Hit Him Quick Get Out Fast
Props to whoever guesses where this title came from lmao.
Words: 4566 aka the longest fic i did for halloween so far.
The third fic I did for @omgcpumpkins! This one is based on the game, Outlast: Whistleblower by Red Barrels. Whistleblower is Outlast DLC, about a computer programmer that gets admitted to the asylum he works in and then has to get out before the worst can happen. Which is death. I only did this with Jack stepping into the protagonist’s shoes and Bitty in the secondary antagonist’s shoes. This one is extremely OOC as compared to the last one. Trigger warnings?
TW: Homophobia, Transphobia (implied more than anything else?), Sexism, Ableism, NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Graphic Depictions of Murder, Murder, Death, Stabbing, Misuse of Beyonce lyrics tbh, Violence against the mentally ill, Vomiting, Gore
This is a really messed up portrayal of the ship and characters (like my last fic) and if you seriously don’t want to read anything like this, do not read it. Heed the fucking tags, folks. That being said, enjoy the fic!
The lights would go out, occasionally. Jack chose to move only when they were on, because the darkness could be suffocating. Almost literally, once. Really, he should have seen it coming when the patient reached his hands out to try to wrap them around his neck. They were all poor souls; Jack could hardly blame them. Mount Samwell was doing bad things to them before the breakout, really, really, bad things. He would have been experimented on too if it weren’t for the breakout happening right before his time was supposed to start.
But some had been worse off than others. Some like the feared Groom, down in the Vocational block, where the pool and gymnasium were. Jack hadn’t been in that area but he had been able to follow the sounds and screams from other patients to really understand just what was awaiting there, something somehow more terrifying than even the Walrider itself. He would have been lucky to not have to go there if he hadn’t slipped into the attic of the Vocational block while trying to escape. He was chased relentlessly by a patient (who was calling himself Adam) that wanted to present him to the Groom.
It was truly terrifying up until Jack escaped the patient further down below, heading deeper into the bowels of the building. That was when the taunting began, when “Adam” sneered that Jack was basically presenting himself like a dessert on a platter to the Thing down below. Jack realized that what he felt afterwards wasn’t anything like before; true fear set in the moment the door banged shut, and silence fell, for only a moment.
Then Jack heard the screaming. The real terror had only just begun.
He set off through the halls, looking around at the different random splatters of blood and other fluids. He stepped around several puddles of… something thick and nasty and slowly made his way to what he could hope was another exit. Little did he know, he was already being watched by the terror that lied within the walls.
At one point Jack tried to open a locked door. His eyes were aimed down at the handle, wondering why it wouldn’t turn, before he happened to glance up into the window. His yell of surprise didn’t even startle the smiling face that stared back at him, large eyes abnormally wide and straight teeth an alarming white. Jack held up his camera to get a better look from his position on the floor.
“Sweetpea,” the voice of the patient drawled in a southern accent, making him sound as if he were perfectly harmless. Jack knew the truth. He knew it from the way the blood seeped from beneath the door and he knew it from the deep scratch marks on the patient’s face. “Now how did you get over there? You best be makin’ your way back here! We’ve got a wedding to plan, honey!”
This was the face of the Groom. Nearly harmless. A perfect disguise for the monster just beneath the surface.
“We’ve met before? Darlin’, I know I’ve seen you.” The Groom’s face twisted in confusion, as if his head hurt to think so much. Jack knew the Groom recognized him. They had lived across the hall from each other. The Groom had been in Mount Samwell for much, much longer than Jack. Whatever experiments he had been subjected to had taken a toll on his mind, not to mention his body. Jack had seen how many men had to restrain him. He could hold Jack down as if he were nothing if he tried.
Jack needed to get out of there. Now.
“I’ll handle this door, you stay right there!” The Groom shouted. Jack shook his head, frantic, and got up to run in the opposite direction, heading away to anywhere that wasn’t there. He couldn’t get caught, he absolutely could not.
He didn’t know where to find an exit but he knew when he had wandered further into the den of the Beast. Slowly, surely, deeper into the spider’s parlor. Jack looked around, trying to keep away from the puddles of blood (massive, massive, puddles of blood, Christ, Bittle had been busy in the last twelve hours) and skirting the hallways where screams seemed to echo down, screeching and scratchy noises that put his hair on end.
He knew there was something wrong, wrong, wrong, when he turned a corner and spotted a body.
