9

Little Wonders Building, Point Prometheus

When the connection turned to silence, Wayne Coleman lowered the radio from his mouth, smiling faintly. He remained standing in front of the large set of windows, a thumb hook on his belt, looking out onto the rest of Point Prometheus. Sapphire sure had chutzpah, threatening and insulting the man who could control the fate of the little Splicer and her newest puppet. Brash, stupid, and steely. He liked that in a person. It amused him.

Absentmindedly, Wayne set the radio down on the desk behind him, watching a pod of silver fish zig-zag through the waters outside the window. Blue's problem is that she doesn't know how to divorce her emotions from her business. Wayne couldn't blame her, of course. She was of the fairer sex. Women aren't used to being in a man's position. And Lady Blue was never very good at controlling her emotions in the first place…

"Hey, ah, Boss?"

Coleman turned around, placing both hands behind his back, looking down curiously at the man speaking to him. "Mercer? Is there a problem, my good man?" The hefty, muscular man stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the desk-area where Coleman stood in the newly-cleaned and reorganized Autopsy room. This was essentially an office and workroom now.

"Greer was thinkin' that we could get more men in here to work on those dynamites if we had more room to work on 'em," Mercer explained in a tone that made Coleman think this man felt as though he had better things to be doing. Coleman was fairly certain that he did not. "There anything we can put over them surgery tables?"

"Ah, Mercer, my good man…" Coleman walked down the steps, wrapping an arm around Mercer's shoulders. "Always lookin' to help, aren't you?" He spurred sarcastically. "Of course there's somethin' you can put over those autopsy tables, Mercer. Why don't you and Howard head on down to the library, hm? Pull off the back of them bookshelves, why don't you? Or, better yet, collect the shelves themselves an' bring 'em back. Sturdier, they are…" He let go of Mercer, resisting the urge to wipe the slick sheen of sweat that rubbed off onto his hand and forearm. Coleman walked out of the Autopsy room, greeting some workers, or nodding to those who were busy.

Mercer caught up to Coleman. "Howard?" Mercer groaned loudly. "He'll be about as much use as an inflatable dartboard, Boss."

"Now, now, Mercer…" Coleman chided, holding a finger up, wagging it disapprovingly. "Howard's a good man. He's just a lil'… frail, is all. Besides, we all have to pull our weight in this community of ours." He paused, looking Mercer up and down. "Some of us more than others…" He added disdainfully.

"But, Boss—"

"This ain't the time to be complainin', my good man – we've got a lot to do, and very little time to do it. Now, you're gonna help with those tables, and stop botherin' me, understand?" Coleman gave Mercer a tight-lipped smile, nodded, and then continued on down the hallways of the Little Wonders building without another word to the sweaty, slothful man.

Coleman continued down the stairs to the main floor, heading for room Number One. He felt on top of the world. Things were finally going his way, again. It took a while to steer them in the direction that he wanted things to go, but here he was: Gaining access into Persephone, about to 'encourage' Doctor Lamb to drop the whole Family act, and now he's got his own little trollop. Admittedly, she could use a few lessons on mannerisms and respect, but she's a rare find – clean and new. Down in Rapture, there's only dirty and old… nobody wants that. Not even Mercer, the fat, picky bastard.

He turned the corner at the end of the hall, stopping in front of room Number One. "Knock, knock!" He called, rapping his knuckles against the sealed door. "Who's there?" He answered for the girl in his imitation of a female voice. "Why, Wayne, of course! Wayne who, you say?" He opened the door with a grin, laughing slightly to himself. "Darlin', it's me – you're old pal. Don't be so coy sweetheart…" He stepped into the room, announcing: "I've brought your little radio back, kiddo. Hope you didn't miss it too-…" He stopped, his words trailing off into silence.

