A/N: Hey guys! Guess who's baaaaa-aaack!
I know. I know. I haven't updated in like... what? Five... maybe six months? To be fair, sitting down and playing Bioshock, pausing Bioshock, trying to write a paragraph or two, play Bioshock for two more seconds, pause Bioshock, write another paragraph, reload a previous save to make sure I got the details down right... it gets boring and frustrating doing that for any amount of time. Plus adding all the characterization in between all of that is tough. Getting the oomph! to do it for a second time took a lot of kicking my own ass to get'r started again. Trying to write this, along with the two other stories I have going (more like one-and-a-half... but when you're a writer, the headache rounds itself up with no regard to your sanity), was an undertaking, but I finally-finally-FINALLY! got it done.
Review Responses:
- razmire: I believe there was cut content for Bioshock 2 for the Little Brothers, and I think their were concepts for the Big Momma, but it was never exactly explained why. I think it was in the Bioshock: Rapture Novel that it was attempted by Tenenbaum and Suchong, but the experiment didn't "end well". Not sure how canon that is though. Unfortunately, I'd have to hear it from Ken Levine's mouth before I actually took anything to heart.
- MartyrFan: I think I mentioned last chapter, but... I'm all for Jack "Rescuing" the Little Sisters, but like you said, there had to be conflict, both in self-interest and in self-ideals. As long as Jack had a strained conscience about what he was doing, he was never going to be able to move forward proficiently.
While I do like your idea for Splicers, I do find it unlikely. There are a few loopholes. For one, ADAM itself replaces cells with unstable stem variants, and while unstable, they need more ADAM to stay stable (but they were still viable regardless, which results in insane Splicers still having powers), but that adds more unstable stem cells; creating this vicious escalating cycle that eventually drives a person to deformity and insanity. The ADAM cells replace the healthy ones, which leads me to believe that, like any cell, they can duplicate through mitosis, therefore passing along their genetic information, unstable or not.
Then again, its unclear how Rapture citizens were paid in ADAM in the first place, so for all we know, the 80 ADAM Jack gets for Rescuing a Sister is considered a whole heck of a lot (and the 1000 that Ryan put up as a reward for killing you as a frickin' gold mine!), which would explain why Plasmids costing 100+ ADAM are basically never seen in Splicers. They could only afford the occasional Gene Tonic unless they were able to amass an unhealthy collection of the goop. Plus, once the craving side-effects started, they wouldn't be able to collect a whole lot of ADAM if they had to keep shooting up in gradually larger amounts to keep their ever-growing number of stem cells healthy. (I'm pretty sure I stayed true to canon in that way, but maybe I missed something?)
I'm not sure as far as the war. It would make sense, given Elizabeth's ability to one-hit sneak attack most Splicer's in Burial at Sea Pt. 2, while Jack has to give 'em a couple good whacks without the proper Tonics (he's physically stronger in the first place from "farm work", so lets let that sink in as far as Splicer durability shall we?). And that was after the course of a year between the events of Burial at Sea and Bioshock numero uno. I think its a good theory, or at least, one worth noting, especially since the Splicers in Bioshock 2 are fewer, but stronger, more aggressive and more mutated after years of splicing. It does have merit.
Not that I noticed. I just figured "Hey, there's an drill engine. It runs on fuel and oil. What happens when you fill it full of buckshot?" Plus, I figured that they've had some trial and error in the Proving Grounds before they worked out most of the kinks of the Big Daddy's suit when converting them from laborers to protectors. But like always, it's not a perfect system, especially when you have some creative solutions.
I came to that conclusion as well. I believe when the Little Sister drinks from her needle, the slug processes the ADAM from the blood she's consumed from recycled Splicers. It would explain why when they're rescued, that you get less ADAM (because the slug is destroyed, so is some of the ADAM it was processing). I admit, I willingly decided for a softer approach when collecting ADAM from the Rescued Sisters, especially since the ADAM counter in game is glowing red, and the Little Sister needle jar is glowing red, I kind of wanted to go with a like-association.
Again, this is speculation because so much is left for us as the players to fill in the gaps, but its just my opinion as always. And no worries about throwing a few headcanons my way. It's always a pleasure to bounce ideas back and forth! :)
- "PhillipBoss" and "Iron900": They'll probably be super slow, but I guarantee that I'm not going to stop until it's finished. I invested way to much brain-space and -processing to give up on it now.
- Blaze Stryker: I have a distinct feeling that you're not wrong. It was one of those "Oh? Oh. Oh!" moments that made the dramatic irony of Bioshock a little more bitter-sweet.
The pin pricks aren't checking for Ryan's DNA specifically (since that would mean Andrew Ryan would have to play dodge-bullet with the turrets before pricking himself if he ever encountered one), they're more like a genetic override that establishes Jack as "Friendly". Not to say that being half- Ryan doesn't help in that regard, but its establishing that half- Jolene part as friendly that's important since nothing in Rapture will harm Andrew Ryan (except a certain sweater wearing stud).
Nah! Since when is Jack going to leave around a potentially useful item? That would mean a Splicer could pick it up and suddenly, there goes the neighborhood. It's not necessarily the Plasmid's that are recycled; it's the ADAM, since it can be manipulated into other Plasmids, but the base substance can still hold the memory of people its passed through (no known way of getting around that)
Probably, but that would require a genetic baseline and identifying markers between Jack and Ryan. A Key wouldn't record that specifically (hint: something else would though). However, the Vita-Chamber's were probably the first thing that made Ryan raise one of his overly groomed eyebrows. But I have a theory as to how he conducted and gathered his research from there. Will be "keying" (haha!) you and everyone else in on my ideas later. Much, much later. ;) ('nother hint: I made mention of said method previously)
*End of Responses
Without further ado. *Que the dimming of the lights*
Chapter 6: Into the Briny (Don't Forget Your Waders)
Jack had to actively suppress the smile on his face as he headed back toward the Emergency Access. However, the little tug to his lips was harder to pull back into place than he anticipated. It wasn't until he stepped back into the hall that his radio fizzled back to life.
"Are you almost back to Emergency Access?"
"Yep, ready to go," Jack stated, "unless you have something else here I need to take care of here."
"Nope, but it seems like ya left an impression on the riff-raff. Might be a good place to take another gander once all this blows over."
Yep, Jack could see that. He'd have to see about breaking into all those safes if time allowed.
"Take the sub as soon as you open up the Emergency Access. You've got Ryan's eye now, so you won't hear him coming."
"Even though he announces his presence over the PA system every opportunity that suites him?" Jack snorted as he walked toward the aesthetic waterfall up ahead.
He could practically hear Atlas's smirk over the other end. "Aye, but he'll be there before you know it. He don'' like loose ends."
Jack finally made it back toward the Foyer, eye-spying a Grenade Splicer standing in the "Electrical Override Switch" booth, overlooking the reception area through the broken glass. It noticed him just as quickly, tossing his little can grenade before Jack stopped it with Telekinesis, and half-heartedly tossed it back. The explosion was simple at that distance. Fewer things to worry about when it wasn't up in his face. He could hear the gurgle of the Splicer's punctured chest as he wheezed for air, even as he made his way down the steps. Serves it right. He'd sent a Splicer to warn others against fighting him. If they didn't want to back down, so be it.
He ignored the Circus of Value as he walked back to the Access, despising the familiar industrial look and red light. Although, the thirteen rounds of Tommy ammo was a nice touch to find on the floor, especially after he'd already looted the place. It was both amazing and sickening how quickly the Splicers could move back in. Before he used Steinman's key though, he went up to the observation booth, finishing off the good-as-dead Splicer with a solid whack! before looting a solid seventeen bucks from it.
