12-12-2013; Well, I'm finally back, guys. Sorry about the last few days not having anything - I got caught up playing through Bioshock 2 again, and Bioshock Infinite, so... whoops. :S
Thanks for the really kind reviews, I really appreciate it! I hope this chapter does okay, my writing's been sort of confusing and choppy since I stopped before. Hope it's enjoyable though, and I intend to try and update again soon - and, maybe, I'll be writing a bit more fluently again.
And now, without further ado - onward!
The room is far larger than first expected as Delta steps into it. He slacks his grip on his rivet gun, looking around curiously; a 'restaurant for bigwigs' doesn't really fit – more like an old, fancy club. The room is rectangular, with a massive stone stage along the back wall presumably used for entertainment overlooking a marble-floored diner. Short steps built along the sides of the seating area and stage lead onto long, wooden railed rises. A dim lighting coats the room with an eerie feeling, and Delta shudders as he progresses in. The railings are in moderate condition, and the wooden floorboards somehow do not creak under Delta's weight as he steps along them. The wooden planks are relatively clean, with the bulk of clutter and debris based in the center area; tables remain upturned and chairs are broken and smashed, but the place is still usable – a decent reason why Splicers would set up residence here. Three doors lead from the room besides the entrance utilized by the Alpha Daddy; one on the far left, and two beside the stage. A flood-light hooked above on the ceiling casts a bright ray down onto the massive stone stage, lighting it.
Lying weakly in the center of the circular stage is a familiar, armored frame. Her back is pressed up against the wall as she is doubled over, clutching her stomach in agony. A groan comes, and she shudders as her eyes fall upon the Daddy across the way. Horror fills her in sight of him, and she sputters as blood drips from her mouth. Running in her weakened condition earlier probably ruptured something in her body after it had been burned in that electric bolt… Damn it.
Now noticing the girl, Delta approaches her cautiously, making his way along the outer rim of the room. Glazing over the Sister, he frowns guiltily. She's hurt. Though… why does he feel guilty? She has been sent to eliminate him – and yet, he feels bad for her. Stepping onto the stage, he clomps over to her side and looks down at her in hesitation. What should he do now?
The Sister shuts her eyes as tears well in them, a feeling of dread claiming her. Surely, now that he has caught up with her… he will make sure she will die… mercilessly. After all, she has tried to kill him… But, she doesn't want to die – especially not to Mr. Bubbles. While the newer generation Sisters and Mother find the Daddies stupid and replaceable, she and many of the Little Sisters that grew up with Big Daddies as their guardians see them as shining knights and heroes. She admits it bothers her that she is chosen to kill one of her heroes when he has protected her and her sisters many times in the past. Now that he looms over her… she hates all of it. She wants to cry and have Mr. Bubbles hold her as she sobs and have him sit and pat her head and make it all okay. And now… she'll die to her hero.
Breathing in, Delta steels his emotions and sluggishly lowers himself to his knee beside her. In truth, he still expects a sharp needle through his stomach at even this very moment – but he knows she is far too weak now to manage even that. Judging by her posture…she probably ruptured most of the organs and muscles in her lower abdomen, and he doubts she has any medical kits to use on herself. Gazing upon her, he purses his lips. For some strange reason, he has the urge to… hold her. Outstretching a hand, he tries to motion to her that he means no harm, but to his dismay – she remains silent.
She watches him in disbelief as his hand twists and turns gingerly in strange sign language, and she could swear he's trying to show he means no harm. But that can't be… isn't he supposed to want to hurt her for being sent to kill him? Shouldn't he want to grind her into nothingness for her being his sworn enemy? Why is he being… kind?
The Daddy tilts his head inside his helmet curiously. Her screen is a curious, almost longing yellow – does she understand his gestures? Gulping in prayer that she does, his hand lowers onto her young form. She jumps at his touch, but makes no further movement as he inspects her condition – as expected, her outer body is fine, but she needs immediate attention for internal bleeding. He frowns, and he gently tugs at her hand to release her grip on her stomach. He can sense hesitation in her, but she reluctantly agrees and draws her hand back. Gingerly, he lays his fingers on her torso, and stares at the metal. Would the first aid liquids seep through her armor, or should I employ it directly into her suit's mechanics?
As he debates, she groans in agony and he grimaces. I can't risk wasting the kits; I need to sync them to her body. Motioning to her, he takes her arm and turns it over in his grip. Her screen remains centered on his movements as he fiddles with her armor, and she jumps in shock – nearly scaring the life out of Delta, as he hadn't anticipated her flinching – as a warm red liquid squelches throughout her. Delta slips back, sliding onto his backside as he inches back a small distance in anxiousness. Now, how will she react now that her body will rejuvenate?
The Sister is at first, frightened; what is this warmth overtaking her? Did he synchronize medical kits to my armor, like he did with his? She blinks in amazement at her savior as the sharp pains within her body slowly subside, and her strength returns slightly. Did he just use his medical munitions to save her? She remembers he never bothered to buy any when he had the chance earlier, so he's either running very low or out of medical supplies. Mr. Bubbles… saved me?
Noiselessness hangs over the room as pipes rustle and quake, water filtering through them endlessly. The two masters of death shift uncomfortably in unspoken uncertainty. The question is… now what? How is she supposed to act in response to his mercy? Her eyes train on his form as they wander over his burly, stocky figure. He's a rather impressive hulking beast – she can give him that; his limbs are sturdy and massive, and his movements underline those of the perfect killing machine… and yet, he exhibits and emits warmth and kindness unparalleled; forgiveness, and more. Limitless amounts of warmth, if she has any say in an estimate. She frowns behind her metal dome, watching as he mutely scans the room like a turret. Speaking of which… where is that little bot of his?
An explosion to the right side of the room hints where it used to be, and fear fills the Sister. A large group of Splicers now file angrily into the theater-like dining area, inspecting the destroyed machine and then the duo on stage. Not now…
"…Is that a Big Daddy and a Big Sister… just sitting there on our stage?" one asks his colleagues, his eyebrows peaked. The others nod, and their feet shift subtly as they step closer to them. Not good… I can't move. And Mr. Bubbles… Subject Delta's head swivels as he stumbles to his feet, growling menacingly at the aggressors. The group pauses, their body language exuberating high levels of doubt. "Whoa there, big guy… We're not gonna' hurt ya'… but we don't like how you're in our turf, ya' see…"
The vile creatures' eyes fall onto the Big Sister beside Delta, and his growl intensifies. They are not laying a hand on her, no matter what. The urge to kill them rises as he studies their persons; they hold little of value to him, but he can still scavenge their bodies and restock his supply of medical kits – which has now dwindled to an extremely low amount. Curses for his misfortune!
"Hey, hey – why so protective of that thing, big guy? I know you're the renegade Daddy that has everyone rustled up, why are you getting in our way? She'd give plenty of ADAM for all of us, y'know…" The leader of the group tries to reason and assure the Big Daddy, and the Sister whimpers in fright. Mr. Bubbles wouldn't abandon me… right?
"…Touch her, and die."
Bewilderment spreads throughout the room in rampant, lightning speed. All eyes narrow on the large wall of death in confusion, and jaws fall agape. Did Mr. Bubbles just talk? The Splicers' heads turn to stare at one another unsteadily, with nervous expressions. Everyone shifts uncomfortably as the Big Daddy draws his drill, letting his hand explode into a raging storm. He growls once more, his visor turning an angered red as his legs spread and his Plasmid hand clenches into a hard fist. Poised to attack, his dark, looming, husky voice echoes through the room once more as he looks over the crowd.
"Get… away. She is… with me."
Delta hangs at the edge of the stage, his eyes training on each and every individual Splicer with intense focus. I have to be careful; no risky hits unless necessary. He spins his drill once menacingly, hoping to deter the deranged freaks – but much to his dismay, and his expectations, they remain only slightly fazed. The leader mumbles something too quiet for the armor-clad devastator, but the lone Father grunts to retrieve the group's attention. A temporary mock peace clutches desperately at the room, and the blaring silence is only broken as the Big Sister behind Delta grunts in pain; she's still immobilized… Oh, hell.
"…No hard feelings, you metal freaks, but it's do or die out here. Get him, guys! Then we can kill that thing behind him!"
Delta leaps from the stage posthaste, his drill spinning up to full blast as he crashes down into the group – straight through one of the slower Splicers. Staggering to his feet behind the room, he smacks away a pipe and engulfs the nearest fiend in blue bolts, and then blocks another blunt weapon with his drill; the spinning machine rips the weapon from his opponent's hand, pulling his arm into the sharp spiral. Blood sprays out, coating Delta's helmet as he slices through the wounded, reeling attacker, and then dives for the center of the room. Situating himself for a moment behind one of the sturdier tables, bullets begin to rip through the room at his hiding place, and he inhales harshly. Swapping to his rivet gun, he loads it and pops his head and gun arm from behind the shredding wood and tugs hard at the trigger. Rivets fly from the heavy machine, and he ducks behind the wood again. He grumbles once no utterances of pain come, and his eyes widen after noticing the trio of Splicers rushing toward him from across the room. Aiming his gun, he brings one down and bats at the other two. Jerking his head away from a wrench, it slams into his arm and causes him to groan in agony – crushing his fist into the stomach of the assaulting Splicer, he releases a forceful blast of organ-disintegrating electricity into his foe. EVE squelches through his body and he kicks at the shins of the last of the three; a bone-shattering crunch echoes and a cry of horror follows as the third slams into the ground, clutching at their broken foot.
The gunfire stops, and Delta grimaces – that is really not a good sign. I didn't kill the gunners, so where…
The Big Sister on the stage screams in pain and Delta's eyes widen in terror. The remaining Splicers went straight for her, and now had her at gunpoint. Fuck! He raises his rivet gun to fire, but cannot click the trigger fast enough. The rivet strikes the would-be assailant's arm, but the trigger is pulled as metal meets flesh; his Sister howls in anguish, and blood sprays from her stomach. Head-butting the gunman's knee, her heavy dome clangs through the air and the man falls, but he fires another round into her knee. She shrieks, clutching weakly at her body as blunt weapons fall upon her form. Delta's red screen glows an even more hellish color as a brutal ferocity broils within him. How DARE they attack her! Roaring a sound of death, he allows the full force of his voice carry through the room. Dazed by his roar, the Splicers stagger back and clutch at their ears as Delta leaps onto the stage.
Blasting the last few Splicers with charged electrical storms, he dices them apart mercilessly. Protectiveness engulfs him, and he is thorough as he stamps and cuts the life from the final survivors; various muscles, bones, and cartilage crack and crunch underfoot and are torn apart with the aid of his drill, and Delta snarls at each anguished cry of agony and plea for mercy. His visor flares scarlet, and he heaves heavy breaths as he looms over the mutilated, obliterated corpses. Moments pass, and a weak whimper draws him back from his fury as he turns his full attention to the Big Sister. An unknown force compels him, and he scoops her into his arms gingerly. Clomping away from the death, he exits back into the intersecting hall as the Sister's hand grasps at his chest in confusion.
What is… Mr. Bubbles… doing…? Her vision clouds and blackness creeps at her consciousness as a frightening numbness slowly settles into her. She gasps for air as another door opens, and semi-clean white walls surround them. Where are…? She is gently set on something mildly cushioned, and her head slumps into what feels to be a pillow. Bright lights cast from overhead, and her eyes strain to look about the room.
Altogether bluish rather than the initially thought white, the room is a medical wing. The walls are worn and scratched, but are relatively well-maintained, and lead into a plaster ceiling and a blue-and-green tiled floor. Various shelves, dressers, and other medical utilities line the walls and floors, and blinding lights shine hard from above. The Alpha Daddy stomps back into the room with multiple tools resting in his large arms, and he sets them down on a small table beside the bed that the Sister lays upon. She outstretches her hand unsurely, and a firm hand squeezes her own comfortingly. Mr. Bubbles is going to take care of me… She smiles timidly at the gentle giant, her visor flashing a faint green.
Delta stands over the young girl with pursed lips. He knows medical basics, but he has no ways of numbing her. Well, besides… He pauses, frowning. He looks at her and squeezes her hand reassuringly once more, and then sighs. "For…give me." She nods. He lets a small dose of blue electricity seep into her nerves, and watches her stiffen at the effect – but no grunts of pain. Grabbing at his stack of medical tools, he immediately sets to work at cleaning the bloody holes in her shattered armor; stemming her blood-loss comes before surveying the blunt strikes dotting across her body. She writhes under his hands, and gasps painfully as alcohol runs over the jagged wounds. She bites her lip, blood running from it and forces her eyes tightly shut, whimpering while he works. Minutes pass, and he frowns – to remove the bullets would risk causing more blood to be lost, but is leaving it inside her such a good concept?
Hands wrap around his arm, clutching hard at him. He turns his head to look down at the girl's dome, and sighs. She whimpers at him and her hands dig into the fabric of his visor glows a weak green and he kneels beside the operating table; her hands shift from his arm to his head as she tugs his against her own, and growls as her metal dome clanks against his mask. She motions to remove her helmet, and Delta frowns – is that such a good idea? I can't take mine off without it hurting, so wouldn't Big Sisters be the same…?
Sinclair's voice crackles in finally, and Delta jumps slightly in surprise – which causes the Sister to jump as well. The aged man speaks slowly into Delta's radio, educating him. "Son, I'm not going to pry much since this feels private now that you got the medical out of the way, but I know what you're thinkin'; it won't hurt her to detach her helmet. They didn't do anything weird to the Big Sisters' faces – after all, they used to be Little Sisters at one point; it just disables their vocal cords when its on. You'd be fine to take it off – but," he pauses, chuckling, "don't fall too head-over-heels, kid; especially since she'll be able to talk again. She's still a Big Sister. Though… that might encourage you, haha! Try not to get too loud!"
He's going to pay, one day.
The voice dissipates, and Delta bites his lip. To remove it, or to not… Well, might as well.
Timid hands fumble from his sides, and he grips the Sister's helmet in concern. What DO they look like under those helmets? Used to be Little Sisters…? The dome detaches from her suit automatically at the tugging motion, and the airlocks release as the locks pop one by one from their holding places. Lifting the helmet from her face sluggishly, Delta gasps.
She's… she's…
Long, flowing, silky black hair flows down around a pale, sculptured face. Piercing, glowing golden eyes peer up at him with luscious, full, purple lips. A single scar runs down through the skin above and below her right eye, and is a distorted yet oddly fitting color. Her cheeks are soft, yet defined; her face comparable to that of a corrupted angel's. She blinks at him curiously, tilting her head slightly before wincing. Her lips part and she breathes quietly as Delta gazes down at her in shock.
…Beautiful…
"…Mr. Bubbles…? A…are y-you o… okay?" her voice is soothing and sweet, yet slightly tainted and chillingly ghostly; it echoes softly into Delta's helmet, swirling around in his head. She winces once more, her hands taking his and squeezing lightly after releasing his head. "…Mr. Bubbles?"
Delta blinks once, and shakes himself from his thoughts quickly. Gaze centering on the girl before him, his screen turns a bright green and he pats her head gently, ruffling her hair. She squeaks in response, smiling at him – and the metal giant feels his heart warm for the first time in… a time long forgotten. The two sit in silence for minutes, before Delta shifts. I still need to tend to the rest of her body. Motioning to her with hand signals as before, he points to her body and cocks his head curiously. Hopefully she understands…
She frowns, glancing down at herself. "It… hurts… It hurts, Mr. Bubbles." She gestures to her ribs, and then clutches her arm. She whimpers, and her eyes return to the Alpha Daddy. He nods, craning his head back up to the room surrounding them. Gesturing to her silently, he attempts to show her that he will only be gone a few minutes – in which the girl reluctantly sighs, but nods – and he rises to his feet.
A quick inspection of the room turns up with a few medical kits, a medical station, and some more alcohol. He ignores a safe in the back corner of the office-like area at the other end of the room, and instead returns to his newfound acquaintance; she crosses her arms as he approaches, and pouts at him – which causes Delta to shudder at the cute expression on her face. Stop it, she's wounded. He scolds himself, willing the slight attraction away as he makes his way back to her side. She smiles in content, humming almost inaudibly as she watches him. "Hi, Mr. Bubbles!"
He waves, a pleasantness settling over him. Attempting to communicate with his hands again, he nods as she stretches her arm out to him. Synchronizing more of the powerful healing kits to her system, he grins in satisfaction as a familiar squelching noise comes once more. The Sister straightens her back, turning rigid as she shuts her eyes – she must not be very used to the feeling of using health kits. Poor girl. As the warm liquid flows through her, she gasps as Delta presumes the redness finally makes its way to her lower torso. Her neck cranes around, and she faces him with a grateful smile. Delta chuckles as she looks herself over after the kit assumedly empties. Stretching her arms and wiggling her body, she purrs like a cat.
Before he has time to react, her brows fall and her lips curl into a devilish smile, and she pounces on him. She tackles him to the adjacent wall, and he slams into it clumsily as he coughs in surprise. She giggles, hugging him tight with her arms wrapped fully about him, nuzzling into him. "Mr. Bubbles is my hero!" She beams at him, staring into his haywire porthole with a fond twinkle in her glowing eyes. Delta, finally reacting, grumbles and shakes his head – stirring another fit of pleased giggles from the girl. Wrapping an arm about her lithe, warm figure, he pats her head with his other hand and then lies back against the wall… and now that he notices the hard feeling wedged in his back, what remains of the girl's syringe. He tilts his head questioningly at it, and then at its owner, who frowns. "I… can't take it off, it'll… hurt."
It's probably bound and attached straight to her skin, like my suit is to me…
He beams at her in reassurance. Ruffling her hair again, she raises a sound of mock protest before he sighs. Is she my enemy still, or is she not? Her expression fills with concern at his exhale, and she cocks her head. She opens her mouth to inquire, but he cuts her off with a raise of his hand.
"Are you… still… with Lamb…?"
The grip on him turns hard, and her eyebrows rise. Did she forget…? He watches her uneasily as she stares almost… through the porthole, into his eyes. She winces, tears welling, and shakes her head. Nestling into him once more, his eyes widen. "…N-no… M-Mr. Bubbles is… is good. Mother is… mistaken." She struggles as she speaks, presumably like he does; the lack of time utilized attempting to talk, and the fiddling with their internal chemistries must make it hard for her, too. "I… will not hurt Mr. Bubbles. Mr. B isn't a bad man!" she exclaims, rubbing her face back and forth against him.
Delta, somewhat relieved, shifts underneath her. As she picks her head up to gaze at him, he motions for her to sit back. She straightens, but remains with her legs bent behind her while she straddles his lap. Running a hand absentmindedly through her hair, his other hand clutches at his helmet's visor, and he yawns. Fatigue starts to settle in him, and he curses it. He hasn't had a stable moment to sleep in days – the hour before his failed attempt to save the fallen Rosie had done little. The Sister shifts, looking at him with playful eyes.
"Is Mr. B sleepy?" she giggles, patting his head. She pauses for a moment, studying him.
Sinclair's voice pierces the duo's bubble, and the Sister jumps timidly once the strange voice returns. It whispers into Mr. Bubble's helmet, and he nods once to it. She tilts her head curiously; what is Mr. Bubbles doing? He points at her, and gestures for her to get up. She grumbles in reluctance, comfortable in his lap, but obediently complies. He holds out his hand for her, and her eyes widen. What is Mr. Bubbles doing? He reaches for her helmet, passing it to her – and she pouts. Did I do something wrong…?
"We… find shelter and Vita-Chamber. Need rest." His voice seeps from within the giant helmet, and the Sister's eyes widen. Mr. Bubbles wants me to come with him? Doubt comes to her, and she bites her lip in apprehension. Mother will be upset if I go with him – but Mr. Bubbles saved me! What has Mother ever done? She… she left me for dead after I failed. Anger wells in her, and her hand balls tight into a fist. It's not fair! Everyone but Mother and Sister Eleanor suffer! Mr. Bubbles is not a bad man! Rebellion surges through her, and her eyebrows narrow. Mr. Bubbles wants me – Mother doesn't. Fine! Pausing to stare at her baffled knight, she smiles at him and nods slowly.
"Can I go with Mr. Bubbles?"
