One Vial, a bioshock fanfic

One vial, approximately six ouches, that's all I have left. I cradle it in my hands as I look about my room. The walls are filled with holes; the shelves (the ones that aren't broken) are bare. The floor is devoid of what had once been filled with lavish furnishings and expensive carpeting. There is nothing left for me here, the only clothes I have left is what is left on my back: a dress shirt and slacks, a red vest, and black shoes with dual holes in each of the soles. "A life, a better life, beneath the sea!" That is what they told me in a conference room on the outskirts of my home town of New York. I had, without hesitation, taken them up on their offers of adventure beneath the deep blue. All I had to do was; purchase a great deal of stock in Ryan Industries and I could move in to my new abode at my earliest convenience. It sounded like a dream. A place where I could do what I have always wanted to do; gloat. All my life, I have longed for an environment that cherishes a man of cultural stature like me. In the world above I was a Hunter by trade. I traveled the world and pitted myself against the ravenous beasts of the most ferocious kind. And I was quite good. I don't mean to be show boating but I was quite good. Sometimes; shooting a Rhino from a hundred yards was unappealing, so I would take on a beast from a closer point. One time I was hunting a Bangle Tiger in India and I had run short of ammunition so, taking a spear from one of my local escorts, I fought and killed the tiger with my bare hands (and a sharp point at the end of a long stick). So naturally, a place where my stories of conquest would be appealing; drew my attention.

But I need something else, something with my vial of ADAM, something I can find in the park! So I leave what's left of my apartment and head out. It's not much of a park anymore since those blasted nature fanatics almost burned the place to the ground! Though it's not much of a surprise seeing how heavily they drink and given the amount of rituals involving fire and its accursed plasmid; that they had managed to nearly kill off all of rapture from lack of oxygen. But the charred corpse that was once Arcadia will serve my purposes just fine.

I don't bother to lock-up. My home, at one time, was filled to the brim with lavish trinkets and bobbles from my many ventures the world over. But once money, and ADAM, became scarce I was forced to sell all that I had to anyone who would buy it, for whatever they could afford to give. Many of these pieces that had cost me vast portions of my fortune to acquire; sold for hardly a fraction of what they were worth at one time.

And now with my stores vacant and my wallet dry, I find that there is only one thing for me in all of my years to come; ADAM. Oh the joys that I can experience from the delightful and sumptuous bounty locked beneath the placid liquid surface. The god-like potential hidden within this red, tainted potion is enough to hinder most men with the smell alone! Yet I, who has given up on all forms of addiction; whether it is drinking, smoking, or sensual, have found myself overcome by the desire…no the NEED of this stimulant! But yet it is more than that, is it not? Once the blood of Thor (or perhaps Hercules maybe even Christ himself) touches my lips or enters my blood, I am lost to it. The pure adrenaline fueled ecstasy that both empowers and stupefies my system takes my breath away, only to breathe life back into me and then some! The charge, oh the power! I am born anew! What life I believed that I had before is now only a shadow in comparison to the splendor found within my altered self now. However there is a fault to be found in me…everything around me has crumbled to dust. Any prestige that I once carried with the mere mention of my name now is forever lost. And although I am completely addicted to this mutation inducing substance; I am free! With every ounce that I consume I become stronger, faster, and happier! With every use I get from the drug; the better the world around me becomes! Oh, if only it would last longer! After a dosage; I would gaze upon myself in the mirror and not see the horrid, misshapen form but what I had once looked like. I would gaze about my apartment and find all of my valuable artifacts exactly the way they were…how glorious! But alas…like all dreams; soon we must wake-up.

I pass by several rooms that have been vacant for months but still I guard my secret as if there are always eyes peering at me from the darkened halls and shattered windows which are poorly covered by ratty, torn bed sheets. I pass by the elevator, since electricity is a rarity in this district (Though Arcadia always seems to have a steady supply); the elevators are a bad idea, even when the power is on. For instance, suppose I take the elevator and on the decent, the elevator loses power and I am trapped within, with only the distraught and restless residents to come to my aide and offer me only a quicker death for my ADAM! So I take the stairs. I live on the third floor and the flight of stairs that transcends between the first and third floors are missing; I have to jump. The jump is effortless as my agility and endurance, though exceptional before my augmentation, now carry Olympian supremacy.

