Ch. 9: Interference

A.N.:

Hey everyone!

Sorry about the wait. I have been swamped with life and college. I am working on my stories, don't lose faith.

Thank you to everyone that has been supporting the story so far! I am truly grateful. I honestly did not expect so many people to take an interest in this one.

Anyway,

In this chapter, at least at the beginning, we see a little more of Eleanor's mental fragility caused by the years without Delta. Throughout the story, I plan for her to slowly regain herself to the point that we see at the end of the game.

Plus, we see Delta and Alpha face off against their first Rosie Big Daddy.

As always, read and review if you want.

The murky, icy water of the ocean depths surrounded us as the train car bumped and jerked its way towards Fontaine Futuristics. The occasional cry of fatigued metal filled the area as the overhead strut threatened to give way. The thin layer of frost covering the exterior of my segmented eye, as well as the rest of my body, grew inch by inch as it surrounded the very center of my vision like an army surrounding a fortress. The popular belief was that Hell was filled with fire. However, I had come to believe that Hell was filled with ice.

Eleanor. The brilliant little girl that had viewed the world with wide-eyed wonder and hope was gone. The young woman that had taken her place had not only been consumed by the mind warping Hell that was Rapture but she had also been beaten down by it. I no longer heard the hope in her voice that had been so definitive of her character when she was a little girl. Now, I only heard fatigue and darkness. My greatest fear had come to pass. The only good thing that I had done with my life had not lived beyond my demise.

My master had become so warped that she had convinced herself that she loved me as a suitor rather than her father. I mentally sighed as I glanced at my reflection in the glass sheet in front of me. The hulking, diving suit-clad monster that I had become looked back at me with his emotionless glowing eye and auxiliary lights. The eye that would turn into hellfire as the brute killed and destroyed without question of his master's will.

No, Eleanor. I was not who she thought I was. The man whose voice she only heard through our link was long gone. I knew what I was now: Subject Delta. I was a killer of man and a destroyer of lives. I had seen inside of her mind. I knew what she dreamed. I knew what life she wanted on the surface. However, that was one path down which I could not follow. The surface would not accept me.

'Then I shall stay with you in Rapture, Johnny.'

I dismissed her suggestion, 'No. You cannot stay here, Eleanor. This city will kill you.'

The feeling of euphoric bliss filled me as I saw her hypnotic face in my mind's eye. She raised her left eyebrow as she asked with her accented voice, 'And it won't kill you, Father?'

I laughed with my gruff voice before I said, 'I'm a dead man walking, kid. You can't kill a dead man.'

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she said, 'You are not dead, Topside. I know that you see yourself as a monster, but Subject Delta is just a label. You and he are the same person, why can't you see that?'

Her voice changed to become alarmingly distressed while she sounded like she was about to cry as she said, 'I will not go back to living without you, Father. Don't you understand what I have been though all these years? Every heartbeat felt like a knife blade in my heart...there was no point in continuing to live if I wasn't with you. This…thing…inside of me…it will not let me die. I had tried to join you in your slumber, Topside…but my condition would not let me. I am immortal but I have no desire to live without you by my side.'

Her words hit me like a Bouncer's drill. She loved me so much that she had tried to kill herself? Alarmed, I said in a stunned tone, 'Eleanor…'

The fragile, broken woman interrupted, 'You selfish bastard! I've given you my heart! If you won't give me yours of your own freewill...then I will have no choice but to make you love me. I am your master, Subject Delta! You are my servant! You are going to be by my side one way or another!'

The last word had no sooner left her before she gasped as she realized what she was saying. Though my body remained motionless, I mentally reached out and pulled her back to me as she tried to retreat away out of shame. I held her gently as she threw herself against my massive frame. While she cried against me as all the pent up anguish inside of her flooded forward, I struggled to grasp the mental hell that she had been resigned to since that night ten years prior.

All this time, I had been blaming Rapture and Sofia for this broken soul. However, it was me; I was the one that had tortured her to the brink of madness. The memory of me had indeed given her something to cling to the past ten years but it had also been the very thing driving her mad. In my own selfish morality, I had denied her the one thing that she had sought for ever since my revival. What was wrong with me? I was nothing! She was all that mattered.