It wasn't a minute later that he stood in front of the Emergency Access Controls, finding the slot for Steinman's Genetic Key, and inserting it. In an instant, the red lighting faded to neon white, and the "Access Denied" on the screens turning to the "Stand By" pictured with the lighthouse.
"Security Alert deactivated," the system announced. "Thank you for your patience!"
"Good. Now you need to insert your own key. Tha' should give you full access to the Medical Pavilion if you need it. Only a few sods can overwrite that, and they'd hafta do it manually. It should make it impossible for most blokes to follow ya."
Jack shrugged. Why not? Atlas knew what he was doing better than he did. Without further prompt, he pulled his Genetic Key out of his back pocket and inserted it, a small chime sounding as the machine scanned it.
"Now that that's over," Jack huffed as he repocketed his key, walking tiredly down to the opened gate that lead to the Bathysphere.
"Great job lad. I don't know how you managed it, but you did," Atlas commented over the radio.
"Wow, where was all that faith just a few minutes ago," Jack mumbled sarcastically, keeping it low and to himself.
"Come through to Port Neptune now. I'm looking forward to shakin' your hand."
Jack wished he could say the same thing with a beaming hundred percent certainty. But after that… conversation about the Little Sisters, a part of him was being stubbornly sore. The man just wanted his family safe, even if it meant trodding on everyone else in the process. Jack didn't agree with it, but he empathized.
Making his way down to the dock, he hissed at the cold water, growling in discomfort as he walked over to the Bathysphere. A storage crate to his left yielded sixteen dollars.
"Oh fucking c'mon!" he moaned. The submersible had about an inch or two of freezing water on the floor. Growling in irritation, he moved over to the elevator-like buttons that brightened. "Neptune's Bounty" was the only light shining, so he pushed the damned thing and plopped down on the musty seating, pulling the lever mindlessly.
He took a deep, calming breath as the hatch closed over, knowing what to expect, but hating it none the less. The first time had been an accident, but now that he was doing it willingly, he was doing everything in his power to breathe normally.
"You gonna be alright boyo?" Atlas prompted, distracting Jack from his delving thoughts as the Bathysphere sank into the water. He shivered at how cold it suddenly became. Probably because he wasn't wearing his sweater this time.
"I will be," he answered, fumbling to pull out his smokes. Incinerate blazed to life, licking up his hand to turn any residual blood to ash, allowing him to shake his hand clean before he popped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it with a small blue spark of Electro Bolt. In his opinion, it was cooler that way.
He leaned back and closed his eyes as he inhaled, extracting the small light to exhaled a stream of smoke. 'There. Much better,' he mused, letting himself calm from the ritual. He didn't bother looking out into the city. What had previously been a thing of wonder, now filled him with disgust. He didn't want to see any more of it than he had to.
With that thought in mind, he pulled out his coffee thermos from his satchel, glad to see that it still had some faint wisps of steam left, even if it was less warm than the last time he'd sat down for a drink. So there Jack sat, a smoke in one hand, a cuppa joe in the other. He kept his eyes closed, letting his sense of self-awareness guide the drink and smoke to his mouth as needed.
He just wanted to sleep. But he couldn't now. The very idea of Rapture kept him wide awake with fret and worry. What would that look like once he made it to the surface? Would he dream of what this place could have been? Or would he wake up gasping for air, realizing that he wasn't about to drown again?
It was several minutes of restless rest, lack of thought, and the occasional sip and puff before he felt the Bathysphere beginning to surface again. With an irritated sigh, he wished he'd had more than a ten minute "lunch break" to prep himself. He swallowed the last of his coffee in one drought, screwing the cap back on before putting his cigs back in his pocket, his current smoke having just a little more life to it.
He contemplated his next move as the Sphere docked, making sure his acquired weapons were good, that his satchel was still in good condition, and the improvised suitcase he'd strapped down was also in good condition. With his luck, he'd be needing a way to stow his gear here soon. That or get something to carry it all with.
With a deep breath of resignation, he took his first step into Neptune's Bounty.
"Now you've had the pleasure of Andrew Ryan's company," Atlas stated sarcastically.
"I take it he runs the place?" Jack wondered. He didn't know what Ryan's exact involvement was, only that he was someone with enough pull to literally make his life down here a living hell.
"He's the vision behind this place, had the plans to build it. And now he's the one who run it into the seabed." Well… that explained a lot. It was Andrew Ryan's brain-child, and he was as possessive of it as a toddler with a toy. Fascinating. "Nobody knows exactly what happened. Maybe he went mad. Maybe the power got to him. Maybe he just decided he didn't like people." Jack scoffed at that. He could relate. People sucked. Especially down here, where nearly everyone and their second cousin was a socialite now hyped on a genetic re-writing wonder drug trying to kill you for no damn good reason. "Whichever way you slice it, good men died. Me family's in a submarine, hidden in the foundation of the ol' Fontaine Fisheries. I'll be meetin' you there."
That was the best news Jack had heard all… day? Still didn't know how much time had passed. He didn't really care either as he walked up the stairs from the Bathysphere. Dead ahead, some poor fucker was crucified and stabbed with scissors, his arms and neck held suspended by ropes, and the word "Smuggler" written over his head on the support column behind him. The left path was blocked by crates owned by "Lotz & Sons", the right clear enough. Jack picked up the buckshot and emptied a Tommy of its ammo in front of the crates before he got a good look at what was at the "smuggler's" hanging feet.
Two suitcases. One with bibles and a crucifix, the other filled to the brim with tape reels.
Jack snickered. For a city where no one was to be restricted, it certainly made sure to censor just about everything. What a fucking hypocritical society. Funny how Rapture was broken at its very core, and it showed.
Shaking it off, Jack did the half-decent thing, and lit Incinerate across his fingers, burning through the ropes until he could lower the poor bastard down. That didn't mean Jack spared his pockets a riffling, but he figured even the dead deserved some dignity, even if he only got a package of bandages out of it.
"He's late."
Jack froze out of reflex, pulling out his wrench quickly. The only thing that kept him from moving now was how strange and out of place the voice seemed. Completely refined, sophisticated, and… "normal". Clearly a woman's voice.
"On the contrary, I believe he'll arrive precisely when he intends to."
"It's not like we didn't hear him sifting through that plebeian's pockets. How crude. Could he be any louder?"
"I believe he could. In some events, there may have been a lot of squelching involved."
"And he let it down, as if a corpse cares for dignity. Some askew concept of petty morality."
"That would explain his tardiness. He did make some interesting choices."
"Unique choices. In a circumstance of black and white, he chose a sort of grey. Never had that happen before."
"Well it is a unique circumstance, sister. He chose a compromise. Very few thought of that."
"And even fewer followed through. It was strange that such a simple event had such a large ripple. It wasn't even a completely new choice. More like a half-choice."
"Half-indeed. Especially on matters of blood. Perhaps its implications have much larger ramifications down the line, hence the ripple across time-space. Some things have already uniquely taken place. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to say so."
"Perhaps so. … … Oh for heavens sake, we know you're there!"
Jack slowly moved past a cord of rope and – surprise, surprise (not really) – a Vita-Chamber. Up ahead, was a Circus of Value to the right, and in the middle a new machine with the golden neon "Gene Bank" written at it's top. Not the most important things though.
The real surprise came with the people he saw.
