Description: Jack wakes up alone in Rapture after the events of BioShock. He needs to find out what happened and a way out, and he thinks he's found both when he meets a certain Little Sister, one of the many left behind by Tenenbaum in the less accessible parts of the city. He's got a plan and she's got knowledge that will prove to be very useful, but it'll take nothing short of a miracle to survive the trip when one of them practically has no idea what's going on and the other has conflating morals. Did he mention the crazy drug-addicted psycho who's hot on their trail?
A note: I was inspired to write this fic by UberVenkman's story "Burial at Sea: Buried Alive." It is an amazing piece of work, and I would highly recommend reading it for anyone who's interested: s/10291349/28/Burial-at-Sea-Buried-Alive. It's a good read, and for anyone looking for an Elizabeth-centric "escape from Rapture" story, I don't think you'll find a better one; personally, it's one of my favorite fics. With that said, let's get the ball rolling!
Jack Ryan is, for lack of a better word, fairly pissed.
...Actually, there are quite a few, much more descriptive words that could describe Jack Ryan right now. Furious. Annoyed, perhaps. Definitely resentful. Fuming, for sure. Indignant, exasperated, outraged. 100% bitter. Very vexed.
Fairly pissed.
He'd gone through all this trouble, all of this heartbreak, indignation, and just downright bullshit that to wake up, alone, with nobody else in sight and his whole body feeling like shit, next to his greatest enemy's slain corpse was just insulting.
What the hell had happened? He doesn't know. Maybe if he takes a good look around his memory will come back to him, or at least piece together what had occurred. Figuring that now was as good a time to start as any, he makes to stand, immediately wincing as he does so. Yep. Definitely something broken, he thinks, shaking his a little to clear the pain. A terrible decision, as it turns out, because that just makes it that much sharper. He winces again, hissing in pain as he blinks rapidly to clear his blurry vision. He finally stands all the way up, shifting so that he's favoring his right leg instead of his left-he can tell that his left ankle is at least twisted, if not broken. The pain that shoots through his leg as he takes a small step forward only serves to reinforce that idea. He sighs in frustration and sits down again, using the ground as a seat.
What do I spy with my little eye?
Well, not much. The elevator is barred, but he already knew that. He'd heard it lock behind him when he'd come in to confront this bastard. He figured, though, that he'd be able to get out again once he'd finished his task-from his current vantage point next to the said bastard it doesn't look like it's been tampered with since then, but maybe if he got a closer look some minor but vital vandalism would be visible. For now, though, it looks good enough, and holds no further interest to Jack, so he turns his attention elsewhere in the room.
There's a hacked security camera behind the raised dais that Fontaine had run to whenever he'd needed an ADAM recharge. It's hanging off its hinges and looks far too damaged to be of any use to him, so he overlooks it and the dozens of corpses that its wrath had caused. Although...the corpses do give him an idea. He doesn't bother standing up again, knowing that he would never make it on his own busted ankle. Instead he crawls over to the nearest corpse and begins rummaging through the pockets. He finds nothing but a long past-expiration date candy bar and a flask of wine, the latter of which he decides is not to his liking and so pours out. He keeps the flask though.
So it goes for the next twenty or so minutes, Jack fumbling along the ground to the next nearest body and searching for any kind of weaponry (his own had apparently either been completely trashed in the fight with Fontaine or out of ammo, the latter of which he finds very little of here). He does find quite a bit of cash, though, so if he can limp his way to one of those miracle health stations he can patch himself up. The thought doesn't do much to comfort him. After all, he still has no idea what had happened aside from a faint recollection of the end of the battle, when he had bludgeoned Fontaine to death with his wrench before supposedly passing out himself. He also has no way out of here, as upon closer inspection there appears to be no way to unlock the gate that guards the elevator. Maybe he can pry it open, given the right tools, but he doesn't see anything potentially useful lying around. Unless.
A crowbar would probably work, he reasoned, eyeing a dead splicer nearby who had one clutched in his hand. Even if it was used for bludgeoning skulls first.