I had been given something that many dreamed of but only a few received: a second chance. Now, I realized that I had already nearly ruined it. For what? Some obscure social taboo from the surface? The surface where, for as far as they were concerned, I was a dead man? I knew what waited for me beyond the abyss of the barrier between life and death: nothing. Why did I cling to some fear of reprisal? Well, no more. I would give my beautiful daughter what she desired as long as she wished for my existence to continue.

I stated with a flat tone, 'It's yours.'

'Wha…what?' Eleanor asked as she looked up at me with shinning eyes.

I explained, 'My heart…for however long you want it…it's yours.'

She hiccupped as she fought to force her crying fit back down before she asked, 'Yo…you pro…promise?'

I sighed and then replied, 'I cannot promise you anything, Eleanor. All I can do is say that I will try to love you the same way that you love me. This damn programming inside my head has put up mental blocks to keep me from looking at you like that…sort of a safeguard built-in by Fontaine's scientists I suspect. I will try to get through them…as you said…of my own freewill.'

For the briefest moment, I saw the hopeful look return to her eyes. I felt the refreshing optimism of youth return to her mind. However, it was short-lived. Seconds later, her eyes flared in cold fury as her porcelain-like face warped into a mask of rage. So cold were her eyes that, even as a Big Daddy, I was intimidated and went to retreat away from her form. However, she held me close as she warned me with an icy voice that was full of authority, 'Mother is…interfering…again, Father. When will she cease her games? Oh Mother…your inconveniences will only prolong your suffering once Father and I are reunited. There are many different forms of justice oh dear, sweet Mother…man's…God's…and mine.'

Before I could say anything, she instructed me with her authoritative tone, 'We do not have time for mercy…your heart gets weaker by the minute. Kill anyone that gets in your way, Father.'

Powerless to do anything but serve my beautiful master, I replied with a flat tone, 'Yes, Eleanor.' Her euphoric presence left my mind. When my vision returned, I saw that we had pulled into a station. Before I could discern where we were, I saw a female Leadhead Splicer run out in front of us at the end of the line near the bulkhead gate.

I let out a growl of annoyance before I broke free of the layer of frost that had cemented my body into the posture I had been in since our departure from Ryan Amusements. I reached for the brake lever, but, suddenly, a huge figure ran up behind the disfigured woman. I had never seen anything like it before. At first, I thought that it was a gorilla because of the massive proportions of its shoulder and arm muscles. However, the torn, bulging remains of clothing dismissed that idea. This was a new Splicer. I mentally scoffed at this pathetic attempt to match a Big Daddy's strength. They could warp their bodies however they wanted. It would make no difference. They would all die just the same.

The woman, realizing that she was trapped, turned around and began to fire her revolver. The rounds hardly fazed the brute as he punched the woman in her face with his massive left fist. The sound of crunching bone briefly filled the air as her neck snapped back at an unnatural angle. At the same time, the squeal of our train car's brakes filled the air as the machine inexplicably began to stop without our consent.

Alerted to our presence, the brute let out a loud cry that sounded very human despite his appearance before he jumped up and disappeared from view, possibly into some escape route. Not giving the Splicer a second thought, I investigated the train's controls to try to uncover the reason for our involuntary stop. As I did, however, I received my answer as Sofia announced through the public announcement system, "Attention. Subject Delta is now trapped in Pauper's Drop. All railcar travel is hereby suspended until he is found. Remember-the enemy is alone. We are the Family."

Sinclair contacted me through my built-in radio, "Lamb's trying to box us in, kid—this is a god-damned citywide lockdown. To keep the train movin', you need the security override key from the local 'governor'…Grace Holloway. She kicked me out of my hotel down here – The Sinclair Deluxe. Find her, an' get that key."

We both looked at each other. Alpha asked with a series of grunts, "What do you think, sir?"

I mentally sighed. The Drop was the worst place in Rapture. All the Alpha Series Protectors knew to avoid the place if at all possible. Even someone as tactically brilliant as Alpha would be hard pressed to counter the seemingly endless traps and ambush points in The Drop. Originally, it was a junction repair station. However, as the economic and political stress of Rapture took their toll on the population, places along the Atlantic Express lines became the equivalent of "squatter towns" from the surface.

