AN: I love Lemon Tea. I love Bioshock. Don't anyone but the spoilers in the reviews. Please don't because people may not know the twists and they're so simple. But yeah, enjoy this story because someone I know loves Lemon Tea and the 1920s. Feel free to tip me a coffee over at /A6851PYT
Lena's Masterpiece
The ballroom was alight with a thousand lights and shimmers from the chandeliers from the roof, the whole room stunningly tall and grand, capable of housing all the rich high rollers, movers and shakers around Rapture. Lena was there because she was one of them, a high roller, in her yellow evening gown that barely extended past her knees, as was a new style - complete with her blue diamond necklace that looked big enough to choke a horse if one swallowed the stone.
It was in many ways her signature piece, the one thing people remembered her for, that and her thick cockney accent, being from urban London. She was one of the only high brow residents of the underwater metropolis that had the voice, one of. The only other was the woman looking at her, eyeing and sizing her up from the bar as Lena draped herself on one of the large chairs, her escort being the massive and brutish but also the very gentlemanly Winston. The woman at the bar was a rather bright ginger, with rose gold hair that shone a thick golden orange, almost as if there was citrus running through every strand. And it shone brighter than all the sparkles and the twinkling sequins off all of the other women's dresses as they waltzed, foxtrotted and even charlestoned across the ballroom floor. Neither Lena nor the woman who was looking at her took to the huddling and shaking masses.
They both simply kept looking at each other, eyes locked and lips stuck smiling, even tongues licking said lips. They were both tasty looking sights, a little more sublime than the stiff gin and slimline tonic Lena was sipping on slowly and occasionally. From the orange juice in the mysterious woman's glass and the rate she was drinking it, Lena could best assume it was Vodka topped up with the stuff, common, not nearly as classy as what the other gentlefolk and ladies were tipping down their gullets.
It clued Lena into one possible fact, which was backed up by the ginger hair and the fact that the woman's dress looked as if it were a decade old. She were common, from below, and not one of the esteemed elite.
Which means she had either slipped the doormen a hefty tip to allow her into the ballroom, or she had come in through some other way. Whichever she did would inform Lena's next assumption - either the mysterious woman was here to simply enjoy the party, to feel like one of the rich and famous founders of Rapture, in which case she had indeed slipped the doorman a hundred dollar note, or she was here to cause a scene and leave with something she did not have before, in which case she had come through a side entrance or possibly with the waiting staff or bar staff. Either way, Lena was intrigued all the more and licked her lips as she took another stiff sip of her gin and tonic.
Minutes turned into more, rolling and diving into the next as Lena made her way from table to table, chatting with her fellow elite of the party. First, there was Miss Satya Vaswani, who held Lena's attention for ages on topics varying from the construction of Rapture itself to the innovative technologies that were beginning to govern the Big Daddy Program. They were to be the marine construction and maintenance team, the ones who would ensure that Rapture would stay perfect and a paradise under the waters. Hey were to be the ones to guard and protect the citizens from the degenerates and vagabonds who might stir in the lower clusters of the city or come and seize it from above. They would have to go through the Big Daddies. Then there was Miss Amelie Lacroix, whom Lena had dealt with before. They were somewhere between ex-lovers and ex-girlfriends, and still a little bitter towards each other about it. When she had been talking with Lacroix, the ginger at the bar had been chuckling a little to herself while looking at both Lena and the woman with thick black-purple hair. She was dressed in a beautiful plum gown that had such metal work around the back it looked like a spider trying to encompass her entire spine and rib cage as if it were trying to burrow into her heart from behind. She had been talking to Lena about the little focus group of Little Sisters and what it meant for Doctor Amari's research into the development of Adam and the Plasmids she was working on. Lena did not think much of it at all and mainly focussed on the ginger as they all talked at her.
By the time Lena had looked at the woman enough, and by the time she had spoken to the main heads and faces of the Rapture founding personnel, she decided it was about time she actually made contact with the woman. She told Winston to leave her side and make his own way through the party and to meet up with her at the end by leaving instruction with the woman at the gate to the main ballroom. He obliged and she wandered across the ballroom floor to meet the mysterious ginger with a third vodka and orange juice in hand.
Lena had downed her G&T by then and had set the glass on a table for one of the staff to pick up. She blew a shard of her still spiky hair away from her eye line and made for the bar.
"Same again Miss Oxton?" the strapping young lad behind the bar asked in as soft and respectful a voice as a yank could. He was young, very young, only about sixteen or so and eager to make impressions. That was what one did in Rapture, make oneself impressionable and utterly loyal to any and all the high rollers one could. This lad was a prime example of the young life without the money stacks people like Vaswani, Amari and Lacroix had from their benefactor. Everyone's benefactor of course…
Lena shook her head, smiling at the lad as a silent way to let him know he was terrible at sucking up and that she was not collecting people. Lena Oxton was very much against that system. She did not play with people and with loyalty, she played with herself and only herself, keeping her cards very close to her breast and then keeping her life foreclosed apart from what she did at parties. Lena had served her time and paid her debts to her country and world above the tide, as a fighter pilot in The Great War. Now she was free, and so she would live free.
