Welp, here's a fanfiction. I saw a lot of people in the Outlast fandom doing this but not many for Trager. So here I am venting my feelings. Heh.
I promise it gets at least a little better after this chapter.
Also this is an AU where Father Martin didn't decide to one-up Jesus-in other words not burning down the whole facility.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, the music mentioned, the characters, Mount Massive etc-I only own Jamie, Kyle, Fred and Jamie's sister. Also Jamie is 30, if that matters any.
Rated M for swearing, gore, sexual content, disturbing imagery-all the fun stuff
Trager jerked awake to a world of pain. Searing pain moved through his veins, every inch of his being screaming bloody murder. It all came back to him. The runaway, the chase, the elevator. How was he still alive?
He wasn't complaining but it would be nice if he could move. Just as that thought fabricated, the elevator started lifting off his broken spine and he began to hear voices behind him. He heard a click of what was probably a gun and figured in this situation, it was probably best to play possum.
His all too alive body was tugged away by the feet cautiously before being dumped for inspection. He was rudely prodded by guns and shoes as they muttered amongst themselves. Looks like he played a pretty good corpse if what they were saying was correct.
They eventually left and he gulped in air as if it were water, spluttering a little. Just as he was lifting himself, he heard creeping footsteps behind him and he craned his neck to see a limping blond, looking frightened and mentally scarred. "What'dya want, buddy?" He croaked out.
That seemed to do the trick as he limped the other way as fast as his feet could carry him. Huh, he looked familiar. No time for reminiscing-he had to get into hiding before those pests came back and prodded him some more.
He needed to find somewhat of a splint or brace for his back. That or he had to just lie down until it healed. Surely the thing would heal wrong anyway. What he wasn't counting on was the nanomachines in his system swiftly repairing the bone as he limped around the male ward in search of a knife or something to protect himself with.
He eventually found a pair of identical shears in a supply closet. Who even made these? The things were brand new, reflecting light and everything. Giving them an experimental snip, the metal grating to make a sound he very much enjoyed, he surveyed the area. Painfully bare of patients. He'd just have to go find them.
Jamie slammed the door, huffing. Tears of anger were pricking at his eyes as he stomped off, away from the house he shared with his sister.
They'd had a fight again over some menial thing. Jamie took initiative and took a walk. He wasn't planning on stopping, at least-the fresh air of his neighbourhood doing wonders. It was probably a bad idea to go wandering as night was fast approaching, reports of strange people around these days.
He took a forest path, using his torch to light the way. In deep thought for a good hour or so, running into a fence came as a surprise. It was a rather tall fence, and beyond it was more than impressive. A huge building, like a cathedral-completely imposing and terrifying in its own right.
He wasn't known for being the most sane of travellers, so when the question of going into the building or leaving came about, of course he picked entering. It had the distinct feeling of being life-changing. Hopefully empty also.
First was getting over the fence. He tried scaling it but decided it was too tall, and for good reason. The thing was huge compared to little old Jamie. It was when he stepped more to the middle that a sensor must've gone off and the gate opened, creaking forebodingly.
Jamie entered the premises with caution and excitement. After ducking under a few broken fences, he found a way up into a window and took it, having to switch on his flashlight to navigate the dark room. The sight of what looked like blood further through the hall connecting to the room would have made any sane man turn back.
He found the red goop to be maybe a party prop and leant in to smell it, registering the coppery scent as indeed a good gimmick or real blood. I should turn back. Deciding one more room couldn't hurt, he opened the door and immediately slipped on a puddle of blood on the floor, knocking himself out.
Waking up, Jamie registered one of two things. The smell of decay and the fact that he was somewhere else. Also that his head rang painfully as he sat up, surveying the area with his flashlight. It was completely unfamiliar. Some sort of basement maybe?
He reached for his phone to realise he hadn't brought it along stupidly. It probably would have gone flat, knowing his luck. Now who brought him here? Wasn't this place empty?
A door slamming in the distance had him at his feet, alert. He rushed to a dark corner of the room when fast footsteps were headed his way, hiding. "Oh dear, she seems to have run off. Pretty girl..where could you have gone~?"
They left soon after, singing 'pretty woman' at the top of their lungs. Jamie was a little ticked off at being called a lady but otherwise unaffected, getting it all the time. He'd rather stick to his 'no-gender policy', not that anyone even got that these days.
Deciding it had been enough fooling around in the empty room, he cautiously left, taking steady, quiet steps down the hall. "Pretty woman." It had been right by his ear and he had never run so fast in his life.
