worse and why hadn't Coil given me more to do I needed more to tinker with why was it still itching—
When I was lucid again, Coil was staring down at me again. Mr. Pitter was sticking a syringe in my arm again. "I see you delayed things, despite my warning. What did I tell you?"
"T-that…that you were…" I swallowed. It was a bad idea to push things. But I was beyond caring. And the itch had subsided. And I couldn't let him think he had won. Not after one dose. "T-that you were a shitty explainer."
I expected him to backhand me. To make me feel the itch again. Instead, Coil chuckled. "I suppose so." He seemed to find my attempt at sass amusing, "I trust experience was the greater communicator?"
He had given me an inch. I was desperate to take the mile. I tried to snap back, but I didn't have the energy for it, so I settled for glaring at Coil.
He chortled. "In any case, these are the new ground rules. You know all the rules of failure now. I trust you will perform adequately." His head shifted ever so slightly to the needle in my arm. "And as I said, I am a fair man. You did complete your task. Would you like the high again?"
I glared at him with all the spite I could manage. I tried to communicate just how much I hated him with my two beady eyes.
And then I felt the itch creeping back into my fingers.
"Yes." I grounded out.
Coil didn't move. I couldn't see his eyes, but I knew they were gleaming. "Yes…? Mind your manners, girl."
He wanted me to say it. He wouldn't let me not. "Yes, sir."
Things continued. I kept making things for Coil. He kept me fed and kept the itch away. When I did a good job, he would give me another fix of satisfaction, which kept my mind off things. For a little while. I could never be more than half an hour. It felt longer, but it just couldn't.
The guards continued to ignore me. I tried screaming at them when they came in. They didn't even hit me. No one did.
The worst part was the loneliness. I thought it was bad at school. I thought constantly being ignored while my former best friend tormented me was as bad as it got.
At least I had my dad then. When he came home. When he tried to talk to me for a few minutes before giving up. Those were kind of nice.
Now I didn't even have that. Now my only companion was a cube that I made, which would hum instructions into my head. When I strained myself, the humming sometimes sounded like singing. It was a song, I decided.
I tried to hum along. I always sounded awful.
The guards kept ignoring me. Mr. Pitter told me to focus on my work. That would keep the itch away. I didn't need anything else.
Every once in a while, when I was building up the courage to kill a guard or Mr. Pitter or myself, Coil would appear. He would inject me with something that made the itch worse. Enough to remind me of my place.
I hadn't even done anything yet, but he still knew. Somehow, he knew. He knew everything.
Sometimes he would scratch a line into the wall. I asked what it meant when he scratched the fifth one across the other four. Coil told me not to worry about it. That I would never beat Sarah's count. Whoever that was.
I wanted to go home. I missed Winslow. I wanted to be back in the locker. At least there I could hear people walk past me.
I've been talking to the cube. I think it listens to me. I want it to listen to me.
Mom left me. Emma betrayed me. Dad forgot me. But the cube is still with me.
I think I'm going insane.
It came to me one night, while I was finishing up some salvaged tinkertech.
Apparently, Coil got a lot of his tech from a scrap heap. It had been dug up from beneath wherever this place I was stuck in was. I didn't fully understand the tech. Not really. I could repurpose it, but not truly understand it. That annoyed me. I knew it shouldn't, but it did.
The wires and calves were all built for something very specific. They didn't conduct electricity, or more accurately that wasn't the only thing they conducted. I wasn't sure what, or even if it was energy. I couldn't figure it out. I was close, but I couldn't understand. My cube wasn't telling me.
If I couldn't understand it, I couldn't progress. If I didn't progress, I would be stuck here. Forever. And if I was stuck here, that meant I would never be free of the itch. And that ment—It meant—
It meant I would be alone forever.
I still had my cube I still had my cube I still had my cube I still had my cube—
And suddenly, I knew how to solve the problem.
I had to understand more. I had to be able to hear what I wasn't able to. I needed a clearer signal. I couldn't let it all slip away. I couldn't let myself be alone.
I had to connect myself. To my cube. To become part of it. To make it part of me.
It sounded insane. It probably was.
But on the bright side, I would probably die if I failed.
It was painful. I had to hide away bits of wires and other scraps over the course of days. Then I had to perform brain surgery on myself. Without anesthesia. With only the electronic crackle of a box I could only partially understand to guide me.
I couldn't let Coil know. He would try to stop me. It didn't matter if it would benefit him, in the end. Coil always took me away from the things I loved.
I waited until he arrived to inspect my work, and then counted to sixty sixty times. He was a villain. He had a secret identity. That meant he had to work somewhere during the day. And even if I still didn't know what his power was, he had to sleep sometime.
That's what I told myself, at least.
I nearly passed out. Several times. But I kept going. I had to keep going. And I couldn't make a peep, or the guards, they would try and stop me, and then the itch would be back, and I would never be able to stop itching—
A spark of something flared. The song grew louder—no, it changed in pitch, and sped up.
Good. That was good. That meant I was doing it right. Our connection was being established.
That, or I had just cut something important.
It didn't matter. I couldn't stop now. I kept following the song's instructions. More points were needed. I had to feed more wires into my skull. It was the only way she would be able to hear me.
Hello, I whispered. Are you there?
Someone was shouting behind the door. I ignored it. I was totally focused on my task. My cube had told me how to do this. She had never given me wrong instructions before. She had never betrayed me. I just failed to execute. Coil made me fail her.
I fed more wires into my brain. The signal was getting stronger. I could hear things like words starting to form. Hello, Can you hear me?
The door was thrown open. Mr. Pitter took one look at me and went pale. Funny. I didn't know he could feel uncomfortable. I assumed he cut that part of his brain out.
It didn't matter. I still needed more cables. More points of entry. More places for our minds to interconnect. To work together, all at once. To become one with the machine, and grow so close Coil could never separate us.
Her song shifted. It wasn't just instructions, anymore.
Please, I thought to her. Please, let me know you're there…
And then, my senses flooded. My vision went white. Afterwards, I learned that I had a seizure, according to Mr. Pitter. But that didn't matter.
[CONNECTION] had been established.
Notes:
A bit darker than you might have expected, but as a character, Coil really doesn't work any other way. Unless of course you are turning him into a punchline. But again, not that type of fic.
It kind of clashes with Portal's tone, but when you strip away the giggles from GlaDOS and Wheatley and Cave and the Turrets to actually focus on what everyone is saying and the real history of Aperture, Portal is an incredibly dark game. I guess it helps that its story structure is an almost beat-for-beat copy of System Shock…
And I saw a few comments theorizing that Taylor had jumped into a portal during her trigger to Aperture. While that certainly would be fun, I tried a different approach. The bones in Worm give a lot of flexibility, so I decided to see what I could build with its scaffolding, with minimal cross-dimensional shenanigans. Or maybe not.
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