We did need that key from Grace. Unlike a traditional key, the one that we were after was genetically encoded. I cringed as I realized that, thanks to Sofia's interference, we would have to hunt down the local governor at every stop along the way to Fontaine Futuristics. That is what my daughter must have meant when she said that we did not have time for mercy. Indeed, we would be facing the razor's edge of time to make it to where they were holding her before my failsafe drove me to madness. Death was the alternative to madness but I knew better than to expect that because it would be too merciful.

Of course, we could just leave Sinclair behind and make our way there on foot. Part of me wanted to do so as a form of retribution for the business man selling me out to Fontaine. However, it had not been personal. Besides, even with the added time of hunting down the keys, traveling by the Atlantic Express would actually be faster than lumbering through the murky darkness outside Rapture's walls.

I grunted, "We're not going anywhere without that key. Come on, let's get to the Sinclair Deluxe."

He replied, "Right behind you, sir."

Exiting the train car, I was met by the deplored conditions of The Drop. The sound of straining steel filled the air almost without reprieve. Examining the ceiling, I noticed that there were indeed multiple holes in the concrete lining of the repair junction. We would have to be careful that we did not accidentally bring down the entire squatter town. I informed my brother, "Watch your fire. Only thing holding this place together is the rust."

He replied, "Yes, sir."

I made my way over to the security bulkhead that would allow access to Pauper's Drop. Above the door, I noticed a crude sign that read, "Pauper's Drop". Beneath it, I saw the lit sign of the original designation of the cut-out beside the track. I arrived at the corroded bulkhead only to find that it was sealed. I growled in irritation as I reached out with my gauntlet-encased left hand and ripped the cover off the nearby electrical panel.

After tossing the metal cover off to the side, I returned my hand to the panel. Time had erased the color coating on the wires so I had to trace the lines back to their sources and make my best guess. Finding one that appeared to fit the bill, I ripped it out of the box. My choice was correct and the bulkhead opened. Happening to glance up, I saw a public broadcast monitor in the upper right corner of the bulkhead frame. On it, I saw a grainy, black and white image of me.

I was coming around a corner. To my right was a sign though I could not discern what the words were. The angle of the shot indicated that it was from a security camera. At the bottom of the image in bold white letters was the word, "Defiler." Something was off about my appearance, however. I did not have my drill and my overall muscle mass was noticeably less pronounced. I was puzzled until I realized that it was an old photograph of me from back before my demise. That made sense because, back then, I had no reason to hide from the security cameras. In fact, I would venture a guess that it was before I even needed to carry around a formidable tool because my mere appearance was enough to frighten off the few threats in the city at the time.

Moving forward through the open bulkhead, I saw the first reminder of how dangerous this area of Rapture was. Mere feet from the entrance to The Drop was the carcass of a Rosie Mass Production Model. The Tin Man appeared to have been crushed beneath a collapsed section of the low ceiling. The Rosie Mass Production Models were particularly vulnerable due to the fact that their life support systems were very pronounced on their backs.

The Rosies were never intended to be protectors or to be fighters. They were merely the maintenance workers of Rapture. The rapidly deteriorating condition of the city had caused them to be pressed into service as part-time protectors alongside the Bouncers and my brethren. I had never understood why their design had not been modified to reduce their vulnerability.

Leaning against the rubble pile was an unmodified Alpha Series Big Daddy machine gun. The placement of the weapon was deliberate. Had another survivor of my brethren passed through here? A feeling of hope rose inside my mind as I dared to believe in the possibility of another Alpha Series having survived like Subject Alpha.

Alpha let out a grunt that vaguely sounded like a sigh before he informed me, "There are survivors, sir. Though…survive is not the word I would use to describe them." His comment briefly stirred a memory from the depths of my mind. Those of my brethren that had lost their bonded daughters were placed in the "Pacification Chambers" inside Fontaine Futuristics in an effort to keep them under control. While they were not hostile to me or any other members of the Alpha Series, they were dangerously aggressive towards any other creature.

To the left of the rubble was a large yellow hydraulic jack that was holding up the weakened ceiling above it. I navigated around the obstacles and made my way to the security bulkhead on the opposite end of the hallway. As the bulkhead raised up upon my approach, I saw a Gene Bank mounted to the opposite wall along with multiple advertisement posters. A discarded refrigerator unit was on the wet floor a few feet ahead of me.

