Miles Upshur 4

My Outlast (and Outlast: Whistleblower) fan-fiction. I wrote it before playing Outlast 2. I want to share it with other Outlast fans.

I walk into the Morphogenic Engine chamber. The lights on the large orb that dominates the room flicker, causing strange shadows to dance on the walls.  I am going to have to wipe all of these computers clean.  So much data stored: about the Engine, about the dream therapy, about every twisted thing Murkoff was doing in this lab.

I walk over to the main switchboard and boot it up.  I mouse through the administrative actions and tools.  Finally, I find what I am looking for: a factory reboot of all systems.  I mouse over the command and click it.  A prompt pops up, asking me if I am sure I want to follow through with this act, it is irreversible.  I click ‘yes,’ obviously.

All of the computers in the control room click on, their screens illuminating the walls.  Blank loading bars with a small tinge of blue at one end fill every screen, an animation of paper going from a folder into a trashcan displayed above it.  Chances are that this will take a while, but I have to be thorough; dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s.

I walk out of the control room and down the stairs to the several spherical pods circling the main structure.  I approach the pod that Billy Hope was once housed in, its glass stained red with blood.  I rest my hand on the surface and feel something… a sorrow deep inside me that is not my own.  Could it be… until this moment, I did not know that the Walrider was capable of feeling sorrow.

The feeling disappears without warning; something else has caught the Walrider’s attention.  I can hear it too, someone or something is approaching.  I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  I look out the double doors that I left open.  And I see Waylon Park: the Whistleblower.

He freezes when he sees me, breathing out of his mouths in large puffs.  He is afraid; even without the Walrider’s help I can sense that.  “Miles?” he says with uncertainty.  “Is that you?  M-Miles Upshur?”

How does he know my name?  Was I sloppier in covering my tracks than I thought?  I feel that feeling coming up inside, I will not be in control much longer.  “Yes, that’s me.  But some have come to calling me the Walrider.”

“I thought it might be you.”  Waylon continues to watch me as he speaks.  “I’m sorry, for leading you out here.  If I had had any idea of what was really going on here at Mount Massive, I would have never gotten anyone else involved.  I’m assuming that’s why this happened; you came out here because of my email.  Of all the journalists, only one noble soul took on the job.”

I feel anger bubbling deep in my gut.  “Yeah, I took the story.  But you have me wrong, Waylon Park.  I am no noble soul.  I took the job for a story.  To get a look at some of the messed up s**t going on here.  Not for some noble cause as you seem to think.  I care about one person: me.  Everyone else… well that’s not my problem.”

I see him thinking about what to say next.  I see that I have clearly disappointed him.  “… I guess I did have you wrong.  After all, you did murder my wife in cold blood.”  He takes a step towards me.  “You know that I cannot let you leave here.  The Walrider has to be stopped.”

I sneer, standing my ground.  “And how, Waylon Park, do you intend to do that?  I’m stronger than ever, and soon, there will be no evidence to support your claims of Project Walrider.  Sure, Murkoff will get in a lot of trouble for some patient experiments and negligence.  But you’re gonna look like a whack job.  Hell, who knows?  They may even lock you away again.”  I take a step towards him.  “Well, they would,” I take another step, “if you were going to leave here alive.”  The Walrider seconds my notion, letting out a menacing cry somewhere between a roar and a cackle.

Waylon’s eyes widen and he turns, running back towards the elevator.  Stupid, what did he think he was going to accomplish, waltzing in here and giving me an ultimatum with no plan.  The computers are still purging themselves of data, but that can wait �" the Walrider has its eyes on its prey.  Waylon Park will die here tonight.  As I said once before: what the Walrider wants, the Walrider gets.  I take off running after Waylon down the long white hallway.

Author's Note

My Outlast (and Outlast: Whistleblower) fan-fiction. I wrote it before playing Outlast 2. I want to share it with other Outlast fans. That being said, if you have not played the games or do not have an extensive knowledge of them, the story will likely not make sense, seeing as I literally picked up my story where they left off.