#signed bubby

Sounds like quitters’ talk.

We should definitely inhale the neurotoxin.

I don’t think we can inhale all of it.

Security there is fine, it's just that the firewalls were... on fire.

Please, I could hack into the place even when it wasn't the end of the world.

That's me! Black Mesa definitely went to hell.

Bubby died!

[Bubnick walks over from where he had been typing away at a computer.]

Temporarily. I...

Look, we were in the labs already so you guys were going to see all my clone bodies anyway, and Dr. Coomer was all mopey.

Well, technically, he sort of... is. Now at least.

I grabbed a backup of Bubby's brain patterns that Black Mesa had on file since he was an experiment, and just kinda... put it in one of the clones.

From the discontinued project that made me-- us.

...That I may have been continuing in secret on my own down here.

Yeesh. Bunch of babies. 

Except you. I like you.

-bluescreen

Oh sh*t they work?

Of course they do!

And violence seems fun! But I dunno if it's really needed. (Chell Check Anon)

[Gordon looks... better. Not as pale as he was when you rebooted after the fall, and he's gotten a new labcoat to replace the one he'd used as a makeshift bandage. His injured arm is a bit shorter now, ending at the elbow, but it looks cared for and actually bandaged.]

Dunno, ever since I woke up this morning - a little later than the others, but I have blood loss, leave me alone - the basic plan has been along the lines of 'violence'.

[Being able to joke about the whole arm losing thing must be a good sign too.]

That security bot tried to kill the children! Violence is the only answer.

[Coomer smacks one of his fists into the palm of the other with a clang. Seems his cybernetic arms have been repaired, though the synthetic skin covering wasn't salvageable.]

I've been here for like five hours but I, too, endorse the violence.

You're in a copy of my body, how did your pyrokinesis transfer to--?

Whatever, whatever, yes we're going to commit a violence, put that out!

It appears I do not need to, dear nanobot!

[Coomer sits on a chair in an observation office. It seems as though GLaDOS, intrigued enough by Coomer’s plea, made a staircase of panels up and around the observation window.]

[Coomer plugs in the number that he knows is for his husband’s office. The phone rings, a few times, before someone picks up.]

???: Who the f*ck is calling me from an Aperture Science phone number?

Me the f*ck! Hello Bubby!

I’m sorry. Things at Aperture got out of hand. 

But as soon as I get out of here, I’ll come straight home. Then you can tell me how the test went, and I’ll tell you why I’m taking so long.

So, what’d you call for? 

I just called to wish you good luck with the test! I know it’s very soon and you were very excited about it.

Oh!! Yes, thank you, we’re almost set up. Need to help the f*cking newbie get into the test chamber soon.

I won’t keep you any longer, then. I love you Bubby Hubby!

God, that f*cking nickname... Love you, Harold.