Stanley's a bastard, but he's a fascinating character.
-Nir
Lamb knows. I always figured she'd find out eventually, but did it have to be today of all days? I had the Daddy take care of all the Sisters and he's heading back here now, and somehow I got a real bad feeling about all of this. I see him walking toward the control booth and something about the way he's holding himself, the way he's staring, and I realize he knows too. I dunno how exactly. Probably some ADAM mumbo jumbo with that Eleanor girl. Lamb did all sorts of stuff to her kid. Wouldn't be surprised if she had some kinda mind link to her Daddy. Either way, Topside remembers, and he's coming here right now.
The door's unlocked. He steps inside. Goddamn, he's big. He wasn't that big when he was a human. Not nearly. What do they do to them to make them so huge? I opened the train up again for him, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought he'd just leave. I'm no fool. I sold his ass to Persephone and he's gonna kill me for it. I'd do the same thing in his position.
I hope it's quick, that's all I'm saying. Sure I'll beg a little. Grovel at his feet. It's all for show. I'm not getting out of this alive. I close my eyes and fold my arms above my neck. There. Nice clean target. One shot to the head and it's over. He can do whatever he wants. Use the drill, the shotgun, whatever. Just as long as it's quick and I don't have to watch.
He doesn't do it right away. Clomps around a little. Picks something up. The diary I left on the counter. There's a click and it begins to play, but it's not gonna tell him anything he doesn't already know. Then it's over. I hear him take another few steps closer. It's gotta be soon. The anticipation's killing me, can't he see that? Can he even see anything anymore? I know it ain't just your body they tinker with when they make you a Daddy. Goddamn, I wish he'd just get it over with. He's drawing it out on purpose, I just know it. Bastard.
Something touches my shoulder and I jump about a mile. Can't help opening my eyes, and there he is, right smack dab in front of me, squatting down and staring at me with that big glowing porthole, like some kinda robot Cyclops. Can't see nothing past the glow. I know he's gotta have eyes in there somewhere but there's nothing but that mindless yellow light. He's close enough that I can hear his breathing. The hell is he staring at? Has he never seen a guy scared out of his wits before? Yeah, right.
He wraps those big, gloved fingers around my forearm and I think, alright, he wants to break my arm. Maybe both of them, maybe my legs too. Let me suffer while I wait for the splicers to find me. But no, he goes and stands, pulling me back to my feet. By now I'm thinking something's not right. Why ain't he killed me yet? Is he playing some demented cat and mouse game? Is this some honor bullshit, not killing a man while he's down? Since when does a Daddy know anything about honor?
He lets go. Takes a step back. Another. He turns his back to me, and I'm half expecting him to suddenly whirl around and pulp my face with that drill, but he doesn't. I watch as he steps out the door and into the train. By now any chance he might've had is way past gone, and I'm alone. Alone and alive. What a sap. What a waste of time. What a fucking waste of time.