A well-groomed red-headed man in a tan overcoat, bronze waist coat, and green tie was crouched in front of the Circus of Value, looking in the dispenser slot like he was expecting something to fall out. Two jars sat next to him, one filled with what appeared to be silver coins, while the other remained unceremoniously empty. Next to him, leaning at ease against the Gene Bank, was an equally well-groomed, and equally red-headed woman, dressed similarly to the man, but with a brown skirt that curtained to the ground. She watched the man fiddle away. They looked like two sides of the same–
"Ah! Coin," the man said randomly, lifting up another silver coin he appeared to find, but also as though answering an unfinished thought. "He has questions."
"Does he always though?" the woman inquired. "He is the only one of his kind. He's setting the standard here."
"The question is…."
"Can we answer his questions?"
"No! Would answering his questions only lead to more questions?"
"Questionable, but probable."
"Questionably probable?"
"Probably."
'Holy fucking shit…! W-What?' Jack thought, looking frantically back and forth between them as they bantered on. His wrench counted back and forth between them, trying to keep track of the conversation.
"Fantastic. I think we confused him," the woman exasperated.
"To simplify things…," the man stated to Jack, only half paying attention.
"Greatly simplify things," the woman expounded.
"We're just here to observe," the man clarified without actually clarifying, like he was talking straight through him. And Jack still didn't know who they were.
Jack was confused, his mouth half opened as he looked between the two of them. They weren't Splicers. That much was plain to see. But they didn't exactly seem… normal either.
"I think I found the actual Tweedle Twins," he commented off-handedly, feeling somewhat dizzy by the sheer bizarreness both of them radiated in spades and hearts. 'And further down the rabbit hole.'
They just looked at him with a hint of amusement, as if he were a fascinating specimen they were observing. For some reason, Jack found their passive intrigue discomforting, like a small insect was crawling down the back of his neck. Strange.
"So, who are you two?" he asked, unable to relax as his hand gripped his wrench a little tighter.
The man sighed, reaching nonchalantly over to the already filled jar, and to Jack's astonishment, it blurred, vibrating slightly before it stood suddenly empty. The man dropped the silver coin he'd found into it with a Chink!. "I suppose it's safe to say-"
"He doesn't remember us yet," the woman said with a hint of what might have been success in her voice, like she had won a bet. "Suffice to say, he's much too emotional."
"That is constant. It happens in every divergent."
"But the outcome-"
"-Is subject to change," the man finished. "Though he is learning."
"The learning curve is rather unkind though," the woman stated. "Much too scrupulous, and yet just devious enough. Choosing to save a life while subjecting others to terror. Contradictory."
"Paradoxical even?" the man offered.
"Precisely. Not wholly unique."
"And yet in this time and place alone, uniquely whole. So many choices."
"And yet the only branch of its kind. But will it bear fruit?"
"Preferably bananas."
"No. Grapes. Of course, bananas! Excellent source of potassium."
"Indisputable. But this time-line is still subject to change."
"Small at first. A rock in the sea."
"Ah, but once a ripple has started-"
"-Then the waves begin to grow. No telling what will happen now that that particular cat is out of the bag."
"But all the cats are dead cats down here."
"Fair point. Nothing Schrödinger about it. Funny thing, since we beat him to the punch in terms of theoretical quantum entanglement."
"Indeed. It's too bad he couldn't have been born twenty years earlier. I bet he was a splendid conversationalist."
"No time-line for that. I checked."
"Pity."
Jack just blinked again before shaking his head. "I'll just be going now," he stated, moving around to the open side of the Gene Bank, where it looked like the corpse of some kind of Big Daddy laid, just behind the woman. He sighed. Couldn't search it without potentially looking like a pervert in such close proximity to her... well, her behind.
"Now just a moment," the woman stated, tapping the Gene Bank in demonstration. "You'll be needing this."
"And this," the man stated, as though his fiddling were indication to the vending machine he was tinkering with.
"Brother dear, I'm sure he'll be more interested in knowing what is occurring around his genetic baseline than check for supplies."
"Was that before or after he nearly blew through his entire stock of medicinal injections?" the man countered.
"Hmm. I do suppose you're right. It wasn't his smartest move."
"Won't be his last," the man agreed.
"Won't be the worst," the woman agreed back.
"Or will it? Still a rather obscure timeline. He could do something far more stupid."
"Also fair."
Jack just looked at them, trying to ignore the massive headache rising from trying to follow them. "How can I trust you won't try something while I use the machines?"
"I suppose you can't trust us," the man stated.
"But you will."
"Or will have had to."
"But most likely later."
"Much later. Or is it sooner? What's past tense of later?" the man asked his sister.
"I don't believe that's been invented yet," she answered. "Not for this particular definition anyway."
"What good are grammar professors if they can't plan for these sorts of conundrums?"
"About as useful as physicists I suppose."
"Sister, we're physicists."
"So only as useful as the pursuit of their craft," she clarified.
"Ah! In that case, we've only scratched the surface," he stated.
"Even if we've achieved omniscience by being atomized across all of time-space?" she replied, as though she'd asked about the weather. Must be some private joke, because Jack didn't understand a word of that.
"That's the spirit!" the man declared, standing up and dusting himself off.
Both of the "twins" moved from their positions, standing side-by-side as they walked at a leisurely pace past Jack, as though they were doing nothing but taking a Sunday stroll in the park.
"Perhaps we should have left him with a gift," the man stated as they rounded the pillar toward the Bathysphere.
"Perhaps. But he's been gifted enough. Our dear little upstart saw to that."
"Not for now. For later," the man corrected. "DeWitt received one."
"Or in this case, will have received one."
"Or both," the man stated.
"Yes. Both," she agreed. "Time is fickle that way."
"So is that a yes to the gift? I have a couple selections picked out."
"Planning like it's Christmas are we?" the woman sounded amused. "Hmm, we'll see."
Jack stood there for a moment longer, half waiting to hear the telltale sound of a Bathysphere descending. But none came. In fact, he didn't hear another peep at all. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he looked around the pillar, half betting he'd see them just standing there silently.
There was no one. And no indication that anything had been tampered with, much less the Bathysphere.
Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. "Alice must be nuttier than she thought," he muttered, turning back to the machines with little other prompt as he pulled up his radio. "Hey Atlas."
It took a moment, but he was rewarded with the radio's whir. "What is it boyo?"
"Are there any other survivors down here?" he asked, holding the radio between his cheek and shoulder as he went about hacking the Circus of Value. "Ones that haven't spliced themselves to hell."
"A couple here and there. Most are holed up, scattered around Rapture. A few even locked up in Persephone. Most of the active ones like… Johnny… worked with me against Ryan. Ya weren't seein' ghosts were you?" Jack cringed in sympathy, having only caught the bowel-end of Johnny's demise when he first arrived. Literally.
"These ones were… pretty tangible looking," he replied. "Talked funny, like they had a banter act. Disappeared into thin air as soon as they rounded a corner."
There was a pause on the other end. "That's concerning, no matter how you look at it. Either your goin' bat-shit boyo, or there's blokes still down here that haven'' lost their minds to the Plasmids. As unlikely as either is, keep a sharper lookout now Jack. I don't like this one bit."
"Yay," Jack cheered unenthusiastically, as he finished hacking the machine. He still wasn't sure what that little guilty tingle up his arm was.
Next was the Gene Bank. The strange woman said he'd probably need it. Again, there was a large needle. And it looked like he'd be using it. "Fuck!" He ran his fingers over the machine, trying to see how the bloody thing worked. The machine whirred as he grazed an upward pointing arrow with two lines through it on the right-hand side of the machine. On the left-hand side, box with two canisters atop it slide down and opened out like a mailbox, revealing a rotating screen similar to the Gatherer's Garden. There was even a convenient little slot for his Genetic Key.
