AN: There'll be a long sappy AN Wednesday. All I can say is there is some gore in here and there are feels of the worst (best? if you're twisted) kind. There's an epilogue, just remember that.
***Waylon***
"Good Morning America." the hotel rooms dingy TV flickered with the morning news
"...Shocking footage was revealed overnight, secure sources have determined the clips to be authentic. Due to the graphic nature of some of the footage we advise that any small children or anyone with a weak stomach look away…"
The mildest thirty seconds of me walking down a hallway found its home on the TV screen.
"The Murkoff Corporation that funded this has declined to respond to our repeated-"
I clicked to another channel, CNN:
"...Horrifying secrets have come to light on the thought to be philanthropic Murkoff Corporation. Footage revealing human experimentation has been discovered, Pamela what are your thoughts on the legal-"
Fox:
"I don't see why this means we should regulate business even more!"
"Because, Glenn, if there are regulations protecting them, more people will come forward when their companies are doing such heinous things!"
"Ok, in this one situation the employee is in the right for his whistleblowing, but what about-!"
MSNBC:
"...Now for troubling news, Megacorporation Murkoff has gone too far. Footage revealing the meltdown of a human research facility has come to light. Our correspondent Patricia Maize is at their corporate headquarters in Salt Lake City. Patricia,"
"Thank you Dave, there was a recent suspected terror attack on the building behind me, all Murkoff personnel inside have refused to comment…"
BBC:
"The american based Murkoff Corporation has run into deep trouble. In light of the human experimentation that was revealed last night many vendors have refused to sell their pharmaceuticals. The regional executive for the UK has declined to comment."
NSC, CBS, and the rest of the alphabet that made up the news circuit all had the same song and dance. Murkoff was evil, they had proof, and no one at the company was commenting.
I'd done it. I'd won.
…
Then why didn't it matter?
I looked at the stained room around me. Chealsy was out with Micky, talking up someone about something. I was left alone. I looked again at the room around me.
Then I stood up. I walked from the room. Micky had left a wad of cash on the dresser, made a comment that I looked like hell and should probably get something to eat before he'd left. With the wad shoved into a loose pocket I went outside. I hailed a cab without much trouble. Lowering myself into the back seat I said, to my own surprise:
"Zeichner Mental Health hospital please."
The non-committal cab driver typed the name into a GPS.
It was about forty miles to the south east, situated in the californian mountains.
As the cab rolled onto the street I had to wonder about what I thought I was doing.
I was done. There wasn't a reason for me to wallow around, dodging Murkoff assassins until I eventually died in some hobble. There was no way I'd be free to go one living. Micky had said that much himself. I wouldn't move on, couldn't pick up and start over. My life was finished.
Why not go out while being another thorn in Murkoffs side? When Chealsy and Micky got back they would immediately think that Murkoff had shown up and done off with me. Chealsy would go howling to the police as loudly as possible now that Murkoffs credibility was out the window. I bet hundreds of people were doing that very thing right now. The people at the asylum had to have family. The workers there, the patients; all of them had parents, a few had siblings. Some might have even had a wife and children.
A wife and children.
Even if there was no one who cared about the men in the asylum, there had to be someone close enough and opportunistic enough to act like they cared, if only for some settlement or for money. Murkoff would burn whether I was there or not. Chealsy could spin a story better than I could, she could make me a figurehead to rally behind. A martyr for sacrifice, I was more useful dead. Besides, if I stuck around I would just ruin everything I'd worked for.
The terrain grew more rocky, we had to be getting close.
Closer to the end I suppose.
A building loomed in the distance, growing closer more rapidly than I had expected.
This is where my sons had died, this was where they'd started some other god-awful experiment. Three Blind Dreamers, they'd called it. It would just be Mount Massive again. If I died on their doorstep someone might decide to come running in a little faster, they might even stop Murkoff in time to prevent a thousand more senseless deaths.
The cab pulled into the well decorated drive of the facility. I handed the driver the wad of bills, apparently it was enough because when I stepped from the car he just drove off without a word.
This place was less of Mount Massives oppressive gothic brick and more seventies style steel and glass. I walked through the front door. Inside was a clinical lobby, the walls lined with seating and the occasional decorative plant. From the left wall jutted out a help desk, staffed by a single secretary and lone security guard. They saw me as soon as I entered.
