Hello dears and welcome to my first Outlast story~!
I have to say, while I love both games, the first one (with the dlc) is the one that ended up making me want to write. Well, I haven't done much horror before, so it was Eddie that first started my inspiration wheels, because it felt like I could work with him. I don't think there is any way to explain getting interested in Eddie, but I don't think I'm the only one either.
It's only once I started sorting out ideas that Waylon got my interest, especially with how I can work with him to work with Eddie. Then Miles, and the Walrider, also grabbed my interest, although they have a secondary role as this story focus on Waylon. So, about this story.
As I just said, it focus on Waylon, and there is a twist that is already hinted in this prologue (and well, in the summary). However, later, Eddies and Miles will have their place, and the story will be about the relationships they develop with Waylon.
Know that this story has supernatural elements. This will get explained eventually, so I can't explain now, or else I will spoil it. Although, I do believe the truth will surface rather soon, in fact by the time Waylon stumbles on Eddie, it might be likely that you already have a good enough idea.
Oh, and a last note, I based myself on the game storyline, but events won't happen the same way, and won't continue as in the game once Waylon meet Eddie. On Miles' side, I believe it mostly follows the game storyline for what is happening to him, but if anything is different, it will show in chapters.
IMPORTANT: As you might guess from the title, this is only the first arc of Shadows of Rebirth. This story will be completed just as Waylon meets Eddie, and then I will post two stories. They are both direct sequels, but mutually exclusive (alternate version of each other). This is because the second arc is the romance arc, but I realized I couldn't choose between Eddie/Waylon and Miles/Waylon. And so, I didn't. Basically, think of Shadows of Rebirth working like visual novels: Survival arc is the common ground, and the two Romance arcs are routes. So have fun reading the romance arc you want, or both!
But for now, enjoy the Survival arc, and this prologue!
And as info, I have a blog on tumblr, chrisemrysblog dot tumblr dot com, which is a good place if you might want to talk to me or see what I can be up to!
Prologue
My name is Waylon Park.
Fingers drummed on the wooden table as the brown haired male took a slow sip of his coffee, thoughts wandering.
And I question daily why I work within hell on Earth.
Thinking of Murkoff, of his role in Mount Massive, Waylon huffed out of a laugh that had no joy. Then, sadness flashed into his green eyes.
Yes, my role here. How has it come to this?
Software engineer within an asylum, if only it meant he helped the patients. But what luck did he have, to land in the one place which interests were the furthest from patients' health?
If I had known, I wouldn't have come here.
… Why did I even come here, again?
The question bothered him. A frown formed as he finished his coffee with an absent mind. A wife, two young sons, and a need for steady money. Then hearing about Murkoff 'charity' work at Mount Massive. Waylon had only needed to show his skills, he hadn't earn his degree for nothing after all, and he had been in.
Then, after some time of surface work, making him and his family used to weeks away from home, they took him to the real work. He had rebelled, of course he did, but they threatened his family.
I'm sorry, Lisa. It's my duty to protect you and our sons, right?
… Your face is getting blurry, have I been away for that long? What is the name of our sons, again?
He felt terrible, disturbed, and he stood up, going to the bathroom. Fresh water on his face made him feel better, but his heart pounded.
The more I work here, and the more I feel like I'm losing myself. How long, before I have to close my heart, stop caring, or collapse from guilt?
Waylon gritted his teeth, and the sudden call of his name from the speakers was almost welcomed. Then he realized why he was needed, and a lone tear fell before he wiped his cheek and took a deep breath.
Be strong. They need you.
… But who?
His fingers hovered over his keyboard, a slight tremble to them, but his superior called his name, threat underlying the questioning tone, and he started to type. He stared at his screen, swallowing as the struggles of a patient echoed, pain mixing with a twist of anger at the pleading of, "No!" and "Stop!"
He allowed his gaze to flicker, chest constricting as a man was being pushed. Eyes met for a second, and Waylon looked back at his screen, feeling exposed and shameful at the pained compassion he had known to show.
His whole body jolted, startled, when, after mounting cries of worry were lost on him with the tight throat he struggled against, the patient slammed his body against the solid glass in front of him. And his gaze jumped to the man's in his surprise, trapped and lulled by the desperation.
