Chapter Text
"L'enfer, c'est les autres."
Hell is other people.
You couldn't quite recall when you heard this quote. Was it in a book ? A show ? Some class during high-school ?
All your memories from your youth were blurry. A blending of feelings, moments and void that made questions like "how was school for you ?" awkward.
Still, this specific sentence stuck in your head. Probably because it had sounded right, put in parallel to your life, and still did to this day.
With it, Jean-Paul Sartre explained that the presence of others will always cause pain. Even if they didn't want to in the first place ; the fact is when you exist with people, you exist through them too, their eyes, their opinions of you.
You never were a big thinker. Life wasn’t easy enough to just delve on deep and existential questions. But this sentence, these four little words kept you awake at night, wondering.
What was wrong with you ?
You had felt left out of the loop that was life since you were big enough to understand what lonely meant.
You knew it wasn't really an active effort from your peer, but it was like the world was running in a straight line and you couldn't help but take the road with obstacles.
No matter how much you tried, you never really fitted in. Incapable of creating lasting relationships, you didn't laugh when you were supposed to, were too cold, too sentimental, always wrong .
And it hurt, but it hurt since so long that it became routine. Part of everyday life.
Or at least you thought so. You had lived your life like this since the beginning, and you didn’t imagine that one day you would just not be able to endure it anymore.
But you awoke one morning and you looked at yourself, what was around you, and you realised that things needed to change.
So, when you took the job at the asylum, it was because you wanted out. Out of everything, your life, your pseudo-relationships, your last work.
A chance to take a fresh start, somewhere far away where there wouldn't be so many people to make your life hell.
The first part was a success. You were as far as you could go, lost in Colorado. The last, however, turned out to be the biggest failure of your life. And knowing you, it really meant something.
Nowadays, most people didn't read the entirety of the contract for their work, if it was at all. Your past jobs had happened just fine with you skimming through the pages to sign the documents.
Not that one.
For a long time, you thought that hell was other people. Now, you knew that it was nothing compared to what Murkoff had for you.
It looked like a nightmare. Felt like it, too, but the problem was there. It wasn’t one. It was reality.
Horrible, cold and terrifying reality .
You saw abuse out of a serial killer documentary, experiment that could have been done by a mad scientist in a horror movie – but it was real .
And you were there.
Not only watching, but participating, being a part of the problem. You didn’t lash out on the prisoners, beat them or insult them like some of the guards, but still.
You couldn't run, because now you knew , and they would never let you go.
Too much of a risk for someone as insignificant as you. Better to just put a bullet through your skull and be sure that you would never talk again.
The primal fear of dying was too strong, stronger than your guilt or your consciousness.
So you shut your mouth and tried your best to work like what a security guard was supposed to - but not like Murkoff was expecting.
It did bring you problems, with management and some patients. You were too nice sometimes, you knew it, but the pure amount of despair some of them showed made you soft.
It wasn’t anything spectacular. Making sure that they were fed when the nurses forgot. That they had clothes. Sneaking paper and paint in the Father room, bringing flowers to the Groom, sweet to some and a listening ear to other.
You weren’t a doctor. You knew that your help was limited and you would never be able to be the solution. But you had to try. Do something.
The other guards didn’t like you because of that, but that was clearly the least of your concerns.
Especially now.
Most of the time, you were awoken by your alarm or your boss smashing his fist loudly against your door, barking at you to wake up.
This time, screams were what got you out of your slumber. Which was strange, because you grew used to them. Didn’t have much of a choice, the first weeks were filled with sleepless nights, incapable of shutting your eyes between the cries and howls.
Your mind had learned to block them. But this time, it wasn’t enough.
You were groggy, having a hard time opening up your eyelids. What hour was it ? You reached for your alarm, but a shriek froze your movement.
Then another one. And another. And movements, sounds of struggle, fights .
It was close. Abnormally so. There weren’t a lot of calm places in the asylum, but the guard’s rooms were supposed to be okay on this part.
You listened, trying to make sense of the commotion outside. Still in your pajamas, you walked closer to the door but stopped when a loud bang made it vibrate.
Something collided against it hard, enough to break, enough to open .