Without much heed to how I must look, being unshaven and unbathed for a week, I walked to the counter.
"May I help you?" asked the confused woman from behind the table. The guard in the back looked uneasy as I swayed in place.
There was no good way to go about this, so I said simply "I am Waylon Park"
Thier reaction told me they knew who I was.
***Miles***
It didn't matter how hard I hit the glass, I wouldn't have enough force to break it. I looked to the heap of bleeding bodies on the ground. Though If I weighed four times as much…
The foul smell of my handy work permeated the air. Picking up one of the corpses wasn't hard, the second wasn't difficult. The third would be an issue. It took some adjusting of the weights before I had an arm free. With a man slung over each shoulder I fumbled the third into an awkward bridal style.
Here goes nothing…
Backing to the far end of the room I readied myself for a lunge. Running for as much speed as I could get in fifteen feet I charged at the window. Crashing at full force the ribs in the bodies around me popped, my head slammed against the glass, and a thin "X" of a fracture formed. A few more might do the trick.
I geared up again for a run.
The body on my left shoulder made a wet thud on the center of the X. The break widened, spiderwebbed fractures raced across the surface. So close. A last charge would do it.
Throwing every ounce of my force behind the charge I found myself falling through a shower of glass shards. I landed on the doctors rotting body and had the bleeding biohazard suits covering my back from falling glass.
The observation room stood empty of people. A small control panel sat tucked away in a corner. Murkoff, for all their bureaucratic assholery, had everything nicely labeled. Switching off the EMP field in the interrogation room took nothing more than flipping a switch. The swarm rose from the ground and came back towards me.
With that problem solved I took a single look at the steele door leading from the observation room. With the swarm back at my disposal the door was insultingly easy to peel from its hinges. Still with no people in sight I took a step into the hall. Looking left then right I could see that the hall was blocked of, marked in biohazard tape.
To my left I walked, imagining all the punishments that this place deserved. All the punishments they were about to receive.
***Waylon***
My left cheek ached from the right hook the door guard gave me, but I was mostly in working condition as I sat in a little padded cell. I wonder how long it will take for them to kill me? Or if they even will. If they did they'd have to find a way to hide the fact that they murdered the man who blew the whistle on them. Assuming the higher ups even cared anymore. They might not have anything left to lose.
The door to my cell swung open to reveal a man in a suit flanked by a handful of security guards. In his hands the man held a file folder that overflowed with papers, as he spoke he seemed to be reading off of them.
"Waylon Park, contract employee at Mount Massive Insane Asylum and Main Systems Engineer. Caused a breach in security protocol and was forcibly enrolled in the asylum, later volunteered for Morphogenic Engine testing. Married with two male children, graduated cum laude from Berkly, assessed to be a low risk employee. Why'd you do it?"
What?
The man passed a glance to a couple of guards on his right, they moved to either side of me.
"Why go through all this trouble Park? You couldn't hope to gain anything."
What game was he playing, why would he asking what I was thinking? Probably just fishing for ammunition to destroy my credibility, or that of the tapes.
"I asked you why." he ruffled the folder in his hands, giving off the air of someone who expected people to jump when he told them to.
When I failed to answer he nodded again at one of the guards who happily landed a punch to my temple.
"Why"
Dazed, I opted not to answer.
"Move him to an interrogation room. Find , tell him he can do whatever he wants, just make sure Park doesn't see the light of day"
The guards to my side each clinched one of my shoulders. These men were twitchy and aggressive, it wouldn't take too much agitating to make one of them pull a gun.
"Put him in cell block…" a phone started ringing with an nondescript tone, the man fished through a pocket "hold on a second"
He answered "hello… you what?... shit, shut it down and follow the plan... I don't care just don't fuck anything up, and I'll be right there."
The man snapped back at the guards "what are you doing just standing there? Move!"
The two men at my side grumbled in compliance and started walking. What had that been about? Oh well, it didn't matter much, probably some psychotic experiment gone wrong. Again. These people didn't learn.
Being shoved down a hall flooded with fluorescent light I worked out how this would end. The guard to my left seemed more irritable than the other, a quick grab for the gun at his side would be more than enough to provoke a deadly reaction. Taking a last breath I readied myself, steadying my shaking hand I began to move
Only to be tossed to the side by a panicked man running down that halls.
