Fan Fiction: Bioshock
Title: Mistaken identity
Summary: A simple repair job becomes a baffling (and awkward) experience for a certain aviator.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Bioshock 2" or any of the characters from it.
Mistaken identity
"Well? Tell me; is it possible at all to finish this job by the agreed time?"
The no-nonsense voice of Saresh spoke out irritably over the telephone.
"Keep your turban tied, mate! I'm lookin' over the damage as we speak."
On the other end of the telephone, a one Naledi Atkins, scanned her eyes over the broken turret in front of her. It was bad enough that the thing was just DUMPED at her door, but the person it belonged to was an overstuffed blowhard, and a demanding one at that. Placing the telephone down onto her work bench Naledi inspected it further, bending at the knees and running her half gloved hands over it as if trying to feel for the extent of the damage. The sight of the mangled turret was enough to make her cringe, being a mechanic herself. A spark flew at her face, grazing her cheek and making her grunt in pain. Thanks to her years of expertise in this field, she was able to take a mere spark to the face. Deciding she had had enough, Naledi rose up and retrieved the phone.
"What'd you do this turret, chuck it at a big daddy?!"
"I beg your pardon?!"
" 'Oke, there's countless things wrong with this! The slot where the clip goes is jammed. The wires are exposed everywhere. The barrel is dented. The sensor is damaged. The chamber is clogged with residue. The base itself is a wreck on wheels! Cripes, mate! What ISN'T wrong with the blumin' thing?!"
"Is it POSSIBLE, Ms. Atkins?"
Naledi lets out an insufferable breath and rubs the bridge of her nose in an attempt to quell the rising migraine.
"Yeah, it's possible alright. But the price is gonna go up. It's gonna take some serious scratch to repair this ol' girl."
"Very well. I trust you are pleased with the down payment I left for you?"
Naledi chuckles wryly, her eyes darting over to a spot in the corner of the room where a crate full of bathysphere parts, an empty big daddy suit, a few weapons and four vials of ADAM sat. A smile spread on her face as she thought of the many possibilities she could achieve with all those things.
"Oh, very pleased. Half now, half later, yeah? Alright, it'll be ready in-"
A pan clattering in the direction of the kitchen caught Naledis' attention.
"Ms. Atkins?"
"Bloody splicers! Call ya back, Suresh!"
She hangs up the phone, ignoring the befuddled Suresh's' confused ranting's and cautiously makes her way to the kitchen. She can hear someone mutter lightly as they retrieved the pan from the floor. She comes to the doorway and presses her back to the wall, sidling along until she could get a visual of the assailant. She quickly poked her head around and retreated. Someone was there; she could see a back turned to her. Naledi reaches for her pistol with her gloved hand while her bare hand summoned her plasmid of choice, Incinerate, the man-made Hell fire crackling patiently along her fingers.
Naledi moves closer to the door frame, making sure her booted feet didn't make too much noise. She could hear the other person shuffling about, the sound of cupboards opening and closing, drawers being opened, fingers sifting around for something.
'Damn it all! Another splicer looking for ADAM again no doubt. Stroppy bastards!' The aviator thinks to herself.
Taking a sure breath and gripping her pistol Naledi steps cautiously into the kitchen. She raises her hands and takes aim, her eyes darting around the corners to make sure it wasn't another ambush. No one else is in the kitchen. A lone splicer. It wasn't uncommon but it was a stupid rookie mistake. She narrows her eyes and steels herself, her feet spread apart and rooted to the tile.
"Hold it right there!"
The assailant flinches and audibly gasps out; dropping what was in their hands. A glass shattered this time, an almost empty vial of ADAM Naledi kept in reserve. It was her first vial from when she first came to Rapture.
"OH! Darn it all! Not another glass. Oh, my!"
Naledi saw that it was a woman, much to her surprise. She looked like the homely kind, her shoulder length black hair curled at the nape and around her jaw. She wore a light blue dress that looked worse for wear and a filthy apron at her front. She was bare foot, dried dirt stuck to her feet and shins like she had ran through a patch of mud. Her eyes were wide with surprise and she could see electricity crackling along her forearm. She looked normal enough but the physical evidence of ADAM present in her system was there, faint as they were.
She could see that the woman was unarmed and lowered her weapon but remained on her guard.
'Oi, what's this Sheila on about?' Naledi wondered to herself.
"Who are you? How'd you get in here?"
The woman looks up and notices Naledi for the first time and smiles brightly, like she had found a long lost friend.