You blinked, and before you could even fully comprehend it, one of the patients was standing in front of you. Panting, he looked at you for a brief second, then his bulging eyes went on every side of your room frantically.
“Where’s the cat ?”
The patients were incoherent sometimes, it was part of the whole thing. However, this time it looked… wrong. You wouldn’t be able to explain how. The buzzing inside your head hurt too much. But you just knew it.
Something was not right.
“Probably outside.”
You didn’t realize it was you talking before the man's eyes went straight to yours again. His breathing was heavy and short.
“What ?”
“The cat. There’s a lot of chance he’s outside. I didn’t see any here.”
Words fell out of your mouth without you being able to stop them. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but the man seemed to ponder what you just said to him, his fingers rapidly tapping against the door frame.
“Right. Right. Where ?”
You pointed to your left, where the exit was in the corridor. Something (awareness ? common sense ?) told you that you should stop him instead of just looking at him disappearing.
You didn’t.
You simply stared in front of you as he disappeared, tired and distant. It took you a whole minute before following him, walking out of your room. You watched as logic seemed to stop working around you.
Guards were running everywhere. Patients, too. There was blood on the floor. Blood on the walls. Dead bodies. Noises, so much noises - screams and pleads and cries and the buzzing -
Nobody stopped to tell you what was happening, but you didn’t need it to guess.
The patients were out.
It still took five seconds for your brain to process the information.
Fuck.
The patients were fucking out.
Fuck fuck fuck -
But there was something else, something deeper that confused you, a vague memory that wasn’t yours.
Someone banged violently against you, making you stumble, almost fall. You couldn’t care less about it. You had to move. In the confusion and doubt, that much was clear.
You had to get the fuck out of here.
Following your own advice, you ran for the exit. All thoughts outside of you leaving this place were stomped on by your haste.
For a time, anyway.
You tried to visualize a map of the asylum in your head, searching for the nearest exit. There were no voices in the speaker, just the faint sound of an alarm, deep under the floor. Nothing to tell you what to do, where to go.
Did they leave you to die ? Or just met this fate ? It was hard to tell, none of the possibilities would surprise you, and none of them were that important.
As you kept on running, you couldn’t help but notice that most of the corpses you passed by were security guards. Not the only ones, but still.
That made sense, though. How many of them hurt the patient ? Used their status to abuse their powers ? Now that they were free…
A voice, deep inside your brain, whispered that maybe this was what they deserved. A right punishment for their crimes. You tried not to think about it too much.
When you reached a corner, a patient was crouching in front of another dead security agent, blocking your way. You stopped, but too late. He looked at you, the same crazy look in his eyes than the other one.
Except that this time, he wasn’t looking for a cat.
“I know your face.” He chewed on his own words, swinging the baton in his hand almost absent-mindlessly. Blood was still dripping from it. “Pretty face. Give it to me.”
You didn’t end up being a security agent for nothing. You had training, knew how to handle yourself in a fight. However, the patients – Variants some of the others called them – were stronger than most people. Abnormally so.
But they were also erratic, incoherent and really disturbed by the “treatment” they were given.
You didn’t want to kill. You didn’t want any of this, really. Just for the violence to stop, for you to get back to your old life where your biggest issue was if your coworkers hated you.
(You couldn’t help but hear your therapist’ voice saying that there was positivity in all of this negativity : you realized that your old life was a far cry from the horror you thought it was. However, if anyone told you to see the bright side in your situation, you would definitely hit them.)
When the man jumped at you, you dodged his attack and used his open guard. He wasn’t really fighting, just throwing his weapon around, hoping that it would lend on something. You struck him hard in his chest, enough for him to stumble back.
Using his confusion, you hit him with your fist, once, twice, on his face and stomach, until something broke and he stopped trying to attack, using defense instead.
At the end he was moaning on the floor, curling up on himself. Your knuckles hurt. The best decision would be to make sure that he was out, but seeing him sobbing made you stop. You couldn’t bring yourself to hit a man in his state.
Coward . You made a face despite yourself. Not now.
You quickly grabbed his weapon and continued your way, slower and more carefully this time. He was alone, and not one of the strongest, but a misstep and a bad encounter could have you killed.