Jack groaned. Not that it was overly complicated, but because he really didn't want to deal with another weird Rapture machine. "Buck up, and just get it over with."
Retrieving his Genetic Key once again, Jack inserted it, watching as the already bright gold machine hummed as it processed. Several shutters blinked open next to a couple prompts. ""Plasmids" and "Gene Tonics"," he wondered aloud, especially since he still didn't know what a Gene Tonic was. There was also an "Update" tab, but he figured that was self-explanatory.
Erring on the side of understanding, he clicked the "Plasmid" tab, watching as the shutters and slides rearranged to show him his current Plasmids: "Telekinesis", "Electro Bolt", and "Incinerate". Interesting enough, there were another five slots, with little locks on them. He hummed in curiosity, but didn't think too much on it as he clicked "Telekinesis". Another shutter as Telekinesis was removed from the slot, leaving it empty, but putting the Plasmid option off to the side.
"So that's how you work," he stated aloud, looking around quickly to make sure he was alone. "Then what's with these other slots? Do they unlock as I get Plasmids? Or is there something else?"
Pushing it aside for now, he reinstated "Telekinesis" and exited back to the primary screen, choosing "Gene Tonics" this time. There were eight unlocked slots among a total of eighteen. Five slots were taken up by "Gene Tonics". What concerned him was the slot with three Question Marks for a picture on it. So far it looked like he had "Hackers Delight", "Wrench Jockey", "Cats Paw", and "Armored Shell".
"Now do you come with descriptions?" Jack muttered to himself, "Because I need to be educated like a three-year-old, since I don't know what a Gene Tonic is or what it does." He looked them over, and low-and-behold, they do have descriptions… with a lot of fancy propaganda bullshit.
In a nutshell! "Hackers Delight" caused the giddy little feeling he got every time he hacked something, redirected currents from successfully hacked machines causing his body to heal and generate EVE. Cool. Not sure how that worked, but cool. "Wrench Jockey" made him bulkier so he could smash shit harder. He didn't look or feel it, but he'd take its word for it. "Cats Paw" basically made him quieter while walking, and increased his speed and agility. He hadn't noticed that either, but then again, maybe that was the point. Did that mean he always landed on his feet too? … Food for thought. "Armored Shell"… didn't have a more apt description, but if Jack had to guess, it had something to do with a genetically grown subdermal armor.
'How the hell do I know what subdermal armor is?' he wondered, before shaking it away. Just another thing he didn't know he knew. Still, if Gene Tonics really did all that, then damn! Even thinking about all the Splicers that had this shit in their systems made Jack shiver at the unfairness of what he was caught up in. At least now he was figuring it out, and slowly but surely evening the odds.
The three Question Marks had him most curious, so he clicked on it, blinking in surprise as it expanded. This Gene Tonic had its own sub-sections. Two in fact. Both marked with "?". Curiouser and curiouser. Looking for descriptions, he was sorely disappointed when his question marked Question Marks had more question marks. "Great," he sighed sarcastically. "I have an actual dud that I don't know what it does. Only that it has two sub-duds that go with it. Once again, Rapture fails to impress with its lack of labelling."
Great. Lovely. Fucking fantastic!
Jack closed out of the machine and retrieved his Key, since all he wanted to do was check it out. At least he was better informed about the rewiring his genetics was experiencing, even if he was only more confused about it now. He quickly looted the differing Big Daddy, gaining another few dollars. Jack quietly hopped the Rapture Transit schedule billboard that made a ramp in front of him, watching the shadows of fish overhead crawl across the ground.
He startled however when he noticed a red glow on the ground. Underneath the concrete debris was a Little Sister needle, the glow coming from the jar. (A/N: this is in the game if you look closely, it kind of surprised me when I found it)
Jack's heart crawled into his throat as he crouched down, hoping and praying that he didn't see one of the girls crushed to death under the collapse. To his immediately relief, and subsequent dread, he didn't see any sign of her. He didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't help the weight in his chest as he pulled out the large ass needle, dumping the red goop into his ADAM jar before putting it back down. He still hadn't used the other one he had, so there was little use for carrying another one.
The pressure door craned open, allowing him to see the incredibly damaged tunnel, water pouring onto the floor ahead… and the large shadow of a rummaging Splicer down the hall.
Jack decided to test out the extent of that Cats Paw Tonic as he edged his way forward, relying partially on the mutated gene, and partially on what pap had taught him while hunting.
He couldn't remember what actually occurred at the time, but the words were ingrained inside his head. "Fox Walk, Jackie," he whispered under his breath. "Knees slightly bent to lower the center of gravity, step with the ball of your foot first, roll the toes downward, then put pressure on the heel." Like out of a textbook. He walked forward. Slowly. Padding his way down the hall. He didn't draw his weapons. He didn't keep any Plasmid handy except Telekinesis. Either action would probably give away his position by sound alone. All he did was focus on his steps, and his breathing.
When he approached the water, Jack had to steel himself, both mentally and physically, before slowly – painstakingly slowly – lower his foot into the water. It hurt. Already his toes and bones ached from the shear cold, made worse by the effort of maintaining his focus on his quiet movements, even as he slowly slithered through the ice-cold water. Thankfully the water falling from a piping leak overhead was making plenty of noise to drown out any sounds Jack may have unwillfully made.
He slowly, and patiently crawled out of the water, doing his best to keep his teeth from chattering. Once on shore, he eased forward, ignoring the biting cold in his legs as he licked his sea chapped lips.
Snn! Snn-snn! The Splicer's shadow stood up, lifting its nose to the air like a hound as it sniffed. "What crawls in my garden?" he heard from the Splicer, shivering slightly at the familiarity he heard in that voice. Jack watched, barely a few feet away as the shadow on the wall seemed to turn and look right at him, sending a horrible chill up his spine… though that may have been his cold toes talking. "Is it the little sproutling, emerged from its seed?"
"Oh fuck," he muttered, not bothering with the noise as he pulled his comfort shotgun close. "Is it someone new?" he remembered. "Not you."
Cackling, the Splicer's shadow jumped, disappearing. Jack blinked as the chill factor wore off with a burst of adrenaline, instantly activating Incinerate in his veins before directing it to his feet. Amazingly, his toes felt a hundred and ten percent better in a few seconds as they warmed up instantly. Egh! But now his socks were now wet and warm. Maybe he could steam-press them on his feet?
He rounded the corner, spotting the unfortunate victim the familiar Splicer had been slicing into with… meat hooks. Lovely. He looked upward, spotting the hole in the ceiling she had disappeared into, as well as something hanging off the edge. He reached up with Telekinesis, drawing it down.
More Electric Buck.
Other than that, the corpse yielded nothing, but emptying the bullets from a nearby Tommy yielded over half a magazine. The whole time, Jack kept his shotgun in hand, frequently sending nervous glances up at the hole in the ceiling, as though the first Splicer he'd ever seen would suddenly drop down and gut him.
He carefully walked into the next room, divided by two sets of pressure doors to see a vent to his right, and a Health Station to his left. Almost immediately… were those rose petals falling?
"But the days go by like the wind."
The shotgun was immediately to his shoulder as he looked up, both eyes trained on the grated ceiling. His breath was quickening. This was ridiculous! He had fought his way through the Medical Pavilion, killed a Big Daddy and Steinman; but this one Splicer was making his heart beat out of his chest.