Horribly disfigured, mutilated beyond belief. There was no penis in the groin and the stomach had been carved out, the intestines of whatever patient this had been strewn across the floor. It led Jack to a horrifying realization about the patches of floor that had squelched beneath his feet, the stench of rotting flesh only just registering in his nose.
He should have walked away from that body, turned in the other direction. But there was no exit for him that way and he didn’t remember which halls he had turned down. He chose instead to continue on, trying to step over the body. He slipped in a puddle of blood and found himself falling onto the dead patient behind him. Jack threw his hands out to catch himself and found them in the body’s stomach, covered in fluids.
He had to quickly move away to empty the contents of his stomach next to the dead patient’s head. He heaved until it hurt, the feelings swirling within his chest a mixture of I’m gonna die here and I need to get the hell out. His flight instincts kicked in before anything else and he stood and he ran.
Jack wasn’t sure how far he had gone, but the smell had gotten worse. So much so that he had to turn to dry heave, stomach trying to push out something that wasn’t in there anymore. The bile burned in the back of his throat as he spit it onto the floor. He covered his nose with his arm, looking around for something, anything shaped like an exit.
That was when he saw it.
A table was around a corner, with a pair of legs splayed open on top of it. The body did not move and Jack knew he was likely only going to come across a horrible scene if he walked over to see it, but there was no discernable exit in the pitch blackness of the corridor and there was light coming from where the table was. He knew it was a horrible decision, but Jack walked towards the table.
It wasn’t the fact that the bodies were dead that made Jack’s stomach turn again, no. It was the fact that this was a set of bodies, where one had the penis removed. It was shoved into the mouth of the head from the body lying on the table, which had been shoved between the body’s legs. The one without the penis was posed as if holding the hand of the one on the table. Jack glanced up at the wall, where bloody writing read “A True Miracle,” and knew that this was supposed to be a grotesque depiction of childbirth.
Bittle was one sick bastard if this was his idea of fun. Jack continued through the hallway, spotting another scene of two patients supposedly having sex. Once again, however, Jack saw that both are missing their penises. He’s beginning to see a recurring pattern in the Groom’s work. Jack tried to remember what he had seen in Bittle’s patient file when he had been upstairs. Something about being admitted by homophobic parents? Whatever Samwell employees had been doing to him, they had twisted Bittle beyond humanity.
“Baby I can see your halo… you know you’re my saving grace…”
Jack heard the sing song of Bittle’s voice somewhere behind him, prompting him to hurry through the rest of the room to try to find somewhere to hide. He saw a door and tried to go through it, only to find that it was locked from the other side. His panic and fear were both slowly mounting as the footsteps got closer, before they stopped.
Bittle was on the other side of the room.
“Really, honey, you shouldn’t run away from me,” Bittle admonished. “I love you. I missed you. Come here.”
“No no no no no no no,” Jack spotted another door, partially obscured by a table. It was closer to him, but Bittle was fast. He was smaller than Jack but Jack knew he would not have the strength to get out of Bittle’s hold once those hands were on him. He thought about his options, to either make a break for it or die.
If Jack thought for too long it led to Bittle crossing the room quicker than Jack could reach the door. Bittle would recognize easily that Jack had been trying to run away from him.
“You don’t love me…?” Bittle would whisper, anger evident in his voice. “Such a shame.”
Without a single thought Bittle would take a knife to Jack’s stomach. Once, twice, a third and then a fourth time. Jack would feel like his body was on fire, the pain invading every inch of his being. He would stare down at Bittle’s eyes, practically glowing. His abdomen would grow warm with his own blood, spreading with each push into his body.
He wouldn’t be able to breathe, the wind completely gone from his lungs. Bittle’s eyes would show absolutely no remorse, his disdain for Jack prominent. Bittle couldn’t have his groom? Then no one would. When Bittle was done with him, he would drop Jack to the floor, standing above him.
“Another runaway groom…”
But if Jack made a break for it, he would manage to just barely get to the door. He did so, with enough time to shove the table at Bittle and send him flying across the room. The smaller man’s head cracked against the opposite wall, but instead of passing out immediately, Bittle stood again, a blind sort of rage in his eyes.
“Well, bless your heart,” he hissed, moving quickly towards Jack.
Jack managed to get the door open with enough time to slam it shut and lock it with the deadbolt, ensuring that Bittle couldn’t get to him. Bittle tried the knob again and again, pulling but unable to get through, all the while watching Jack with deadly intent in his eyes.