"No thank you, lad. I'll take a short whisky, topped with lemonade and a slice, please. Two cubes to go with it," she asked, trying to stifle the cockney within her, but the woman of the same cloth next to her heard it.
"My, my. Never thought I'd meet another Londoner… You can take the girl out of the city, eh?" The Ginger asked, making polite and suave small talk. If there was a time for Lena to leave and ask someone who the girl was, it had just shot out of the room.
"Please, Rapture is the New London now doll, we're shaping this place to be better and freer and more secure than the place ever was…" Lena boasted, turning around on her heels and leaning the curve of her upper rear on the bar. She looked out to the crowd, and then back to the ginger, her intense and almost oriental emerald eyes piercing the mild film of smoke from the men in the air. Her eyes were like the brightest of stars, poking through cloud layers in the night, the kind you would wish upon, the kind that would explode into only the most spectacular of supernova. Lena Oxton was captivated instantly. "Lena Oxton, I work for Rapture's Budget Office."
"Helping determine what money goes where I suppose? Perhaps I should be here to talk to you then, and not Mr Morrison," The Ginger replied, sipping the last of her vodka. She turned to the bar lad and beckoned him over. "Another, please friend."
"Right away Miss Emily…"
Lena caught that and smiled. The woman's name, and it suited her finer than the red dress she was covering herself with - barely. "Emily? Beautiful name, and a surname to match?" Lena asked taking her whisky and sipping it slower and more carefully than the gin.
"Sorry doll, last names are only for partners and spouses, they're the only ones who need to know them anyway." Emily fired back in rapid retort as if she had the response ready and waiting in the wings. She looked like the kind of woman one would find on stage, as a principle character, never supporting. She looked like the kind of woman who would be on the red carpet for all events, small and large if only to ever increase her exposure to the fish wrapper (newspaper) and whatever news reporter was lucky to have a recorder. Emily was a voice one would hear in person and on the wireless (radio) and Lena could only wonder why she was poor - if she was even so. For all Lena knew she could have been rich and simply reclusive, but it would go against all she knew about the society that was being forged in Rapture, Paradise under the sea.
Lena was about to speak, when another did already, louder and through a microphone. It was the very man Emily had spoken about - Jack Morrison, head of Morrison Industries and responsible for every square inch of Rapture and all that inhabited it. He was the Benefactor, Grand Architect, Mayor, President, whatever anyone would want to call him. He ran every single program of society and he called ultimately all the shots. Jack was the drill serjeant to every routine drill. Rapture was his sole property.
"Well, if you'll be so kind as to excuse me, my darling beauty, I have an appointment with Mr Morrison and I should really not be late for it…" Emily alluded, going to leave, but Lena stopped her.
"Wait!" She called as Jack tapped the mic to deliver his speech of the party, thanking everyone for attending and making Rapture the fascist society it was really becoming. "Emily, would you kindly stay with me a while?" Lena asked, as calmly and as politely as possible…
Emily stopped dead in her tracks and looked back to Lena, a very very mild strain in her celestial emerald eyes. She stayed, and called for another drink as Jack delivered his speech.
"My fellow residents of the paradise that is Rapture!" Morrison beamed into the microphone, raising his arms in a 'V' shape as if he was the up and coming messiah of the city. The entire crowd apart from Emily cheered for him in an uproar of splendour and mild arousal. He was why they were all really here, the gentleman that had made the city transfer from dream to plans to reality and now they all lived lives that were not tainted by the governments of upstairs. They were truly free, and rich and absolutely the scum of the Earth. "Would you all kindly lend me your ears?" Jack asked and as if by some form of spell, every one of the crowd hushed, holding their drinks and listened, as if they were all trying with all their might to do so. "I would like to thank you all for attending this evening, for dressing to the nines and showing Rapture how much class oozes from its citizenry. My citizenry." He announced, and the crowd applauded him in a brisk and synchronised clap. Even Emily put her hands together slowly and quietly as Lena did. They were utterly silent. "I shan't speak so long, I know you all have better things to swallow tonight than my words, but I will say this. Rapture is a Paradise, without chaos and without dissension like the rest of the world above. And thanks to Doctor Vaswani, Doctor Amari and Miss Lacroix, we will be safe and secure from the inside and out. So please, enjoy the party, and I shall see you all at the next…" Jack spoke softly, raised his glass, and left the stage of the ballroom as quickly as he set foot on it. And the crowd began to chatter, the music played and they danced.
Lena was still stood at the bar, her hand suddenly in Emily's, and they looked at each other.
"Would you kindly like to dance with Lena?" Emily asked, and Lena nodded vigorously, something else in her mind pushing her to nod and never stop until Emily was pulling her to the dancefloor…