However, these observations were barely registered as I became aware of an overpowering, familiar pheromone signature. Eleanor. Her scent saturated my being until it was all I could perceive. In a docile daze, I turned to my right as I passed through the open bulkhead. Quickly following her intoxicating scent, I proceeded through the next security bulkhead. My docile state was shattered as I saw a group of Splicers that were gathered in front of a Little Sister Vent. They were performing some kind of bizarre pseudo-religious sacrifice of one of their own to a Little Sister, who I saw only briefly before she disappeared back into the vent.

The blatant wholesale twisting of the child's purpose sent a flood of rage into my mind. How dare they use the girls in some kind of sick, twisted religious bastardization? Revving my powerful drill, I let out a guttural roar that rocked the foundation of The Drop. The deranged individuals jumped to their feet. One of them, a man whose face was nearly completely entombed beneath a thick layer of blood-soaked bandages, rushed at me with a section of pipe in his right hand. The other two individuals, a man and a woman, fell back towards the vent and then fired their crudely repaired revolvers at us.

As my brother neutralized the two Leadhead Splicers, I charged at the Thuggish Splicer. Determined to put an end to the misuse of the Little Sisters, I thrust my whirling drill bit into the Splicer's chest cavity and while his bloodied tissue filled the air, I rushed forward to the makeshift "alter" before the vent. In an arc, I slammed the fresh corpse on top of the existing one that was atop the blue cloth covered structure. The force of my rage-fueled assault completely demolished the "alter". Satisfied, I placed my right foot down on top of the corpse and forcefully removed my powered down drill from the bloodied mass.

My rage subsided and I took a step back. Intrigued, I studied the strange adornment of the Little Sister Vent. The broken residents of The Drop were offering themselves up to the Little Sisters? Why? They were victims of ADAM withdraw, yes, but their will to survive was ironclad. Splicers were notorious for placing self-preservation above all else. Why were they willingly sacrificing themselves?

I observed a collage-like collection of photographs on the right wall. To the right of the collage was an advertisement for Lamb's practice. Looking from the advertisement back to the demolished alter, I deduced the reason for their new behavior. Lamb was manipulating the Splicers into believing that "salvation" could be achieved by allowing the Little Sisters to gather their essence in the form of ADAM. Why she had convinced them of that remained to be seen.

With the ceiling of the room partially collapsed, we had to proceed around the rubble pile to reach the mostly barricaded entrance to the rest of The Drop. The security gates appeared to have been long since overrun by the inhabitants. Similar to Apollo Square, this section of Rapture was viewed as a security concern. However, in the case of The Drop, it was not an artificial squatter town. Since the majority of the inhabitants were allied with Sofia Lamb in one form or another, Ryan took a precautionary step to ensure that the "collectivists" stayed within the crumbling walls of the re-purposed junction repair station.

As I passed the corpse of a man that was sitting on a wooden park bench against the wall beyond the vent, I briefly felt a ray of sympathy for the inhabitants of Pauper's Drop. Yet again, Rapture had fallen through for its citizens and, yet again, it was the less fortunate that had born the burden for the upper classes of the dying society. Sofia Lamb took advantage of misfortune just like Fontaine, though in her case it was more out of her own principles.

As we approached the only non-barricaded section of the security gates, I asked my brother, "Do you think Sofia truly believes in what she is doing?"

He replied, "She believes in the utopia part, that I am quite certain. Whether or not she still believes in Rapture and The Family, I do not know. It is fitting though."

I grunted a questioning tone. He explained, "She has become the very thing that she sought to destroy…a tyrant. Just like Andrew Ryan...guess the two have more in common than they thought."

By then, I had neared the area around the Fishbowl Diner, which I noted was in the same condition as I had last seen it. Two female Leadhead Splicers ran in front of us. However, before we could engage them, another Brute Splicer, possibly the same one from before, threw a red metal oil drum at them. The barrel exploded upon impact and the two Splicers cried out in agony as the area was briefly engulfed by flame. Their flaming corpses flew in opposite directions and I had to quickly side step to my left to avoid one of them.