"C'mon," Jack gritted to himself, ignoring the sweat irritating his temple. "C'mon Jack. Move. Move!" He pulled the shotgun back, breathing heavily as he forced an ounce of calm into his system. He felt like he was walking on bloody eggshells now. He moved over to the Station, hacking it quickly, but even the guilty tingle he caught from his Hacker's Delight Tonic (Ha! He knew what it was called now!) failed to completely spur him.
He needed to move. Staying still was deadly when out in the open, even if "open" consisted of a short hallway.
He pushed onward, the automatic door opening to greet him with a giant red crab sign dubbed "McCracken Crabs". And the sight of one of those variant Big Daddies escorting a Little Sister.
Jack breathed. She was protected, and acting now could end up more detrimental than not. Sure, there was a vent behind him, but he didn't even know where anything was around here. Best to wait for now.
To his right was "Fontaine Fisheries". That was where he's supposed to go.
"Ha! There! Give 'er to me!" a Splicer called. Jack looked further up and over, spying a Grenade Splicer next to a neon sign for "Upper Wharf". It immediately began lobbing his tin can bombs down on the Daddy and his ward. The explosion drew out a bellow from the dive-suited thing, but not before the Daddy lifted the Sister with one hand, and pulled her behind it; using itself as a shield. "Show me your broken face you metal piece of shit!"
"Get 'em Mister B!"
'Ambush,' Jack thought. "No shit," he growled, Incinerate encompassing his forearm and hand. His eyes narrowed as he focused, on the one-hit KO he was looking for.
SNAP! A burst of flame caught the explosives box, the Splicer dropping it in shock. The explosion took place quickly and the bloody mist that vaporized around let him know that the Splicer wasn't an issue anymore. Easy.
Across the short excursion of mud and filth that spanned two dock-like structures of the Lower Wharf, more Splicers were approaching from the side opposite of where he stood. Jack watched as they immediately opened fire on the Daddy, prompting another enraged roar. He would have stepped in to help, but immediately stepped back when the Daddy pulled up its gun, firing large… were those fucking rivets! Jack watched with his mouth half opened as the impromptu weapon tore apart one Splicer before the Daddy reached back and pulled out a small, green glowing sphere before chucking it. The Splicer walked right into it.
Boom!
Jack swallowed audibly as he looked between the Daddy and the retreating Splicers. 'It has a rivet gun. And explosives.' "I don't get paid enough for this shit," he chuckled weakly, observing the large metal man like it was the deadliest foe he'd encountered. So far, it was looking like it… well, maybe. He was potentially being stalked by the first Splicer he encountered in Rapture… so… he'd find out eventually.
While he'd assumed it would share similarities with the Drill Daddy, this was… just… NOOOO! It was unfair just how shit-out-of-luck he was right now. He stomped his foot with a huff.
"Oh hello," he stated aloud, even as he made to go again. Distractions, distractions. In the middle of all that filth, right next to where the Little Sister was draining the ADAM from some dead body like she hadn't just survived an attempt on her life, was a glowing blue bottle. Plasmid? "Dud"? Which one? Which one?
He groaned, his hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation. "Well, I gotta get the girl anyway. But I could just come back later."
'Rule of survival: grab anything essential.'
"It's just a bottle."
'And yet, the compilation of power has kept us from dying frequently. So get to it. Grab the girl. Grab the bottle. Easy.'
"Easy. Ri-ight." Had his brain not been paying attention recently?
But, he couldn't argue with that. He sighed, already looking around for things he could use to turn this fight to his advantage. It was his ears that caught the first advantage: a nearby turret. And by "nearby" that meant under his feet. He took the ramp down into the disgusting mud below, kicking up wood debris and old planks along with it. If the smell was anything to go by, it wasn't just mud, but an assortment of rotting something or other. If he had to guess, probably fish guts and stale saltwater; every step he took breaking the fine surface that otherwise kept it masked. Ducking down under the wharf with a dizzying headshake, he moved around the support beams, almost instantly spotting the turret. Zap and hack. It was his before it had even discovered he was there.
Across the Lower Wharf – if his noxious fume clouded eyes weren't mistaken – underneath the opposite dock, was another turret. Between him and that, was the Daddy and Sister. The Daddy's were already hard enough without having to divide his attention between that and defending from an unholy hail of bullets.
He squelched through the mud, moving carefully along the wall as he did his best not to cause alarm to either the little girl or her metal guardian. The Rivet Daddy's foremost porthole watched him carefully, one hand poised on its gun just to let him know that it was armed and dangerous.
Jack ignored it as best as he could though as he hid behind cross-patterned metal flooring, just in front of his prize. And just away from the eye of the other turret. He peered out from around the corner of his shelter, hoping that the ramp ahead was out of the line of fire. He took one breath. Then two.
The sickening mud squelched as he did his best to run without tripping, which looked more like high-kneed hopping as he moved as fast as possible to prevent from getting shot. Up the ramp, and along the broken dock, Jack took another deep breath… mostly for what he was about to do. He jumped down, landing with a splash of vile as Electro Bolt shot out, hitting its mark quickly. Hacking was no issue. However, he noticed some other items around him in the muck, including another recording. 'Might as well gather them up while I'm listening,' he thought before sniveling slightly. 'After I clean them off.' So he went to work while he pressed play.
Sullivan "Bathysphere Keys": "We're putting all the bathysphere in lockdown until further notice. Ryan had us install some kinda genetic device into the things so only Ryan and his inner circle will be able to use 'em without dispensation. But the boys tell me the keys are pretty unreliable. Sisters, cousins; anybody in the ballpark genetically will be able to come and go as they see fit."
Jack emptied a shotgun in the mud, found an EVE Hypo (he'd double clean that if he was gonna have to stick himself with it, no Incinerate sparred), Tommy rounds, and a First-Aid Kit; all around the turret. The diary however had him frowning within a few moments. Atlas wasn't kidding when he asked if Jack had some relatives that disappeared. It would be the only reasonable explanation as to why Jack was able to use the Bathysphere with no issue. "Great. Just great. Some relative I don't even know was part of this sick-fuck city." Not his shiniest moment down here.
Thoroughly put out, and more than a little miffed, Jack walked back up the ramp as he checked his weapons. He had very little in the way of Armor-Piercing, a fact he admitted he might have to rectify, but he made sure to keep an eye on his surroundings as he began loading up the Tommy rounds he'd collected into magazines. No one attacked, and Jack got to observe the Big Daddy's combat as a few more Splicers decided to try their luck. Suffice to say, more bodies for him to loot.
After filling four full magazines of Tommy, and making sure his shotgun was loaded and secure to his bag, Jack did a smart thing and lightened his load, jumping back down into the muck to set his suitcase next to the turret near the broken dock. With a soft sigh of resignation, Jack countered his "smart thing" with a "stupid thing".
His forehead tensed with Telekinesis.
'No drill engine. Rivet gun doesn't appear to be connected to anything. Self-sufficient firing system? And the disc under the air supply tank… grenade dispensary maybe? One big oxygen tank?' At that, the barest formulations of a plan were formed. And by barest, it was more like the ground-break of a plan. Ah fuck it! He had nothing!
Big Daddy or not, for all intents and purposes, this was a new enemy. Unfortunately, Jack didn't know a lot about Big Daddies from a mechanical stand-point. They were armored, had some counter-measures – probably from previous attempts to exploit – but this one had one glaring defect: the hose that connected to its oxygen supply.
