All right! Here we go with the next chapter! Thanks again to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, favoriting, and alerting this story! :D
DISCLAIMER: Only my OCs, plot ideas, and slight changes from the original game are mine. Everything else belongs to Red Barrels. The idea for the main game/Whistleblower timeline that I'll be following in this story belongs to the user "DontWatchMePlay" on Youtube.
Chapter Three: The Unwelcoming Committee
"How much further is it?" Tyler called out over the suddenly strong gusts of wind, pulling his black leather jacket even tighter around himself.
"Not too much further now!" Emily yelled back from a few feet ahead of him as she continued to make her way across the dirt road leading to the asylum.
"Besides," she added with a smirk on her face, "You could use the exercise, anyway."
Tyler lifted his gaze from the ground and glared at her. "Very funny," he grumbled, "Let's just get inside, find a phone, and then leave as soon as possible."
Emily chuckled to herself, her own feet never growing tired since she was used to standing up for long stretches of time at her job. At the same time, though, she realized she was telling the truth when she said they weren't too far now, especially after passing the large sign leading to the asylum. She shivered in the cool, mountain air as she wished she had thought to dress in something a little warmer, but then again, she hadn't expected that they would end up stranded here.
It hadn't been much longer since they first figured out their location that Road Warrior's engine eventually died for good in the middle of the road leading to Mount Massive Asylum, which had forced the twins to get out and walk the rest of the way. Except for the sound of their footsteps, the wooded area around them was silent, which left them both feeling uneasy for some reason. They would never admit it to each other, but they were suddenly grateful that they had decided to take this trip together. Neither of them could imagine walking along this silent path alone.
Eventually, the road opened up a little more in time for Tyler and Emily to finally spot the towering building that must have been Mount Massive Asylum. Despite the time of day it was, all the lights were still on, which made the twins wonder if anybody ever got any nights off in this place. Tyler peered around the front, wondering if he could spot the Vocational Block from where he was standing, but unfortunately, he couldn't see it. It wasn't like he and Emily were going to get a tour of the place while they waited, anyway.
Both of them paused for a minute, simply staring at Mount Massive Asylum as they took deep breaths, still wondering if they were doing the right thing by going here to find help. For some reason, Emily felt her heart begin to beat faster as she studied the building she'd seen several times in the news whenever everyone else was watching it, but she forced herself to ignore it as she continued to move forward. You're just going in there to ask to use a phone, she thought to herself, Nothing more. There's no reason to be so nervous.
"Hey, Tyler," she spoke up, glancing over her shoulder at her brother, "Shouldn't there be a security guard in this booth?"
Tyler picked his gaze up from the ground again, studying the empty booth they had just passed as they ducked under the tollbooths. "Yeah," he said, "You're right. Why hasn't anybody come to stop us yet? Or ask for ID?"
Emily didn't get a good feeling about this, but she simply shrugged as she replied, "Maybe there's higher security inside. Or the guard who's supposed to be on duty skipped for some reason. Come on." And with that, she continued to lead the way through another pair of open gates, emerging into a circular pathway right in front of the main door. The scenery was beautiful, but they couldn't stop to admire it for long as the sun continued to set. They wanted to get inside as quickly as possible, and they could only begin to imagine what their parents were thinking due to their long silence.
After another few minutes, Tyler and Emily finally made it to the front door, with Tyler reaching for the doorknob as he slowly turned it and pushed the door open. Neither of them were sure what they were expecting to find, but it definitely wasn't what they found themselves facing as they stepped inside.
For a second, all they could do was stop and look around in awe as they took in the odd mix of old-fashioned elevators and ancient, slightly rotting wooden walls that stuck out amongst all the modern technology, such as the flat screen computer monitors in each of the side rooms. Emily briefly wondered why Murkoff never bothered to upgrade the elevators when they reopened this place, but her curiosity was gone just as quickly as she remembered the real reason she and Tyler had decided to come here.
"May I help you two?" the security guard at the high-tech front desk piped up in a bored tone of voice, and Emily cleared her throat as she and Tyler approached the man that had just addressed them.