The girl was gone. "Oh, kiddo..." Coleman called in a sing-song voice. "Are you under the bed?" He tossed the radio onto the mattress, kneeling to see under the steel-framed bed. She wasn't there either. He frowned. If she wasn't under the bed, then there's really only one place left to look… Except, he didn't get the chance to even tilt his head up.

Holly let herself drop from above the doorway, knocking Coleman back to the ground and flat on his stomach.

He hit the floor with a loud grunt, the breath rushing out of his lungs, hearing the door close behind him. He whipped around, still on the floor, just in time to see the last of the girl's shadows falling to the floor like mist, dissipating before it made contact.

"Oh, you little cheat!" Coleman stumbled to his feet. He kicked the door. "Farish! Open the damn door, let me out!"

From outside of the room, Coleman heard a scream, a yell, and something being thrown. A couple guns went off, but the commotion didn't stop. The girl was getting away. "Goddamnit it all to Hell…" Coleman hissed under his breath, throwing his fist into the door again - and immediately regretting it. He sputtered in pain, holding his hand to his chest. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! Farish!" He howled. "Let me out!"

The door opened. "Oi, Guv, are you alri—" The elderly Farish barely got to finish the rest of his words before Coleman pushed him angrily out of the way, storming out into the hallway.

Coleman was fuming. He never really considered himself choleric, but, when the situation was right... he could be fit to be tied. And this was really pushing his limits. The girl was disrupting the cool serenity of his perfect plan.

"Which way did she go?" Coleman yelled angrily. Beverly Laurel, who had a wound across her chest that was bleeding profusely, pointed in the direction of the main building. Not even stopping to see if she was alright, Coleman immediately bolted in the direction of the Atrium. It was the only way the girl could go if she wanted to get out. "Stupid girl…" He hissed furiously.

Coleman never truly spliced up. He didn't fancy the idea of ruining his face with a lump of tumors. He was content enough to leaving that to the rest of the schmucks in Rapture. But he had technically used Plasmids and Tonics – Tonics such as SportBoost, Armored Shell, and FreshHair, though it would never be heard coming from his mouth that he owns a box something like FreshHair. One of the Plasmids he had used was the BartitsuMaster, which he got rather early in its marketing - before things went to Hell, and before Ryan re-worked the Plasmids.

Everything Coleman had was purely for defending himself. When running the kind of businesses that Coleman has throughout his life, he found it was important to know how to defend one's self… Tonics and Plasmids just added onto what he already knew. Better to be safe than sorry, was his motto.

It was the SportBoost that was aiding him now, because he was gaining on Holly rather quickly. He could hear her rapid footsteps from somewhere ahead of him.

While running, Coleman snatched up a pipe that had fallen off its place on the wall. It would do quite nicely.

"Stay away from me!" Holly yelled acridly from ahead of Coleman. Poor girl. She sure was going to regret this...

Coleman ran into the Atrium, looking around for the kid. He couldn't hear her footsteps any more… It couldn't be that she had gotten away that quickly? That's not possible. She would have had to find a strong second wind, and speed up exponentially. She was still in the building with him. Besides, even if she could get away that quickly, she had nowhere to go...

"Oh, sweetheart…." Coleman called in another sing-song voice. "Where've you gone, darlin'? I know you're still here…" He slowly looked around the room, being sure to actually look up. "I'm not goin' to hurt you, cherry… I just wanna talk, see?"

For the second time in about five minutes, he felt a weight hit him in the back, sending him stumbling forward. This time, however, he half-expected it, and managed to keep his balance. He caught himself, spun around, and held the pipe up defensively, watching her intensely as she took a couple slow steps around him, looking for an opening. "You pig!" Holly spat, her words seething with an unfiltered anger.

Holly raised her arms, fingers splayed. Before she could get at him with her shadows, Coleman lashed out, using the pipe to cane her hands cruelly. She drew her hands back, crying out in pain, looking at him with an expression that was a mixture of surprise – the expression quickly changed to a look of anger, and she jumped away from Coleman so that she could swipe at the pipes again with her shadows. In three pieces, the metal pipe fell loudly to the floor. She'd cut right through it.