As much as Jack hated the new method he'd just developed, he couldn't think of another way to distract the Daddy long-term. He switched out to his pistol, waiting until the Big Daddy was distracted with his Little Sister before firing. He aimed right at the tubing near its helmet, hoping to cause the Daddy to panic for a few precious seconds. It was a sure shot.
BANG!
PTING!
Or not.
The Daddy just had to turn as Jack was firing, clipping him right in the helmet. It roared in outrage, immediately swinging its gun on Jack.
'SHIELD!' Jack threw up his hand, grabbing the nearest corpse and forcing it in front of him to act as a… literal meat-shield… letting the body take the full-force of the shots. His free hand pulled up his Tommy, making sure to close distance as he steadied his aim on its head and fired from behind his impromptu shield. This Daddy clearly specialized at a range. Remove the range, deal with the threat.
Or so he thought.
About five yards from it, the Daddy pulled out another of his grenades, and Jack didn't have time to switch stratagems, much less dodge. Jack tossed the meat-sack toward the bomb, causing it to detonate prematurely. The blast was too close and unobstructed, sending Jack flying until he landed with a soft Squelch! in the "mud".
Huffing in surprise and exertion, he rolled over, knowing better than to sit still by now. He sat up, preparing to fire before realizing that his Tommy had mud in the barrel. All his guns had mud in their barrels. And how was a wrench supposed to help? "Shit!" The Daddy was already firing more rivets as Jack continued to roll away from the shots until he was situated behind some metal flooring. Luckily, getting hit by the explosion meant his turrets were activated. He had cover fire this time.
He had to change gears. He could already hear the Daddy stomping angrily in the mud as bullets continued to hit its armor. He didn't have time to contemplate! What did he have on him?! He flicked some of the mud away from his hand, now covered in the slop.
The mud. The mud was everywhere.
Jack looked down at his dirtied hand before plunging it into the mud, bringing up a cake of the sludge. Just the texture almost made him vomit, but he let the bile stir as he projected Telekinesis over it. The slop slowly rose… sorta. It was falling apart, just like it was in his hands. He didn't need extra hands though, he needed… a container.
The footsteps were so close, Jack could smell the rot it was churning up. He bolted out into the Daddy's line of sight, shocking the beast with his brazenly forward approach. Jack's hand tensing as he heaved upward like he was scooping and throwing underhanded, containing up as much of the mud as he could while chucking it. A small wave of the sludge splattered into the Daddy… and covered its view ports.
'I am an unfortunate genius!' he cheered to himself.
The Daddy flailed around for a moment before it began wiping at its viewports, causing them to smudge with filth. As it drew back its empty hand from its head, Jack pulled with his power, trying to disbalance it. It stumbled for a moment, and that was all Jack needed to switch up the attack, pulling its rivet gun from its hands.
The weapon was his in an instant as he turned the weapon on the Big Daddy. "Wait? How do you fire this thing?!" He fumbled for a moment before he found the lever near the barrel, the size of the weapon not meant for average sized human hands, and neither was the kick-back.
The gun jerked out of his hands as it shot, landing with a splat in the mud. He winced and hissed at where the weapon had kicked into his arm, a sweet line of red agitated skin now appearing underneath all the mud he was covered in. Now he was empty handed.
Right! Fight to the death!
The Daddy, still effectively blind, reached behind it and produced another glowing green grenade, tossing at its feet. Jack waited for it to explode, but all it did was blink a red light as the Daddy continued to wipe at its visors. Jack didn't trust it, lifting the "clearly a trap" grenade and lobbing it at the Daddy. It just stuck to its armor, but he had nothing to detonate it with.
He felt something hit his shin, and he looked down, seeing the Little Sister kicking him. "You leave Mister B alone you big meanie!" she snapped, kicking him again. Not knowing what else to do, he picked her up, fighting her protests and hits as he climbed the ramp leading back to the beginning of Neptune's Bounty. "No! Nonono! Let me go!"
Big Daddy moaned, fumbling toward them by the sound of her voice alone, still half-blinded. Either by some misfortune to Jack, or fortune to the Daddy (same thing at this point really), it stumbled under the falls of a leaky pipe in the center of the Lower Wharf, the grime slowly washing away.
"Fuck!" Jack hissed, cradling the Sister with one hand as she rested on his hip, while trying to figure out what to do next.
The Little Sister stopped her minuscule assault against his chest with her tiny fists, yellow eyes widening in horrified shock. "You said a bad word."
'Really? Really?!' Jack didn't have a Plan B. He didn't even have a Plan A! The Big Daddies were great at screwing any plans he had. He sent a zap! into the puddle at the Daddy's feet, hoping to temporarily slow it down. He looked for anything… Anything! …that could help him finish off the Daddy quickly.
'What about those red barrels?!'
'What about those red barrels?!' he snapped back in his head. 'Oh.'
Telekinesis hovered one of the barrels in front of him, the distinct smell of fuel curling in his nose as he took his aim. And just in time. He lobbed it as the Daddy finally cleared its vision, the metal drum bending as it ruptured all over the behemoth. In an instant, it exploded.
Jack instinctively turned, covering the Little Sister as best as he could, holding her tightly as the planted grenade and the barrel (evidently filled with an extremely volatile substance and not just normal fuel; Fucking Rapture!) made for a glorious ka-boom! that shook the Lower Wharf, and probably other parts of Neptune's Bounty as well. Hopefully, he didn't just cause Rapture to spring another leak.
He breathed, half-expecting to feel shrapnel imbed into him, but he didn't even feel the heat. Just the concussion. He turned around, looking back toward the Daddy. Between him and the explosion was a sheet of the metal flooring; dented – and in some cases, pierced – where pieces of the barrel had hit. To his surprise, it was floating; and he could feel his connection to it through Telekinesis.
He half-chuckled before realizing that his head now hurt like a bitch and his nose was leaking blood. Great. He just overused his Plasmid again, and the backlash sucked.
A whimper redrew his attention down to the quivering little ghoul in his arms, feeling his chest clench a little at her trembling. "You okay?"
Her head shot up to look at him, clearly surprised that he wasn't attacking her, but more importantly, that he was asking something like that. Clearly, "Bad Men" didn't ask that question.
"Hey, you okay?" he repeated, just a little more irritated.
Jack felt a large hand encompass his face, forcing him to drop the girl as he was heaved and tossed. He slid into the mud with a flash of color dancing around his eyes, reds bleeding into black spots that drew a wheeze from his lack of breath. 'F-F-Fuck,' he gurgled to himself, trying not to inhale the blood dripping back down his throat. 'When were Big Daddies that stealthy?'
He was vaguely aware of the Daddy stomping back over to finish him off, coughing blood and spittle all over his chin as he finally regained his breath. The tin man didn't look much better. Its suit was compromised; shrapnel metal from the barrel impeded into its armor, some of those punctures dripping some strange fluid. The Rivet Daddy groaned, clearly feeling worse than Jack looked, before it bent down, and grabbed Jack by the head again. It cocked back, preparing to slam his head into the ground, presumably until he stopped twitching.
'This is how I go,' he mused, glad he was able to at least put up a decent fight. Still, he had one… maybe three… more left in him. He reached out, Telekinesis drawing the sharpest tool he had to his hand before he jammed it into the Daddy's hose with one hand, and grabbing onto some of the embedded shrapnel with the other. Electro Bolt flared to life, the access sparks humming as their tendrils already sought out the metal fractures, as though they already understood their Storm's intent.