I stick the landing but still impact hard enough to hear a crack in the cement but yet spring from it so fast that one would scarcely believe I even made a connection. And now I'm on the first floor and in a full sprint. Every so often I glance over my shoulder just to be sure that no one is following me. Arcadia's entrance is just ahead and I should be there in less than a minute. But then I hear them. Spider splicers. I despise these mongrels! They seem to always be out for blood. And though I have, on occasion, seen Spiders running with gangs of other splicers; the majority of them simply desire only other Spider companionship.

It is their banter that catches my ear. I take shelter by propping myself against the hallway corner that I had almost emerged from. It is a large and wide open room where the entrance to Arcadia resides but also harbors the voices and if I can't spot the sources before I go in, it would be a poor decision to continue. So from my spot; I listen intently. They speak of ADAM; so immediately my attentions are held. I hear the words "little sister" echo through the halls and immediately I know what they are discussing. They have found one of the legendary "Big Daddies" of Rapture and then, at an absolute .1% chance, this Daddy has with him a Little Sister. And now they wish to kill the metal Daddy and take the Sister. The thought of killing a little girl had, at one time, repulsed me but these little ones are not the small children that they appear to be. These small monsters are not but an empty shell that had once been even vaguely considered human. Now these creatures of darkness have only one purpose; collecting ADAM, the genetic make-up of Rapture. Long ago, these Little Sisters were commissioned to gather the ADAM from the dead of Rapture's citizens. At first the Little Sisters were merely involved in the processing of the dead as the corpses were either cremated or jettisoned into the open ocean. But now they are sent around all of Rapture looking for the dead of the many gang wars or the simple, every day, murder victim. But after Sofia Lamb disappeared from the city beneath the sea; Big Daddy's and their wards have been very hard to come by and the few Big Sisters still alive have been running rampant through the streets, most of these have been hunted and killed for the larger quantities of ADAM that they carry. Oh how I wished that I could have aided in these war parties, most of those involved wound be killed so the bounty would only increase with each death. Though there would be a chance that I would have been one of the ones to die, the payoff in the end would be well worth it.

And of all of the splicers that have been deformed and mutilated by the over uses of ADAM and the constant rearranging and genetic reconstructions by plasmids (the abilities that are allowed access to one's body through the use of ADAM); the Spider Splicers are by far the worst. Though Brutes have grown to grotesque sizes and other splicers can look as though their skin is nearly falling off the bone; the Spider Splicers are the most horrid. They have developed long three-fingered claws at the ends of skinny, lanky arms and legs. Their bodies have evolved a hunched demeanor and their faces have the look as though they have been stretched forth by the nose and into a sharp point. Their eyes have sunken into their sockets and their voice has been raised to a shriek. These creatures use their long, slender bodies, and sharp claws to scale walls and cling to ceilings. Often times they carry sharp weapons that they will throw from a distance, with surprising accuracy.