She then tried to cut right through Coleman.

Seeing what she could do to the pipe, Coleman didn't want to give her the chance to get at him with those shadows. He ducked and dodged a few of the shadows, but felt some of them skim is arms and cheeks. It wasn't nearly enough to kill him, but it still drew blood, and that was too much for comfort. The burning, itching sensation was reminiscent of a paper-cut… only worse. Avoiding the shadows, he dropped to one knee, placed a hand on her thigh, a hand on her ankle, and then pulled. Unbalanced, she toppled to the floor. Coleman could hear the breath being driven from her chest.

Coleman remained on one knee, taking this downtime to quickly catch his breath. "You know," he started, keeping his tone level, "it's OK to give up, kitten. There's no shame in it." He wanted badly for this girl to see her priorities. He wanted her to know that it would just be easier for her if she stopped rebelling. "Remember what I said about doin' what you gotta to keep alive?"

Holly coughed loudly, catching her own breath. She weakly slapped a hand on the linoleum floor, as if it would help her in her struggle to breath. Coleman got back on both his feet, standing over the girl. "Turn blue, you snake…" She rasped, looking up at the man. With that, she disappeared into a mist of shadows that seemed to seep out of the floor and envelope her. The shadows quickly faded away, revealing nothing but the floor.

Coleman hastily jumped to his feet, quickly looking around the room. "The hell…?" He breathed, eyes wide in shock. He quickly turned around, knowing she would be behind him, if anything. He turned in time to see the back of her disappear into the tunnel that led to the bathysphere. "You lil' tart…" He spat, then yelled after her while chasing her down: "I did what I could to make this easy for you! I tried to keep you safe! I even gave you a radio! And these are the thanks I get?"

He slowed down a bit when he reached the entrance to the Rapture Metro. He saw Holly doubled-over, trying to catch her breath, rasping loudly. That little disappearing trick of hers must have taken a lot more out of her than she anticipated. Though it would seem that her efforts were all for naught.

The bathysphere wasn't even there, anymore. The opening to the shaft was only full of ice-cold water that gently lapped at the sides of its marble constraints.

Slowly, Holly turned to face Coleman. She was pale, the blood all drained from her face, and she was staring at Coleman with wide eyes. Terrified. Apologetic. That's the only way her expression could be explained.

Coleman didn't even feel like being smug. He was too furious to even try. "Ungrateful lil' piss ant…" He shook his head angrily, slowly walking towards the girl. "I fuckin' told you to it would better to just give up. Didn't I? And you know what? I might have actually thought about sparin' your friend's life if you did what I told you to. But, no… you had to be the lil' escape artist, didn't you?" Holly took a couple steps back as Coleman neared, but couldn't go much further than the steps to the bathysphere shaft entrance. "And now look where you are…"

"I-…" She swallowed nervously. "… I had to try. I couldn't just sit there not knowing…" The girl held a handful of her frock's skirt, as if she were a child again. "I wasn't just going to give up without trying. S-surely you can at least appreciate that…?"

"Sure, bean, but I had you in that damn room because I didn't want you tryin' anythin'. And now, things for you ain't gonna improve. If you just waited, kiddo, things wouldn't be so shitty!" Coleman's voice gradually rose as he let loose a little bit of the steam he was building up. Holly cringed physically at his tone.

Coleman watched her carefully, pursing his lips, clenching his hands into fists. He took a moment to shake off his irate behavior, momentarily closing his eyes. Despite whatever this girl might believe, his idea of a good time didn't involve him yelling at a child. When he'd calmed down, he opened his eyes and looked at Holly coolly. "Why'd you go make things difficult?" He asked quietly, his tone dark. "Things were goin' great for the both of us, but then you went and fucked it up. Now we hafta go workin' somethin' out, pertainin' to your dear friend's life. And I gotta figure out what to do with you, too. You're not gonna to get away with this without a slap on the wrist, darlin'. This isn't how young ladies should be actin'!"