Blue crackling erupted into and around the Daddy as Jack pulled, ripping his scalpel from the hose with a hiss! while simultaneously sending electricity dancing straight into its suit through the metal shrapnel, sending up smoke and the smell of something sizzling. Jack was dropped, barely landing on his feet before he collapsed, knees already sinking into the muck. God he was tired, but the Daddy was more stubborn than he gave it credit. It was already recovering from the shock, now fumbling with the hose as it tried to grasp it with its oversized hands, moaning deeply in panic.
'Care for an experiment?' he wondered to himself.
"What kind of experiment?" he asked back, backing up as best as he could while the Daddy flailed.
'What does flame plus compressed air gases equal?' Fucking chemistry basics. Why was high school only coming back to him in Rapture? Not that he could remember much of it anyway.
Wait. Why would a rural town high school teach chemistry?
Jack brought his fingers together as his Plasmid switched to Incinerate. "One big blow torch," he answered. "Or my personal favorite, an earth-shattering…." He Snap!ped. To put simply–
Ka-boom!
The oxygen ignited, burning a swift trail through the hosing, before combusting in the Daddy's helmet and tank. The cold compressed gases, now superheated to expansion, exploded… along with any remaining grenades it possessed.
Jack didn't have time to sing his own praises when he was bodied by the full weight of the propelled Big Daddy. He gagged and coughed, his air suddenly in short supply from the impact. He crashed into the slurch, pinned under the massive dive suit several inches sunk into the mud.
It felt like mud was trying to suck him back down into the mire as he rolled the metal behemoth off on him, biting his tongue to withhold the curses he felt crawling up his throat. Just like with the last Big Daddy he took down, he was pretty sure he cracked something that wasn't meant to be cracked. And his scalpel was gone, buried somewhere underneath the mire. 'Ugh!' Not exactly his day.
"Mister B?"
Jack crawled away before turning to look back at the Little Sister. "Don't mind him," Jack scoffed, wincing again. Why was it his ribs that got hurt? It made it that much harder to breathe. 'I suppose, if I can complain about it, I'm fine.' Besides, his headache hurt more. Luckily, there was a Health Station next to the vent.
The Little Sister looked up and glared at him. Evidently, they weren't all timid, scared little girls. Some of them were real spitfires. And this one was scooping up a ball of mud to throw at him. "What did you do to Mister B?!" She threw the sludge before letting him answer properly, missing by a mile, but causing Jack to duck out of reflex, straining his sore sides.
"Damn it, kid! I made him an angel!" he snapped giving his own little glare back. He slowly pushed himself to his feet. Something about fighting Big Daddy's just shouted "Exhausted!". He absently walked over to the pouring leak in the middle of the Wharf, shivering as he stepped under the freezing water. He activated Incinerate in his veins, trying to keep a semblance of warm as he washed the guck that had clogged itself from his follicles to his shoes. He felt sick in his own trousers, and that was saying a lot. Where was a clothing store when you needed one? He looked down at his nearly destroyed undershirt, scoffing at the splotches of mud it was riddled with. "I'm definitely gonna need more than a dry-cleaners."
At that, an idea popped into his head, prompting him to switch to Telekinesis. His head hurt, and his nose hadn't stopped bleeding, but he was curious. If it could pick up something the consistency of mud, based on the basest of mentally projected shapes, then….
He reached up and closed his eyes, mimicking the Splicer he had killed right after getting the Wrench Jockey Tonic in the Medical Pavilion (not that he knew what Tonic that had been), not focusing solely on the water itself, but on everything around it. If it was about mind-over-matter, then anything the mind could imagine, so it could form. Eventually, he stopped feeling the water.
Opening his eyes, he smiled. The water was streaming much slower, trailing around his arm as it flowed down, eventually wrapping around his back, and up the other arm.
"Oh. Yeah," Jack smirked, slowly feeling his focus falter until the water began to fall normally again. Electro Bolt may have been his first Plasmid, but Telekinesis was easily becoming his favorite… although he supposed his favoritism was circumstantial. It was easily his most versatile Plasmid.
He readjusted the idea he had in mind, letting Telekinesis force the water to slither over him, coiling through his clothing, washing through the fibers, slowly but surely sifting the grime off his body. While the fabrics were probably permanently stained, it was almost refreshing to see the water visibly dirty and stream to the ground.
But throughout it, Jack didn't take the time to enjoy it. The last time he enjoyed the feeling of getting clean, he was brained in the back of the head. This time, he let the cold sharpen his senses, hitting him with a second wind he didn't know he needed. Now, if only he could get some sustenance. He was feeling peckish after getting kicked to the curb. Didn't he have some potato chips?
"What are you doing?" The Sister was watching him with the utmost curiosity, her former Big Daddy forgotten. Cruel… but that was Rapture's way. She wouldn't have survived so long if she was attached to only one Big Daddy.
"I'm dirty," he stated simply, shivering before stepping away from the leak, slicking his wet-darkened hair back. He quickly pulled up his weapons, using the same method of cleaning himself to clean out his weapons as he used Telekinesis and water to clean out the bores. This was Rapture. If they weren't waterproofed in some way or other, then Jack was going to be going through a lot of weapons. His satchel needed cleaning out too. He'd actually need to sort through it to make sure that his bounty of needle-infested items weren't beyond using. It would suck to have collected all of that, just to turn around and throw it away so he didn't get sepsis, gangrene, or a plethora of other disgusting diseases from a dirty needle.
He ended his impromptu cleaning at the sounds of Splicer activity, flaring Incinerate to dry his clothing while he flicked the last of the mud away. He quickly went over to pick up the blue Plasmid bottle he'd come for, along with the Med-Kit right next to it before turning back around. The Little Sister backed away at his approach on the dock, eyeing him suspiciously. Funny how she wasn't crying for a new Big Daddy to come and rescue her.
Jack didn't think too much on it. If he tried to understand, chances are, he was a few ounces short of a full thermos of coffee. Instead he knelt and offered her his hand and a begrudging smile, but it was more of a grimace with how his sides were fairing. "C'mon kid. Momma Tenenbaum sent me to get you," he stated. She perked up at that, but still looked at Jack suspiciously. 'Smart kid.' "Here…." He rolled his eyes before exposing his wrists, showing off his tattoos after turning off his Plasmids. That did the trick last time. "… I'm Jack."
"Jack?" She looked at his tattoos again, before that same look entered her eye as the last Little Sister he'd freed. "Oh! Are you Big Brother?"
Jack slumped in defeat. 'At least she didn't think I was Mister Bubbles. Note-to-Self: Lead with being Big Brother.' "Sure kid. Big Brother Jack." The way her eyes lit up said that the name was probably going to stick from here on out.
She smiled her little ghoulish smile at him. "Let's go then. We'll go find Momma Ten-baum." She pulled on his hand, waiting for him to stand to his feet before reaching up to him. "Uppsy!" she exclaimed, reaching to be picked up.
Unfortunately for her, Jack had to shake his head. "Big Brother got an ouchie while making Mister B an angel." She frowned in disappointment, but quickly brightened back up when Jack held her hand.
Were kids supposed to be this fidgety? Jack didn't remember being like that. It was all of twenty feet – if that – to the nearest vent back down the hall he'd come. Yet here she was, skipping with her little brown braids flopping up and down like they had all the time in the world.
While she was busy being a little ghoul girl, Jack picked up his radio. "Hey Tenenbaum, you there?"
He waited a moment. Then two. Then– "Yes Herr Jack. I am here." Good, she was still present.
"I've got another Sister. I'm sending her through the vent between Neptune's Bathysphere Station and the Lower Wharf. Can you make sure that she gets someplace safe?"