"Good evening," Emily began in a pleasant tone of voice, "My brother and I were driving along Route 24 when we ran into a little trouble with our car. This was the only place we could make it to before we broke down for good, and since we don't have any cell phone service, we were just wondering if we could please use a landline to call Roadside Dispatch. Just to have them send a truck to help us."
"Oh, and our parents and grandmother, too," Tyler quickly added as he raised a finger, "Just to let them know what's happening and so that they're not worried about us."
The security guard's face remained neutral, though he did lean back in his seat and fold his arms as he regarded the twins. "Of course," he eventually said with a nod, pointing to one of the side rooms, "Down that way, there's a desk with a landline on it. You may use it to call for help."
Tyler and Emily both breathed a sigh of relief, exchanging a smile for the first time in a long time as good fortune seemed to be coming their way at last. "Thank you so much!" Emily cried as she clapped her hands in excitement, "You have no idea how much this means to us! We promise we won't take long!"
"Well, let's not just stand here!" Tyler quipped, "Let's go!"
And with that, the two of them hurried over to the desk the guard had pointed out to them, with Tyler reaching for the phone itself and dialing the Wilkins' home number. The two of them were so caught up in trying to get themselves back on the road that they didn't notice the suspicious look the security guard was giving them as he frowned, reached for his own telephone, and punched in several numbers. He didn't take his eyes off the twins for a minute as he finally made contact with the person he was trying to reach, taking a deep breath as he tried to slow down his fast-beating heart.
"Sorenson?" he whispered, "Get me Mr. Blaire. I think we have a potentially deadly situation on our hands…"
Martinis were always the best way to cool down after a long day-after golf, of course.
Jeremy Blaire leaned back in his plush rolling chair as he took a sip of his Dirty Martini, stirring the olive he had garnished it with as he enjoyed the taste of olive juice, gin, and vermouth on his tongue. He glanced at his red tie, which he had taken off days ago after doing the interview with Brian King, and he hoped that was the last of speaking with the press about the asylum. He was thankful that Brian hadn't asked him if he could take his news crew inside the Vocational Block, though; that would have been bad for both them and Murkoff, and the last thing he needed was for something else to upset the balance of things, especially after what happened nearly half an hour ago now.
Jeremy clenched his fist as he turned his gaze back to the monitor in front of him, watching as the Morphogenic Engine Program was well on its way yet again. He couldn't help but glare at the man currently strapped in the chair, his blonde hair a mess and his blue eyes forced to stay open so that he couldn't close them or look away from the screen. Jeremy felt no pity for him, merely smirking as he took another sip of his martini, feeling that karma had finally caught up with Waylon Park for what he'd done. Murkoff did not spend the last four years maintaining a respectable image only to have one whistleblower bring it all down like a house of cards.
Suddenly, the phone on his desk began to ring, and sighing irritably, Jeremy put his drink down and picked it up, twirling the cord around his finger as he slowly spun to the left in his chair. "Jeremy Blaire speaking," he greeted in a cool, clipped tone to let whoever was bothering him know that they were interrupting his much-needed relaxation time.
"Mr. Blaire," Samuel Sorenson, one of his most trusted security guards, replied in a contrite tone of voice, "I'm so sorry to have to call you like this, but Montgomery asked me to patch him through to you. He says there's a situation at the front desk and wanted to tell you about it."
Jeremy felt a knot form in his stomach as he clutched the phone even tighter now. Hearing that there was a "situation" was never a good thing to him, and he almost didn't want to know what might be happening this time. "Fine," he huffed, raising his other hand to his forehead and massaging his skin, "I'll take the call." He heard a few clicks before he finally managed to reach Montgomery, who kept his voice low as he took a deep breath.
"Mr. Blaire, thank goodness," he whispered, "I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but I've got a young man and woman here who claimed to have car trouble and that this was the only place they could go for help. They wanted to call their family and Roadside Dispatch, and I let them use the phone, but-"
"You did what?" Jeremy interrupted him, not quite yelling, but definitely speaking in a slightly louder voice as he began to feel sick with anxiety. Why did some of his highly intelligent and competent guards have to be such idiots sometimes?
Montgomery appeared to have picked up on this as well. "I'm sorry, Mr. Blaire," he apologized, "But at first, I thought they were telling the truth. Now, as I'm watching them, I'm not so sure. They've been on the phone for a while now. Do you think that they could be speaking in code and that they're actually trying to expose us?"