As the Brute retreated by jumping up to the ceiling of the diner and darting out of sight, the public announcement system activated. The weathered voice of Sofia's only true friend piped through the speakers as she addressed me, "I remember you, monster. You stole Eleanor from me…twisted that baby girl into something so sick that it can't even die…and now you come into my neighborhood lookin' for me? Wrong turn, Tin Daddy. When we hang you from a streetlight, and you're choking out your last…I want you to remember my face…"

Stole Eleanor? The conviction in her tone indicated that this was not some lie planted by Sofia. Her voice was the equivalent of a Leadhead Splicer's bullets. This woman did not only want me dead because of Sofia's request. She wanted me terminated with extreme prejudice for a very personal reason. What had I done to her? Why did she believe that I had kidnapped Eleanor? My personal inquisition stirred a memory from the depths of the fog that still lingered inside my mind as it continued to struggle to work through the trauma of death. However, I was unable to perceive the memory in my mind's eye. Whether due to the trauma of death or some kind of mental block, I did not know.

Looking around by twisting my entire torso to the left and then to the right in a smooth motion, I realized that, if anything, Pauper's Drop was in better shape than it had been the last time that I had set foot within its walls. The walls were still either damp or had a waterfall of invading seawater running down their surface. The Fishbowl Diner finally had an animated neon sign to draw attention to the distinctly American style diner. However, considering that all of the large, table side windows had been forcefully removed from their frames, that the entrance was barricaded shut, and there were signs of extreme violence inside of its silent frame, the addition of the animated red and white neon sign bolted to the roof pointing towards the entrance/exit to The Drop was the least of the failed diner's concerns.

"Well, that explains why Line B is red." My brother commented as he motioned towards the stalled, possibly derailed, train car where it was motionless high above our heads on the track near the far wall of the vast space that we were in with his rivet gun.

To my left, at the far corner was yet another fallen Rosie. The assailant, assuming there was one as I noticed that it appeared that the tunnel that the lumbering giant had been in had collapsed and he had failed to escape in time, was clearly the same one responsible for the other Rosie's demise. The MOs matched perfectly: someone had used their raw anger to kill the unsuspecting giant as painfully as possible. In this case, the assassin had literally crushed the Rosies to death.

Anger. 'Wrong turn, Tin Daddy. When we hang you from a streetlight and you're chocking out your last…I want you to remember my face...' Grace's comment suddenly took on a whole new meaning. The average citizen did not know that the Alpha Series Big Daddies and the Mass Production Models were in no way allied with each other. However, Grace did not understand, or could not see through the mental block of her own bitterness to be able to, that whatever pain I had caused her during some long ago incident was solely from me and me alone. My brethren and the Tin Men were not accomplices in the injustice that I had inflicted upon her.

A worrisome thought occurred to me: Grace's anger towards me and, by misunderstanding-caused extension, the Tin Men was so ingrained within her mind that she was violating her best friend's trust by endangering the Little Sisters that Sofia had risked Rapture's safety for by kidnapping them from the surface. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I idly wondered if Sofia was aware of her only friend's betrayal.

I could not imagine that she had not noticed. Sofia was many things but she was not a sap. She had devoted her life to her profession. Her observational prowess easily surpassed anything found in the average individual. As Tenenbaum was Mozart with science, Ryan was Mozart with personal greatness, and Fontaine was Mozart with politics, Dr. Lamb was Mozart with human behavior. Nothing escaped her notice. Surely, the missing Rosies would not escape her notice. If I could connect the dots, Sofia definitely could.

Suddenly, I became aware of a new aroma that overpowered the damp, corroding metal, urine and defecate filled stench of The Drop. The sweet aroma of my beautiful master once again took hold of my being and I was compelled to make my way down the path to the right of the diner. There was some kind of cube-shaped structure in the corner between the walls, though what purpose it had served was lost to me. Beyond the structure against the wall was a Circus of Values Vending machine.

Moving forward, to the right of the diner was a large puddle of seawater. The concrete floor appeared to have collapsed and compromised the underlining pipe. In the far back corner, I saw a flower shop, though the vibrant colors of its produce had clearly long-since decayed into disgusting black plant stems. Between the diner's back corner and the flower shop was another one of the strange cube-like structures.

There appeared to be a makeshift bridge between the roof of the diner and the roof of the flower shop. The center of the bridge was being supported by the strange structure. As I watched, I noticed the traveling red ball of light that indicated that there was a security camera mounted to the corner of the diner. Fortunately, the puddle of seawater was only ankle deep and, though it caused mild discomfort to move through, it failed to hinder my movement.

