You have to stop him, to murder Billy. Turn off his life support, his anesthesia. You have to undo what I've done."
Murder was the only way out, Miles had discovered that the hard way. It worked with Richard Trager, Eddie Gluskin, and Chris Walker. And now, it was coming full circle with the destruction of Billy Hope.
He kept telling himself he was too naive to think there were any other options. And despite everything he had gone through, he was okay with that. In fact, he quite enjoyed the idea of it. If word got out, and his escapades were documented properly, then it would be worth it.
His throat burned from the lasting impact of Chris Walker's deadly grip. If there was one person he was not going to cry over, it had to be him. His death had been swift, and he didn't have time to really process it before being smacked with another bombshell.
Rudolf Wernicke was still alive. Barely. He looked ready to collapse at any second from how old and wrinkly was. Like a doughy skeleton. And if natural causes, or the Walrider didn't kill him, Miles would happily oblige to do it himself. He felt as though he owed the old geezer a debt.
He didn't even bother looking back at the man as they exited the room together.
Switching his gaze to Waylon, he realized the other man probably wouldn't allow him to do it anyway. Billy Hope was the last person they needed to kill in actuality. And kill him, they will. There was an unspoken rule that whatever happens at Mount Massive stays at Mount Massive, though neither of them would admit it aloud.
"Are you ready for this?" He found himself asking Waylon. Waylon was sensitive, more so than Miles, so it was a reasonable question to ask. Besides, the poor guy had not stopped shaking since they had their chat with Wernicke.
"Yes." Waylon replied, almost robotically. With some hesitation, he added: "And no. This feels so wrong."
"We don't have a choice, we just have to do what he says." He tilted his neck, hearing and feeling a satisfying crack. Waylon noticeably winced.
"I know that. I trust Wernicke just as much as I did Father Martin-so not a lot." He exhaled a shaky breath. "But yeah, it's the right thing to do. He's just a horrible, horrible, fucked up human being. He stupidly created this experiment and is now trying to act all innocent and- ugh," Waylon rolled his eyes and scoffed. "He's supposed to be dead. You read his obituary, and his autopsy reports on three different accounts! It all said he died in 2009. He should be dead."
Miles hummed. "It's not too late for that." His smile broadened when he saw Waylon shooting him an exasperated look. "What? We wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for his little science project. I say he owes us. So give me an hour or so with a hacksaw and we'll have a grand time."
"Focus Miles," Waylon rubbed his temples. "We can worry about him later. We need to go to the Morphogenic Engine Chambers. We'll kill Billy and then the Walrider should be destroyed."
Miles had seen the Walrider even before he officially confirmed its sighting with Waylon. Wisps of it soaring past him and causing him to recoil, a sliver of lighting in the sewers, a body floating in the distance confused for a glitch in his camera while they were wandering the courtyards to the chapel.
Seeing the elevator take them down to the Underground Lab instead of the Administration Block was like a slap to the face. He thought it couldn't get any worse than being lost roaming more hallways. Then, his worst adversary Chris Walker had found them, before being torn to bits in a matter of seconds.
They continued to walk silently down the hall. Miles was grateful for once that Waylon used to work here, and as such knew the way around.
"You good?" He found himself asking.
"I was, um, doing some thinking..."
"About...?"
Waylon cleared his throat softly-so soft he almost missed it. "About earlier..."
Miles raised an eyebrow.
"I said a lot of stupid things. Stupid and wrong things about you that I shouldn't have said."
"Go on..." He knew exactly what Waylon was referring to and felt as though he wanted to retreat.
"About how I..." He glanced away. "said you were a pawn tricked by Father Martin and his delusions. That was a terrible thing to say."
Miles stopped him. "Don't worry about it. I already forgave you for that, you were just angry and, well, you were right, I shouldn't have-"
"Please, let me finish," Miles closed his mouth and let Waylon continue. "I'm really sorry. I was so, so very wrong about that. We were both taken advantage of by him, and it wasn't your fault that it happened. My own anger made me lose sight of what was really important.
Escaping, with you by my side. You're smart and brave and capable."
"So are you. Well, sorta."
Waylon laughed. "Exactly. Which is why we need to stick together."
Miles rubbed at his wrists gingerly, taking in Waylon's apology with a pleasant, yet mischievous smirk. "Are you only complimenting me because I almost died...again?"
"No." He replied almost immediately. "It's more than that," Waylon took some time to think, stopped to rest his leg, then nibbled at his lip. "I don't know why exactly. You've made me do some crazy things tonight. But I won't lie and say being around you hasn't made me feel badass while doing it."
He snorted, but was weirdly flattered. "You really mean all that?"