"Of course they are!" Jeremy snapped, his paranoia beginning to take over as he recalled the incident with Waylon from earlier, "Is that even a question? There's no other reason why two people would conveniently become stranded here, out of all places. Park must have contacted them hours ago, too." Oh, I could just kill him right now, he thought as he felt his whole body begin to shake in anger.
"So what should we do about this?" Montgomery asked, "We obviously can't let them leave the asylum now."
Jeremy considered the question as he forced himself to calm down once again. He couldn't help but have a flashback to the "light anesthetic" his guards had given Waylon, their punching and kicking bringing a small smile to his face. "Bring them to me," he ordered as he calmly reached for his martini and took one final sip, "I believe two available cells have just opened up in the Prison Block."
"Okay," Tyler sighed as he hung up the phone, "So far, so good. At least Mom, Dad, and Grandma know where we are now, so they don't have to worry about us."
Emily nodded, adjusting her fingerless gloves as she allowed another smile to creep up on her face. "All that's left now is to call Roadside Dispatch," she added, "I'm sure you've learned your lesson by now not to trust Jason with another repair job?"
Tyler narrowed his eyes at her. "So I made a mistake," he admitted, "I already feel like shit without you constantly reminding me about it, so you don't need to do that."
"I'm just saying…" Emily started, but didn't finish as she thought better of it, "Whatever. Let's just call them and see if they can get a truck up here for us. The sooner we're back on the road, the better." She reached for her purse as she took her cell phone out, quickly scrolling through her contacts as she finally found Roadside Dispatch's number, giving it to Tyler as he reached for the landline and picked it up for a third time.
Just as he was getting ready to dial the number, however, Tyler suddenly felt somebody grab him from behind, violently yanking him away from the desk as the phone clattered to the floor and disconnected. Next to him, he heard Emily let out a startled yelp, and he turned to his left as he watched the security guard from the front desk wrap his arms around her waist in an attempt to restrain her. Out of instinct, the two of them began to fight back, attempting to get out of the guards' tight grips as they dragged them back into the main lobby. "What the hell do you guys think you're doing?" Emily screamed as she continued to try and kick her way out of her restraints, "Let go of me!"
"Shut up!" the guard holding her growled, slapping her across the face, which only managed to make Tyler even more angry and confused as he clenched his hand into a fist and turned around to punch the man holding him in the nose.
"Shit, they're getting hostile!" one of the others cursed, "Use the Tasers!"
Tyler felt another burst of anxiety as he shouted, "Wait, what? Why? What the fuck is going-"
He didn't get to finish his sentence, for he suddenly felt a few painful jolts of electricity in his side, causing him to groan as he collapsed to the ground. His hip burned as he felt two projectiles pierce his skin through his clothing, administering a shock just like the Tasers he'd seen on Cops.
"Tyler!" he heard Emily gasp, but she, too, screamed and crashed to the floor as the guards pointed the Taser at her next, shooting her just below her rib cage. She eventually gave up on fighting back and remained paralyzed, clutching herself as she tried to suppress her tears. All either of them could focus on was the increasing numbness that replaced the pain, and their muscles felt as if they had locked themselves up and refused to move. Even more upsetting was the fact that they had no idea why the security guard at the front desk had turned on them like this. Just ten minutes ago, he'd shown them kindness and helped them find a phone so that they could make their calls. Why was he all of a sudden leading a group of men to ambush and subdue them with Tasers?
"Now, that's better," Montgomery quipped as he glanced at the twins in turn, "The last thing we need is for them to become hostile again. Let's take them to Blaire before the paralysis wears off."
Tyler and Emily didn't put up much of a fight as they felt the guards drag them towards the staircase on the opposite side of the room, confusion settling in as they continued to feel numb all over. Emily felt her throat close up as she tried to ask her brother if he was all right, but she couldn't even get the words out. Her head was now spinning, and she felt as if she was on top of the Rockies, ready to fall off the summit of Pikes Peak any second.