"I-… I'm sorry… It won't happen again…" Holly breathed apologetically, flinching when Coleman started walking towards her again. "Coleman, I'm sorry… Please, don't... don't take this out on Jack. I'm sorry-"

"No." Coleman shook his head, glaring at Holly as he walked up to her. "You're not sorry, kiddo…" He tightly grabbed her pale wrist, roughly pulling her down the steps she stood on. He started dragging her back to the Little Wonders building like she was a reluctant child. He didn't even have to glance over his shoulder while he spoke. Eye-contact wasn't necessary to display just how angry he was. "… But you will be."

Arcadia Glens, Arcadia

A massive weight hit Jack's backside, sending him sprawling into the man-made creek. Sodden and frustrated, he struggled to his feet. He glared angrily at the grinning Brute who jumped down into the creek with Jack, sending a small shower of water down around them, which Jack instinctively raised his arm to protect himself from. The hulking man was hunched over threateningly, clenching and unclenching his fists in anticipation. "Holed you up good and proper, I did…" The man purred in a guttural voice. "Nice place to die, ain't it?"

"You're a stubborn son of a bitch, aren't you?" Jack huffed without breaking his glare, reloading his emptied machine gun. "Ugly, too."

"Right big tough, aint'cha?" The Brute chuckled, slowly advancing on Jack, his grin growing even wider. "I'm gonna enjoy this…" He started to rear back, his pronounced muscles visibly tensing.

Taking a couple steps back, Jack found he was backed up against a wall. The water at his feet was draining into some sort of irrigation system - a small gap up the wall, blocked off by several closely-placed bars. No way was he getting under there. Looking up for another way out, he saw that the edge of the Glens was just in reach…

He would never get up in time. The Brute would reach him and pull him back down. Jack didn't exactly feel like being ingrained into the cement walls by a Spliced-up behemoth... but it might be his only way.

Jack tossed the machine gun up onto the grassy floor above the trench he stood in, and then jumped, gripping the wood-bordered edge, bracing his feet on the wall. The logs used to border the grass felt sodden and malleable, and nearly spongey, which meant Jack had several reasons to get this right. The Brute was already running at him, bellowing something about pansies and holes. Jack wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy trying to keep hold of the wooden border with one hand while holding the other out freely.

With one blast of his Electrobolt Plasmid, the water was lit up like the night sky on the Fourth of July – but a lot less fun. The Brute let out a scream of pain. The Splicer definitely roared something, but Jack wasn't all too sure what it was. It was chopped up as waves of electricity shot through the Brute, causing his muscles to spasm, and his speech to be interrupted. But, in case this didn't kill him, Jack was already struggling over the edge of the trench, dragging himself all the way onto the grassy ground that he dug his fingers into. Jack got to his feet and dusted off his knees before picking up the weapon he had tossed up. He looked over the edge, down at the Brute.

Jack almost laughed at the Brute, who had fallen into the water face-first, his body smoldering. These guys were really getting on Jack's nerves. They were stubborn, annoying, and stupid. Add four-hundred pounds of muscle and bone into the mix… and you get something you really don't want to meet in a dark alleyway.

If it could fit in the alleyway, that is.

Just to be sure, Jack pulled out his pistol. He didn't want to have to deal with this dummy any more than he had to. He shot the Brute in the back of the head. The Brute was definitely not getting back up. The only goddamned Splicer who attacked him, too…

Turning back around, Jack figured that he should head towards the Rolling Hills, but he stopped on the spot, eyes wide with surprise, brows furrowed with confusion, mouth agape in a silent 'O'. For a moment, he really thought he was imagining things. Yet, there, standing in the overgrown grass and trees, were a pair of odd faces. A real aberrant sight. It shocked Jack into silence.

