Hello! This is my first fic, hope you enjoy- it gets dark at times but I also plan on adding that good fluff. Just a heads up, I don't write characters that fall head over heels in the first meeting- sorry! Imo, some time makes it more meaningful, so stick with me and it will pay off ;) Just to make it clear, our big guy below is the same model as Delta from the second game.
He doesn't know much of anything.
He doesn't recall a whole lot of his life before the darkness. Occasionally a flash of lips spreading with joy will grace his memory. If he's lucky, he'll remember the feeling of being touched. A caress against his shoulder, or the gentle pressure of a kiss against his cheek. The memories are a muted watercolor that retreat as quickly as the ocean waves, leaving him with the sensation of feeling, but no evidence to show for it.
His reality has changed. Teeth are bared, not in joy, but aggression. Hands reach out to harm and bullets rather than lips, kiss his skin. The darkness was the medium between his two realities.
The darkness made his skin turn sallow and numb and his voice to fester. The darkness put him inside of this suit, a rivet gun in his hands. It made him almost indestructible while simultaneously enslaving him. To what or to whom, he did not know. He did not know much of anything. One thing, though, that he did know for certain- he must follow his directive. He must protect.
The area- a ruinous market square- is partially submerged due to a malfunctioning airlock. Water wades about his legs as he sloshes through, the heavy suit preventing the moist touch but unable to stave off the bitter chill it carries. Ahead of him walks his directive- a rather rotund man approaching his fifties. Isaac. In this place, the man is a legend- or so he proclaims. He has a rather avid following, proclaiming him the new King of Rapture. He offers them hope in exchange for blind loyalty. Though some, Isaac calls them the Blind, do not see him as such. They call him mad, gluttonous and spoiled by power and riches. This is where his job comes into play. To protect Isaac against the Blind. He does not know why, nor does he care to ask.
They emerge from the waist-deep water onto sturdy marble steps that ascend upward. Isaac tuts at his soaked woolen clothing, muttering about needing to build a bridge soon. He follows dutifully.
Just beyond the market area lays a large church that has been converted into Isaac's own headquarters. Many of his followers mill about there. They call out balefully for Isaac's attention, acting like hounds wagging their tails at their master's return. He graciously waves to them all as he walks through the candle-lit halls to his office.
"Anymore donations, today?" Isaac calls out. Robert, a thin and squirrely man, hastily opens the door for Isaac, gives a wide berth for the thing that follows. "Only some aspirin, a few bottles of fresh water… not much." Isaac grunts as he shoulders off his coat, throwing it on his salvaged desk. "Looks as though I'll have to hold another sermon. They're losing track of what's important around here…"
Though Isaac was an old man with no physical prowess to speak of, he was gifted with agility of the mind. With only a few minutes he was able to turn the remaining people of Rapture into his sheep, following him blindly. They give him food and water and absolute loyalty, he gives them something to look up to, some peace of mind. Isaac is their unwavering North Star in the ever changing landscape of Rapture.
Robert twitches and hastily nods his agreement. "Yes, yes. But… there is something I did not mention." Isaac plunks into his chair and begins to sift through papers scattered on his desk, offering a distracted noise of inquiry. "It's not necessarily a donation. It more just wandered in, sir." Isaac looks up sharply, a crude smile beginning to play at his lips. "Oh? Have you found another?" Robert chuckles and holds his wiry arms out. "What can I say? You know where to look." Isaac lifts himself from his chair hurriedly, scattering papers in his haste. "I don't know how you do it, Robert! Truly a man after my own heart." Robert beams with the praise, running a hand over his slicked back, oily hair as his grin reveals yellow teeth.
Isaac's breath is heavy as he wipes a sleeve across his sweating upper lip. He goes to a large wardrobe in the corner of the office, filled with empty wrappers and a smattering of dead insects. He rests his shoulder against it and begins to push it out of the way. It squeals against the wooden flooring, only moving an inch. Isaac grunts and snaps at him. He lumbers forward slowly, Robert maintaining a healthy distance as he moves. With an effortless shove the wardrobe skids across the room to bang against the opposite wall. Isaac laughs heartily as Robert gives a shocked yelp. "I don't keep him 'cause he's smart, Robert!"
"Honestly, sir… I don't think I'll ever get used to that thing."
"Nonsense. Andrew knew what he was doing when he built these things. Loyal to a fault and damn near bombproof. Stupid bastard wasted them on little girls, though. Not if I have anything to say about it. Now," he snaps hastily at Robert, gesturing to the opening in the wall that was hidden behind the wardrobe. Robert scrambles forward, grabbing a candle from Isaac's desk and fumbling a lighter from his pocket. "Is it any good?" Isaac asks as he receives the candle, pausing before he lights it. Robert looks absolutely delighted. "Best yet, if I say so myself! ... She's fresh from the surface." Isaac grunts his surprise and smacks his lips in anticipation. "You can wait outside the door. Don't let anyone disturb me." Robert hurriedly obeys, leaving Isaac and him standing before the opening. Isaac flips the lighter and illumination is thrown forward.
No, he doesn't know much. And he doesn't remember a whole lot. But when Isaac lights the candle to reveal a dank, tiny room of stone, something brushes against his sleeping mind. The young woman, chained to the wall and gagged, seems so tiny in her tattered dress and stockings. He tilts his head as Isaac begins to theatrically introduce himself, crouching before her as he does. A wolf stalking a sheep. Her shriek is muffled when he reaches pudgy hands to caress her cheek.
That something in his mind whispers erratically. Something is wrong, though he knows not what. His mind hums, like someone speaking underwater. He is helpless, cannot understand it, though it rends his mind with pleas. He makes a sound, soft and low and raises a gloved hand to his helmet. "Hey!" Isaac is clapping at him. He looks down at the round man. His shirt is thrown in the corner and the woman's eyes glisten with tears in the flickering of the candle's light. "I said, move the wardrobe back."
The command pumps his muscles into action. Though his mind scream and pleads, digs its heels in, his body is helpless to obey. The wardrobe screeches across the floor, echoed by the woman's pleas as she stares desperately up at him. Those eyes were already capturing his soul, haunting him with that one look. With one last push of robotic limbs, the wardrobe falls into place and obscures the room once more. Hides her from his view.
As he moves to stand by the door, his mind gnaws and writhes, pleading against numb muscles. A maelstrom of unidentifiable thought clawing at him. He groans softly and reaches a hand once more to his helmet, a helpless gesture that does nothing to ease the chaos in his mind.
It was much less painful when he didn't know anything.