Intro Story Blurb
(For all my Ron Effects Fans here is a short little blurb to my new story Burial At Sea. This is a intro into the Ron Effect Universe one fans of a certain under water game should enjoy! I am posting it onto the Ron Effect as a way for you guys to read it and see if it interests you. This story isn't necessary for those just wanting to stick with The Ron Effect however it will bridge the gap and offer insight into what the overall plan and arc is for my Ron trilogy. If you do it enjoy it feel free to search for it and add it! You can find it on my main page or in the bioshock cross overs. I figure since it was kind of off the beaten path I would give you guys the chance to check out a little preview here. Once again this story isn't needed to get the larger Ron Effect story but it will be part of the canon for the upcoming second and third book in my planned trilogy.
Also for those interested in helping and supporting me I have a page now on . You can find it under TBFanfics feel free to check it out if there is any interest!
Without further ado here is the story blurb for the newest intro to the Ron Effect! Burial At Seat)
CH 1
"Andrew Ryan Is An Idiot"
Rapture
Once called the city for every one, a place where the common man could rise above and create his own destiny, it was a place where science was supposed to flourish and jump ahead combining with other advances and creating a utopia. A place where any man worth his salt could put in the hard work and make some thing of him self. Andrew Ryan was what we would call a talker and oh did he talk about his precious city. It was the perfect city right?
I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No,' says the man in Washington 'it belongs to the poor.' 'No,' says the man in the Vatican, 'it belongs to God.' 'No,' says the man in Moscow, 'it belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose… Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."
Andrew Ryan had said those words himself once
He was an idiot
Even in a utopia some one had to clean up the dirty messes, well that someone was me Ronald Stoppable. I was nothing more than a so-called "private investigator" hired by the various upper class of Rapture to clean up their various indiscretions and petty squabbles as well as get dirt on one another. In another life I had been a cop a pretty decent one too but that was back on the surface in another ultimately happier life that didn't and couldn't exist again. Now I investigated filth and unfortunately it was a job I was better at then I could care to admit, after all I was direct didn't ask questions and simply did what needed to be done, in an underwater "utopia" I was the one who was the most honest.
The one who did what needed to be done
I awoke as I always did groaning and feeling hung over as hell, work was slower than usual the last couple of days which gave me plenty of time to focus on my hobbies which only consisted of drinking and wallowing in self-pity as I contemplated the past one bottle at a time. The first thing I did was reach for the dusty bottle of scotch that I kept right next to the calendar and poured myself a shot before hurriedly downing it and sighing as some of my headache disappeared. The next thing I did was tear of the page of the small calendar I kept on my desk, saying good-bye to December 30th 1958 and saying hello to the 31st with my usual cheer and good will. I suppose I should have cared that we were about to enter a brand spanking new year but honestly….
Did anyone care at this point?
The only thing Rapture seemed to care about was tearing itself apart. The war between Atlas and Ryan was like a cancer poisoning every last cell and nook in the city. Families were turning against other families and more and shoot outs between the two gang were as common as the sea life floating around all of us. Even the richer sections of the city were falling to the chaos and the anarchy of two warring factions. Rapture had went from a cesspool to a cesspool with the added charm of being a violent bomb about to go off.
It was only a matter of time
It was funny how even with the end rapidly approaching how some people focused on the petty shit. The Franklins could be the very definition of "ignorance is bliss". I had tried to warn her about what was coming even hint I knew a way out of this place but the only thing that concerned her was what her husband was doing. So I put in the work tracked the leads and came back with the truth about her husband's night time trips. I still remember the look of shock on her face as I pulled out the pictures laying them on my cherry wood desk one at a time. I watched her face go through the usual stages heartbroken at her husband's betrayal, anger at being used and made a fool of, the disbelieving look at me as if to say "your fucking with me aren't you?", and then finally the blank mask of acceptance.
In all my time doing this there was one truth I had the hardest time with. That in the end people didn't truly WANT the truth. They wanted to know sure but actually do something about it? Nah took too much time, too much effort, and ultimately in rapture? There was too much power in a marriage to leave it. Sure enough two days later I saw the Franklin's back out in Apollo Square like nothing was the matter. I thought about giving the man a good solid punch (Mrs. Franklin seemed a nice enough lady to warrant it) but instead I simply shook my head and went about my business content in the knowledge I would get his money for my services. Karma was good like that some times. Everyone should have to pay for cheating in some form. Hell in my opinion Mrs. Franklin as sweet as she is should get her own charge for pretending…..
Then again I wasn't one to talk
After all I do everything possible to pretend Kim Possible doesn't exist most days
My "morning" routine done for now I decided to get started with my day and my "work", I pulled out the pictures the Mrs. Franklin's wife wanted showing her husband lip locking with his secretary, the damn fool was doing it right in the middle of Apollo Square and it was as simple as pie for me to snap a few pictures of the illicit union and show them to the missus. She was going to stop around tonight and pick them up, presumably to burn the evidence of her husband's discretion or save it for a rainy day. I didn't make a business of knowing what happened to my pictures after I handed them off. The only thing that mattered was the money and with any luck I would be able to get my plasmid fix before I got the hell out of dodge.