And after a little bit of critical thinking; I decide that it would be best to avoid them for now (forever, if I can manage) but the idea of avoidance will take me through the next room. I slowly peer around the corner of my wall, almost thinking the Spiders to be expecting me. But as I look on, I see only shadowed figures dancing before an open flame. I swallow hard. I crouch and take off slowly for an overturned rail car to my right as the figures are taking the entirety of the wall to my left. As I pass by the shallow yet open space between where I was and the car; I look at them, the Spiders have all gathered near a large fire coming from a metal barrel. I see something on the ground, a sack of some sorts. It has to be food of some kind, as they seem to now be debating over which one gets first pick. But they dance around so rapidly and chaotically that I cannot get a good count of them, what first seemed like several dozen, now seems to be merely five or six. I reach the rail car and slowly maneuver my way to the front of the car and I look for my next line of cover before I leave. I cannot find anything near. I see a pile of garbage but it is more than twenty feet from me. It's not as if I can simply walk passed them; they will see me and with there being so many of them I could never outrun them or over power them. Though there was a time that I could have stood a chance, a time where I used to delve in plasmids. I, once, had gathered five plasmids in my person and had modified many of them to be more useful (especially in combat). But soon I found that instead of fighting in the wars and the senseless violence that consumed Rapture, I desired to only have the ADAM and have it in my system not use it to purchase tools of destruction and death. For even with simple and rudimentary plasmids, the larger quantity of ADAM means; the more potent the plasmids would be for you. But I only wanted the most amount of ADAM I could gather. So I found a man by the name of Gladius, he specialized in the recycling of ADAM after the Little Sisters retrieved it. He also worked with the removal and trading of Plasmids. It was a desperate time for me (as it has always been since) so I came to him with a deal; all of my Plasmids for all of the ADAM he could spare. He accepted the deal and he gave me the ADAM…all thirty ounces of it! That was a good day. But that much ADAM should not be taken all at once, lest I desire to look like my fellows in this city. I had been very careful with my ADAM usage. And although ADAM affects the whole body, the ADAM can still react differently depending on how it enters the system. Some drink it and therefore, their abdomens and digestive tract can begin to twist and grow in odd ways. Some, like myself, prefer to hardline ADAM. A direct injection of ADAM can be more potent as a drug but also more potent as a mutagen. Wherever the Adam is injected will begin to change, some people who aren't careful will inject multiple times in one place and end up with an enlarged arm, or a twisted leg, and so on. However, I have been sure to inject in a different place every time so that the changes are less. But all that is left of my once great bounty is the single vial now in my inside vest pocket.

I look through a window of the train car and gaze upon the Spiders at the other end of the wide room. The Spiders have yet to notice my presence and I see them all focusing more on the bag than anything else. And…is it moving? The Bag is moving! It's not a bag, it rolls over and I see his face. It's a man dressed in a long trench coat. As he rolls back, the Spiders notice him. One of them kicks him, hard enough to slide him three feet and into the flaming trash can; knocking it away. One of the other Spiders catches the can and slides it back into the man, hitting his head. I see the man go limp as the metal rings off of his cranium. Then another Spider stands over him, raises a hand in the air, extending its three long claws and drops its hand so fast and intense that it pierces the body with a sharp thud. The others all laugh together, hooting and hollering as their brother (or sister, I could never determine between Spider splicer genders) draws first blood and brings its crimson coated digits to its mouth and touches the drips to its tongue. I know what is coming and I also know that there is nothing I can do to stop them. Cannibalism is not a new thing here in Rapture but it definitely puts those who participate in such an act into their own group outside of what little we can call society.

So me, being perfectly aware that my only option is to gain as much distance from them as I can, decide to try for the trash heap almost at the entrance. The trek seems to be almost ten minutes long to me (though it could not be more than a few seconds) as I am too exposed for my own liking and each of my foot falls seems to be thunderous (despite how I have removed my shoes). I slide foot-first to just behind the pile (for fear of noise should I hit the pile directly) however, I underestimated my speed and I nearly slide passed the small hill. I scramble back to the heap and quickly check over the pile fearing that I had surely been seen. But no…they are too busy with their feast. Each of them has drawn blood from their victim and is dancing around their private bon-fire like the tribal hunters of old celebrating their latest kill. The sight of their blood soaked clothes and bodies in the vibrant light of the fire, combined with the dying man surrounded by a pool of his own blood, causes vomit to begin to climb my throat. But I hold it together, swallow hard, and am on my way to the mouth of the park. Instead of risking opening the door; I spot a hole in the wall just next to what would normally be the entrance and dive in.

For an instant, I feel something pulling at my vest, just outside of where I am keeping my vial. "They saw me!" I think. "They're taking it and they're gone!" I fear what will happen when I land, then I hear a tear of something nearby and I crash down to the floor. On the instant that I land, the vial pops from its hiding place and skids along the floor. I gasp as I see it clink against the wall. The fragile container could easily have ruptured at any of these impacts. I am more than relieved to find that, minus some scratches, the glass tube is intact. I frantically reach out take desperate hold of my last bobble as if it needs my constant contact or else it will disappear. Then I remember the snag at my waist coat and look for the one responsible.

The room is empty. I turn back to the hole from whence I had entered and find a piece of fabric skewered on a wooden board that had been jutting apart from the others. I don't believe that it is mine at first but upon looking down to my wardrobe, I see where a hole has replaced a spot where there once was material. I sigh in relief. Then I hear a rustling sound coming from outside. At first I decide that it is simply the Spiders playing with their victim. Then I hear a thunderous clang followed by the shouts and shrieks of the Spiders. I scramble to my feet and peer out the window. What I see I breath-taking.

