HAHAHA OH MY BIOSHOCK WRITING WHAT WAS I THINKING WHEN WRITING THIS.
I was thinking that I'm bored, and that this would be a total dramatic win. However, it probably isn't. C:
And I'm trying to find someone that does SplicerxSplicer/OC; I FEEL LONELY.
[This is a prologue.]
And I don't think you'll ever want to love me
You'd better listen to your doctor
doctors LIE, LIE, LIE!
If the dollar is right
oh my sweet little girl, hold your mouth and you'll be alright
I watch as she runs the rusty steel down the wall, grinning as her words play out onto the canvas. No, not her words, that whore they call Mother's words. She adjusts the mask, running a hand through her hair and touching her cheek. She turns to me and smiles, a unnatural look on her deformed face.
"Come on," she whispers, "give in; I don't want to have to do this to you."
I shake my head, simply watching her as she twirls the hooks in her hands; I try to will the plasmids to come to my hands, to fight back the weakness, the fatigues of withdrawal. She is well supplied, they have ADAM where she is, they have lonely Little Sisters and weak Big Daddies; they are a twisted family. I have nothing, working alone with the Family on my back; they're begging, pleading, hurting, scratching and attacking. I have no escape from them, no protection when I stumble upon one of the Monsters or one of those protector bastards, I am forced to run, this wrench will not protect me against him.
She looks at me again, arms limp at her sides, she doesn't want to do this. Bonds our tight surpass the hazy, beautiful mess of ADAM. Her right arm darts out, the weapon in her hand hooking my wrench and pulling it from my hands. She flings it behind her and it hits the far wall with a crash.
Marie came for fame, I came to escape. Now she's a gorgeous maniac with a permanent mask and a psychopathic doctor and I am trapped in a drug fuelled battle with myself that many others have given into. I can't afford to give in, I need to win this, I need to escape her. My gaze flickers to my left, the narrow staircase leading me further into the bowls of wherever the fuck we are in this godforsaken city, I stopped reading the signs.
I dart down them, her surprise giving me the advantage of moving fast enough that she doesn't have time to grab me. I run down the stairs, feet barely touching the boards as I practically fly, hitting the ground step hard and not allowing the pain to make me stop. Doors pushed open, I sprint past other, they barely turn to look at me and the female running after me getting closer by the second. I try to push myself to go faster, faster, faster. Fatigue is playing with me, weighing me down in my formal footwear. More hallways, singing sources of ADAM, dancing metal monsters and brutes, dead people with masks covering the horror and blood, so much fucking blood. More graffiti, more screams, blood, scraping.
What's happened to Rapture? We came for freedom, everyone's dead.
I feel her hook pierce my tailcoat and slice along my back, the air is knocked out of my as I'm pulled to the floor.
Why did I come here?