Plasmids Andrew Ryans "Gift" turned curse turned plague. God was really laughing his ass off up there when we found out we could have super powers. The "genetic arms race" was nothing more than a joke with a bad punch line. All that fighting over the rights, all the time and money spent on research. All for something that will slowly kill you and drive you insane. Sure you could light a match, activate a light on the far side of the room, and even move things with your mind but who was actually using it for those things?
It was a means to arm our self-pure and simple. To play god. Well the truth was out there now, the dirty truth poor schlubs like me had to come to terms with. Plasmids were the gateway to insanity and violence and not ultimate power. Even know I could feel my mind teetering on the knife's edge of rational and madness. I hadn't injected in almost a week now in my attempt to kick the stuff. I wasn't sure if it was even doing any good since the stuff was all genetics and DNA.
But I had to try
There was a loud knocking on my door heavy but hurried, my eyes narrowed and I rose pushing my dirty blonde hair out of my eyes and reaching for the gun I kept hidden under the desk. My fingers wrapped around the wooden handle of the revolver as I slowly got up.
"Hello?"
I received no answer or hint as to who was on the other side. I moved cautiously to the door holding the gun loosely against my left side as my thumb pulled the hammer back and chambered a round. I reached the door that led into my office, recently the protest were getting more and more violent and I already had to give two punks a warning shot when they tried to raid my office for supplies. The little war going on between the two factions was some thing I cared little about Rapture was dead no matter who controlled it and I had no plans to stick around and watch them fight over the scraps.
"Who is it?" I asked putting my free hand over the doorknob ready to slam it open and daze the figure at the first sign of trouble. Instead of hearing an answer a small piece of paper slid through the bottom of the door and the shadow of the man behind the door disappeared as if he had never been there to begin with.
"What in the hell" I murmured reaching down and picking up the letter, I waited for a few minutes checking to make sure the man was gone before going to my desk and sitting down. I reached for my letter opener quickly opening it and unfolding it as I kept one wary eye on the door. If this was a trick of some kind I was prepared to make the person who did it as sorry as possible. No one came so finally I relaxed and dipped my head down to the note. I spread it out over the table my eyes sweeping up and down as I read then reread the message.
Mr. Stoppable
You asked about leaving the city if you still wish to leave go to the address enclosed at three o clock and do not be late.
There you will find a contact who will help smuggle you out of Rapture.
Do not forget what I have told you Ronald you have a destiny outside of this great city
Good Luck
Mr. Sensei
"Sensei" I murmured touching his name with the tip of my finger. My mind wandered back pulling out memories of the old man and his restaurant Yamanouchi the one bright spot in this paradise gone wrong. I had stumbled on it completely by accident one night during one of my drunken rage walks. I didn't remember to much before I reached the restaurant but I do remember when I reached it everything becoming suddenly crystal clear. The sweet smell of cooked food called to me and I found myself walking in as if it was the place I had been going to the whole time.
Hell when it came to Sensei maybe he somehow brought me there.
He greeted me at the door stroking his long white beard and watching me with the most intense eyes I had ever seen. He looked at people the way someone looked at a sunrise or in raptures case the ocean life. That sort of wide eyed wonder see the good in a person type stare. I never found out much about him not that I didn't ask. His customers, his waitresses, and even his fellow business owners all had no idea where he came from. He just simply sprung up one day creating the restaurant and living above it. He was old to but if any one tried to guess his age they would find themselves unable to. He somehow managed to look both wise and old beyond his years and also young and full of energy.
I hate the way he looks at me.
Well hate is a strong word… I didn't feel worthy of it. I was drunk in our first meeting and set the standard for that by being sauced every time we met. The fact that he somehow saw past that and still considered me to be a good person only furthered my own feelings of not being good enough for his praise.
Yet I kept going back and probably would still be going if I wasn't leaving.
We would sit he would bring me food and then we would just… talk. Sometimes it would be random things such as the food being cooked at the restaurant or life in general. Most of the time however Sensei would talk about me and about the destiny he felt I had. Don't ask me why but Sensei really thinks I have some big destiny ahead of me. I suppose I should have told him I wasn't that guy…. But I never did. I suppose in the end everyone wants some kind of praise. Even me the guy wading through the seedy underbelly of Rapture and staring at two substance abuse problems.
I shook myself off from my pity party and carefully folded the note up. I rose checking my watch as I grabbed some spare ammo for my revolver. The contact was in Apollo Square, which meant I needed to hurry if I wanted to make it in time especially with the parties going on. I also needed to come back at some point so I could meet Mrs. Franklin and get my money. I quickly shaved the rough stubble that was cropping up across my chin, got my hair in a half way respectable look and changed out of my dirty suit and into a nice pair of brown and white pinstripe pants, I pulled on a black undershirt pausing to curl up the sleeves before pulling my gun holsters and blue vest on, I hurriedly tied my red ascot on before quickly turning and going back to my desk my revolver went inside the gun holster and I grabbed my last hypo before going to the door and pulling on my brown over coat and fendora. I spared my office one last glance my eyes falling to the bottle of scotch one last time I contemplated taking it for several long seconds before I finally turned and slammed the door shut.
If I knew what I was headed for I would have went right back to that damn bottle
