Freefall
Chapter 9
After checking the other hallway and finding it led to a dead end filled with various pipes, Timothy ventured down the side that the Splicer had come from and found it led to a single ladder leading up that ended at a ledge. Sighing, he holstered the Colt--which amazingly enough still fit securely--and began to climb.
Halfway up, he smirked at the thought of Bill putting a bullet through Ryan's brain. Bill seemed like a tough guy who could handle himself.
Only the faint sounds of cheering interrupted his thoughts. At that sudden realization, Tim stopped, straining to listen. He wasn't going nuts--there was definitely cheering and shouting coming from somewhere up above. He continued to climb.
There can't really be games going on, Vanderbilt thought in disbelief. Then again, he was still getting used to the reality that his entire world had been flipped on its head, and anything was possible.
He reached the top of the ladder and the cheering was now louder but still muffled. All that lay before him was a metal door outlined in yellow stripes. It sounded like the...crowd was chanting a name, but Tim wouldn't know unless he stepped through the door.
He pulled out the Colt and pressed himself against the door. He hadn't even considered the possibility of dying, if there were this many Splicers outside in the stadium. That thought made him even more hesitant in regard to opening the door. He reasoned that if he didn't make the effort to get closer to finding Jenny, he would die trying.
Feeling fearless (for the moment), Tim nodded to himself, pushed hard against the door, and aimed forward as bright lights engulfed his vision.
When his eyes adjusted, Timothy thought he was back home in one of Kentucky's stadiums and in that moment, he felt at home. The feeling was short-lived, though.
The sight of so many people petrified him to no end. Granted, the stadium wasn't filled, but there were at least thirty Splicers on his side of the stadium. He looked around the massive structured, styled in the likeness of a coliseum, and noted the absence of other Splicers.
"He could go all the way, folks!" a voice yelled over the loudspeaker, the echo carrying across the whole stadium.
Slowly, Timothy became aware of what the crowd was chanting. It sounded like they were saying "daddy." He then noticed some sort of vest strapped around the chest of each Splicer. He strained to get a better view of what the event was, but the pack was blocking his view. Feeling strangely safe, and also curious, he began to walk through the middle of the Splicer formation toward the edge.
The chanting started to die out as the Splicers took notice of him, and in turn the hairs on his back, arms, and legs stood at attention. Tim glanced over his shoulder and to his horror saw that the vests were actually full of TNT explosives.
This is either an elaborate trap, or they're here against their will, Vanderbilt thought uneasily.
"What's going on?" the same voice from earlier asked. "Why did the crowd stop cheering?"
A spotlight snapped on from behind and washed Timothy in its glow, and he turned to look. He shielded his eyes with his hand in response.
"Well, well, look what we have here, folks!" The voice was now transmitting out of his radio in addition to the loudspeaker, producing the awkward feeling of having a voice in his head. In addition, the person speaking seemed to ooze arrogance, a fact that pissed Tim off to no end. "Hello there, rookie."
"Who are you?" Timothy asked, wondering where the mystery person was.
The voice stopped using the loudspeaker and instead communicated via radio. "You must be fucking kidding, right? How can you not know who I am?"
Timothy smiled. "I never was a fan of egotistical jerk-offs who run the spirit of a sports game and love to take all of the credit. Never really wanted to know their names."
Instead of the angry response Tim had been expecting, he instead received a hearty laugh. "Oh man, you're funny, kid. Funny, funny, funny. My name is Danny Wilkins, and I'm the best damned player that Ryan's Raiders have ever seen."
"Is that so?" Timothy asked disbelievingly. "I have to say, there isn't much of a team anymore. At least that's the impression I'm getting."
Wilkins sighed in frustration. "You're right. But Wilkins here improvised, and came up with a new game for the people of Rapture to love! Come over to the edge, rookie, and see what I mean."
