Date: ? Time: ?
Location: ?
The room is nothing more than a badly-lit tomb. Concrete walls with no windows encapsulate its contents. At the center is a rusty metal table, complimented with two chairs sitting opposite each other. A single light hangs from the ceiling, its glow reflecting brightly off the metal surface of the table.
The room is not empty. Someone is in this room, standing just beyond the light. She stands there silently, staring at the table, her eyes squinted slightly.
She is holding something in her hands. She clutches it, as though it were the most valuable object in the world. It is impossible to make out what it is.
She steps toward the table and stares at its surface for only a moment longer. Finally, she slams the object right at the center.
It is a tape recorder.
She reaches forward and stretches out a single finger. Her nails are a bright red color, freshly done. She lowers the finger and pushes down on the rewind button. The cassette in the deck whirs as it turns back, before finally making a heavy noise, indicating it has reached the end of available tape. The woman lifts her finger up, stopping the tape from rewinding.
She moves her hand slightly to the left, positioning her finger directly above the play button. A joint moves: she is about to play this recording. But she hesitates. Does she really want to hear what is on the tape?
Her moment of indecision gives way to impulse as she firmly presses her finger down on the button.
For a moment, there is no sound save for the tape playing.
She moves her hand to the right, positioning her finger directly above the stop button. A joint moves: she is about to stop this recording. But she hesitates.
Before she can even consider her next action, a voice emerges from the tape. She immediately lowers her hand. There is no turning back now.
Hello again. Did you miss me?
We all know the story: there is always a man, there is always a city, and there is always a hero that battles the forces of oppression. Rapture, Columbia…
Well, you know how it was said: so many doors. So perhaps there's another city out there.
We start with a location. Rapture was at the bottom of the ocean. Columbia was in the clouds. What's one location this story has not gone to?
No, we are not setting this on the ground. If you want a mysterious city that's on the ground, I seriously suggest you look for City 17.
Let's try that again. What's one location this story has not gone to?
We go now to the city of Ascension. The concept was first proposed in 2338 by the Board of Improvement, made up of the following people: Zachary Hale Comstock, Sofia Lamb, Andrew Ryan, Jeremiah Fink, and Frank Fontaine.
It's like they say: there are constants and there are variables.
What sets Ascension apart from Rapture and Columbia? Well, for one thing, it did not collapse into a leaderless society doomed to chaos for all eternity. Far from it, in fact. It was considered a model city, and many more exactly like it were created in the years to come. It was based on the capitalist model of many American cities on early 21st Century Earth. Due to improvements in standard of living, as well as affordable housing and employment programs, poverty as you may know it does not exist. A large gap between the rich and the poor, however, does, as well as a surprising crime rate. That is a result of general dissatisfaction among the lower class.
Oh, and it's also in space.
Ascension was completed in 2344, after five years of construction. It maintains orbit around the moon, coming closest at 18,000 miles. It is an environment of its own: financial district, industrial district, theater district, even a museum district. The oxygen is replenished through the various carbon scrubber facilities scattered around the city. Plants are grown hydroponically, and animals are raised in their own sections of the city.
Ascension could easily have turned out as a Marxist utopia. But sadly, the concept of supply and demand, nay, the very idea of being more powerful than another, is what has kept it alive.
The woman on the recording hesitates. She is unsure how to continue.
The woman listening to the recording, however, is completely sure of how to continue. She raises a pistol to her head, presses it against her right temple, and pulls down the hammer. Her index finger curls around the trigger.
But then she hesitates.
The woman on the recording continues, regardless of the other woman's actions.
Well, I guess we need to start at the beginning. It's a couple of years down the line for Ascension, I reckon around 2369…
Saturday, November 29, 2369, 7:23 PM
The Blue Ribbon Restaurant, Midtown Ascension
Andrew Ryan was late for dinner.
The blonde, pale woman in the green dress sat at the booth, staring at the third vodka martini she had ordered. She wondered if she would be better off eating the olives and saving the martini for whenever the famed leader would arrive.
But when would he arrive? He was always blowing her off, saying he had other business to attend. "It's just a little job," he would tell her. "It will only take an hour." And one hour easily turned into two, then three, until finally he would notify her he was not coming.
The mere thought forced the woman to down her drink, olives and all.
The Blue Ribbon, one of the city's finest establishments, usually sported huge crowds and noisy patrons, especially during the holiday season. Tonight, however, seemed to be a quieter one. Only half of the 48 tables had patrons at them.
It was clear the woman was not the only customer waiting for someone. Across the floor in another booth sat a dark-skinned woman in a very crisp-looking suit. She was nervously tapping her foot on the carpet floor and looking at her watch. It was obvious she was waiting for someone.
The woman's surreptitious observation of the other patron was interrupted by the arrival of her waiter, a young man named Dale who was all too familiar with this particular customer.
"Would you like another drink, Ms. McClintock?" he asked her. "Or perhaps an appetizer?"
Diane McClintock looked at the empty glass. It didn't matter how much vodka she put into her: the frustration at being blown off by Andrew Ryan would leave her sober for weeks.
"I think I'll just order," she replied dully. "The lobster canapé and the seared scallops."
The waiter nodded. She ordered the same thing every time. "Right away. Would you also like to order for your plus one?"
The woman in the other booth abruptly slammed her fist against the table, startling Dale and Diane. With a sigh, she pushed herself out of the booth and promptly walked out of the restaurant.
The waiter shrugged. "These reporter-types…always so jumpy. Are you ordering for your plus one, Ms. McClintock?"
Diane looked at the empty spot next to her. "No, it'll be fine. I think it's just me for tonight."
The waiter gave a sympathetic sigh. "Better luck next time, I suppose."