“Sweetheart, I don’t appreciate this. You shouldn’t hide from me,” Bittle said from the other side of the door.
Jack took several steps back. He had never had someone look at him like that before; like they wanted to see his neck wrung and would take some sick satisfaction in the action itself. He looked around the new room he was in, turning his back on Bittle for the time being. He glanced back only once, to see that Bittle had disappeared, and then continued forward in his attempt to escape from Mount Samwell.
This next room he had entered had two more doors than the last one. One led into a supply closet where Jack managed to find spare batteries for his camera, happy to be able to charge it. He also found some bandages and a bottle of pain medicine, which would be invaluable if something happened to him. He was partially afraid of giving himself too much medicine, but to him, an overdose would be better than dying at Bittle’s hands.
Speaking of Bittle.
Jack glanced through one window and saw the silhouette of the Groom pass through the end of the corridor. Jack decided he couldn’t go through that door. He turned to the other one, nearer to the supply closet, and saw a room with an open ventilation duct. It would make for a good escape if Jack was forced back into this room. The final door led out into another hallway. Jack couldn’t see too far down this hall, but he figured it was a better bet than his last two options.
He opened it and trekked through.
The lights flickered, off and back on, and Jack took a few steps down. He saw more of Bittle’s victims scattered in the halls, the rejects that didn’t make it into the twisted museum. He sidestepped a trail of intestines and managed to put his foot in someone’s stomach. His own lurched again, as if to have him double over and empty itself. But there was nothing in it to heave, nothing to let go off. Hunger was far beyond his mind, after having dealt with the cannibal.
Jack paused, a sound to his left catching him. He strained his ears a bit, trying to listen, and in the quiet of the hallway, Jack caught a voice.
“Didn’t even put up a fight… didn’t even make a sound…”
It was Bittle, and he was coming towards him. Jack looked around for an option to get away. He was already too far from the room he had been in before, so he needed to find somewhere else. An elevator shaft caught Jack’s eye and he knew, he knew the elevator wasn’t coming fast enough if he pressed the button. But still, he needed to get out.
“Honey?”
Bittle was down the hall. He had spotted Jack already. Jack went towards the elevator shaft, because Bittle moved too quick on his feet and if he didn’t move quick he would die he was gonna die he was gonna die―
“Sweetpea!”
Jack had found the courage and strength to jump across the shaft to the ladder. Bittle, behind him, stopped, glanced down at the top of the elevator below him. Jack tried to climb the ladder, but it was already rusted and disgusting and didn’t hold his weight. It felt like an eternity falling but it was maybe three or four seconds. But the pain…
A stray piece of metal from the elevator stabbed into his ankle, a shriek of pain leaving Jack at the feeling. He had to bite down hard when he reached down and wrenched the piece out, blood oozing from the wound like puss. Bittle was staring down at him, eerie eyes wide with shock. Jack looked for some escape, but the next floor up was too far for him to climb on his ankle. He would have to continue on through the pain or die.
“Honey, are you―that must have hurt, sweetheart, it looks so painful! Why did you―why would you―” Bittle stopped. “You don’t want to be with me? You’d―You would rather die?”
His eyes narrowed in anger. “If you want to so badly, then die.”
Jack felt the elevator lurch. It was beginning to move, upwards. The shaft wasn’t that high; if he stayed he was going to be crushed to death and that would be a horrible death, wouldn’t it? Nothing but a mess on the ceiling, a slow death. But the next floor up―the next floor―
Jack moved quickly before the elevator got away. He was further down in the monster’s lair but he had a bit of time now to think of something.
His ankle throbbed with the beat of his heart, deliberate. He heard Bittle say something above him but the pain was all he could think about. He spotted another dead patient, clothes still in tact. He limped over, the pain shooting up his legs in bursts whenever he put weight on it, and ripped the patient’s sleeve. He didn’t have anything to disinfect the wound so he would have to ignore it. Quickly, Jack wrapped the wound in the torn sleeve, applied pressure. Better to stop losing blood lest he leave more of a trail.
“Gotta get out,” Jack murmured to himself. He started through the halls again but kept his mind focused on what was ahead of him. He didn’t know how long he wandered for, switching out batteries in his camera when it drained too low. The hallways all looked the same and they were all endless, too long, too many. He made a turn and had to stop, his ankle bothering him again. He wanted to rest for a bit, but the moment he stopped, he heard the sound of something being dragged through the halls.
