Hello dears!
So first, you might have noticed a change in title and that the Waylon/Eddie pairing is not marked anymore. This is because I figured out how I really wanted to go, and well, that I shipped Miles/Waylon too.
I've adjusted previous AN to add these infos, but basically, this story is the Survival arc of Shadows of Rebirth. As the title suggest, it focus on Waylon's struggle to survive (there might still be little shows of what Miles is up to). When we will reach the point where Waylon meets Eddie, the Survival arc will be completed, and I will post two stories that are direct sequels. However, these two stories will tell two different, alternates stories: one is the Romance arc with Eddie, and one with Romance arc with Miles. Both stories will remain similar, but will likely divert more and more, depending who Waylon falls for (note: the one not romanced will still have a strong platonic relationship with Waylon; and I still think Miles and Eddie will be rivals with tentative truce).
I hope this make sense, I'll happily reply to questions if something still unclear; and above all I hope it will be clear while reading! I kind of want to joke this is like these date games, with a main story (Survival arc) that's the same for every romance choice, and then depending on who you want to romance, you have different routes (Romance arcs).
On this chapter, now. I think it was noticeable in the previous one, but with how I'm writing this, there might not be much scene changes. It's more logical at this point to have an uninterrupted flow, although I make sure to not have chapters too long. I wouldn't want each chapter to feel too long after all!
There's a bit more thoughts in this chapters, trying to clue you all in what is going on with Waylon; and please note, because of the conflict in his mind (fake memories, real ones trying to surface), his personality is adjusting. I'm not saying he will change drastically, but there will be shifts.
Warnings: Blood, mention of dead bodies, violence, death. Really, that should be warnings for all of the story, so I might not put these again, and only put as warnings anything "special".
Shadows of Rebirth: Survival arc
Chapter 2: Start of a plan
The vent was a tight fit, but Waylon was not that tall for a man, and so he decided to rest in the little corner. He glanced at the long way forward he could take, but first, he wanted to let his nerves calm down. Between the mess in his mind and the adrenalin surge the chase had given him, without forgetting the horrors he had already witnessed in such a short time, Waylon felt best to have a break while he could.
His back rested on the metal, facing the way he intended to go later, so he could see both sides, his right side only having a closed vent door. His legs curled close to his chest, he put down his cam and wrapped his arms around his legs.
What should he do?
It was tempting to stay where he was, it was a safer place, but he couldn't sit here forever. If Murkoff managed to get the situation back under control, they would likely check all places, and he shivered at the idea of facing again the Engine. But at the same time, Waylon had known, hearing and reading little things, that Variants were stronger. Their mind was damaged, but it made them even more dangerous. There was no way to guess how they would act, or even if they would follow the same pattern. And the Walrider…
Waylon felt a pang of sadness again. He should be afraid, that this dark ghostly being was loose and killing all it encountered, but it felt… quieter, compared to the threat everyone else proved to be.
No matter how he looked at it, Waylon knew his best bet would be to find a way out. He couldn't just stay here, although he would have to be careful. At least, he was glad to know he was rather sane, not having been exposed long enough to damage him badly. It would allow him to plan as he progressed, especially to avoid too many encounters. And he had the advantages of knowing some of the layouts as a previous staff member. Not that he was proud, and he still felt so guilty of how long he had been a part of Murkoff.
Then again, with how the fake memories were breaking, Waylon felt that there might be an explanation, even if for now questions were all he had. He had grown to realize only memories within the ground of Mount Massive felt clear and had yet to break; while anything that had been supposed to be his few times away was growing fainter and fainter.
Nothing remained of before working for Murkoff, by now. And trying to remember how he got here hurt his mind too much.
Voices filtered to Waylon, and he took his cam, he could tell it came from close. He heard some words about Murk Tactical clean up, and decided to quietly shuffle until he could glance down. Two securities were talking, and it made his stomach twisted, forcing his breath to remain calm. He listened to them talk, perking up as they talked of the radio.
He doubted they would use it, and soon one confirmed it. It made Waylon clench his jaws, hearing one threaten the other, but he didn't even feel surprised. Of course Murkoff wouldn't want an outside force to see what was going on inside. Too much questions.
The thought made another hit him. Miles Upshur. The freelance journalist he had contacted. When he had decided to bring down Murkoff, he had known he couldn't just walk out and go to the police. He had borrowed a laptop, took measures before checking for who to send mail to. Logic would have been to send a mail to as many journalists as possible, but when he had seen Miles' contact, the reports written, Waylon had locked on the man, following instincts he had always trusted. This is the person you need to come, his instinct had seemed to say.
But, if Miles had jumped on the tip, he would be in danger. And Waylon felt rather certain that the man, who had shown to take cases few would dare take, would be happy to dig out dirt on Murkoff. Waylon knew hours had passed since them, but unless the man had been close by, surely he hadn't gotten here before the riot, right?
But if he arrived now, before the situation got under control-or worsened-then… Miles would be in danger. And it would be his fault.
I have to get to the radio as fast as I can. This place has to stabilize; before he's in danger. Waylon bit his lips. I just hope he isn't here already, that he didn't get in.
Otherwise… He shook his head. He couldn't linger on this subject for long, not when he needed to act. He could only follow his plan, and hope that Miles Upshur will remain free of harm.
