The dirty and decrepit, glass domed infirmary was in disorder. Not the loud and out-of-control kind of disorder, but the quiet, nerve-wracking, fearful kind. The occupants all understood what had happened, what had been happening.
The space beneath the glass ceiling held no furniture save for several beds lined up against the walls on either side. That is, if you could even call them beds. The metal frames were coated almost entirely with rust, the threadbare mattresses themselves were all but fundamentally unusable; stained beyond recognition, littered with holes and gashes, and terribly lumpy from uncomfortably uneven springs. They were bare; no sheets, pillows, or even a small blanket to comfort their occupants.
The room itself was beyond unsanitary, showing obvious signs of ten years of absolute neglect. The soiled floors were spattered with blood, worn, and rotted. The glass windows which served as part of the roof and walls were smeared and dirty, the visibility through which was all but completely diminished.
Such was the environment within the walls of Rapture. A whole decade of hell had degraded the once great city, years and years ahead of it's time, into something that was nothing short of a desolated wasteland ravaged by death, insanity, and inhumanity. The city was in ruins. The occupants: equally destroyed.
Scattered around the infirmary were twelve scrawny young girls who, not surprisingly enough, fit in just perfectly with their surroundings. They were clothed in nothing but tattered dresses tainted with numerous bloodstains. Their feet were bare, the skin of which was completely hidden beneath layers and layers of the same matter that covered their dresses. Yet more crimson stains could be seen over the remainder of their small bodies. Their hair, matted tangled and dirty, was tied back in ponytails adorned with bows just as tattered as their clothing.
Their eyes, sunken into pale, gaunt faces and framed by dark circles, let off an eerie, haunting yellow glow.
The Little Sisters spoke in hushed undertones as a larger figure moved among them. Even their voices were spine chilling, accented by an unnerving metallic undertone. Some stood, some sat, some were nervously fidgeting with their ADAM needles rather than watch the others. One sat cross-legged on her grimy bed, hugging a Big Daddy doll.
One sister, Cindy, walked up to the larger figure, tugging at the armored palm with both of her own tiny grubby and blood-coated hands.
"Big Sister?" The teenaged sister turned, Cindy's gaze was met with the green-lit porthole that obscured the Big Sister's face. "Camille, Mary, and Melinda aren't here. Did they disappear too? Like the others?" She paused, her bottom lip quivering, "Are they angels now?"
The elder sister didn't have time to answer before the infirmary doors slid open, revealing yet another slender adolescent clad in the same kind of armored diving suit. The second Big Sister cocked her head, quickly performing a visual sweep over the little ones before her, and then addressing her peer which stood among them.
"Okay Masha, just cut to the chase. How many are missing this time?" Her flat voice was muffled by the diving helmet, but you could still make out the same kind of creepy undertone as the younger sisters, though it had apparently faded a bit over the years. While her natural voice deepened, the unnatural underside of it heightened in tone, making it a bit more intelligible as the two sides grew more similar to each other. Nonetheless, it was still very clear and easy to make out.
"Three." Masha let go of Cindy's hands, turning toward the figure in the doorway. "Emily, who's turn is it to go now?"
"Mine."
Masha nodded her head. "They were gathering in Siren Ally." Her voice, like Emily's, was flat and emotionless. Both girl's had lost their humanity years ago. More than half a lifetime of experiments, splicing, feeding off of the dead, brainwashing, and later on, killing had seen to that. The only reason they kept their audible voices rather than being stuck with grunts and yells like their male counterparts was due to the fact that, like the Little Sisters, which they once were themselves, they could heal any damage done to them. Modifying their voice boxes in any way would only result in having the organs repair themselves.
Emily didn't reply. Her face, however, held a smirk which was hidden from view by her helmet.
This will be fun...
Her right hand twitched. She always loved entering the main city. In the city, there were splicers, crazy blood thirsty splicers that either wanted a piece of her, or ran in fear. Both were satisfactory; she was either feared, or she was given to chance to fight. Both were fun.
Emily's helmet bobbed up and down as she nodded, and then she was gone. There was a quick succession of hurried footsteps from above the Little Sisters, dust detached itself from what bit of the ceiling didn't consist of glass. Clouds of it rained down upon the ungroomed tangles of hair as Emily dashed across the roof. In the blink of an eye, she was sprinting down the decimated hallway.
She had a job to do; and she would greatly enjoy it as it was getting done.
There we have chapter one. I sure hope you enjoyed it ^_^. If you ask me, I think I tend to overdo descriptions and adjectives :x. I like opinions, noww, rate! 3