It was hard, making a sense of what was around you. You knew those corridors, have been in them for almost six months now. However, you found yourself being lost multiple times, taking the wrong turn or forgetting where to go.
The buzzing was too loud. Sometimes unbearably so, enough to make your vision blur, shapeless form appearing in front of you.
Instinctively you raised a hand to your temple and pressed it against the throbbing skin.
A low hum, singing inside you ear, inside your head , pleasant and hurtful and you shouldn’t listen to it but it was everywhere -
You didn’t notice you were running again until you stopped, exhausted. A corridor was stretching in front of you, dark without its usual lighting. Only the dim light of a room, barely visible, allowed you to see the shapes of your surroundings.
It was enough for you to notice the two shadows, a few meters away from you. You fought the urges to take a step back when they started talking.
“We found someone.”
“That we did.”
You looked at them, careful. Focused on letting your face betray no emotion, afraid of what they might do if they found the slightest hint of doubt.
They had that weird way of talking. Not finishing each other's sentences, but completing them in a smooth way, like they rehearsed everything. Except they didn’t. They were just the Twins.
“It’s the good agent.”
Your hands twitched. The way they watched you was infuriating, making you want to raise your weapon. But you knew better.
“The white knight.”
You heard some people call you that, even though it had always sounded mocking in the mouths of other guards. However, with the pragmatic tone of their voices, it was hard to guess if they disapproved.
“Should we kill them ?”
You barely had the time to register your heart spiking with fear before his brother's answer cut your plans of escape.
“No. The Father would disapprove. We do not kill what is good. ”
“Too rare to waste.”
“Should we help them, then ?”
“A little tip cannot hurt.”
Probably for the first time since you met them, the Twins talked directly to you, not about you to each other.
It felt wrong, out of place, but everything here did.
“You should be careful, fair knight. A lot of people hate you on this part.”
“And a lot of them love you.”
“Which one is worse ?”
“Hard to tell.”
You didn’t like what they implied with that, but you stayed quiet. Words never came easily for you, but now they seemed to permanently stuck inside your throat.
The Twins didn’t care, and just kept going.
“Avoid doctor Trager.”
“And Walker is hunting”
Richard Trager loathed you, and you shared the feeling. He was one of the worst, violent and bloodthirsty doctors. He despised your pitiful attempt to be nice, not upfront but not secretly either. Enough for you to know his feelings about you.
And, well, he was always a sadist, dangerous and unstable. Insufferable, too, enough to make you honestly hate him. They were right. It was probably for the best that you didn’t cross paths.
“Thank you, I will be careful.”
Slowly, you took a step back, too cautious to fully turn. A part of you was still afraid that they would lash out on you as soon as you would stop looking at them.
“One last thing.”
“An important one.”
“We heard the Groom was looking for a bride.”
“Make sure that he doesn’t find you .”
—
You weren’t really aware of how you managed it, but after turns and detours, you ended up in the hall. It took you a long time. The exits you passed on your way here were too dangerous, either closed or with fighting happening right in front of it.
You had started to lose hope, but now the simple vision of your potential freedom made you want to tear up. The place was bright with the dawning sun, looking almost magical.
No, that wasn't it.
It looked normal. As much as this place could be, anyway. And this normality was the most comforting thing you’ve ever seen in your life.
You were surprised to find six other people there, all part of the staff. One of them was trying to open the door, locked by the security program which had triggered as soon as the patient got out.
You eyed them carefully, but nobody made any movement to attack anyone. They were all tired, hurt, and had the same goal as you : getting out.
Suddenly stricken by how much you were exhausted, you went near a pillar to sit down, curling up on yourself. You didn’t exactly relax but allowed your shoulders to be a little less tense.
It was calm. Eerily so, almost, after the sound and the violence and everything . But for the first time since you woke up, you felt something other than dread or confusion.
Maybe, just maybe it could end now. End well.
You let the idea spread warmth inside your chest. You wanted to believe it so bad.
Now that adrenaline wasn’t coursing through your veins, you found yourself being sleepy. It was hard to stay aware, especially with the people around you that gave you a false sense of security.
You still managed to stay awake and mostly conscious. The one working to open the door was cursing softly under his breath, seeming to have a hard time opening the doors.