Still in my trance-like state, I continued forward in pursuit of the scent of my master. Whatever foolish Mass Production Model dared to stand in my way would be in for a rude surprise. I had no sooner left the ice cold waters of the Atlantic before I heard the rumbling whale-like cry of her protector as it lazily traveled through the air. As Alpha hacked the security camera, I continued forward. However, I had taken less than three steps before the pair appeared before me. The blue-dressed Little Sister led the Rosie Mass Production Model along the side of the diner as she sang with her robotic voice, "…in the house upside down...found is lost and lost is found."

Though the girl continued to mimic her sisters' mannerisms, I sensed the presence of my Eleanor in her. When her glowing yellow eyes glanced at me, I felt the spark of recognition within the damaged child's mind. Alpha finished hacking the camera and joined me as he stood by my left side. The metal giant remained passive, as indicated by the dull yellow light emitting from singular large porthole in the center of the front of his diving helmet and the two smaller portholes on either side of his helmet, but I felt him eying the two Alpha Series Big Daddies that now stood before him with both a sense of nostalgia and a sense of suspicion.

Though the Rosies lacked in both agility and raw intimidation, the modified Stratosphere Flying Suit clad behemoths were no less dangerous than their brethren. There was nothing deadlier at long range, save for an Alpha Series like Subject Alpha, than a Rosie. Their massive rivet guns had nearly an endless supply of ammunition and their red hot rounds could easily damage any creature found within Rapture. Their marksmanship was truly something to behold as I had never witnessed a Rosie miss its target. Moreover, the Rosies were formidable tacticians compared to the Bouncers. Simple traps would not work on them.

However, the Rosies, like the Bouncers, had a crippling weak point: their life support systems on their backs. In the case of the Rosies, this was a rather large collection of a tank and several pipes that stuck out from their backs. Their suits were much less robust than the Bouncer's as well. Their nostrils were external like our own yet their true lungs no longer functioned. Furthermore, their suits were less armored than even our own. Whereas our protective metal face and chest covered all the vital areas of our body, the Rosies' metal armor only covered their face and neck.

We could use the strange cube-like structure to our advantage. Alpha would distract him and the security camera would bring in security bots to swarm the behemoth. The Rosie would be forced to face them in order to keep his vulnerable spots, i.e. his life support systems, hidden behind him. This would be my moment to strike. I would flank around the structure and tear into the giant's back with my upgraded drill and plasmids. With any luck, I could neutralize the brute before he could counterattack with his formidable strength. Even without a melee weapon, the Rosie could still use his strength to deliver a savage blow as well as stomp the ground to disorient nearby enemies long enough to punish them with his rivet gun and proximity mines. My plan would force the Rosie into a fight that would be too close quartered for him to use his mines.

The Little Sister noticeably slowed her pace as she attempted to assist us. I grunted at my brother, "Attack him from the front. Use the security camera. I will flank him."

My brother replied, "Roger that, sir."

I moved off to the right to be in position to flank the Rosie once the death match started. Behind me, I heard my brother switch to Heavy Rivet ammunition. The Tin Man, bound by his programming, could do little more than to mindlessly follow his charge straight into our trap. In another situation, I would have felt regret, even guilt for blatantly ambushing what the rest of Rapture considered to be my brother. In a way, they were indeed just like us. We were all victims of the city that had once promised so much to us all.

Just as the security camera's light swept over the giant once again, Alpha fired his modified Prototype Rivet Gun into the Rosie. Immediately, all hell broke loose. In a deafening chorus, the Rosie let loose a rumbling war-like cry while, simultaneously, the security camera's alarm began to blare its rhythmic pulses. However, beneath the deep rumble of the Rosie's cry, the thumping of his rivet gun, the high-pitched report of Alpha's rivet gun, and the chirping of the security bots as they approached us, I heard the sound that ripped into my very being.

Beneath the chaos, the delicate Little Sister screamed in fright and then yelled with her distorted voice, "MISTER BUBBLES!" With my senses already saturated with her pheromones and with my mind already weakened by my interaction with Eleanor, all traces of my rational thoughts vanished as the artificial burning fury of my Protector Instincts stormed full force into my mind.

The area before me was bathed in hellish red light as my eye and auxiliary lights changed to warn those around me about my shift in mental state. Revving my drill, I arced my back as I let out a guttural roar that dwarfed the Rosie's enraged cry. The Drop shuttered as the weakened walls struggled to weather my long-winded roar of primal fury.