"Fred darling! There you are!"
She leaps over the shards of broken glass in a single bound and glomps Naledi, embracing her tightly and desperately.
"W-Who?!"
The confused aviator chokes out. The woman laughs in delight and squeezes tighter, her arms nearly snapping Naledis' arms. She could feel her rib cage being pressed against her lungs.
"Oh, Fred! Honey, I'm so relieved to see you!"
Naledi struggles out of the woman's' embrace and raises her arms, aiming her pistol at her.
"Answer me! Who are you and how did you get in here?"
She looked aghast, almost insulted.
"Oh, my word! Fred, did you hit your head? Darling, it's Barbara, your wife! Oh, poor thing! Here, sit down for a bit."
Barbara took a gentle hold of Naledis' arm and led her to the table in the dining room, her demeanor changing instantaneously from insulted to concern. The table was small and simple, like an oversized TV dinner tray. Naledi was confused as Barbara took her face in her hands and looked over her.
"U-Uh..."
"Hmm, no bumps or bruises. Are you feeling alright, dear?"
"Um, Barbara was it? Listen, sweetheart. You've got the wrong-"
"Fred, honey, please!"
Something in her veins made Naledi look into the woman's eyes. She was pleading with this "Fred" person, not Naledi. She could see Barbara was on the verge of hysteria, her eyes shining with moisture. She felt something echo in her veins. Naledi holstered her weapon and calmed her Incinerate plasmid. She felt calm now but still greatly confused.
"I'm...fine, Barbara, Love. See?"
Naledi stands up and jogs in place, plastering a fake smile on her face.
"Fit as a fiddle! Healthy as a horse!"
Barbara's eyes immediately perk up and her face beams, clapping her hands in delight at seeing "Fred" alright.
"Marvelous! Oh, I'm so glad you're alright, dear! You had me worried something happened to you while you were at the market."
'Market?' Naledi scrunched her brow before she feigned clarity.
"Actually, I forgot what I was supposed to pick up."
Barbara giggled knowingly and took out a folded paper from her front apron pocket.
"You forgot the list again, darling."
Naledi blinked and chuckled sheepishly.
"R-Right. Sorry, Barb."
"It's okay. Here, now get going, Fred Johnson! Any longer and dinner will be a late one."
Naledi nods and takes the paper from her. She looks at her hands and sees the gold band on Barbara's' hand. Her hands were lean and dainty, just like a house wife. Her ring shined even in a dark place like Rapture. She felt pity for her and smiled sadly.
"Yes, dear."
Naledi rose from her seat, grabbed her satchel and went out the door.
::::::::::::::::xXx:::::::::::::::::::
Naledi let her mind drift as she tinkered in the underside of her bathysphere, trying to soak in the last two hours as she retreated to her safe haven that was her in-flat garage. She had silently scurried away from the kitchen when she had returned to the apartment with the things Barbara had asked for.
Once she had ventured out into the farmer's market, she was completely lost as to what she should do next. There was nothing left in the market (that was edible anyway) so she hacked a few vending machines and brought back a full satchel of snack cakes, pep bars, chips, cans of sardine, potted meat and bottles of pop-up cola, The end result being a sardine casserole baking in the oven, along with a pep cake for dessert.
Naledi wondered if Barbara really had a child with her but so far, she saw no evidence of a child's presence. As she worked with the under-side of the engine, the smell of the food wafted into her nostrils. The scent was a plethora of aromas, mainly the savory smell of the fish baking, followed by the almost overpowering aroma of the sweet smelling cake. It was nice and made her belly groan with hunger. Still, today was one, big confusion.
"What the hell's going on now-a-days? Everything an' everyone's gone completely bonkers!"
The mechanic grumbled to herself under her breath as she disassembled a pipe containing the oil tubing. Pinching the open oil tube between her index finger and thumb she used her ungloved hand and blindly searched for a vice that was supposed to have been near-by.
"Splicers are invadin' my place, grubby stuff-coats demanding repairs, people goin' insane! Maybe this place isn't what I-"
Her fingers fell on something foreign, not at all on cold steel as she was expecting. Curiosity made her hand roam upward as the foreign object moved closer in order to accommodate. The surface was warm and smooth, soft to the touch against her calloused digits. It baffled her; Naledi never had anything like this in her assortment of tools. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she scrunched her nose as her fingers continued to roam. Her fingers slid up a curve and gripped it lightly. The object flinched and she felt something shift beneath her fingers, the subtle movement reminding her of a muscle flexing. Instinctively she squeezed it. A throaty and husky giggle made Naledi freeze in alarm.