But it could be fine. For once, something could work out.
Of course, it wasn’t going to be this easy.
Since there was almost no sound except for the computer, it wasn’t difficult to hear him coming.
It made you jolt back on your feet, all traces of your vague feeling of relief gone. You all looked at each other, perplexed by the sound of chains, of steps loud enough to make the floor vibrate.
Then you saw him.
Walker is hunting.
You should have taken the Twins tip more seriously.
You only heard of him through others. He wasn't in your department, but was hard to ignore even if you tried.
Tall wasn't a word strong enough to describe him. All muscle and chaos, big and big and big .
The few times you saw him he was crouched while being guided by other security agents or on an experiment table.
But now he was standing with his full height in front of you, dangerous and destructive, and you realized that it was probably the more scared you’ve been in your life.
You separated from the other. Not because you were following a tactical or practical train of thoughts.
You just all simultaneously started screaming and running everywhere, nothing but fear survive run hide fear danger death run run run going on in your head.
And you did.
Ran as fast and as far away as you could.
After some time - minutes ? hours ? you realized he didn’t seem to have followed you, but you didn’t stop.
Terrified was starting to get too weak for how you were feeling. The biggest understatement of the century.
The cold air of the outside felt icy against your sweaty skin.
Your legs’ muscles were sore. The terrible possibility that they will fail you if you continued like that made your heart beat too fast.
You passed by multiple people but you couldn’t care less. They just walked with no goal like you. Where were you supposed to go anyway ? The borders were protected and extremely hard to pass - of course, because who would want a Variant to escape ?
The only possible way out that you’ve seen so far seemed to be the hall, and again, only if you managed to open the door.
It was also where Walker was waiting for you. You could have gone back, checked to see if he was still roaming around, but the vivid image of the man in your brain made your body physically revolt against the idea.
You weren’t sure of a lot of things, but you were absolutely convinced that if he caught you, you were as good as dead.
Maybe help will end up coming, even if you couldn’t imagine from where. The network was scrambled in a perimeter around the asylum and nobody ever checked on you.
Yet, hiding seemed like the best idea. The only viable one. You would be able to fight one or two of the patients, but there were dozens of them running in the inside of the asylum.
You didn’t want to stay outside, the sky above you making you feel sick and exposed.
Yes. You had to go back. It would be better this way.
You massaged your temples as you approached one of the buildings that seemed empty. Of course, you weren’t able to see inside, but the absence of screaming was a good start.
You didn’t allow yourself to hesitate. The door creaked when you opened it slowly. You stopped to listen to your surroundings before starting to move in.
Clearly, running hadn’t been really helpful so far so you decided to take a more stealthy approach from now on. Plus, you weren’t exactly familiar with your new environment, which wasn’t a great thing, but you tried not to think about it too hard.
Hearing mostly your heart pounding in your chest, you still tried to absorb every sound, ready to hide at the smallest weird crack.
But nothing.
Somehow it stressed you out even more, like the world was holding its breath before a terrible danger.
Once you reached the second floor, you realized that you knew the place.
You were in the building used for activities, which have always been mostly empty since you first got here. You recognised the sewing machines. Eddie liked to make things here, the few times he was allowed to.
Eddie liked…
Your heart missed a beat.
The shot of adrenaline that surged inside your veins made the world turn slow for a minute and your head dizzy.
Maybe in another universe, where fate was kind and luck was on your side, it would have just been a harmless thought. A stupid coincidence without any impact.
But if there was a God out there, he hated you, and destiny never went easy on you.
So - because it couldn’t have happened any other way - you heard your name.
Your whole body froze in its movement, like you suddenly found yourself stuck in a trap.
But that’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it ?
At this moment, you should have just run. As fast as you could, pray that he wouldn’t catch you. But you didn’t. You just turned to face him.
“Honey.”
The voice was sweet like sugar, as smooth as velvet. So was his smile, which could have been almost warm - if it wasn't for the blood on his shirt, the scars on his faces and the fact that he was himself.
"I was wondering when you'd decide to come and see me."
Eddie Gluskin, the Groom looking for a bride, make sure that he doesn’t find you was standing in front of you.
The worst fright of your life just moved to stage two.