Hello dears!
Well, it seems we are in luck. The inspiration stayed strong, and I thought to myself, don't be silly and do write this story before anything else, since you're so inspired. I don't want to rush either, but if I find out a nice little pace, I'll be happy.
A little note for the Prologue: the scene with Eddie is like in the game, I simply focused on Waylon's emotions and only mentionned one or two sentences. The main intent in the Prologue was to show that unlike canon, it is after watching Eddie get put in the pod that Waylon decides to send the tip.
In other words, Eddie is the trigger factor for Waylon, and it is something that Waylon is grateful for, his reasons linked to the mystery/hints that continued to come in this chapter.
I also ended up realizing I will likely watch a gameplay and write chapters until Eddie's first meeting. I don't want to miss details, and I want to be able to decide what scene stay and what I might change. More than that though, it is because in these chapters until Eddie's meeting, I will be able to slip in Waylon's thoughts, show hints, add scenes; all in all the story is shaping up in my mind!
This also makes a longer chapter than I'm used, but I rather love it. There's a rotation of thoughts and actions, which I think is a way of writing I will keep through chapters until meeting Eddie.
But to chapter 1 now, which title is a wink not only to the riot, but the break in Waylon's mind that he's already feeling is not negative, because it's opening the door to the truth about him.
Enjoy, and do let me know what you think, and what guess you might have~!
Warning: No explicit description, but mention of blood, mention of death (not described).
Shadow of Rebirth
Chapter 1: Outbreaks
Deep breathes were lost in the sound of alarms blarring as doctors and security alike had deserted the rooms. Chaos could be heard outside of the three rooms hall, but to Waylon, it felt like background noises.
On his hands and knees, blinking as the images from the Engine still hurt his brain, a storm of thoughts assaulted him. It made a small, pained whine escape his lips; yet he endured. The Engine… It hurt so much, but somehow, something cleared. His heart beat wildly as the first few breaks in his memories, little holes that had bothered him more and more through the days working, widened and snapped. His body shook as one certainty hit him, frightening yet a relief.
Fake. All fake. His memories of his life before Mount Massive were not true.
Waylon could recall clearly anything that had happened since he got the level 3 clearance. Finding out what exactly his skills would be used for, arguing, backing down at the threat against his supposed family. Guilt and shame each days he worked to keep functionning the very machines that tortured the patients. But also, little details leaving him, and above all, the scary realization that if he tried to think about the life he used to have, a widening black hole slowly formed.
He had ignored it, distracting his mind, but it nagged at him, and then… Then this one patient had been too much. Waylon couldn't tell why it was this one, maybe it was how he had ran up to the glass, how their eyes had locked and shared emotions without meaning to. Maybe Waylon's mind had already floated toward the idea, of sending a tip, and that one man had triggered his courage to do so.
And maybe it was all of this, but also, that he had already started to work the puzzle out. Because eveything before he started to work with the Engine was blurry. Working with less clearance was rather clear, but anything about the few times he went home… It was now shattering. Anything that should have been before, almost gone by now, only facts staying in his mind, and no memories.
It felt more like a file learned by heart than his life. And at the same time… Through the darkness, glimpses that felt so much truer, making his heart lurch to grasp them.
The patient to his right hit the glass, and Waylon snapped his head to look at him. He frowned in confusion, yet hearing something akin to a breeze, and somewhere in his mind, he felt like he heard mad roars. And then, a shadowy figure formed, floating behind the other patient.
Waylon ended on his butt, shuffling backward, frightened by the sudden appearance and how it grabbed the patient, pulling him away from the glass separating the two room. The being lifted the patient, it looked like it started to shake him, and then the lights went out.
But Waylon could still hear the terrified cries.
It made something in his brain react, and when images flickered in his sight, he realized it was the results of his exposition to the Engine. He let out pained gasps, rolling on his side, breathing harshly, and forcing his body upward. A shiver went down his spine at ripping sounds came, and he felt the need to see into the darkness, a part of him unhappy, why aren't you welcoming?
Even as he reached for the camcorder, Waylon was hit by one thought. He didn't mind the darkness surrounding him. It felt safe, warm. But he didn't like that he couldn't see, and rather disturbingly, it was as if he had expected he should be able to see.
More cries echoed, followed by another ripping sound; and without hesitation Waylon switched on the night vision. A shudder ran down his spine as he noticed the blood on the glass, not quite hiding the gore in the two other rooms. He lowered his gaze, and his cam, biting his lips. Poor things, criminals maybe, but mentally ill, and after what they already experienced…
And this… It had been what the Engine was for, hadn't it? Project Walrider, now Waylon remembered Andrew leaving because they spoke of lateral ascension. But what he had just seen… It was out of control. Enraged, without care for who it hurt.
He should be frightened, and he was, but there was sadness in his heart, and then, a flicker of anger. Not at this… being? Walrider? But at the one whose brain connected with, madness and fury infecting the Walrider. He wasn't sure what exactly it was, as he only took care of the side that was force trauma followed by dream therapy, as far as he understood between what he saw and what he had to make work.
Waylon startled as a voice spoke to him, and he lifted his cam still in night vision, feeling himself blanch a bit as a patient walked to stand in front of the door to the room he had been trapped in, speaking of opening him up. It made Waylon think of how he had heard some call certain patients. Variants.
He watched the Variant continue to walk, and blinked as the door was opened. "You wait right here," the other had said.
Of course Waylon wouldn't listen. His steps were rather quiet as he moved to the open door, taking one glance at the other before bolting for the metal door. For now, he needed to find a place to hide, even if it was for a small while. Process all that had happened, and sort through his thoughts.