Jack makes quick work of the distance separating him from his prize, cursing when he accidentally puts pressure on his injured ankle. Hissing through the pain, he soldiers on, only stopping when he reaches out an arm and his fingers barely brush against the cool metal of the bloodied crowbar. He fumbles for a bit, not able to move up much farther on his own. He tries wiggling his hips upward to give himself a bit of momentum, just enough to get a grip on the iron and pull it towards him. It takes a minute, but he finally manages it, using his fingers to push the opposite tip towards him so he can grab onto the curved end and claim it.
With the crowbar in hand, Jack sits up and surveys his surroundings one last time, assuring himself that there is nothing left that could possibly be of any benefit to him before stumbling to the elevator and putting all of his strength behind the crowbar as he tries to push the metal gate up and out of the way. In the end he actually has to step on the damn thing and jump repeatedly to get it to move at all. When it finally does, Jack sighs in relief, glad that something finally went right today. He shuffles into the elevator, taking great care to put as little pressure on his ankle as possible when moving. Thankfully, the button still works, and soon Jack is heading back the way he came, past already killed splicers and Big Daddy corpses. It's...unusually quiet, this time around. It worries him. Before, when he had been escorting one of the Sisters this way, there hadn't been a moment's rest. Every second he stopped to breath was a second that he was not guarding the girl, and she could end up dead.
Everything Jack had been bred to believe is a lie. Nothing had been spared from the truth, not even his own personal beliefs and morals that he'd thought he'd had. Everything he thought he'd known about good and evil, wrong or right, had turned out to be nothing more than an elaborate con. He himself was no more than, as Suchong had so eloquently put it, a human jukebox, ready to play whatever tune Fontaine pleased.
Emphasis on the was.
I'm not some marionette that Fontaine can just jerk around, Jack thinks angrily as he limps his way through Point Prometheus, carefully avoiding the various security cameras and lurking splicers that he had not paid attention to before, too cautious with the child to take any risks. Not anymore. Fontaine is dead, and my strings have been cut. No one left to reattach and pull them. Not anymore. Never again.
He knows the thought should bring him something pleasant-victory, perhaps, because despite everything or happiness of some kind. Maybe some sense of relief that his "purpose" has been fulfilled, and once he gets ahold of Tenenbaum and gets out of the place, he can get away from all of it and live somewhere quiet-maybe a farm way out in the middle of nowhere, with no one to bother him so he can live out the rest of his days in peace. That doesn't sound like him, though. The quiet life never was for Jack Ryan. But, he reasons, maybe that's just my programming.
As he makes his way through the area, picking off splicers if he has to and hacking security cameras, he can't help but wonder where Tenenbaum and the girls are. He most likely would have heard by now if they were in danger, and it was out of character for Tenenbaum to offer any sort of commentary on his current actions unless they could get him killed or something equally damnable. Perhaps his radio had been damaged in the fight? This thought hadn't occurred to him, and since it seems the most likely explanation for her radio silence, Jack unhooks the radio from his belt and looks it over, ducking behind a wall for cover as a nearby security camera sweeps the area.
Almost no new damage has befallen the small object, and Jack frowns as his questions remain unanswered. That rules out fault equipment, then, Jack thinks a bit bitterly. Why can't something go right just once? Is that so much to ask?
He studies it again. The signal lights are on, and none of the buttons have been smashed. Some bits of the radio have broken off, yes, but nothing important as far as Jack can tell. He's starting to worry that something has happened to the girls and Tenenbaum. He can think of no reason for the German doctor to give him radio silence now, not when Fontaine has been slain and Jack is no longer...well, he doesn't want to think about that, but the thought does give him pause. Tenenbaum wouldn't have done that. Would she?
Fearing the worst, Jack decides that he needs to get back to the Sanctuary as soon as possible.
It's abandoned when he gets there.
With the exception of some rusted pipes sticking out of the walls and stains on the carpet, it doesn't look as though anything interesting ever happened here. It certainly doesn't look like it used to be a haven for little girls, at least not until he gets further inside. He makes his was to the room he woke up in after finding out about Fontaine's betrayal and finds it deserted, as expected, but not quite so empty as the rest fo the place. Jack's initial fears are assuaged temporarily-it doesn't look as though the place had been massacred, now or ever-but those fears flare up again extremely quick after stepping a bit further into the room and tripping over something and landing face-first onto something soft.
Soft?