He could practically hear her smile on the other end. "Of course. I will let one of my girls meet you there."
Jack's ears perked when he heard a cackle, bristling at the sound. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Gre-at. A Splicer openly looking for him.
"Are you sure we should mess with 'im?" he just took down a Big Daddy all by 'imself." That's two.
"The little fish was holding his sides. Daddy must've clipped him good." That's thr– … Wait… "little fish"? … Oh shit. He fucking hated reunions.
"And did ya see what 'e did with 'is Plasmids? Blimey is wha' it was. I betcha 'e's got a lot of ADAM on 'im ta do all tha'."
Jack didn't listen for any more Splicers, immediately nestled the radio between his shoulder and cheek, the calm white light of his "Cure Little Sister" Plasmid streaming to life as fast as possible. "Best hurry up that timetable Doc. I got Splicers incoming, and I don't have time to wait. I'm curing the Sister now."
"Very well, Herr Jack. And be careful."
"It's not me you gotta worry about," he answered in finality, looking down at his yellow eyed charge. "Alright, we're going to get you into the vent. No matter what happens, you wait in there for another little girl sent by Momma Ten-baum, okay?"
The Little Sister nodded, looking notably more on edge. Jack gently squeezed her hand in reassurance, even as he watched the Plasmid slowly make its way through her little arm. He held on as long as he felt comfortable before the Splicers sounded to close for comfort. Jack didn't waste another moment as he lifted the little girl to the vent, carefully helping her up even as she groaned in discomfort. Somehow, she managed to find the strength to pull herself up and in, just as the rising door ka-chunked open, revealing the Splicers in question.
"He's got the girl!" "Get 'im!" "Who's that 'e's talkin' ta?!" There was definitely more than three.
Jack let the radio fall from his shoulder as he lunged across the hall, digging into his back pocket to pull out his wallet for the Health Station. His other lifted his shotgun, and the satchel it was attached to, turning the corner to fire off. One Splicer learned what lead tasted like.
Jack finally dug out his wallet, doing his best to open it one-handed before snagging a bill from the top, letting his wallet fall to the ground... and through the grated steps to the floor below. Fuck! He'd deal with it later. He fed the bill to the Station, trying to hurry this up as he swung back around the corner and shot again, taking another Splicer's knees out, but not without taking some fire in return. He felt one bullet slam into his arm, and another into his calf, causing him to teeter into the exposed hallway floor with a cry of pain.
'Just gotta get to the Station,' he thought, baring his teeth.
"Big Brother?!" His eyes shot up to the vent, peering at the calf brown looking back at him, and he could tell the Splicers were doing the same thing.
"No!" he shouted, Incinerate snapping as another Splicer was consumed by flames. "Go back inside! Wait for Momma Ten-baum!" he ordered, taking another pained potshot at the Splicers. There was a lot more than three. It reminded Jack of a small pack of coyote's on Pap's land. Fucking varmint scavengers, the lot of them; just like these Splicers. Maybe it was a hunting party to take down the Big Daddy. 'Fucking hell.' And he'd almost given them their "prize".
The Splicer's had enough of testing the waters, and decided to charge. Jack could only deal with so many at once from his prone position, but thankfully it was enough time for the former Sister to retreat back into the vent. She'd be safe at least. Jack got off one more shot before his chamber clicked from an empty magazine, and he quickly grit his teeth as he let off another snap. The flames were a welcome source of light before it was overshadowed with the bastards.
One clubbed him over the head with a piece of broken pipe, causing his hearing to ring in a daze as a burst of flame erupted from around him, causing more Splicers to burn. Yes. If they kept this up, death would be a sweet reminder that he would be back. Of course, they didn't know that if the half-deliriously trained guns on him were any indication.
"Don't kill 'im!"
'Wait? What? Yes, kill me!' Wow! Jack never thought he'd be thinking that.
"But we kill 'im, we take his ADAM."
Jack saw one Splicer cuff the other. "You twat! Weren'' ya payin' attention?! 'E works for Tenenbaum…."
'"Work" is a little strong. I prefer the term "conditional partnership" that's looking super one-sided right now,' Jack thought as he tried to blink back some clarity.
"…Tha' means 'e knows were the German broad hides all those little girls…," the Splicer continued.
If Jack was hearing this right, and he was sure that he was, he was not liking where this was going at all.
The rest of the little pack were catching on. "…And all their precious little ADAM," the other Splicer stated with a grim, cheek-splitting smile that made Jack want to hurl. It turned to Jack before frowning. "But how do we split the ADAM?"
"We'll worry about that when it comes to it," the Splicer responded manically, cackling slightly. "For now, we gotta make sure 'e tells us the truth. We'll find out where all those tasty little treats are."
Jack felt the rupture of another wave of fire leave him as he was smashed into the head again, but it didn't matter this time as he felt the black swallow him whole.
Author's Notes: Would You Kindly Read & Review! :)
Yes! Yes I did just do that!
First off, I needed (like really needed) the Luteces to appear again. It's always fun bringing them into play, but there's also something... therapeutic about reading them go at it. Suffice to say, I enjoyed writing their bits.
The Gene Bank was very similar to the Gatherer's Garden, just a little different though, since the game makes it so much fun to try and create an interpretation (not sarcastic at all). The Gene Bank also utilizes the Genetic Key, since it made no sense to me how Rapture knew to keep track of who was getting Spliced with what. With the Genetic Key, it was a lot easier for it to be kept track of (also explains why no Splicers are using it since no one has their Genetic Key's any more) and recorded.
I did things a little differently with Jack's Plasmids and Gene Tonics. I took a more Bioshock 2 approach. Being limited to a number of Physical, Engineering, and Combat Tonics just... grrr. I liked Bioshock 2's approach, since it didn't limit Delta's personal customization, but rather, gave it a heavy focus on personal preference and play-style, things I enjoyed in the game. I saw no reason it couldn't (and shouldn't) be the same for Jack. And then there was that uber unlabeled Gene Tonic ;)
Yes. Familiar Splicers are returning... right up until they need their heads bashed in. It's a two-in-one special.
Writing the Rosie Big Daddy fight was a little harder than I expected. For one, I had to look over a Rosie model so many times, literally looking for any weakness to exploit! It was a long process, but I eventually found it, and I gotta say, it makes for some interesting maneuvering. Jack didn't die again during the fight. Mostly stark luck, and an agile mindset for Jack; making splendid use of his Telekinesis, and on-hand weaponry, even with his guns getting clogged. The Rosie is more armored than the Bouncer (at least as far as game stats), moves slower, but makes up for it at medium to long-ranged attacks. The giant tank on it's back is armored, protecting it from surprise attacks, but the glaring weakness (its hoses, something not found on Bouncers) is harder to get to thanks to its preference of ranged combat. Because of its ranged combat, it also makes it harder to combat it as such with fire and return fire (ergo, lots of dodging). Plus, them rivets are HUGE!
And yes, Splicers form hunting parties. While I don't believe they are actually cohesive as a large group, Splicer's don't have any other way other than shear numbers to combat a Big Daddy and overwhelm it. And yes, some Splicer's are smarter than they appear, if not absolutely crazy; they wouldn't be smart enough to group up if they weren't.
Take care, and don't forget to Review! Let me know your Questions, Comments, and Concerns (QCC) :)
Until next time. Possibly to be called Chapter 7: Water Off a Duck's Back or A Pinch of Salt. (No idea if either of these will be the chapter name, but its something I'm still considering)