"It seems you've startled him, Robert." The lady from Jack's plane-ride to Rapture said calmly. When she spoke, she didn't look at her twin, who stood beside her. She simply stared at Jack with her startling blue eyes, her pale, freckled face emotionless.

"It would appear that way, yes…" 'Robert' stood with one hand behind his back, and one in front, whereas his sister stood with both her hands clasped in front of her, elbows jutting out to the sides.

No matter the direction they curiously tilted their heads, silently prompting a verbal response, Jack still stared at them in shock, unable to say a single word. They were the last people he expected to see in the lungs of Rapture… let alone Rapture herself.

The lady blinked slowly. "This is becoming rather awkward."

Jack slowly pointed at them. "You…"

"Me?"

"No, I do believe he was referring to me." Robert disagreed with a sniff.

"What…" Jack breathed quietly. "… What are you doing down here?"

"Business."

"What kind of business?"

"The enigmatic kind," the lady answered for her brother. "I suppose you could say it's classified. Only those who help the business run smoothly are in need of that information."

Jack narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The initial shock has worn off… leaving only confusion and qualm. "Then why are you here? Have you been following me this whole time?"

"We're here to…" Robert trailed off, thinking of his words. He turned blankly to his sibling. "How shall we put it?"

"Interfere." She said simply.

"Right,"

Jack stared at them incredulously. "With… what?"

"More than you can imagine," Rosalind answered solemnly. "But, in the process, we are also fixing something."

"And that is?"

"The variables,"

"Not this, again…" Jack sighed irritably. "What the hell are you talking about? What variables?" He was beginning to think that either he himself was losing his mind, or that these twins were insane. Either way, he didn't like how confused it was making him. It made him walk along the line of 'angry' and 'scared'.

"That's classified. Meaning, of course, we can't tell you."

"Not here – but we can tell you this:" Robert paused, as if waiting for Jack to truly pay attention. "Sometimes, the worst decisions are the best decisions."

"And, sometimes, then most confounding of choices are the easiest to make."

"Every day, the average human being makes hundreds of thousands of choices that affect their life in some small way."

"However, some choices have much larger results, no matter how 'good' or 'bad'." Rosalind held a finger up as to pause, her emotionless eyes flashing. "In Rapture, every choice will take a life. E.g., you, understandably, choose to kill to defend yourself. Some do not. Those who choose not to kill will be killed."

In a weird way, he was beginning to understand what they were trying to tell him, but it didn't mean he agreed with them. "If you don't draw first, you don't get to draw at all…" Jack murmured thoughtfully. It was the exact argument Lady Sapphire had tried to use on him.

"Ah," Robert sounded pleased. He turned to his sister, gesturing to Jack with an open hand. "There we go. Progress."

"So I see…" Rosalind gave a curt nod. "I was beginning to think he should need a bit of a nudge."

"But… I still don't understand why you're telling me this…" Jack helplessly held his hands out, letting them drop to his sides. "Who are you people? Why are you following me around?"

"We are where we're needed," Rosalind tilted her head, as if curiously inspecting a speck of dirt on a window pane.

"And needed where we are." Robert concluded. They both seemed to share a similar haughty air whenever the spoke, but it was worse when they finished each other's thoughts…

"Who are you?" Jack repeated demandingly. He was really reaching the end of his patience with these people. "What's your angle, here?"

The twins remained silent, exchanging a knowing look. After glancing once more at Jack, they turned, and walked into the dense foliage behind them. Annoyed, Jack hurried after them. "Where are you going?" He called bitterly. He pushed through the overgrown plants, following the sounds of the twins' moving ahead of him. They didn't speak, and didn't answer when Jack called for them to come back.

Jack reached the other side, for the most part, of the overgrown plant-life, looking about him. He frowned.

The twins were gone, leaving Jack to his thoughts with a look of grandiose confusion.