I can now accurately count six of them. Three of them are latched tightly to a wall and have their weapons razed, two are lying on their stomachs looking in shock, one of them is crushed beneath a four foot wide sewage pipe (which if I am seeing right, has been torn from an empty spot in the ceiling), and all of the surviving members are looking straight ahead, at a young woman standing in the middle of the room. Her feet are bare and she is wearing a spring gown that is about two sizes too small, but has been crudely sliced to alleviate tension and allow proper movement, also she holds a hooded cape in one hand that must have been used to hide how the gown hugs her body. By how she holds it and releases the Cape It seems that she had just taken it off…maybe as an intimidation to the Spider Splicers? Her hair is long, black, and covers her face. Her hands are at her sides and she seems to be meeting all of the Spider's gazes at once. They all seem to be simply eyeing each other over for the longest time and I can feel the tension rising; until she mumbles something. Her voice is so quiet that I can't hear her. But it isn't long before she repeats, louder. "Give me him." The woman says with a soft yet commanding voice. The Spiders just look at her with surprised grimaces, trying to read what just happened or what to do now. "Give him to me, NOW!" She says. This time she raises her right arm to a horizontal poise with her hand outstretched, palm up, and then her whole limb suddenly engulfs in bright orange flame. This action seems to extract some sort of frenzy from the Spiders. The three on the wall all whip their arms across their bodies, sending some sort of projectiles through the air towards the girl. The other two rise to their feet and begin to sprint for her at speeds not humanly possible with their arms outstretched and their hands reaching out, holding large meat-hooks. Without much effort, the woman ducks beneath the first two objects that had flown towards her face, the third comes in low and I am sure that it will wound her in some way but then she stretches out her left arm and the projectile stops; inches from her person. The object is floating in mid-air and I know what is keeping it suspended in air. A plasmid called "Telekinesis." The other two Spider Splicers continue in their charge and are nearly upon the woman, when she use her TK (Telekinesis) hand to whip the meat-hook at one of her assailants, stabbing its neck with sufficient force as to through it three feet through the air and crash it down to the floor head-first with a dull thud that I could feel in the Earth beneath my feet. The next enemy; continuing the charge jumps high for the killing blow. But with a snap of her fingers, the crazed Splicer is set to flame. Even though it has plenty enough force as to reach the girl, the flames are too intense and too sudden so the creature loses its aim and lands with a failed swing, just next to the woman. But still the creature would not go down.

The other three on the wall sprawl towards the ceiling above, either looking for an exit or simply a better vantage point. The woman now turns towards the scalding enemy beside her as the Splicer turns to meet her as well. The Spider screams and begins to swing wildly. The woman dodges to the left, the right, ducks, then quickly jumps back and with her TK arm takes hold of the trash can bon-fire, from across the great room, and slings it through the air so fast that when it hits the Splicer; the can explodes sending sparks in every direction, the Splicer soars through the air and crashes into the derailed rail car, caving in the car and tipping it over on its side.

A whistling sound catches my ear. I look back to the woman and see that the three on the ceiling have thrown more projectiles at her. And instead of her dodging or catching the missiles; she takes hold and pulls over the body of the Splicer nearest to her with TK and uses the Splicer (which may have still been alive, with only a single blade in its neck) as a shield. The corpse catches three blades, then three more. The Spiders on the Ceiling must have run dry. The woman uses her other hand and lights the mangled corpse before her on fire and with a wave of her hand, she sends it flying through the air. The Spiders above try in vain to escape the flaming charge. The body actually hammers one of them then erupts into a fiery vortex that consumes the other two into a flaming dance of death. I wonder what sort of Plasmid could possibly create such a torrent of destruction. Then I see the girl; both of her hands are twisting and turning, one engulfed in flames and the other emitting wave after wave of semi-transparent ripples. I had never seen anything like it.

