Get Out Alive

Fun and Games ; 03

You try and avoid the inevitable for as long as possible. The two of you sit outside on the front steps of the asylum for a while, enjoying the last of the sunshine, breathing in the fresh air. Mark tells you everything that he can remember about his Outlast play-through and the one that he did for its tie-in game called Whistleblower, but. . . you don't really think that either of you are prepared to do. . .

Well, whatever it is that you're supposed to do. Survive through the game as if you guys were playing as Miles Upshur? Which, according to Mark, didn't exactly turn out that great for the reporter guy in the end. Sure, Waylon Park lived. . . but your being here will probably change things for everyone, right?

And likely not for the better, you're guessing.

After your various theories debate eventually slows down, an anxious silence settles in the cracks between you two. Mark sighs, and his bare arm brushes yours as he wearily climbs to his feet.

"Come on, [Name]. We should. . . you know." His dark eyes are glinting with determination, his mouth a thin line. He offers out his hand and you take it without hesitation.

"Go in and try not to die?" You suggest blankly.

"Exactly. No, wait a minute." He shakes his head, a wry smile curling the side of his lips. "Maybe a little less with the gloom-and-doom and a little more positive reinforcement, okay? Like. . . we'll go in, do what we have to, and stay alive. I know this game, I know the enemies. . . We can do this."

He sounds very convincing, even if he doesn't believe his own words. You appreciate the fact that he's trying, though. One of you has to keep on the lighter side of things. . .

"I know. You're right. I'm. . . I'm sorry." You mumble an awkward apology.

Mark gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, now. You don't need to apologize. I know, okay?" He says, a little softer when he finally lets go.

You lift your chin and look at him, his warm gaze intent on yours but a lingering tightness in his posture. His not quite confident expression and the anxious shifting from foot to foot.

"God knows that I'm scared, too." He admits. "I'm terrified out of my fucking mind, actually. But. . ."

"But." You take a deep breath, smiling crookedly. "We can do this."

He hefts the Mag-Lite over his shoulder and grins back. You don't know how this happened, or why it had to happen to the two of you, but. . . you've gotta say, you don't think that you'd want to be stuck in this game with anyone else. Besides. . . how bad can it really be in there? At least, with both of you. . .

You go up to the imposing front doors and try them, but no luck. It's almost fully dark out, now. The sky looks like a swollen purple bruise dotted with tiny pinpricks of white. They aren't very bright, the stars. And they seem so cold, so far away.

"Locked." You sigh. "Is there another way inside?"

Mark glances to the right, past the armored vehicles that also yielded nothing useful or important, and then glances to the left. "Oh, yeah. Um. . . huh. I think there's a gate that we can go underneath somewhere over here, if I remember correctly. . ."

He clicks on the flashlight, starts walking, and frowns at you. "You said that you have extra batteries for this thing, right?"

You nod and pat one of your pockets. "Only three, and it takes two. Why? We should be all set, shouldn't we?"

"I don't know. I mean, I hope so." He quickly adds, when he notices your suddenly pale expression. "I was just thinking. . . We don't have a camera like Miles or Waylon did, but we do have this handy-dandy flashlight. During the game, one of the major points was making sure that you had enough batteries to keep your camera powered."