With that in mind, Waylon crawled until the end of the vent, and paused as he noticed a variant sitting against a wall. He felt a pang of compassion, the position was similar to how he had been a minute ago, although when he dropped down from the vent, Waylon kept a careful eye on the other. He couldn't know which would be hostile. But this one didn't move, so the brunet looked around through the night vision of the camcorder.
Waylon spotted a door, although obstructed. It didn't look too hard to push though, which he decided to test right away. A little heavy, but not enough to remain unmoving. A part of him noticed it became easier after the first push, as if he had learned the amount of strength needed, but he stored that for later. He didn't want to think too much about oddities, not yet. And well, the variant walked in his line of sight, standing in front of him and staring as he just finished pushing the obstacle away from the door.
Waylon took a step back, heart lurching, but a few seconds of being frozen proved that the variant still lacked interest in attacking. So, with slow steps as to not take a risk of spooking the other, Waylon opened the door and left. He almost closed it behind him, but part of him wondered if the variant would be aware enough to open it again, and he… didn't want to trap the other. Still, once out, he took faster steps, but didn't run.
The last thing he needed was to move too fast and not notice a threat.
The room was a mess, things upturned, but only one door could be taken. Well, for now, he couldn't really get lost, right? But he would have to make sure he was on the right track, if he wanted to reach the radio tower.
He froze when a dark mist passed, not a clear shape, but Waylon noticed it anyway. But he heard no sounds, so he progressed more, peeking out and sighing in relief as the corridor was empty. Well, there was a patient knocked out cold, and if his memory didn't trick him, that was the one he saw a security guy beat, just before entering the room with the Variants murdering a doctor. He wanted to check, as it would help the mental map in his head, and indeed, he spotted the hole in the wall.
Which meant he should go in the direction he had just seen the mist go. And he felt a conflicting mix of please be gone and I want to see it. The previous encounter still weighed on his mind, but a flash of pain hit him even as he walked forward, Engine images flashing. He associated the pain with the mess in his memories that sorting would wait, but the images, he realized soon it was a reaction to the scent of gore and sight of blood that waited on the path to take.
He hadn't heard anything, so maybe it hadn't been done just now, but it appeared someone, or something, had tore through security guards. He didn't want to look for long, free hand covering his mouth and nose, but Waylon knew it was similar to what he had seen in the room where he had been subjected to the Engine, when they had gotten free.
That was the work of the Walrider. Waylon felt his jaws clench, his own fingers dinging into his cheek in anger. It had attacked patients, it attacked staff, which meant it made no difference. Whoever controlled it, they are undeserving.
Waylon blinked. What had he just thought? He shook his head, but this time, his mind didn't shy from memories. And he recalled, watching patients as he had to work on the system, other moments were he had felt like this. They felt clearer, now that thoughts of his supposed family were leaving.
The knowledge of what happened had always made him angry, and guilty, but now he recalled… It wasn't just the patients, it was… It was the Walrider. Doctors messing with ill brains and hoping to get one to control it. But why? Why had he felt like this?
The reply had not yet appeared, however, he had a feeling… that sooner or later, he would know. For now, the radio was his priority. That, or simply finding a way out. A way elsewhere?
Waylon felt distressed as the jumbled thoughts, so he forced himself to walk again, focusing on the present. He wondered if Murkoff had started locking the place for the Tactical force later, because again, one door was locked, sign they had tried to prevent Variants from following after the staff. Still, a security room was open, likely because the security staff had been killed before hiding in it. He frowned as he noticed someone in the decontamination area. He realized he had seen the locked door for this path, so it seemed he was in luck to have found the control room for it still open.
Especially as the man talked to him rather clearly. Waylon felt wary as the man said he was a doctor, but as the tech approached, the other noticed the asylum clothes, and admitted to be a patient. Waylon let his wary gaze travel all around the patient's body, but when he met frightened eyes that also plead, finger pointing the the button, Waylon couldn't help a small smile.
Maybe it was a trick, but he preferred to go with the assumption it wasn't, that this was one of the less hostile patient simply wanting to be out from the hellhole this place was becoming. Someone who wanted to survive. So, with a little nod, he pushed the button. He had to pass by the decontamination area after all, but it was a way to be on good term with the patient.
Another patient was there when the door unlocked, making green eyes widen. Before the disguised patient could do more than extend a placating hand, the other lunged at him, only seeing the doctor uniform.
"No!" Waylon cried out. "He's a disguised patient, stop!"
But the attacker paid not attention, yelling in anger about lying doctors. Waylon gasped as it was already too late, the first hit had already done damages, and he saw that the patient was dead by the time his head had hit the glass again. Waylon's frame shook as he was frozen, watching the enraged man still hit the dead patient against the glass, making blood appear. His legs felt weaker, he had to put his free hand on the table in front of him to stay upright, staring right at the attacker as he dropped the dead patient. Then he left after a glance at Waylon.
Poor thing, only wanted to not stay trapped. He felt like he should be more horrified, but he had already accepted that death would be all around him. He felt sad that the patient had been killed out of misunderstanding, but to Waylon this was the second time he saw the results of all the suffering Murkoff had put the patients in.
It hadn't been about killing, it had been about revenge on someone seen as part of the system that hurt them. Something Waylon, in the depth of his mind, seemed to understand. Past the guilt, there was anger, a knowledge he had worked under the assumption Murkoff would hurt his family otherwise, only to realize now that he never had one.
And it made him wonder: had Murkoff known? Had they been manipulating him? But the one question he felt worried to discover the answer: had he really been a staff member, before his memories were altered?
To be continued...