Timothy walked towards the stone guard rail and looked down into the field. The astroturf was torn up in various places, and the goal posts normally reserved for football games were crudely severed in half. Instead, it appeared that bodies were used as goals. One side, on the far side of the field, had one body dressed in red, and the other side closest to Tim had a large pile of bodies dressed in blue jerseys.
Atlas Astros and Ryan's Raiders, Vanderbilt thought as he stared down the field. In the middle stood a lone figure on one knee, and at the other end was some sort of odd humanoid figure that appeared to wear a diving suit with various portholes. At the end of one of its arms was a huge drill.
What in the fuck is that thing! his mind screamed.
He watched as the portholes on the diving suit figure turned red, and it wailed loudly in a similiar fashion to a whale. It stomped the ground with its massive boot, and revved its drill. The person in the middle fired its weapon at it, but with seemingly little effect. As one, the crowd began to chant.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" they yelled, pumping their fists and whistling.
Tim watched in horror as Daddy rushed forward toward the person in the center, its drill running at full speed, and gored the person with the drill. A bone-chilling scream filled the stadium as the body sailed back toward the Ryan's Raiders goal, the blood smearing the astro turf.
"Oh, it's just too bad, folks!" Danny boomed over the loudspeaker. "Once again, Big Daddy is the winner!"
The crowd of Splicers whooped and hollered as confetti shot out of four pillars positioned around the field and onto the Big Daddy.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" Timothy screamed through the radio.
"Chill out, rookie, it's all in the spirit of the game. That rookie...well, ex-rookie now...didn't have the skill needed to take down a Big Daddy."
"You'll have to forgive me for being ignorant, but I haven't a clue what a Big Daddy is."
"Wow, you really are stupid, meat. Big Daddies protect the Little Sisters, who go around Rapture and gather up ADAM from dead bodies so the ADAM can be recycled again. Big Daddies are tough, so Wilkins here thought, 'Hm, what if I lured one inside the field and trapped it in.' And boom! We got ourselves a game here!"
Little Sister? Vanderbilt thought alarmingly. Come to think of it, he had seen a tiny figure down by the Atlas Astros goal by the dead body. He now understood. Then a second thought entered his mind: Oh my God! That girl...wait. Gathering ADAM from dead bodies? But...that...
"Listen, I don't care about your game," Timothy said suddenly, canceling his previous thought. "I need to find my sister, Jenny. Do you know anything about someone named Erica Vasquez?"
Danny chuckled over the radio. "Of course. One of the best fucks in Rapture. She gave Wilkins some sort of audio tape about a month ago. Wilkins didn't understand any of it, but he held on to it. Maybe it'll be of use to you..."
Tim's heart started racing. "I won't harm you or your fans or impede the game. Just let me have the tape, and I'll be on my way."
"I'm afraid that can't happen, rookie. As you just saw, one of the players took early retirement. If you want to get that tape, you'll have to play the game."
The welder's eyes narrowed in fear. He had seen the destructive power of what that...thing had done. He didn't stand a chance in hell of killing it.
Yes, you do, Tim thought. This is just one more obstacle to overcome.
With fear obviously in his voice, he said, "Fine. I'll play your game. But don't whine like a bitch when I win."
Danny Wilkins whistled. "Oh, the rookie thinks he'll win at my game. This will be the best game Rapture has ever seen."
The ex-football player switched back to the intercom. "It looks like we have a new challenger, folks! Come on downstairs, rookie! Walk around behind the Raiders goal, and follow the signs! Get suited up, come back up, and step onto the field!"
The Splicer crowd stared at the field, then to Tim, and repeated this. Then they started to cheer and holler at the prospect of a new game.
Tim's body shook all over as he walked toward the back end of the Raiders goal, following crudely-made signs that read "Pre-Game Room." He needed to know more about the Big Daddy, and he knew that Bill McDonagh would have something to say, but when he tried to reach him on the radio, he got no response. Vanderbilt gulped, and cursed to himself at his luck as he reached the Pre-Game Room and stepped inside.