Finally she brings the twisting vortex down to near ground level, then when the dying screams of the Spider Splicers finally stops; she draws in a deep and exaggerated breath and her arm motions slow. Then without much warning she lets loose a terrible screech from the bowels of someone far more powerful than this small girl could ever look. And at the same time she spreads her arms apart to either side of her body and the vortex explodes exponentially sending crisp bodies in all directions, one of them flies straight to the door where I now hide and I only have a fraction of a second to react before the impact. As the body strikes the frame of the door; shattering whatever glass remained, and also shatters the body into ashen pieces. I try to duck out of the way but I feel sandy bits of Splicer land on my shoulders and in my hair.

Under the blackened bits of human I sit, mostly to stay quiet…or simply in shock. I just saw something impossible. "How could someone so young possibly do what she did?" I think. "Unless she were so infused with ADAM that she would sweat it out of every pore should, she even exert herself." But she has none of the signs of a Splicer. Her features, her body, seems completely normal (perfect even) no, better than normal…she looks enhanced by whatever ADAM she has. Not simply physically or mentally but also her features…her face. Yes, her face. I can see it now. So young and full of life, yet how she wears it…like a mask. She has her nose and eyes scrunched and her forehead is creased in a solid anger. How can she look so alive and at the same time so…lifeless. It's as if her very soul is gone like she puts it away whenever she wants to.

She checks to see that all of her opponents are dead or gone. Then she seems to relax, her expression changes; eases. I hadn't noticed it before but I see her eyes. They were soulless and devoid of any emotion other than hate; now they seem…afraid. She turns towards the corpse that I had nearly forgotten about (the one that the Spiders had all died for) and she begins to move. She starts to walk, then jog briskly, and then sprint with astonishing swiftness. As she passes, she scoops up the cloak that she had dropped moments before the cataclysmic showdown, and continues towards the crumbled man surrounded by blood. "PAPA!" she cries with a voice that does not fit with the body of the one who uttered the call. The sound seems distorted, like someone had heightened it on purpose. I see her grapple her throat with her free hand and she seems to massage it. "Papa!" She cries a second time, only now the high pitch has left it and the sound seems more human. She kneels down to the back of the man; the only illumination is the faint artificial light from above and a still burning corpse in the corner of the room nearest to them. She tries to stir the man but when he fails to wake; she sobs and rests her head on his shoulder.

"What is this?" I think. "Is that truly her father? How could someone like that, care for anyone but herself? She could take whatever she wants. Why does she bother with someone so…mortal?" Those are the only words I can think of. How come she values this man for anything more than his ADAM? But whatever the reason; she cares for him and I would love to get on her good side. So I decide to offer my services, after all; one doesn't travel to the farthest flung corners of the world like I have and not learn a few things. I believe it was in Africa that I witnessed a Swahili medicine man mend a warrior, that had been jabbed several times in the abdomen with a spear, using only a few large bandages, a few herbs, and a needle and thread. Unfortunately, I left before I could know whether the warrior lived or not but I figure that she will more than likely be grateful that someone even tried.

I swallow hard, or try to, for my throat is dry and then stand straight, adjust my waist coat (tucking my last vial securely into a corner of my other vest pocket), slip into my shoes, and push at the dented door that I had been perched behind. I try to be quiet so not to startle her and therefore put myself in harm's way but the door squeaks and coughs at the pressure to open, then swings freely. I feel my face take on a deep grimace that shows my teeth and the rest of my face tightens with my thoughts; "Please don't have heard that. Please don't have heard that!" But never the less, when I look to her; her startled gaze peers back at me. We both stand there for several moments in silence as we attempt to read each other. She with a tear pooling beneath her eye, then runs down her cheek, before pooling again at her chin and me with my face still contoured at my stupidity and still trying not to anger the very powerful girl. Then without warning and all at the same time; her face grows dark, her eyes hating, and her arm flings into and up-turned L-shape, then lights on fire once again, illuminating her face in its fullness. But she does not attack and I seize the moment. "Um…Hello!" I begin. "My name is…is…" I stammer. "Oh my God! I forgot! I forgot my name!" I think; obviously showing my confusion on my face. "We'll just call me…Mr. John." I begin again, but before I can continue she cries out.

"Come any closer and I'll roast you like a duck!" She says, bellowing in a surprisingly deep voice.

"No girl. I don't mean to harm you, I just…just…" I lose the words as her gaze (and her flame) intensifies.