Why did he have to be wearing these shoes? His feet were already killing him. He came to a desk blocking the way and halted in his running, panicking. Maybe if he had used enough momentum, he could've leapt over it? The footsteps were gaining on him so he just climbed over it and kept running.
He eventually came to a large gap in the floor and took no time doubting himself, leaping over it and barely making it, having to pull himself up. He was pretty sure he ripped his shirt and grazed his hip in the process but he was alive and never more grateful to be so.
He sighed in relief and sat there for a few moments, catching his breath. Had that man have caught him, he probably would have been made a girlfriend for life. He could think of worse but he was starting to piece together what this place was.
When he was a boy, his mother had told him tales of an insane asylum called 'Mount Massive'. Thinking back, it probably wasn't the type of stories you'd tell your 5 year old child but his mother had always been a bit loopy.
Back to his current predicament, he looked around the place and found a sign above labelled 'Male Ward'. Well, his theory was correct-he got himself trapped in a mental institution. He was trapped in a loony bin where the inmates appeared to have escaped.
He decided to venture forth, finding the grated door to be ajar, swinging it open easily. Trepidation crawled down his spine when he stupidly slammed it behind him from habit. The habit came from his childhood. Something about making noise to let people know you were there-something he did not want to do right now.
Listening was the course of action he took for a few moments, fiddling with his fingers while he waited. When nothing appeared to be jumping out at him any time soon, he tiptoed on, looking this way and that for an exit. Strangely, batteries seemed to be sitting in the most peculiar places like sitting on random piles of the viscera he had long since gotten over feeling disgusted about.
Part of him remained to think this to be some practical joke so nothing really bothered him about the random body parts lying around. It was more the crazies running around slamming doors that kept him on edge.
Eventually he came across a familiar humming coming from behind a door. He started taking quiet steps forward, planning on leaving the guy behind but curiousity got the better of him. He opened the door slightly and peered in, finding his jaw nearly hitting the floor in wonderment and fear.
Life sized 'dolls' lined every wall, porcelain bodies smeared in blood and cracks. They were dressed rather well, as if someone took the time to make intricate clothing for each of them. The room smelt like something had died over and over again before decaying in a hot climate. He reacted immediately by leaping back, making noise unintentionally to alert the person inside.
As expected, the humming stopped and steady footsteps approached the door. Jamie froze up as the door swung open to reveal a navy tuxedo-wearing man with messy blond locks. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink for a century-or shaved for a few days if the three-day-growth had anything to say about it.
A pleasant smile adorned his face and he stepped forward. "Ahh, pretty lady. So nice of you to join me. Come, let us sit inside and speak." Jamie's heart clenched painfully when the man brushed a hand along his cheek, dragging it down gently.
When Jamie didn't seem too keen on coming in, the man stepped back and bowed apologetically. "My manners, they seem to elude me. Fred Cullen, and you, dear? Such a pretty woman." He cooed, running painfully peaceful fingers through red strands.
Jamie swallowed nervously. "I..I'm not.." As soon as his voice registered, a vein in Fred's head popped. "You're..Never mind, I can always change you! To think I finally would have the process easy." Every word he spoke seemed to rise an octave. "Come, let us perfect you!"
Shaking his head rapidly, Jamie finally ran off with a sneering Fred in hot pursuit. Survival instincts kicked in and he expertly leapt over desks and obstacles, fearing for his life. He had things to do yet-people to kiss, exams to pass, jobs to succeed in. He couldn't lose it yet.
He should have been shining his flashlight at the ground as he ran for this next misstep changed his life forever. The floor collapsed and he landed on his stomach after hitting his head on hanging debris, ribs cracking painfully. Groaning, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold tile floor. "Heh. I don't even need to go looking. They just drop from the sky."
At the fairly amused voice, Jamie looked around the room groggily to see an emaciated corpse..standing up? Maybe he was hallucinating from hitting his head too hard. The corpse chuckled and moved forward, picking the red-haired man from the floor and over his shoulder.
They had moved for what seemed to be a fair while, Jamie's face being smooshed into the man's back. He smelt like death and decay, an unpleasant mixture. "Here we are." He was placed on a wheelchair with wrists and ankles strapped in. The man leaned back, looking quite pleased with himself. "Ah, manners." He tsked. "My name is Doctor Richard Trager. Nice to meet you, buddy." The way he emphasised 'doctor' made it clear that that was what he wished to be called, doctor or not.
Jamie swallowed again, struggling a little in his bonds. When the man explored his choices on a tray full of nasty looking torture devices, Jamie closed his eyes and thought why on earth he had come here in the first place.