Waylon woke up, strapped to a chair in front of several screens, filling up his vision. His sight is blurry. But to wake him up, someone… licked him. Ugh… he and some other worker talked about something at the Morphogenic engine, and they left, and the screens turned on… what is this?! It hurts his head..

2 hours earlier

Waylon has to do this secretly, but he’s trying to send an email to a reporter of this place. There’s some… sick, and illegal things going on here. After that, he heard a voice. Waylon quickly sent the email and shut his computer, walking out. He walks to the Engine, a guy at the door “greeting” him. He sat at the front terminal, sitting in the chair and scooting forward.

Waylon didn’t say anything. He just got to work. The patient is Eddie Gluskin, being put in a pod… but he got free and ran to the window Waylon sat behind, slamming his fists on the glass, begging him for help. It startled him. A security officer told him to sit back down, and he did so… Waylon completed it. The patients in the pod, tubes going to.. every…orifice… he left the premises after being told he was done. They seemed rather pushy about it… when he got out be immediately headed back to where his laptop was, make sure no one—

“Somebody's been telling stories outside of class.”

Oh god. It’s Jeremy Blair. He’s Waylon’s boss, he found out, shit— he was shoved into the ground by security guards.

“Mr. Waylon Park, consulting contract 8208. Software engineer with a level 3 security clearance. Graduated cum laude from Berkley, but still somehow not smart enough to realize that the last thing a fly ought to do in a spider's web is wiggle.”

he dropped the laptop, breaking it.

“Somehow dumb enough to think that a borrowed laptop, onion router, and firewall patch would be enough to fool the world's leading supplier of biometric security. Stupid, Mr. Park. More than stupid, in fact, that was crazy.”

this… this feels like it’s leading up to something.

“I'm afraid we're going to have to have you committed. Mr. Park, will you willingly submit to forced confinement? Did you hear that, agent?”

“He said "yes," Mr. Blaire.”

“Great. Oh, and... Did I just hear Mr. Waylon Park volunteer for the Morphogenic Engine program?”

“That's what I heard, Mr. Blaire.”

Waylon didn’t even say anything! Waylon was frozen.

“That was brave, indeed, Waylon. The Murkoff Corporation and the onward march of science both appreciate your bravery and sacrifice. Maybe you could administer Mr. Park here a light anesthetic?”

“With pleasure.”

The guard knocked him out.

Currently, Mount Massive Asylum.

he’s still strapped to the chair, forced to watch these god awful screens. But then, the restraints snapped free. He stood up, albeit wobbly, and witnessed the two patients next to him in the same predicament as he was, ripped apart. Dead. He picked up the camera that was recording him. He can use this cam to record the sick things this place has been doing. Waylon wrote in his notes:

”I fucked up. On god. Where am I? Hours could have passed. Or weeks. Brain filled with static, they made we watch the... the engine. Have to get help. Have to call for help. Lisa, I'm sorry. If I die, I know you'l find me. I know you won't rest until you find my body. I hope you find this camera with my corpse. I hope the evidence on it does what I couldn't, exposes the truth. Lisa, baby, I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I fucked up bad.”

He thinks of Lisa, his wife. He think of his two sons… ‘i want to see my family again…’ was what rang through his head. God he wanted to see his beautiful wife and sons.

a patient walked past him and pressed a button on the console, freeing him. He has to get out. He left the room— only to see… absolute bloodshed. The patients, murdering the security guards and doctors… but right now now nothing is in his way. He can continue. This camera can record evidence… but truly? He just wants to get out. Go home. But his camera has night vision, that’s useful!