"Just WHAT?" She says, this time unleashing a ferocious screech like she had with the Spiders. I do my best to stand my ground, as I am a great hunter.

"Well, I thought you needed some help. He appears to be in poor shape and I might have some idea of how to get him…better off." I say hesitantly. "Better off? What was I thinking? Better off? Anything is better off than DEAD!" But my words seem to calm her as her flame wavers and nearly dies out. And in the fading light I can still see her face as she studies the torn body before her.

"I…I can't" She says in almost a whisper. "I can't trust anyone else…everyone wants to hurt me."

"But I can help you. I can help him!" I say and point to the man whom she refers to as Papa.

"Papa?" She says in a shaky voice. "But…papa wouldn't want me too. If you get too close, you'll hurt us! I won't let you take him away!" Now tears are streaming down her face and her arm, once inflamed, is now lying on the corpse before her, barely a wisp of flame left in it.

"What? Do you believe that I want his ADAM? I don't want anything from you…see for yourself." I say and reach inside my vest. Of course she raises her arm again and reignites the flames. But I pull the vial out before she can decide whether or not to trust me and hold it out in front of myself. "What are you doing? She'll take it! What if the two of them are scientists or some type of researchers and they are trying to trick you into showing them your stuff?" A voice inside of me screams, it's the ADAM in me. The ADAM is screaming at me!

"But…" she says. My words seemed to have given her pause as she mulls it over. "There is no one "descent" left in Rapture." By the way she says it; I know that the words were not hers originally.

"Well, you're hear right? Are you notdescent? And he, your Papa, is he not descent as well?" This seems to calm her down some. "Perhaps we are all just the last of our kind? Perhaps we are the only good natured souls left?" I try to believe what I am saying; try to give my words more honesty in them.

"No! You'll want something eventually! And we don't have anything! I only have him! And he only has me! I'm his angel! He says it every day so that I can't forget!" She is obviously so confused with the moment and she is obviously still very young, ignorant, and dependent. "Please Papa. Come back! Don't leave me here!" Her eyes are pouring tears and her nose has begun to drip. "I only left for a walk; to the park! I love to see the trees, he went after me but I never made it to the park. I saw a man running past me, something in his hands. I wanted to see it, whatever it was. Papa must have come here looking for me, he got here before me. Oh God! It's my fault, all my fault! Papa!" It was then that I knew that she meant me and that her Papa had assumed she was heading here to Arcadia and beat her to the doors; there he was attacked and possibly killed.

"Please." I say with complete honesty this time. "I only wish to help, when I'm finished, I'll just leave and I will not ask for anything in return." As I speak, I am slowly and cautiously taking steps towards the two of them.

She nods her head but never gives me actual leave to approach. So I do anyways. "I hate this place." She says looking down at her Papa. "Papa says that he'll take me away from here, he says he knows a man with a boat that will take us home."

"That's good." I say. "Going home would be very nice." By now I'm nearly on them. Then the corpse groans.

"Papa!" her head perks up as she looks to his face. Once again he groans, only this time I am able to understand something audible.

"N-no. D-don't let them touch…" Papa trails off and a dark realization hits me as the once fearful and crying girl has twisted and morphed into a beast of hate. And her gaze directs all of that hate towards me in one sharp stare. I realize that he believes that I am one of the ones that attacked him but she just sees it as him fearing me.

"STOP!" She demands. I freeze, not only because of the command but I suddenly feel my wait leaving my feet, I look down to see my feet leaving the ground. The girl continues to look at me with those hate filled eyes and I notice the ripples coming from her hand. I'm being TK-ed. She begins to rise to her feet. Her dress has bunched up in the front from her couched position. And her face shines from the fresh tears, still rolling down her cheeks. "Papa says NO!" And with that she ends with another heart piercing screech and she thrusts her hand straight at me. Suddenly I'm soaring through the air at speeds I had never dreamed. My back is bent and is leading the way as my arms, legs, and head all trail behind. As I am going back-wards, the last thing that I see is the room shrinking in the distance as my spine sharply strikes the door; knocking it loose but not altering my trajectory, nor losing any momentum, I crash through the doors and stream down the hall, my hands are in front of my face, almost as if I am using them to compare and judge distances in my fast travels. I am screaming. Then black.