A/N: This is for the Biokink meme. This new project has turned into a multichapter monster, so it may take a little while for the plot to pick up. But as this is my current baby, I promise it's gonna be good. Please read and review; it really does help me in the long run!
Prompt: The lighthouse is buggered to hell and back, but parts of it still stand. Within it, a bathysphere has bubbled to the surface, and it's in surprisingly good condition for it's age. Someone from the surface, maybe a descendant of Jack's(or a child of one of the Little Sisters he raised in the Good Ending) finds the audio diary entries in his great grandad's items and written entries from Jack himself and becomes curious. They set out, and manage to find the remains of the lighthouse with a working bathysphere inside.
They descend into what remains of Rapture, and find that there are still splicers(though very few of them) and a handful of Big Daddies. The splicers have evolved and are vastly different from those in the original story, but surprisingly, there are a few who are very much human at the core and they're looking for answers in the rotting city. The main kid meets up with one of these more rational splicers and they adventure through Rapture.
The Fill:
"Lady, are you sure this is the place? It looks…really deserted." The boat's driver asked warily, peering from his station at the wheel to the woman—girl, really, he thought, she had to have been twenty years his junior—standing at the bow. She's dressed warmly, but not warmly enough for the middle of the fucking Pacific ocean, he observed, noting her tennis shoes, jeans, and too-large jacket, the army-green hood pulled up to shield her ears from the wind. She turned to face him, young face split into an eager smile.
"Yessir, this has to be it!" She called back, brushing a strand of dark brown hair from her face. Turning back around, she sighed, staring at the lighthouse rising from the cold waters like a monolith. It was even more worn than Granddad had described, she thought, but forty-plus years would do a number on anything out here. She slung a small backpack from its place on her shoulders to pull a journal from its depths. Yes, this was it. The sketch was spot-on, all descriptions in place. This was it. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slipped the book back into the bag and returned it to her back.
Months before, she had been in her grandfather's attic looking for a book he needed and had found a trunk pushed into the far corner where she had never seen it before. Within, she found several black-and-white photos, scraps of paper, a few grimy masquerade masks, quite a few odds and ends, a shortwave radio, and a tape recorder along with several tapes. Playing these tapes had told her something she had never known before. Her grandfather, sweet and caring that he was, had been hiding something. He never spoke of being a child or growing up, just tales of raising his adoptive daughters and nieces, all of which were within three to five years of each other. This place, this…Rapture these tapes all told of, fascinated her to no end. She had asked her mother about it first, but her questions were avoided with what was startlingly similar to fear. And of course when she asked her Granddad, she only got one response: "Forget what you've found, Alice. Don't think about that place. It's dead and gone, and holds nothing but nightmares and bad memories. Now wash up for dinner, sweetheart."
Of course, she couldn't just forget about it. She would sneak back into the attic to listen to those tapes over and over again, learning what she could. Sadly, she couldn't deduce much, even with the rest of the trunk's contents to go by. But with a little guessing, a lot of research, and an advertisement on the internet, she was able to use some of the money she had saved away to sneak off and check it out in person. She felt drawn to this place, she realized, staring up at the great structure. She was meant to be here.
As the boat approached the set of stairs that led to the base of the lighthouse, she observed that the top several feet of the structure had eroded and crumbled away into the sea. Obviously, Granddad was right about one thing. This place was hardly well-kept.
"All right, lady, we're here." The driver called to her warily, letting the boat idle at the base of the stairs. "How long you gonna be?"
"Not long," She fibbed. She had no idea what she was getting into. From the looks of it, this was only a rusted old lighthouse. It could be nothing. It could be everything. The prospect of discovery sent a shiver of excitement running up her spine. "If I keep you too long, I'll pay you extra for the trouble."
The man wasn't looking for money, he thought, looking up at the old building warily. He was concerned for this girl's safety. She looked barely out of her teens, and he knew from experience that whatever she was after, she most likely hadn't thought this through. He wasn't sure why he was so concerned for this stranger—maybe it was because her eyes were green, much like his own daughter's—but this whole situation just rubbed him the wrong way. "All right," He said after a moment. "But if you're not back in an hour, I'm comin' in after you. Places like this, you never know how stable they are."
"Thank you, sir," Alice smiled, wiping her wind-reddened nose. "But hopefully this shouldn't be too long." Before he could try to stop her, she hopped off the boat's edge onto one of the bottommost stairs and starting the trek upwards.
A great set of double doors stood at the top, carved into an art deco motif of what must have been Atlas holding up the earth. Odd, she thought, taking a moment to take it in. The original color of the metal was lost in the pitted, oxidized sheen it bore. One door stood ajar. The girl slid her fingers in the crack and gave the great thing a tug, but it was stuck fast. Wrenching and prying gave little to show for it, but eventually it gave about a foot with an ear-splitting screech before no amount of effort would budge it further. If she turned sideways, she discovered, she could just barely squeeze in. Casting a glance to the boat below, she turned back to the door and peeked inside. Only darkness. "Here goes nothing," She muttered, trying to hearten herself and only feeling cheesy for using the line at all. She slid the bag off of her back, holding it in one hand as she inched her way into the room beyond.
The boat driver watched her, shifting a little in his discomfort and resigning himself not to get involved until it was necessary. This wasn't his problem. He'd taken the job, that was it. These thoughts flew from his mind when the door she had just entered slammed closed with a speed that was too great for its dilapidated state, separating his client from the outside world. At the edge of his hearing, beyond stone and metal, he caught a shrill scream.