Meanwhile, Tyler barely felt the foot one of the guards had kicked his back with, and he collapsed to the ground once more as they finally found themselves in what had to be one of the biggest offices in the asylum. One of the first things he noticed through his confusion and vertigo was the martini glass on the desk, right next to the computer monitor that had been powered down. The other was a photograph on the wall of two men clutching golf clubs in their hands as they smiled at the camera, the label underneath it reading, Rick and Jer Hitting the Greens.
Before he could look too closely, however, he felt as if he was about to pass out as someone suddenly prodded his cheek with another foot, and he glanced up as he found himself locking eyes with a familiar face. The man currently glaring at him and his sister looked to be in his mid to late 30s, and he had black hair, blue eyes, and what appeared to be a permanent smirk on his face. The only thing different about him was that he didn't seem to be wearing the red tie that he'd worn when he was on television a few days ago.
"You know," the executive began as he shook his head, "I feel like I'm having a bit of déjà vu here. Do any of you feel the same way? Somebody tries to stupidly blow the whistle, I find out about it, and then I have my guards take them out. Sound familiar, Sorenson?"
"Yes, Mr. Blaire," Sorenson piped up as he glared at the Wilkins twins.
At that name, Tyler glanced up as his mouth dropped open in shock, a moment of clarity breaking through his confusion. "Blaire," he muttered as he licked his lips, "You're Jeremy Blaire, the director of the asylum!"
Jeremy chuckled as he completely turned his gaze to the younger man. "I see you've done your homework," he remarked, "Impressive. Almost as impressive as the story you two told Montgomery at the front desk. Running into car trouble near Mount Massive Asylum? Even I almost believed that one."
This time, Emily was the one to glance up, wincing in pain as she said, "That wasn't a story. That was the truth! We really did break down outside the asylum, in a 2013 Lexus ES 350. We were just trying to call our family and Roadside Dispatch! You can even go outside and check if you don't believe us."
"There you go again," Jeremy retorted, shaking his head in disapproval, "Telling more lies. Keep it up and your nose will almost be as long as Pinocchio's." He laughed at his own joke and then knelt down until he was at eye level with the siblings.
"Just tell me when Waylon Park contacted you and invited you to come to the asylum." Gone was his mocking tone, instead replaced by a more serious, threatening manner, and Tyler and Emily couldn't help but shiver at how menacing he had become in such a short time.
"What are you talking about?" Tyler dared to speak up, "Who the hell is Waylon Park?"
Apparently, that was the wrong answer. After earning a nod from Jeremy, Sorenson reached out and kicked Tyler in the side that had been shot with the Taser, causing him to gasp and double over as he cried out in pain. "Stop it!" Emily cried from his left, "Leave him alone!" No matter how much her brother might have gotten on her nerves from time to time these days, she still hated seeing somebody hurt him like this.
Jeremy ignored her pleas as he reached for his martini glass and began to pour himself a second round of his drink from before. "You don't have to protect Park anymore," he insisted, "Let's just say that he's been taken care of for what he's done. All I need is for both of you to cooperate with me so that we don't have to keep doing this the hard way."
"But we really don't know what you're talking about," Emily tried to reason so that Tyler wouldn't have to take another beating from Jeremy's guards, "We never talked to anyone named Waylon Park. Honest!"
Jeremy took another sip of his martini, considering what she was saying as he turned around, pulled out his rolling chair, and took a seat, crossing his legs in the process. For a second, both twins felt a glimmer of hope as they wondered if maybe he had finally seen reason after all. A few seconds later, however, that hope faded as the executive smirked at them, running his finger across his glass.
"You know," he said, "Pathological lying is one of the most controversial topics when discussing mental illness. Is it the disease itself? Or a symptom of something more serious? Who knows? But that's why all of us at Murkoff are here. To help you discover what might be wrong with you…and correct it." He snapped his fingers, and once again, his guards proceeded to punch and kick both siblings, ignoring their cries of pain as he picked up Emily's purse and Tyler's wallet, opening them and taking out their driver's licenses. He studied their information as the guards began to lead them towards the Prison Block, and he reached for his martini glass one more time and raised it up as if he was toasting them.
"Tyler and Emily Wilkins," he said, "Thank you for volunteering to check yourselves in at Mount Massive Asylum."
