Ch. 18: Knock! Knock!

A.N.:

Everyone I am so sorry.

I have not been feeling well lately. One of my friends came home from a trip overseas and he brought something with him. I thought it was the flu but then my fever spiked so high that I ended up in the hospital.

I was delirious for a few days but they let me have my laptop there in the room so I had typed up the new chapters for my stories. However, when my fever finally went down, I found that all the work had been a waste of time because it was gibberish.

So, I have been trying to get the chapters typed back up for the past few weeks. I just felt so weak and I got exhausted so quickly that I couldn't get very much done. I am over it now I think though so that should be the end of that. I got this far in the new chapter and thought that it has been long enough since I updated for a short chapter to be better than nothing.

As an act of contrition, the next chapter may contain mature themes involving Eleanor…maybe.

Anyway,

Thank you for the support and not complaining about how long it has taken for the update.

Read and review if you want.

Upon exiting the back area, I found my two heavily armored companions waiting for me. I grunted, "Let's get the ingredients for the Thermite mixture."

With her voice muffled by her repaired helmet, Jennifer asked, "Thermite? Papa Delta have you gone mad?"

I laughed with my repeated grunts before I assured her, "Only a crude mixture Jen. Don't worry, I'm not crazy yet. We need to get through that Fire Door at the Sinclair Deluxe and Thermite is the only thing that will work without having to take down half of The Drop to do it."

After being silent for a moment, the armored young woman asked, "Just where exactly do you plan on finding the ingredients to make your mixture? This city is a shit hole."

Walking towards the exit, I grunted, "Stop being so negative, Jennifer."

From where she was on my back, the Eleanor-controlled Little Sister remarked, "Indeed. Come now, sister, they said that death was permanent and I proved that notion wrong as you can plainly see. Mixing up a little Devil's Fire is certainly not unfeasible at this point."

As I made my way back into the front room, Jennifer asked from behind me, "How are you doing that, Eleanor?"

I heard my bonded companion giggle before she replied with an intentionally childish tone, "How am I doing what? Big Sister Eleanor is in the House Upsidedown silly."

As they continued, I went through what I needed to make the Thermite. Thermite was more of a "canvas term" that stood in for a family of mixtures. Our best bet was the common Iron (III) Oxide Thermite. