The chapter title is "The Fonal Battle". Get it? It's the words Fontaine and final mixed together into one word? So instead of the "Final Battle" it's the "FOnal Battle? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! … Bah. No one appreciates my humor!
"Jack and Drill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water..."
-Frank Fontaine
"Here's the plan."
It had been a few days since the fateful encounter between me and the two rebels who stood before me. Since then, I'm happy to say that I've played a most crucial role in the freeing of Little Sisters. It isn't too hard. The other Big Daddies trust me, and the Little Sisters are happy to go with me.
Currently Tenenbaum, Jack, and I were standing around a wooden table in the safe house, looking over the schematics of Rapture. It had taken a good deal of time for Tenenbaum to formulate a plan of attack. The basic roles of our little committee had Tenenbaum as the overall planner, Jack served as the expert in the field, and I… I guess I was just the muscle. And planner. Definitely a planner. At least, I hope they didn't rate my intelligence that low…
Tenenbaum began to relay the attack strategy. "The halls of Rapture offer only a single route of attack; the proving grounds." I'd been lucky enough not to endure the proving grounds, since I was created during a more chaotic, unorganized time in Rapture. Basically, I woke up, and there I was. "The only route to the proving grounds is through the Little Sister's Orphanage, which in turn can only be reached through Point Prometheus. A stealthy attack will be near impossible, so brute force will be needed to breach Fontaine's defenses."
Brute force. I have a feeling that won't be too hard between me and Jack.
"You will begin by making your way through Point Prometheus to the orphanage. You won't be able to miss the entrance to the orphanage, trust me. Once inside the orphanage, you will continue on to the proving grounds. Between you two and the security drones, the splicers shouldn't be too difficult to manage. Up to the proving grounds, that is. The one problem you'll have is with security."
"Security?" I asked. "Bill can get past any door in Rapture," I snapped my gargantuan fingers, "Like that!"
"True," Tenenbaum nodded. "But these doors were specially designed, permitting only Little Sisters in."
Huh. Shoot.
"That's why you will bring one Little Sister with you. Granted, if that sister is killed, you can go get another one, but I'd prefer you to not treat them like easily replaceable keys. Do you understand?"
Jack nodded. I replied, "Tenenbaum, I'm a Big Daddy. I would more likely die than let a Sister fall into the hands of a splicer."
"Well, let's hope it just doesn't come to that."
"Fontaine. We want our Adam now!"
"Weez been slavin' away for yous. We gots to get ours fair share, capisce?"
"… Gents. It is apparent to me that Jack alone wasn't a problem. Now he has that big brute of a Daddy. Those drones may be a nuisance, but the Daddy is where Jack's going to get all his extra muscle."
"And we care… why?"
"That Daddy's bout as emotionally stable as that atomic bomb. We just need to get in his head."
"Answer the question. Why should we care?"
"Do me one more favor, and you can have your stinkin' adam. I just need you guys to do a little… collection mission."
Point Prometheus is a creepy place. As me, Jack, and Bill's kids made our ways through the halls, I could see remnants from the past conflicts of Ryan and Fontaine. Posters covered in political lies were curling off the walls, the paint peeling as well to keep it company. The pipes had worn down from lack of use, so it didn't surprise me in the least to find puddles throughout the compound, and a few small lakes as well. Grizzly sights of bodies hung from makeshift gallows filled the larger rooms, a demonstration to all of what Ryan would do to parasites messing with the great chain. Granted, the medical pavilion and Fort Frolic were more horrific in their sights, but the shock and awe of those places was trumped by Point Prometheus' more subtle atmosphere, the type that crawled under your skin, an unnerving feeling to say the least.
But with Jack and 50 sentient drones, we were like a small army. If splicers attacked, we'd be just fine. Heck, later, when I'd contact Bill, our numbers would multiply!
The problem came with Abby.
The small girl, riding on my shoulders, looked around completely unaware of the vile nature of the world around her. I begged her not to volunteer, but she had refused, stating, "Mr. B, I saw you dead once. This time, I'm going to come along and protect you, like you've always protected me!" If only a Big Daddy could shed a tear… The other Big Daddies may have gotten love through the pheromones, but I could happily dwell in the fact that the love I shared with the Little Sisters was real.
Bam! A gunshot rang out!
"Protect the sister!" I bellowed, flicking my porthole to a red color.
"On it!" 10 drones shouted, encircling Abby in a protective formation.
Thugs started jumping out of the shadows, while spiders were dropping from the ceiling. The nitros were tossing bombs, and lead heads were sticking to the shadows, firing from afar. Ahh, a regular day in Rapture.
Bill Jr., the "general" of this army of drones, began relaying orders, despite the raucous that was stirred. "Green team, I want a nitro purge on that far ledge. Red team, do a ceiling sweep. Yellow team, seek and destroy, and brown team, close range protect-"
"Bill!" I shouted, scoring a double stab with my drill on a spider and thug, "Me, Jack, and Silver team have close range! Just get rid of those lead heads and nitros!"
Military translation; Green team would handle the nitros, Red team would make sure no spider splicers were still lingering on the ceiling, Yellow team would take care of the lead heads, and everyone else would handle the hand-to-hand fighting.
Drones were flying in all directions, and the screams of splicers were drowned out by the continuous gunfire. My drill seemed to always have a target, as I shoved it down the throat of a screaming thug, only having to rip it out, with a stream of blood and chunk of gore to follow, and gut another thug who was hammering away with a sledgehammer. I felt a sudden bang on my head and nearly dropped to my knees. Hearing the loading of a shotgun from the now mounted spider splicer, he screamed, "Yippy-Kay-Yay, motherfu-" Another shot rang out above the din, and I turned to see Jack with crossbow. With a curt nod, he spun around and nailed a splicer who was sneaking up behind him with his wrench, an instant kill.
Amateur. I swung again, connecting with another thug. A little freeze here, a blast of fire, there, and… done. Looking around, I could see the drones reconvening, and there were mixed shouts of joy and sorrow, for the battle wasn't entirely without causalities. I watched as Drill gathered up the smashed remains of 13 drones. The guy shouldn't become attached to machines. They weren't really alive. And they were far too fragile. With all the machines that I've hacked in Rapture, I know perfectly well how easily machines can turn on their master.
Checking my weapons' ammunition supply, I'd happened to glance up. Looking down on us was a Big Daddy. Rosie, I'd reckon. Standing in the shadows he was hard to make out. He was definitely larger than other Big Daddies I've seen. The outline was strange, too, like he had some additions. His porthole glowed green, but it was very sickly and pail, a very unnatural shade. He turned, and began to walk away.
And was his right arm missing?
I shrugged. "Drill. We need to continue." I don't know why I needed this walking metal deathtrap, but I suppose one Big Daddy that isn't out to kill me is the one advantage I'm going to get in this hell hole.
"Right." There was a hint of sadness in the monotone voice. What, still wasn't over the robots? The one Big Daddy I get, and he's a big softy. Then again, would I prefer a softie or a maniac killer…?
"That's it." I muttered, looking up at the entrance to the Little Sister's Orphanage. Two grinning nutcrackers manned either side of the entrance, and oversized alphabet blocks also joined in the decoration. The gate kept its color remarkably well, and it made it all the more eerie that something so seemingly innocent was truly an indicator of corruption and decay in Rapture. And I was about to enter it.
"WELL, WELL, WELL…" A voice boomed throughout Rapture's halls.
"Fontaine." hissed Jack. The drones flitted about nervously and Abby hung tightly to my leg.
"YOU ALL SEEMED TO HAVE MADE IT PAST MY LITTLE ARMY. WHATEVER IS A GUY TO DO?" There was a small burst of static from his chuckle being distorted by the mike. I wish he'd get on with it. Too many people loved to mince words in Rapture. "YOU'RE A LUCKY MAN, JACK. YOU GOT A LITTLE TROOP OF TIN SOLDIERS FOLLOWING YOU AROUND, AND YOU GOT THAT NEW DOG OF YOURS FOLLOWING YOU AROUND, DRAGGING HIS TAIL BEHIND HIM." What! Why that… "FRANKLY, THEY'RE RUINING MY PLANS. SO THEY'RE GOING TO HAVE TO GO. TIME FOR A BIT O' PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE. OH, BILL, TIME TO PLAY!" There was a click as the intercom turned off. What did he mean? A computer console was attached to a nearby wall, and I promptly hurried towards it.
"Mr. B, what's happening?" Abby had followed me.
"Yeah, Drill. What's going on?" I winced as best a Big Daddy could. I really didn't need Jack on my back at the moment.
I focused on the terminal. "Bill you there? Bill?" No response. Turning back towards the group, all eyes were on me. "Um…" I stammered, "Bill Jr., what's up with your dad?"
"Couldn't tell you."
Great. I returned to the terminal. "Bill?"
"Drill?" Thank goodness, he answered me!
"Bill, what's the deal with you and Fontaine?"
"Drill, you have to go, NOW!" There was an intense urgency in his tone. "Why didn't you tell me you were attacking Fontaine?"
"You would've gone into your speech about how it was too dangerous, that's all."
"Damn it, Drill! Fontaine is my new user now! He has control over my programming!"
"You don't mean…" And I heard it. The distant sound of security drones off in the distance. Fontaine had forced Drill into unloading every security drone in the area.
And they were all after us.
Shit.
"Mr. B…?" Abby whimpered, as I lifted her onto my back. I glanced over at Jack. He shrugged.
"Well? We going?"
The Bill's kids hovered in a group, whispering. Before I could tell them o get a move on, Bill Jr. flew over to me. "There's an emergency security door just down the hall in the orphanage. Get to it, and shut it. We'll hold them off."
"What?" I shouted. "You'll be torn part!" They would, too. "You are not going to play hero on my watch!"
"We are. Drill, they're going to be here any second. If you don't leave now, we'll all die. Besides, once you and Jack have the door closed, we'll scatter. Bill isn't so great at tracking multiple targets. Trust me."
"But…"
"You heard the bot, let's move." Jack, like the uncaring bastard that he always was, ran into the orphanage. Gazing one last time at these flitting companions of mine, I followed. I didn't look back, even as I heard the clashing of metal against meal, bullets whizzing through the air, and the artificial screams that came from my fallen comrades.
Damn you, Fontaine…
The emergency blast door shut behind me. I still didn't look back.
Fontaine said that he wanted the droids and me out of the way. Well, he's followed through halfway on his promise. Now, how was he planning to get rid of me…?
"...Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Drill will soon come tumbling after. (Transmission ends with maniac laughter)"
-Frank Fontaine
So, here it is, the first part in my three part ultimate battle against Fontaine. Those of you who have played the game may be thinking, "This is stupid, I already know Jack wins. I kicked Fontaine's ass myself in the game. What a dumb writer." First off, that's not very nice calling me dumb. Second, the plot has already deviated a great deal away from the original. Who knows what could happen in Rapture. I could always utilize the fan fiction writer stereotype and throw in a random slash to spice things up. Maybe Big Daddy/Jack. Or Jack/Bill. How would a man make out with a security system? I don't know. Frankly, I think I need a bit of brain bleach now… ugh, Big Daddy/Jack, indeed…