"Oh, my! Fred, you animal! Stop that, you big silly!"
"Oi! What the F-"
As Naledi let out a start, she accidentally releases the tubing she had in her other gloved hand, making the oil flow heavily over her face and upper torso. She sputtered loudly, her hands trying in vain to stop the flow of the dark fluid as she gasped out obscenities crude enough to make even the hardiest of sailors blush. Her booted feet flailed about, stomping angrily as she struggled with the oil.
"OH! My word, Fred. Such colorful vocabulary!"
"Ack! B-Barbara! Guh-Gimme…pbbbttthhh! Puh! Gimme the clamp! Agh! Pbbttthhhh! Ptooouh!"
To her surprise (and much to her annoyance) Naledi was able to get out a few coherent words in between streams. Barbara looked around in a panic, seeing the oil beginning to pool around "Fred" like a mud puddle.
"Oh dear! Fred, darling, I don't know where the clamp is! It's getting hard to see the-Oh! Here we go!"
She turned around to find the clamp sticking out of a black steel tool box. Bending at the knees Barbara retrieves the device and, tiptoeing around the ever flowing oil and scattered tools, hands the clamp over to "Fred".
"Here it is, honey!"
Naledi snatches the clamp out of Barbara's hand and struggled to close off the open tube. It wasn't the pressure of the flow that was the problem, but it was the lack of friction. To make matters worse, she had not placed her goggles over her eyes but in her distraction (and desperate need to distance herself from the happy home maker) Naledi had left them abandoned on the kitchen counter. She had no choice but to go by her sense of touch.
Her fingers fumbled with the clamp and the tube, the oil making it impossible to get a grip of. Barbara stayed kneeling by "Fred's" side, becoming restless and wringing the front of her apron anxiously. After what seemed like hours, Barbara no longer heard the heavy splattering of oil. Tiny drops could still be heard, as well as a few splatters and uncomfortable raspberries. The booted feet no longer flailed and Naledi let her arms drop to her sides.
With her bare foot, Barbara pulled "Fred" out from under the bathysphere engine, the wheels of the body board making a grinding noise against the floor. At an eerily calm speed Naledi sat up and propped her elbows on top of her knees.
"My word, Fred! You're a mess!" Barbara exclaimed.
Naledi slowly, almost menacingly, turned her head towards the woman kneeling beside her. Her entire face was covered in thick oil, along with entire upper torso. She raised her hands and wiped away the oil covering her eyes and threw the excess fluid into the puddle at her feet, finally able to open them to look at the woman.
She turned her head slightly to her side to spit out some oil that had gotten into her mouth, and then blew out the oil in her nostrils, making a crude snorting sound that made Barbara cringe slightly.
"Looks that way, sweetheart." She answers sarcastically.
Not catching onto the biting sarcasm Barbara helped "Fred" to "his" feet, chittering worriedly about the mess and the oil stains that were setting in. Suddenly Barbara let out an over exaggerated gasp. Well, it sounded over exaggerated to her anyways.
"Oh, no! The casserole!"
She released Naledi's arm and darted out of the garage, the sudden movement making Naledi lose her balance and caused her to fall flat on her back with a loud thud that gave the ground a brief shake. Groaning, she rakes her hands over her face and inwardly roars "WHY ME?!"
::::::::::::::::xXx:::::::::::::::::::::::::
She could hear Barbara humming from the dining room as she set the table. The sound of heavy clattering could be heard, as well as careful scraping against metal and ceramic surfaces. And all the while, the woman hummed an unfamiliar but sickeningly sweet tune that was overbearingly cheerful. From the corner of her eye Naledi saw Barbara peek her head out from the doorway, finding it hard to miss that ear-to-ear smile of hers. The woman was just too damn happy to put into words.
"Thank you for setting the table, Fred darling! I'd ask Susie to do it but she's out with a friend at a play date."
Naledi had just finished setting down the last piece of whatever utensils she owned when she noticed Barbara standing right beside her, a slightly confused look on her face.
'The woman just bloomin' materializes!' She thought to herself. The last sane piece of her mentality was hanging by a thread, if not a hair.
"I-It was no problem."
Barbara beamed and went back into the kitchen. Naledi followed behind and helped carry out the plates of food to the table. Having just come out of a much needed shower, Naledi was bare foot as well, clad in a plain white shirt and a worn pair of overall with the left strap dangling off her shoulder. She didn't even have her aviators cap on, her earthy brown bobbed hair free to breathe and dry.