"You! You are different! You can help!"
Waylon hadn't realized he stood up, taking steps back, heart hammering as his superior grounded out his name. But his focus was on the man, the words repeated to him as the patient slammed his fists again, a please slipping too.
A guard gripped his arm, the patient was finally forced back, and his superior soothed down the situation. His body moved on its own, as if directed by his superior, to continue his work. But his mind, oh his mind…
More terrified cries, almost revealing of the deepest part of the patient, then the close-up of the man's face as they managed to get him inside the pod.
You can help.
I can help.
Waylon trembled as he wrote the mail, pausing to listen for anyone who might stumble on him. But no one was heard, and with a deep breath, he continued.
I should have done so long ago.
He read it a last time, then hit send with barely any hesitation. Lips twitch into a smile as he closed his laptop, breathing out.
That is what I should have done, my real duty. Lisa would prefer that, right?
A sudden shiver ran down his spine, staring down in his laps with clenched fists.
… Will she? Would she have cared? Isn't it logical?
A growl, unnoticed by his own mind as sudden anger surfaced.
She has nothing to do with this!
Waylon froze. His head hurt, his sight went blurry, he felt dizzy.
How can I say that for someone… I… love..?
Something whispered at the back of his mind, widening hole in memories, who were his parents, what was his school life like, did he have girlfriends, how had he met Lisa, what was his life before Murkoff-
He stood up, chairs making a sharp sound, but he didn't care, walking hastily away.
I… am named… Waylon Park.
He hid in a restroom again, staring at his reflection. A thirty year old stared back, slightly tanned skin paler, chocolate brown hairs ending at the nape of his neck, all fluffy and often messy, bottle green eyes bright and expressive in its fearful confusion.
And I think… my mind is breaking…
Lips curled at the corner, proud and content as a smirk showed, eyes brighter with joy mixed with fury.
But at least, I am bringing down these assholes with me.
"Pleased with your work, Park?"
Waylon twisted around with wide eyes at the familiar voice, but no sooner that he caught sight of Jeremy Blaire, a fist connected with his cheek. His frame went down, backside hurting as he fell on his butt, one hand holding his cheek and tasting blood as he licked his lips.
Still, he dared to throw a glare back up.
"What a shame, it seems you have really gone crazy, haven't you? Thinking we wouldn't notice your little betrayal, and now looking like that?" A cruel smile twisted Blaire's lips. "But you can redeem yourself, right, Park?" Waylon paled. "Hear that? He just volunteered for the Morphogenic Engine!"
"Yes, yes he did."
Waylon gazed at the security guys, their sneers, and then a boot connected with his stomach. He fell down on his back, coughing, and another boot hit his head. Consciousness left him.
Yet, a last thought floated.
This will be your worst mistake, and you don't know it, do you?
You forgot, too.
The urge to punch Andrew's face was strong as the man dared to lick his face, and Waylon clenched his hand around the end of the armrest, wrists and ankles hurting as his body reacted, pushing against the restraints.
But there was nothing he could do, and soon, he faced the images that penetrated his mind, stimulated his brain in horrible ways and made tears fall down his face. Yet, somehow…
Somehow… His gaze stayed locked on the screen, watching, soaking it up…
Waiting.
Minutes passed, a few hours, not as much as he was out, but even as the images flashed, something…
It uncurled at the back of his mind, the single thought, the single word…
Walrider.
And for a second, he saw different flashes, a man's feeling of success, a black swarm which roar only Waylon heard, blood flying as bodies exploded and doors were broken open…
Alarms blared, bringing Waylon's mind back to his situation, and eyes finally flickering as doctors shouted about a break out. Very soon, painful screamed followed, patients yelled as they broke out their own chair, and Waylon realized he was free of restraints.
He rolled off, and fell on his hands and knees.
But he didn't care at the moment for the riot rising, the chaos breaking out, the knowledge of all kind of test subjects roaming free…
Only two thoughts crossed his mind.
Someone finally controlled Walrider, and they are too mad for it.
Waylon Park… is the name I chose. And now, my awakening has started.
To be continued…