“Such… a… whore…” It was Bittle again, dragging the body of a kicking and screaming patient. “Sweetpea, you can’t… struggle like this! We’re getting married!”
Jack quickly ducked into a room. He didn’t want to be seen and caught. Two minutes went by and then Bittle dragged the body in front of the door, heading off around a corner. Jack wasn’t surprised that Bittle had lost interest in him for now. Out of sight out of mind, right? He eased the door open and went in the direction Bittle had come from, figuring that it was better than heading in the direction Bittle had gone.
He turned a corner and found a dead end, which led Jack to thinking this was why that other patient had been caught. However, he spotted a row of lockers and a vent with the grate half pulled off. He wouldn’t be able to climb through the grate fast enough if Bittle suddenly appeared, but he may have been able to misdirect Bittle. It was already too risky to try to go back the way he had come, so as quickly and quietly as possible Jack pulled the cover off the grate.
Unfortunately it slipped from his sweaty hands and clattered to the ground, loud and obvious. Dead silence fell in the hallway afterwards.
“Honey?” Bittle called in the halls. Jack looked at the lockers, his only chance to try to survive, and squeezed into one as quickly as possible. Not a moment too soon it seemed, because Bittle rounded the corner and looked down the hallway. He came down slowly, strolling almost, humming that song again.
“You’re the only one that I want…” Bittle sang. “Think I’m addicted to your light!”
Jack felt the chill run down his spine but kept as still as possible. He didn’t want to be caught out by Bittle.
“Now, darling, I know you didn’t climb up there!” Bittle sighed. “Honestly, a proper husband wouldn’t do anything like that. No, you’re hiding.”
Bittle breathed in, long and deep. Jack’s own breath caught in his throat, fear in his heart.
“I can smell you, dear. Such a masculine scent…” Bittle turned towards the lockers. “Hiding from me… But I know where you are!”
Bittle stepped up to the lockers. He made a spectacle of not knowing which to pick, when he and Jack both knew that Bittle knew exactly where Jack was. He even had the audacity to knock on each locker, as if asking if anyone was home. When he reached Jack’s locker, he stopped.
“This is the one… This is where my sweetpea hides,” Bittle declared. Jack closed his eyes, ready to have the door flung open and his body impaled with a too sharp knife. Instead, however, Bittle raised something to the locker slats and a gas filled the tiny space. Jack’s mistake was gasping, and in doing so inhaling too deeply the gas. He was out cold within seconds.
He woke once, briefly, while Bittle dragged the locker along, strength in that tiny body immense.
“Won’t be long, honey, we just have to… get downstairs…” Bittle grunted as he continued along. Jack passed out again immediately after, not to be awoken for another five or so hours. When he returned to consciousness again, for a second time, he saw Bittle trying to wrestle down another patient. His locker was standing upright again in Bittle’s private workshop it seemed. Something Jack couldn’t see blocked the locker. He couldn’t open it, not that he really wanted to.
Bittle was caught up with the other patient, tying them down to a table with a buzzsaw on the end.
“Momma doesn’t think two men can have a proper relationship…” Bittle sighed. “She just doesn’t understand! If one of us makes a couple sacrifices we can manage it.”
The patient screamed bloody murder, spitting in Bittle’s face. Immediately, his expression grew grim.
“You’re just like the rest. Y’all never wanna appreciate what you got,” Bittle growled. He started up the buzzsaw and yanked the table forward, immediately cutting the patient partially in half down the middle, right up through the patient’s crotch. The screams were loud and blood curdling and in their own way soothing to Jack. Or maybe that was the gas kicking in again, because he wasn’t sure when he passed out again.
He woke up once more, this time to Bittle with a more passive patient. He heard the sound of the buzzsaw and then the screams, and then silence.
Bittle spoke, “Oh, you could have been a wonderful husband. But too weak. Too… feminine.”
Jack fell into sleep again.
When he woke for a fourth time, he was naked. He was strapped down to a blood soaked table with something soft beneath him―soft and wet, like an organ. Jack glanced around, trying to find Bittle, when the madman appeared to his right. His blonde hair was dark with caked blood and dirt, scarring over the right side of his face making a once attractive man hideous.
“Hey, honey,” Bittle’s smile was supposed to be sweet, but Jack only felt disgust. “You’re so beautiful, sweetpea. Could you imagine what our kids will look like? I’m gonna show momma, two men can make a baby just like a man and a woman could.”
Bittle ran a hand over Jack’s bare thigh, dangerously close to his soft dick.