"The hell was that for!" the guard on my right yelled after him. The man didn't stop for a reply.
Recovering from the collision I glanced to where the man had ran from. Inspite of the lights the hall grew darker. The empty black screeched with the buzz of machines as it grew closer.
"No" I heard myself say.
No, this can't be here. How did- it didn't make sense-I
"What the shit is that!" the guard on my left looked back into the swarm growing in the hall. The other man ran while the first froze at the alien sight. I didn't dare move, this way out would be quick if anything. The deafening cloud came barreling down on me. This was it, I was finally…
Finally standing in the same hall I had been, only sans guard and plus one pile of liquidized organs.
Really? Now that I was actually trying to end it I couldn't? I'd been fighting to stay alive through I-don't-even-know how many death traps, and not I couldn't even get the goddamn Walrider to kill me? How did I manage to fail at death?
Without option I went down the hall, there had to be something I could do. Literally anything would work. Only half the lights in the hall has withstood the swarm. The fact that the Walrider was here meant that Miles- or what was left of him- couldn't be far behind. If I caught him in a good mood I might be able to talk him into helping me. Assuming I couldn't get the staff to oblige me first.
I looked to a red brown stain on the wall. There might as well have been a trail, though if I waited too long the path of bodies would mean nothing.
***Miles***
The man hiding under the desk in the corner had spent his week skinning a man and then measuring the different speeds at which the skin grew back with different creams. He'd enjoyed the skinning parts the most. The smug bastard even thought that he'd outdone me by running into the room and hiding. I wasn't stupid, I knew he was in here. Walking to the flimsy desk I flipped it to the side.
Holding the man in place couldn't be easier, seeing his eyes widen in horror and disbelief was almost enough to make me think twice about killing him. What little of the swarm that I'd kept with me made a quick job of peeling the skin from his muscle, just as he had done to some anonymous man a moment ago. Not bothering to put him out of his misery I dropped the shrieking ball of bloodied and exposed muscle to the ground. He'd bleed out in a few minutes.
I'd let the Walrider out and in control of the bulk of the swarm, I had wanted to make this personal for a few of the more nasty people in the building. It didn't take long though, for the Wallrider to come speeding back with news:
Waylon is in the building, looking for you
Then it was gone again, back out to enjoy itself.
How had waylon gotten here? How did he even know I was here?
A few other questions jumbled through my head as I went down the hall.
Where would he even be in this place? I was even getting a little bit lost.
While I strolled through the building I took a minimal amount of time to stop and end a few people who caught my attention. After three more Murkoff workers got their just desserts courtesy of me, one man in particular caught my attention. Some man in a plain gray suit, name wasn't important, he was a company bigshot. Knew about all sorts of immoral going ons. There was a fear their, fear of not just me, but of some other Murkoff meddling in what they didn't understand. 'three blind dreamers' he was thinking about.
I'd have to deal with them after I found Waylon. The gray suit ran off down a hall, I followed without too much urgency. He wouldn't be that hard to find, especially if i just sicked the Walrider on him like a hunting dog.
***Waylon***
Any hope of finding death through luck was gone. Of all the halls I walked down I found nothing but corpses and screaming staff. If only things had been this easy the first time around. Because irony was a cruel and soulless mistress I came to stop in front of a lobby. The circular desk in the center had a sign hanging over it:
"Pediatric research wing" I read outloud.
This must have been where they… must have been where they murdered Connor, murdered Garrett. Walking to the center of the lobby I couldn't stop myself from reading the directory signs:
"Dormitory wing. Clinical area. Preparation rooms. Operating rooms."
Every inch of skin on my body slithered in place. Operating Rooms. I didnt want to know what they did, but my brain wouldn't stop supplying images.
They could have been vivisected. Injected with chemicals and set out for a few days just to see what happened. Gotten caught up in whatever "blind dreamer" project I'd read about. Hung out to die for the sake of 'progress'.
Bile rose up, forcing its way from my stomach to the floor beneath my feet. This is where they ended. I should have been here to save them. Distracted, it only just registered on me that some kid was looking through the windows of the door leading to the dormitory.
Could that be Connor! No, he was taller, shaved head. Brown eyes. Actually he looked nothing like Connor, it'd just been wishful thinking. The boy ran off down a hall once he realised I'd seen him. Poor thing had to be terrified. I had to leave this place, had to go anywhere but here.