But first, he closed to door behind him, avoiding a slam as he didn't want to risk other Variants hearing him. Or security, although it looked like the staff had left. He barely paid attention the bathroom, and went forward.
He froze as he spotted some Variants holding down a staff member. And it made him realize that if this had happened hours ago, when he was still in the staff, he would have been a target. Although, with how the one that had ended up freeing him had spoken, he knew he was still in danger. Yes, the Variants were likely to attack first the ones that had hurt them so much, but this was a place now full of mentally ill criminals. Some might not be hostile, especially after undergoing the Engine, but most…
I'm going to have to fight for my survival, aren't I? But he didn't feel right fighting with them all, disregarding the lack of weapons, a part of him understood why they were all so angry. But if they could stay far away from him, that would be great. Yet, he guessed he would need to hide, and run, a lot.
Starting now. But before he could crounch lower, he realized one of the Variant had noticed him. Still, seeing no reaction, Waylon moved forward, prefering not to hide in case that triggered a want to hunt him down. He kept the cam half turned toward the group, wincing as the doctor was killed, and then he stopped as one called out to him.
He swallowed, trying to decide if the glass separating them was solid enough. The other commanded that he came, that there was no observers, and he glanced at where the entrance was located. It looked to be in the hallway that came at the corner, and he realized he would likely need to pass by their door if he wanted to continue. Would he be able to rush past?
Waylon felt all the eyes on him as he continued, heart beat faster as he thought on how they really were waiting for him. He noticed the next hall was lit, so he switched off the night vision, and then jumped backward, feeling the wall at his back as a patient rushed from a corner at the opposite side (or had it been a door, he couldn't say) and hid in a room. The brunet was confused at first, until a dark mist started to form.
The Walrider appeared fully, floating straight for Waylon.
And Waylon's first instinct ended up to lower the cam. He stared with wide eyes at the approaching being, wondering once more what it could be, and then…
Then he felt a surge of sadness, gaze reflecting pain. The being slowed down.
Without control, words left Waylon's mouth. "What do you think you are doing?"
For a second, the Walrider stopped, and Waylon almost wanted to say he felt conflict surfacing. And then it shrieked, lurching forward. Waylon managed to throw himself down, rolling forward, Engine images flashing again as he panicked as much as he questionned his own words. He glanced backward.
The Walrider was gone.
Waylon stood up, body leaning against the wall. His mind hurt all over again, memories flickering, as if sorting through them. And the more it went backward, the more of a blurry mess it became; there was something he was trying to find, but all he got was a sudden compassion for the being he had just seen.
No, not quite a being, not yet conscious, screaming under the control of a mad mind.
Waylon shook his head, straightened and took into his surroundings. Two metal doors on the side of the hallway, a glass one at the end, and a hole in the glass wall on the other side that likely lead to the room with the Variants and the dead doctor.
I have to move. I can't… It's too much, so I'll just focus on moving.
Still, he checked the first door. He closed it soon after he saw all the blood inside, it might have been one place to hide for a bit, but he realized… The Variants were waiting, there was no lock, and he doubted they would wait much longer.
The second door rattled, the one that had gone through it had managed to jar it. Waylon kept to the wall at the right as he neared the hole in the left, taking a glance out the glass door. It didn't open, and it didn't surprise him, it must have been a security protocol. Plus, with the sight of a security guard beating down one of the patients, Waylon felt like this would have been a bad direction to take.
Waylon went through the hole, lifting his cam again, feeling a little bit of reassurance as he could switch in night mode and see faster if he needed. He noticed a block on one door, and with a deep breath, he opened the other.
As expected, the Variants were inside. He froze a few steps in, taking into how they all stood, and then staring at the one who spoke. Trying very hard not to look at the dead body, while his hand tightened around his cam, willing himself to breath deeply to keep from shuddering too much. Yet, when the first stab was given, blood splashing, he still jumped.
Waylon dutifully listened, glad that the cam hid his face, because he knew his eyes were wide and his gaze would betray his fear. He didn't want to take that knife, and he didn't want to get attacked. He coudn't speak, letting the man speak, heart beating wilder and wilder as he worried about that talk of, "Think you're different."
He felt how his jaws tembled, teeth hitting each other, as if he was cold. Then again, watching the man stab again and again made Waylon feel cold. For a second, he felt like crying, the words, "There are no observers," hurting for reasons that were not the current situation.
Then, like a small blessing, the man told him to go. And so, without words, Waylon went after one Variant that moved, allowing a passage to another door. With one last glance, he passed the door, closing it behind him, just in case… The other did change his mind.
He froze, for what felt like the hundreds time in a short time, as he noticed a patient on a chair. But he had his head down, and Waylon hoped that it would be fine. Still, he walked slowly, keeping his cam turned toward the other, night vision on to see better.
Waylon couldn't react fast enough when the other stood up, throwing him into the wall. His back hurt but he managed to ducke a fist before he took off into a run. No time to be delicate, he slammed open the only door he saw, glad his night vision was still on. His heart almost went out his chest as there was another patient, but he was too occupied beating someone else, and Waylon circled him wildly, glad the next door was wide open.
He could hear the first patient still chasing, after all.
Then Waylon saw the next door was blocked. He whirled around, switching the night vision off as it was lit well enough, looking all around in fear. He felt like his heart could have given out when he spotted the open vent; and with no hesiation he jumped on a table and climbed into the vent.
Waylon took a few crounching steps, then stopped, listening. He tried to keep his breathing in check, hearing the patient steps; and then, they grew distant. He had stopped the chase, or forgotten, or thought Waylon had backtracked.
Waylon let out a brief of relief, and allowed himself to sit as best as he could.
He needed rest, even if only a few minutes.
To be continued...