The anguished grunts of Subject Alpha brought me back to the fight at hand. The Rosie was weathering the incoming small arms fire from the security bots, which were continuously being destroyed with one well-placed shot from the brute's favored tool. The giant, in the typical fashion of his kind, was purposely maintaining his distance from my brother, who had retreated slightly to the edge of the water as he continued to unleash a continuous stream of red hot rivets in the behemoth's hide. In a testament to his situational awareness, the Rosie had destroyed the security camera upon discovering that we had turned it against him. The smoldering pile of metal that was once the camera now lay in a heap by the corner of the diner.

At his feet, the Little Sister continued to cower in absolute fear of the situation though she occasionally glanced in my direction with an inviting look on her dirtied face. In a bizarrely comical scene, the Tin Man almost appeared to tip toe as he attempted to avoid trampling his small charge as he moved with a speed that seemed impossible for such a large and heavy frame. The protector began to stomp forward until he was in the middle of the "L" between the sides of the diner and the unidentified cube-like structure.

I began to advance forward to pounce on the Tin Man but a male Leadhead Splicer in tattered business attire and brandishing a modified Thompson Submachine Gun rushed towards me from the other side of the diner. For the first time, I noticed the Gather's Garden Vending Machine at the top of pair of stairs that, as I recalled, led to the first section of The Drop's Market District, just behind the diner. I also noticed the Ammo Bandito Vending Machine against the wall that was opposite to the Gather's Garden and adjacent to the diner.

The Splicer was an opportunist. Clearly, he had hoped to rush forward and snatch the girl while the Big Daddies were distracted by their death match. The man showed some residual cognitive function in that he had brought a hacked security bot to serve as a further distraction while he went after his target. He was so fixated on the delicate child cowering beneath the weighted boots of the Rosie that he failed to see me until the razor sharp point of my drill had been thrust into the center of his skull.

As he crumpled to the ground, I quickly made my way over to crashed security bot that had been escorting the former denizen. The hack had been crude, more like the ADAM-crazed individual had ripped out whole sections of wiring, but I managed to fix some of the haphazard modifications. Stomping down on the chirping bot with my right diving boot encased foot, I pulled the machine's manual start cord back in one firm motion.

As the machine flew towards the brute while it unleashed a maelstrom of lead, I followed close behind as I charged towards my target. With the rage of my Protector Instincts fueling my resolve, I slammed onto the giant's back, nearly caused the protector to topple over. As he attempted to recover, I reached up and grabbed ahold of the left collection of pipes running to the source of the brute's strength: the large tank on his back.

Contrary to popular belief, the Rosie's lungs were two separate tubes that connected to the front of his helmet from where they originated on opposite sides of the pedestal-like metal ring on his back. The tank and pipes mounted to the pedestal were the equivalent of the brute's "heart". The surprised Rosie roared in fury as he attempted to dislodge me. However, with my unrestricted strength, I was able to match his raw physical prowess long enough to disconnect the pipes from the tank.

Disgusting blackened blood gushed out of the compromised organ and liberally coated my form to the extent that I was rendered blind as it covered my segmented eye with a thick layer of foul-smelling liquid. Intense agony suddenly racked my entire body as I was thrown into the side of the cube-like structure. I let out a mournful groan as I felt the ribs along my right side snap as I collided with the unforgiving side of the structure. As I landed prostrate on the ground, I tasted the iron of my own blood as the sharp edges of my broken ribs cut mercilessly into the surrounding tissue.

The lifesaving red liquid in my tank followed into my body, but my breathing still came in ragged gasps as my rage-fueled body attempted to push itself back up onto its feet. However, a massive diving boot stomped down on the small of my back as the larger protector physically forced me back down onto the cold damp concrete ground. In my mind's eye, I pictured the smoking business end of his massive Rivet Gun being pressed against the back of my copper head.

My blow to his life support systems had doomed the Rosie, but the diehard Mass Production Model was hell bent on taking me with him. I heard my brother rush to my aid but seconds later, I heard the clattering of metal against concrete as he too was knocked off his feet by the incalculable strength of the dying Tin Man. Using the time that my brother had bought me, I forced myself to my feet faster than what I was normally capable of and scrapped the thick black and red liquid from the glass surface of my eye with the metal fingertips of my left gauntlet-encased hand.