I had to-
"Park!"
It was the man with the file folder from before.
"You're a pain in the ass you know that?" he had a gun. He had a gun! This was it, I could finally get out of this damned life. For the first time in half a month something resembling a hobbled and twisted version of happyness soaked its way into my mind.
"I don't even care what you thought you were doing with you're fucking hero complex back at Mount Massive, but whatever you think you're doing here is over."
He pulled back the firing pin on his gun- an old timey revolver. Probably an antique from above some big shots desk.
"It's your fault the Wallrider's out of Mount Massive. It wouldn't be rampaging here if it weren't for you. Must be great having this much blood on your hands, after all you did to stop it."
I already knew I fucked everything up "Get on with it!" I yelled in spite of myself.
Without so much more ceremony than a narrowing of his eyes he shot me.
A bullet ripped through my shoulder.
A wailing screech grew from the silent void left from the roar of the gun. Another shot.
One through the gut.
The lights swelled, half of them burst. I was on the ground. Why was I still here? I was almost gone, almost free.
A last shot, through my chest. Can't breath. Can't feel anything.
The man fell dead next to me. The swarm. Miles, right there. So much noise.
"Stay with me god damn it"
"No..." I was free. I would be with Lisa. Dead and free from this insanity. I'd be with the boys.
They were here now. I could see them. There at the doors.
Behind them was the bald child.
No.
There were here!
"Waylon!" my name seemed lost on me.
There were my boys. Right there.
"Dad!"
There were my boys. They were alive.
...Alive.
"Dad!"
***Miles***
Waylons kids were screaming through their tears.
I took a knee between the shredded remains of the gray suit and Waylon. He couldn't be dead, not after all of this, not with them right there. I put a hand down, looking for a pulse.
Nothing.
I took him by the shoulder. Shook as hard as I could.
"Waylon! Waylon, wake up!"
He wasn't waking up. Ever. He'd been shot three times, once in the chest probably through the diaphragm. The wound to the shoulder was still bleeding out fast enough to tell me it'd hit an artery. He wasn't coming back from that.
The boys. What were their names. Connor, Garrett. The boys were sheet white, dressed in hospital gowns, shaved of head, stitches were visible here and there. I looked again at Waylons remains on the ground. They shouldn't see him like this.
"...Come one. Come here"
I motioned for them to come closer.
The kid standing behind them that I didn't recognize ran off. Connor looked like he was thinking of following him.
"Woah there…" I'm sure I seemed like the most trustworthy man on the planet, what with being covered in blood and having a large black cloud cloaking half my body "It's me. Miles. Your dads friend" I stepped between them and the body. This was the single worst place to be having this conversation.
"We need to get out of here" I started pulling the swarm back in, it wasn't helping the mood.
Isn't this an interesting turn of events.
Not now. Waylon had just been gunned down by some bastard I should have killed earlier. I was not about to entertain the Walrider with some stupid-ass conversation.
Connor gave a little quivering "No…"
I held out a hand and tried again "come on" despite my own rage I had to at least look calm. Freaking out now wouldn't help anything.
Connor took a small step back. Just before he broke into a backward run Garrett made a sudden move, grabbing my hand.
"I want to go home" the words were choked out between sobbs.
Seeing his brother warm up to me made Connor slowly came closer. Trying my best to shield them from seeing Waylon I shepherded them into the hallway. This had gone to shit faster than usual.
I made a mental note to the walrider:
Make sure there are no surprises on our way out.
Understood.
The hall grew darker for a moment, startling the boys, but otherwise doing no harm. The walk out seemed to last for years, though it did end with our eventual arrival in the main lobby. The gray and blue colored room was free of the grime and viscera that caked the inner halls. If I were a poet I might pretend that this was an omen, but I'd seen too much shit to pretend that one clean room meant that there was going to be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Without wasting my time to take one last look at the place I walked out the front door with Connor and Garret in tow.
The poor kids, they'd lost two parents to this. It was even worse that they weren't the only ones who'd ended up shit creek because of Murkoff.
More reason to take them apart brick by brick.
The Walrider had returned and it wasn't wrong.
I walked us over to the employee parking lot. I would get the kids somewhere safe. Then I would personally paint the walls with every Murkoff executive and scientist I could get my hands on.