Diane ignored him. "I'm goin' out for a smoke."
"Alright, but hurry back, your appetizer will be ready soon."
Andrew Ryan's abandoned girlfriend pulled a small cigarette from her purse. "It'll be a quick one." She pushed herself out of the booth and rushed toward the door.
The waiter shook his head as he headed to the counter and inputted Ms. McClintock's order. It was the same old story: Diane McClintock would wait for her date, one of the most powerful people in the entire city of Ascension, eventually lose faith, and would eat her dinner by herself. At first it was sad, but now it was routine.
"Ryan's skipping out on her again, huh?" a line cook (a stout woman named Laura who sported an obviously mechanical arm) observed. "The silliest girl in Ascension, waiting for the date who'd rather have a two-minute romp than a full date."
"You know it," Dale replied. "I need one order of lobster canapés and the scallops."
"Coming right up." Laura started to move, but she thought of something that gave her pause. "Hey, ten bucks he shows up tonight in the next half an hour."
"You're gambling again. You know what Mr. Cohen says about gambling in his restaurants."
"Ten bucks. Take it or leave it."
Dale laughed. "You're on."
The neon sign for the Blue Ribbon restaurant flickered in the dark night, casting an eerie glow on the street.
Below it stood Diane McClintock, who was putting on her gloves in a bid to warm up her fingers.
She held up her cigarette. "Light, please."
There was a small buzzing sound, and a small contraption floated down from above. It spun around in the air a few times before positioning itself directly under Diane McClintock's cigarette. With a slight hiss, a flame appeared on top of the robot, lighting the tobacco-filled paper. Its job done, the contraption floated away into the streets.
Diane started to breathe in the smoke, but was interrupted by a loud tapping noise coming from the alleyway next to the restaurant, as though someone was running. Curious, she put down her cigarette and slowly approached the corner.
From out of the darkness stumbled the woman from the other booth. She looked horrified.
"Is something wrong?" Diane asked.
The woman merely stared at the bystander, still in horror. There was something about her that looked familiar.
"Hey!" Diane exclaimed, snapping her finger. "You're that journalist for The Ascension Reporter! Fitzroy…Daisy Fitzroy, right?"
The woman's eyes widened, which considering how wide they were before was quite a feat.
That was when Diane realized something: Daisy Fitzroy's hands were caked with red.
"What…" Diane looked up at the reporter. "What did you do?"
Fitzroy bit her lip. "I swear to god, it wasn't me!"
Diane was taken aback. "What wasn't you?"
Fitzroy waited a moment longer, as though she wanted to give more explanation. But pure fear overtook her, and she ran off down the street, away from the restaurant.
Diane had a sudden fear of whatever Fitzroy saw in that alleyway. She wondered if it would be better for her to just go back into the restaurant and pretend she saw nothing.
But her curiosity got the better of her. With a deep breath, she peered around the corner into the alleyway.
One light, stationed above the fire exit to the Blue Ribbon, illuminated the scene. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground was what Diane at first thought was a massive pile of purple clothing. But what set it apart from the mess she and Ryan left after their late night romps was the pool of blood surrounding it.
Diane felt a demand to step closer, somehow knowing what she was about to find, yet still hoping it was something else.
It did not take very long for her to realize it had hair, a dark almond color with streaks of grey running through it. It was laid out across the ground in a haphazard design.
Diane McClintock was staring directly at a dead body.
Her gut reaction was to scream, which she did without hesitation. But her curiosity was not satisfied—she needed to know more.
Carefully, she stepped around the pool of blood and knelt down by the head of the corpse. Taking a deep breath, she reached out her hand and gently lifted the body up by the hair.
It was a woman. She looked to be in her late 40s or early 50s. Her mouth was permanently fixed in a state of shock, her eyes frozen wide, her pupils dilated: she had been dead for quite some time now. Diane's gaze fixed on the long slash mark across the woman's neck, no doubt the cause of death.
But this was not why she found the death so horrifying. No, no, she knew this woman. She had seen her at Ryan's elaborate parties. She had seen her walking out of city hall after huge meetings while Diane herself waited for her boyfriend to come out.
Ms. McClintock's thoughts were interrupted by some loud footsteps coming from outside the alleyway. She looked up in time to see two figures emerge from around the building corner.
"Diane, there you are!" one of them shouted. She realized to her shock it was Andrew Ryan. "The waiter said you would only be a moment."
"He showed up," Dale growled. "Now I owe one of the line cooks ten…" he trailed off as he realized what was on the ground. "What the hell?!"
Ryan looked down at the crumpled heap, then at his partner. "What…what is th—"
Diane realized to her horror she was still holding up the corpse's head. She quickly dropped it down. "I—I had to see who it was…"
The Ascension co-founder quickly ran over to his date and pulled her up from the ground. "Diane, move away from the body! Dale!"
"Right away, Mr. Ryan!" The waiter pulled out a small phone and began pressing several buttons.
Ryan gripped Diane's shoulders. "Are you alright?"
"There's…so much blood," she said quietly.
Dale was now on the phone. "Operator? We've got a body lying in the alleyway next to the Blue Ribbon."
"I know her."
The waiter joined Ryan in his puzzled expression. "What?"
Diane's eyes widened as she made eye-contact with her date for the first time. "Ryan…that's Brigid Tenenbaum!"
He stared at her, as if what she just said was a joke. Then, a slow look of horror crept across his face. Nervously, he stepped towards the body and bent down to look directly at the face, now exposed to his view from Ms. McClintock's investigation.
Brigid Tenenbaum, one of Ascension's finest scientists, noted philanthropist, and the well-known humanitarian, was lying sprawled out on the ground in a dark alleyway with her neck slashed.