“I’m sad to see this go. But, well. One of us has to carry the baby and I can’t do it. You’ll understand when our first son is born,” Bittle sighed. He pulled away. “It’ll hurt. Making the place for our baby. And conception won’t be easy. Have to spill the wine after all! And birthing? Well.”
Bittle stepped away for only a moment. “This is for our family, honey. This is to prove Momma wrong.”
Bittle turned back and stepped over again. He started up the buzzsaw and began moving Jack towards the saw’s blade. Jack could only think about how this would be his end in his mind; the most humiliating thing. Dead at the hands of a madman with a misguided dream of having a family he would never get. It was sad.
It wasn’t the end.
Another patient appeared while Bittle had his back turned and tried to stab Bittle. However, he failed, leading to Bittle and the patient struggling and knocking Jack off the table and out of the way of the buzzsaw. He managed to break his binds and got up, quickly, escaping Bittle narrowly with his clothes and camera. He managed to break into a run, the pain in his leg briefly forgotten, and sprinted down the hall, adrenaline pumping in his veins.
Bittle shouted after him, but hadn’t given chase just yet. Jack got a few hallways over, narrowly escaping being caught. He redressed in his clothes, not even looking down at his ankle, and went on the hunt for more batteries when he found his camera completely drained. He would need to find a way out that didn’t involve going through Bittle again. In fact, he wanted to avoid crossing paths as much as possible if he could help it.
Bittle was absolutely insane. His mind had been so twisted, and his parents had abandoned him, and he had been experimented on and made to think that this was the only way he could prove himself to anyone. Jack felt a little sorry for him. But once that feeling passed? When Jack no longer felt sorry for the bastard that had tried so hard already to kill him several times? Then he felt nothing but hate.
He was determined to get the fuck out of Mount Samwell even if it was the last thing he did. A sign pointed toward the Male Ward, a potential exit that could lead right to the front doors of Mount Samwell. Jack knew he would need a key, though. He had to find one that could open the locked doors, and then afterwards it was just a matter of evading Bittle until he could finally get out and be home free.
Jack listened more intently in hallways. He did his best to stay as quiet as possible. When he heard footsteps, he hid, managing to stay just a step ahead of Bittle. His will was not broken, and he would not be. Jack snuck around corners until he came to an area that was supposed to mimic a chapel. Bittle must have put it together for the “marriage ceremony” for whatever patient that survived his torture. He spotted a body wearing a Mount Samwell uniform and then a key in the body’s hands.
This was exactly what he needed. Jack took the key and went to head towards the Male Ward, ready to be free of the Demon of the Vocational Block. He was nearly out and he hadn’t run into Bittle once.
He should have known things were getting too easy.
Jack unlocked the door that led out of the Vocational block and into the Male Ward. Not a second after, a rope was wrapped around his neck and his hands shot up to pull at it as he was yanked backwards and dragged along the floor.
“You’re just like the rest!” Bittle hissed, pulling and pulling until they had gone through another door. Jack glanced up and saw many of Bittle’s victims strung up along the ceiling of the gymnasium. He had been killing them and bringing them here, on display for the world to see. He planned to do the same thing with Jack it seemed.
“Stop… struggling!” Bittle screamed at him, securing Jack to one of the ropes. Jack still hung on with his hands kicking and trying to get free, even as Bittle attempted to hang him. A sudden jerk in the rope made Jack pause and then start anew, realizing that Bittle couldn’t keep this up if Jack didn’t make it easy for him.
“Behave!” Bittle shouted, still trying to use his pulley system to get Jack hoisted into the air. Jack struggled harder, if it were possible, and managed to make Bittle lose his balance. The rope went slack and Jack started falling, while Bittle was pulled up towards the ceiling as the pulley system started to break. A metal rod impaled Bittle right through the stomach, causing the madman to cough, blood streaming down his face.
Bittle was just close enough to grab Jack’s hand before Jack hit the floor, holding onto him even as another metal pole struck through Bittle’s chest, a third going through his side.
“Darlin’, I see―your halo…”
Jack pulled his hand away and hit the floor while Bittle was strung up even higher. The amount of blood pooling beneath Bittle told Jack he wouldn’t live much longer than a minute or two. He lifted his camera, which had enough juice now for Jack to film Bittle’s lifeless body.
“He’s finally dead,” Jack breathed, “I can finally go.”
He dropped his arm and went for the door. After all, he still needed to get out of Mount Samwell.