The dying protector was before me. Alpha was getting to his feet off to my left near the puddle. The security alert had ceased and the surviving security bots had returned to the nearest security station. The smoldering remains of the fallen bots were scattered all around us. With my modified industrial grade mining drill at the ready and with electrical arcs dancing around my left hand, I growled threateningly at the Rosie as he stood before me. I would have ignited him with my genetic flames, but I dared not with the delicate child at his feet. Immortal she may be, but she felt pain. The wild nature of fire was too unpredictable to use when she was so close to the Tin Man.

For the barest second, our two hellish red eyes locked onto each other and, in that instant, I felt a sense of pleading coming from the shell inside the monster. I would dare say that what remained of the man inside that hulking diving suit was begging me to end this nightmare for him. Though we were mortal enemies, I, the paragon of the true Big Daddies and he, a mockery of the title, I was happy to oblige. As the moment ended, I willed a blast of Electro Bolt into the metal and leather hide of the protector.

The Rosie shook and rumbled out a whale-like roar of anguish as his body was paralyzed by a spasm while the blue electric arcs danced around his form. I charged forward with my drill revved up as I let out a guttural cry of fury. At the last second, the behemoth raised his Rivet Gun up to defend himself. The screech of metal filled The Drop as sparks flew around our ADAM-enhanced bodies.

Within seconds, I had bored through the weapon. The Rosie dropped his useless halves of his tool to the ground before he attempted to assault me with a series of hammer blows. By this time, however, his critically damaged life support system caused his formidable strength to fail him and his blows felt like mere taps. Unable to support his own massive bulk, the dying protector collapsed backwards.

The deafening crash that could only be caused by a toppled Big Daddy filled the entire area. The tank on his back caused his body to end up on its right side. The red light emitting from his three portholes began to flicker as I placed my right booted foot down on his enormous form. Within seconds, I had pierced his helmeted head with my drill and the sound of crunching bone filled the air. My Protector Instincts demanded primal satisfaction and I was powerless to do anything other than act upon them.

Moments later, the behemoth gave off one final deep, rumbling death rattle and the red bioluminescent light coming from the interior of his compromised head flickered into darkness forever. I powered down my drill and ripped it free from the corpse. Satisfied, my instincts receded back down into their place at the back of my mind as the monster was put back in his cage. The red light bathing the area around me was replaced by calming golden yellow. My brother moved to stand before me as I withdrew from the corpse of the fallen Rosie.

With my rational thoughts returning, my attention immediately shifted to the little girl smiling up at me from where she was at my feet. Though her voice remained a Little Sister's, I heard the distinct edge to it that signified that Eleanor was dictating her actions. I marveled at the staggering amount of trust that the Little Sisters had in their "big sister" Eleanor to so willingly donate their bodies so that we could spend time together.

As she offered me her left, sore-covered hand, Eleanor chirped, "I'm telling the other girls that I have the best daddy!" I smiled beneath my emotionless copper face as I knelled before her. Giggling, she raised her arms up for me to lift her up onto my back. I carefully lifted her up with my gloved left hand so that she could ride on her throne. As I did, she lovingly traced the contours of my armored face with the tiny digits of her free left hand as if she was committing them to memory.

The tightening noose around my heart slackened slightly as the temporary bond between us rejuvenated the main link between master and servant. As long as we could maintain these temporary bonds, we could buy ourselves more time for me to reach her. However, we had to be mindful of the girls' heath. They may be immortal but they were still children. Their bodies would tire quickly if we were not careful. It was already above and beyond the call for them to be putting such extraordinary trust in us. I would be damned before I violated their trust.

Once Eleanor was situated, she tapped the top of my head. I thanked my brother, "Thanks, I owe you one."

He dismissed my remark while he motioned with his tool, "Negative. Any time, sir. Watching each others backs is the only way that we are going to get through this."

I grunted in agreement before I asked, "You alright?"

He replied, "Affirmative. My armor plate took most of the rounds." I noticed the new scars on his armored face where the rivets had failed to penetrate. I quietly winced as I felt my ribs still being mended. I forced myself onward as I reminded myself that there was worse pain than that of mere broken ribs in store for me if I did not hurry.

Motioning towards the other side of the diner, I grunted, "Come on, let's get to the Sinclair Deluxe."

As I began to move towards my destination, my brother commented, "Right behind you."