Waylon coyly dipped his head, before his own smile faded.
"What's really the matter with you?" Miles asked.
"I..." He swallowed. "It's nothing."
"Park..."
"Okay, okay, it's just...any time you were put into danger, like with Eddie or...when you were held by Chris, I felt so scared and helpless. Especially with Chris, I didn't know what to do. I thought you were a goner."
"Hey, it's gonna take a lot more than that dickhead to kill me, and in the end, he was the one who got fucked and died." Miles grinned wickedly. But seeing Waylon's somber expression, his smile faded. He placed a hand to the man's shoulder, and met his eyes. "All those times you kept saying that we're a team, maybe even friends...I think I believe it now, Park."
Waylon's eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim lighting.
"And...about the whole friend thing," Miles added, clicking his tongue. "I think I'll give it a shot. I suppose I could get used to that."
"Me too. Now let me show you where the chambers are. You'll wanna see this."
Even with the uneasiness he felt in his stomach, he did feel relieved that Waylon had knowledge about the Morphogenic Engine-seeing as he worked on it, and was the one who helped put people through it, much to his displeasure.
"Lead the way."
~•~
The laboratory was so much bigger than Miles had expected. It was clearly an elaborate scheme by Murkoff to make something so impressive, yet horrifying.
It was an enormous spectacle of artificial blue and red lights shimmering above them in a chaotic kaleidoscope. Miles had seen enough shitty science fiction movies to know that this lab looked like every stereotypical mad scientist's lair. Or hell, it even could pass for having been built on another planet, with how bizarre it was.
Hanging overhead was a clumsy array of wires in different colors and with different functions.
But what really caught his attention was the machine standing in the middle of the room. It resembled the computers from the 80s-taking up so much space, while still looking futuristic at the same time, with its massive screens and buttons. Miles was no tech wiz, but he knew it was impressive.
Around the machine, was a series of clear, circular pods. All of them were empty, save for one. Miles let out a choked gasp.
Squirming inside the pod was a young man, trapped and struggling to breathe. He was in an awkward, contorted position, legs curled behind his back and barely fitting the uncomfortable space. Dressed only in his underwear, tubes and wires were hooked up to him through his nose, mouth, veins and God knows what else to produce an odd fluid coursing through him. Sickly and pale, his porcelain skin was coated in bloated blisters and rashes.
Upon further investigation, Miles saw a scribbled handwritten note by the pod.
William "Billy" Hope.
"S' that him?"
"That's him." Waylon confirmed. "He looks... terrible."
Miles had to agree. Although he couldn't be older than 22 or 23, he looked like he was an undead man crawling from his grave. The engine had done the worst to him, clearly.
"He's barely alive," Miles commented, putting a hand to the glass and frowning. "Like in some vegetative state. We'll be doing him a favor. Not that I'm justifying murder or anything..."
His trailed off words fell on deaf ears, Waylon was preoccupied with figuring out each individual pod. He tapped away at the buttons.
"What's the plan?" Miles asked.
"I'm scanning the coordinates now," Waylon responded. Something popped up on the screen and he brightened. "Okay, according to this and from what I've learned from working here, I need to switch over to the main computers. I'll reverse the polarity of the main hot and neutral wires. That'll help weaken his air supply. But it won't turn off his life support. That's where you come in."
"Cool cool cool," Miles exhaled sharply. "Tell me what needs to be done, and I'll do it. Within reason."
Waylon's confidence seemed to waver. "It won't be easy. I would do it myself if it weren't for my leg. See those metal staircases to the right?" Miles nodded firmly. "Up there should be another decontamination chamber leading to a catwalk and a series of wires. You need to pull all of them from the terminals."
"And it won't zap me?" Miles' voice was dry.
"Hopefully not."
He glared at Waylon, who ignored him and continued.
"Then, you need to go the opposite way and turn the valve. Doing all that should cut off his anesthesia. I think. After that's done, we'll-"
"Rendezvous back here?" Miles suggested. "No need to worry, I got this."
He watched Waylon give him a quick thumbs up, and head towards the computer room. The man's uneasy expression drifted away as he faced the task at hand. He was focused, determined. They had some hope with Waylon's brains on their side.
Holding his camcorder close to his chest, Miles made his way to the stairs. He didn't have much time.
Everything always sounded easy in theory. On paper, it did. How Miles wished it were the case. He had Park's very clumsily made plan memorized and repeated it over in his head just to be sure and thought he could handle it. Go up the stairs, sabotage the wires, switch the valve, climb down the stairs. Leave this hellhole and then sleep for the next fifteen hours.