Barbara came out behind her holding two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of Tate marlot in the other. As they neared the table, a small nerve twitched in the back of her head, making Naledi move with no control over her limbs. She held out Barbara's chair for her, with the woman nodding appreciatively and taking her seat.
"Thank you, dear."
"You're welcome, Barb honey."
Well, there it was. The proof of all her senses swirling down the loo along with a few "logs", some vomit and whatever other excrement was swirling down with it. Every rational thought, reason and coherent logic just shot to the pisser. This was INSANE! She was catering, and being catered, by a polite intruder and she was involuntarily playing along!
Taking her seat across from Barbara, Naledi couldn't help but to feel like a whipped dog. She popped open the marlot and filled their glasses, with hers nearly full to the brim.
"So, Sa- Suh-Susie won't be joining us for dinner?"
Barbara covered her mouth as she took in a fork full of casserole.
"Mmm! The play date, dear."
"Ah, that's right. Little Emily, right?"
"Mm-hmm! Deborah and Howards' little girl."
"That's nice. Haven't seen Howard in a while. I think it'll be time for another poker night soon."
Barbara laughed sweetly at that, her hand still covering her mouth.
"You boys and your poker."
Now it was Naledi who laughed as she took a swig of her marlot. Inside, she was ranting.
'WHAT. THE. BLOODY. HELL?! How do I know these people? Who the flying $% # is Howard? Deborah? Emily? And why do I give a damn?!'
Naledi took her fork and dug into the generous helping of casserole. She could taste the pungent flavor of the fish, with the salty taste of the chips and the savory flavor of the cheese.
"Mmm! Delicious, Barb!"
'Shut up! Stop being so familiar with this crazy Sheila! You don't know her! None of these people! Just run her out! Get your pistol or char her ass!'
"Why thank you, Fred!"
'That's not my name, you crazy bitch!'
"And thank you for going to the market for me. I know you just got back from work but I appreciate it."
Naledi merely nodded and washed down the food in her mouth with her drink. Maybe if she distracted herself with her work, she'd be left alone. She still had that turret to finish; otherwise that Saresh will never stop badgering her about it. She has the cables for the re-wiring but she still needed to work out the dents on the frame work; not to mention clean out the residue that was caked on the walls of the chamber. The port was jammed and the sensor was damaged. That one will have to come out of her pocket. But what about the base? The foundation was loose and needed to be-
"Fred?"
Barbara's voice snapped Naledi out of her train of thought, making her shake her head and come back to reality.
"Oi! Sorry, Barbara honey. Just thinking too much."
"Is it work again?"
"Yeah, I got this patch job that needs to get done. Saresh is coming for his turret in the morning, and it still needs a lot of work done to it."
She brought up another fork full of food to her mouth when she felt a pair of small hands come gently down onto her shoulders. Her teeth clamped down on the utensil in her mouth, making her teeth clink against the metal as she felt the small hands begin to work the knots in her shoulders.
Naledi wanted to shove the misguided woman away from her, to get as much distance from her as humanly possible! But it felt relaxing and hauntingly familiar. Her body betrayed her, a tired groan escaping her full mouth as her head rolled to the side in contentment.
"How does that feel, darling?"
Barbara heard "Fred" reply with a full mouth. It sounded like muffled speech but she knew "him" well enough to know they were words of praise. Once again, the woman beamed.
"You know, dear..."
"Mng, yeah Barb?"
"...Susie will be staying over at Emily's for a sleepover. You know how much she's been wanting to have a sleepover."
"Mmn, that's nice. I'm sure they're having a blast."
She heard Barbara let out a throaty giggle as her hands continued to massage her shoulders. The aviator was too relaxed to notice the woman's' hands slowly wandering from her shoulders down to her arms. Naledi was on the verge of falling asleep on the spot until a weird sensation came over her right ear. Her eyes shot open as she realized what was going on. She could hear Barbara speaking in a low and suggestive voice, her timber changing from sweet to husky. Her hot breath grazed the skin on her ear, making it flush.
Looking at the woman, it had never crossed her mind that such a prim and proper house wife could even have the capacity of having such thoughts as what she just whispered into her ear.
With a numb hand Naledi brought her glass up to her lips and downed the entire contents desperately. The blood in her veins began to heat up, making her face and neck flush to a shade of red-pink. That same damning echo reverberated throughout her entire body, dictating her next course of action.
