Hi, readers, sorry I haven't been able to say hello to you before this but I couldn't work out how, so there you go. I just thought I'd do a BioShock Infinite fanfic because I just finished the game, and I really enjoyed it. This is my first fic, so please be nice, but any comments/reviews are most welcome!
'Anna -'
My face is pressed again into the grey carpet. The back of my head is throbbing horribly, and I can feel wetness soaking through my shirt.
'Anna? Is that you?'
Someone is crying; a soft, plaintive whimper that is muffled by the heavy wooden door that stands between us.
I drag myself up, narrowing my eyes against the pain. The whimper is becoming a sob; the sound makes my head ache horribly.
'I'm coming, Anna -'
I stagger to the door and push it open with my shoulder.
A battered cot, the white paint peeling, is placed in the centre of the room. The sound of crying is much louder now, and I clasp my hands to my head, feeling the sound stabbing at my brain again and again and again -
I lean over the cot, and the crying ceases abruptly.
'A-Anna?'
I reach down into the cot. I have to hold her; feel her soft weight in my arms again.
My finger is an inch from her face, getting closer and closer and -
My eyes snap open.
A bright room; white lights glaring down at me. Five men in white masks and coats grouped around my -
- bed?
I try to sit up, but something pulls at my wrists. I look down to see thin, iron bands wrapped around them; the flesh beneath is red and bloody.
'Shit,' I mutter, trying to wrench my arms out from the bands, but they hold tight.
I turn my head sideways a little, and my heart stops.
Elizabeth is strapped to a bed beside me, her dark hair matted and filthy, blood streaking her white face.
'Elizabeth,' I whisper, pulling again at the bands around my wrists. 'Elizabeth, wake up.'
She doesn't move; doesn't open her eyes.
'Elizabeth,' I say more urgently. 'Elizabeth, you gotta wake up!'
'She will awake,' says one of the men tonelessly, and I start.
'What d'you mean?' I snap. 'Let her go!'
'She will awake,' he repeats, and I feel a surge of anger.
'Just let her go, you goddam son of a bitch!' I yell, and the pain in my chest and side, briefly mollified by drowsiness, flares worse than ever.
'Please control your behaviour, or we may have to subdue you,' says a second man, his voice just as devoid of emotion as the first.
'Go to Hell,' I snarl, and heave at the bands. Blood trickles out from beneath them as I rub the skin raw, but I keep tugging; keep pulling. Don't stop. Don't stop.
- and then pain stabs my neck: pain so bad I can't move; can't think; can't feel.
Who am I?
Why am I here?
Just make it stop, just make it goddam stop -
And it stops.
I lie, panting, my heart drumming against my ribs. What the Hell was that?
'Electrical energy,' says one of the men, as though he has read my thoughts. 'The plug in the patient's neck sends bolts of electricity shooting through said patient's body, causing extreme pain and, in some cases, a seizure. Please control your behaviour, Mr DeWitt, or this incident may reoccur.'
I stare at them, still panting, feeling anger boiling in my throat - but I force it back down. I sure as Hell don't want that to happen again.
'Have no fear, Mr DeWitt,' says the man, and his eyes lock with mine. 'If you abide by our rules, you may get out alive.'