He felt a twinge of irritation as he clenched his jaw in concentration. He should have probably realized nothing came easy for him anymore. From the second he stepped into this damned place, his luck had run out.
Waylon didn't exactly go into detail describing how hard it would be to get to the wires' location. First, Miles had to squeeze through some blue plastic barrels, then proceed to run up an entire flight of stairs. And they were not just any stairs. They were never ending too, and by the fifth set of stairs, he was ready to give up.
"No..." He wheezed. "Gotta...fucking...oh god..." He fell to his knees and grabbed hold of the railings, but still pushed through the pain. "Keep moving. Really should have brought my water bottle. This is...the worst." The stitch in his side only made it more intolerable. If he hadn't been running throughout the asylum and built up stamina from being chased, he probably would have collapsed from exhaustion.
He licked his lips, at last finally made it to the top of the catwalk, with his heart racing with pure adrenaline. "Where do I- Aha!" The decontamination chamber was right ahead. Perfect.
Once the decontamination session was over, he managed to wander around a little longer, he found the generator. He saw a flicker of lights indicating that Waylon was already doing his thing, which meant all Miles had to do was remove the wires.
"Here goes nothing." He grumbled, wishing he had a pair of pliers to help him out at least. He pulled the top one. Then the next. Then the ones overlapping each other. He felt a slight spark of electricity coursing through his remaining fingertips on the last pull, thankfully not enough to give him any damage.
Then he heard a distant roar coming from the pod's below. He knew what it was automatically and was already annoyed. Billy was pissed. He had to keep moving if he didn't want to face the Walrider. Though with his camera up, he could see the dark wisps swirling from the corner of his eye.
"Find the valve, find the valve, find the valve," He chanted under his breath. "I got this. No pressure, Miles, only the fate of the entire world rests on you doing this." He laughed cynically. "Oh, the world is fucked."
Finding the valve was not the hard part, he later discovered, it was only around the next corner. He didn't even have to wander much. The problem was, the catwalk ended abruptly, leaving a huge gap to the other side. Jumping it was risky, but he had jumped much farther, with a longer distance before. All he had to do was time it correctly, take a running start, breathe and-
He landed-somehow across the other side. There was no amount of grace to it, instead he was half on, half hanging ass down and legs dangling for dear life. He crawled up, sighed in relief, and wiped a disgusting amount of sweat from his brow. Without his jacket, he felt himself become colder, but that didn't stop him from sweating profusely.
Despite the nearby sign saying to [not] turn the wheel shaped valve, Miles did so anyway. He felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw the electrical currents burst around him, and the fluids stopped rushing through the pipes. It was working. He didn't know how, but it was working.
It wasn't working fast enough. Time was ticking, like a bomb ready to explode. Billy was still alive, if only with a little life left. His agonized screams didn't feel real, instead sounding animalistic and raw. Miles took to retracing his steps, wondering how he was going to climb down those stairs in time to meet with Waylon.
"Think, Upshur, think!" He scolded himself as he whipped his head around. "Gotta make the jump again. It's the only way." One step, two, then three- "Shit!" He gasped, forgetting to make a running start. He jumped off without a second to correct himself. His stomach lurched, and his body dropped down, barely missing the catwalk's edge.
He was falling. Falling, and falling, and waiting for the impact of his body splatting against the floor, eyes squeezing shut and preparing for the worst. It was only a matter of time.
It never happened.
He was being held up-no held by something. The same black smoke touched his fingertips and circled around. Lifting him. It floated him safely to the ground.
He blinked thrice, wanting to reach for it, but it disappeared instantly.
"What the..." He blinked again. "Shit, I'm really losing my mind here."
Miles whirled around, focusing on finding his way back. Thanks to whatever just happened, he had been led to a shortcut to wherever Billy Hope was being held. And where he could see in real time what was happening to the young man. The lack of life support keeping him together was destroying him faster than he thought. He struggled and squirmed, gagging on the tubes forced inside his body. Blood filled the pod, and suddenly Billy stopped struggling. Air left his lungs, and he lay still.
"Waylon!" He hollered, hearing his voice bounce off the walls. "I'm here! Waylon, we did it! We-"
Waylon escaped the computer room, waving his arms erratically to alert his attention. Miles broke into a huge grin, running towards him.
He saw Waylon's lips move slowly to call out his name. The dark clouds were forming around him, and he didn't stop waving, not having noticed the black swirls. Miles' heart dropped, and he moved faster and faster.
Not Waylon. Please, not now. Please.
He pushed the man aside, letting the wisps of the Walrider enter his body at full force. He couldn't hear anything besides the sounds of his, and the Walrider's own screams.