He gets up quickly, expecting a fight, but there's no one there besides himself. Confused, he looks around, and feels his stomach fill with dread as he realizes that this room is also abandoned, but if you you didn't know it, you wouldn't be able to tell. Various children's toys litter the floor in various places, some still positioned as though the children had simply left for a snack and were going to come back any moment. Most of the tall towers and little houses made of the building blocks still stand, though some have been knocked down by an unknown force, possibly unsteadiness or another child. Stuffed animals, mostly bears, sit in a circle near one of the corners of the room, obviously having a meeting of some sort, with some of the dolls in attendance. A fair few are missing their body parts such as heads, arms, and legs. Chalk is also scattered far and wide, the colored sticks having been used to decorate the non-carpet areas of the floor with crude drawings of angels and Big Daddies, along with some things that Jack couldn't make out but appeared to be pleasant enough. There are half-eaten snacks on the table and Tenenbaum's office door appears to be unlocked, which Jack knows would not be so if she or any of the children were here. That more than anything sends chills down his spine. By the looks of it, everyone just up and left as quickly as they could, not wasting time packing everything and transporting it. But why would they need to leave in the first place? And if they did simply up and leave, for whatever reason, why did they leave everything behind? Without context, it looks as though they were in danger and hurried to get out as quickly as possible before the danger could reach them. But what danger could they possibly be in? Fontaine is dead. The girls surely know that, as they helped him defeat the bastard. They should be in no danger. But perhaps they had left before then? Maybe Tenenbaum was taking extra precautions, in case Jack failed...again.
That thought in mind, he cautiously proceeds to the office door, careful not to disturb the abandoned toys as he grips his wrench so tightly his knuckles turn white. His sense of foreboding only grows stronger as he nears it; he reaches out and pushes it open further, fearing the worst. As expected, it too is abandoned; a rotting apple sits on the desk, half-eaten, aside a lamp and a bottle of distilled water. There's nothing else on the desk, not even in the drawers, which have clearly been emptied of anything of value-he would have expected nothing less from her. A cursory glance around the rest of the room reveals that unlike the room outside, it has been stripped clean, save for a small device that closer inspection reveals to be an Audio Diary tucked behind the bed, narrated by none other than Brigid Tenenbaum herself. He presses play, sitting on the bed and holding the diary in his hands as if in a trance.
"*long, drawn out sigh* I don't know what to do about Jack. I have trusted this man with our lives, blindly, stupidly believing that he had a soul, a heart, and that he would not dare to hurt a child, an innocent…*huff* I was a fool. I played a part in his creation; I helped shape him into the man he is today, who is lying still unconscious in the hospital bed outside this room after he learned the truth of who he was. I helped to program his mind and teach his body, his senses, things no man should ever know; I helped program his mind to be that of an assassin's, a cold-blooded killer's-and I expected something different? *low, mournful chuckle* I did all of this...to an innocent, who did not ask to be brought into this world and used like the tool he was shaped to be-and to many others whose names I did not even know-and I felt nothing, only dedication to my work and the thrill of success when the mission was accomplished. But later...later. *another sigh* When I finally came to my senses and starting working on a cure for the Little Ones, I found myself often wondering what would happen to the child...the thing that I helped to create. Would his purpose be fulfilled? Would he indeed return one day, to kill his own father and to place Frank Fontaine on the throne of Rapture? I did not know, and I did not wish to know. I tried to forget, but I always remembered...my hands will never be free of blood, whether it be his or the children I have sworn to protect. *silence for a few moments* I have made this man to be like me-a monster. But perhaps he feels as I used to-dedication to success and determined to crush anyone who stands in his way. Perhaps he too will find redemption-perhaps, unlike me, he will come to deserve it." Her voice becomes strained at the end, as though she is trying not to cry, and there is silence for a few more moments before the tape stops, leaving an ominous silence in its wake.
There are no words appropriate for the whirlwind of emotions welling inside of Jack's chest as the tape comes to a stop. Anger, resentment, regret, sorrow, and sudden fatigue all threaten to overcome him and bring him to his knees. He fights them all, struggling to comprehend what he had just heard and to understand what exactly had happened, but he can't do it. His head is spinning and even though he's sitting he feels like he is about to fall over. He sighs, dropping the diary and putting his head in his hands ruefully as he mulls over the events of the past two days. He doesn't move for a long time.