'Oh, no. No No No No No No No No No No No No NO! Don't you dare mo- WHAT'RE YOU DOING?! Hey! HEY! Stupid, don't get up! Abort, pilot! ABORT!'
Her mind was screeching and swearing out a blue streak, even as Naledi followed Barbara out of the dining room, with her hands on the woman's' hips as she giggled that sickeningly sweet giggle of hers.
::::::::::::::::xXx:::::::::::::::::::::
A white gloved hand rapped impatiently on the door that had a gold plated sign reading "N. Atkins" on it. Grumbling to himself, he looked at his pocket watch, reading the roman numerals as 9:15 am. With a low "Harrumph" Saresh put his watch away and knocked again.
"Where the devil is that pi-?"
Just as he was about to pound his fist against the door, it opened to reveal a smiling woman standing in the doorway. She had an air about her that was both inviting and alarming.
"Good morning! Mr. Saresh I presume?"
"Erm, yes. Is, uh, Mis-"
"Oh, Fred will be right out in a moment. If you'll excuse me, I have to go to the market. Have a nice day!"
She waved politely and practically skipped down the hall, satchel in hand and whistling an unfamiliar tune, leaving a confused Saresh on the stoop. Her mind had sickeningly sweet intentions with an overpowering aura that could choke a horse! She gave off waves of delight, love, happiness and...satisfaction. Something about it didn't sit right with him.
A faint squeaking noise could be heard. Saresh whipped his head around to see Naledi wheel out his turret onto the stoop for him to see. His eyes went wide at seeing her current state! She was dressed in her usual pilots' attire but her collar was askew and the ascot was hanging from her neck untied. Her aviator cap was placed haphazardly onto her head, letting her helmet hair stick out in disarray. Her complexion was pale and her entire being was disheveled, but it was two things that made him cringe inwardly.
One was her eyes. Her eyes had a horrified look to them, as if she had spent the entire night screaming at ghosts and fighting off night terrors. They were wide and vacant, staring straight past him but then again, staring t nothing.
The second was her aura. Unlike the woman who just left, Naledi was giving off waves of confusion, emptiness, horror, shame and...and satisfaction. He shudders audibly and tried to keep from showing his uneasiness but seeing as how her mind was shot anyway, he doubted she would take notice.
"Here ya are, Saresh ol' boy. Good as new."
Her voice was hoarse and flat as she spoke through numb lips. Clearing his throat uncomfortably Saresh bent down to inspect the contraption. It was shined to perfection and everything was where it should be. Not a dent to be found, not a wire exposed, nothing. It even had a fresh roll of ammunition strapped into place. It was ready for action! Suresh was impressed with her high quality work, it was better than anything off a conveyer belt.
Pleased with the results Saresh produced a briefcase to Naledi. He opened it to reveal the neatly placed rows of money inside, along with five more vials of ADAM tucked away in their slots. "Here we are, Miss Atkins. As we agreed."
With a shaky hand Naledi took the suitcase with a numb expression.
"Great doin' business with ya."
And with that Naledi silently stepped back into her apartment and closed the door, their business concluded. As Saresh walks away with his turret in tow, he lets out a disgusted shudder and shakes his shoulders to try and stave off the chills running down his spine.
"Even I could not have foreseen that."
-End.
A/N: Ooooookay! Explanation time! First of all, I love the Bioshock series. The story plot, the depth of the characters and even the game play isn't bad either (I suck at shooting games but I love the characters!). When I first started playing the multi-player part of Bioshock 2, I was fascinated by it. Especially the playable characters. I love playing as Barbara and Blanche, but my all-time favorite is Naledi!
Moving on...So! As my interests grew, I wanted to know more about them, so I looked them up. The basis for the plot of this fan fic came to me when I read that Barbara Johnson believes that the war zone is her house hold and the splicers she researches are her family. I crack up when I hear her dialogue when attacking a player in the Big daddy suit. "Stop digging up my tomatoes!" Lol!
But what made me commit this to writing was one thing: A dream. No joke! This entire thing came at me in a warped and awkwardly hilarious dream I had! And I'm not even into "Yuri" (GL-Girl love) or "Yaoi" (BL-Boy love) *shudder* Ugh! Still, it was funny to write. There ya have it, folks! This was a good break from my other works, so I hope you liked it. And as always...
Review, flame, rant, troll, PM, express your deep seeded hatred for me, whatever floats your boat. Just give it to me straight. Ja ne! WOOF!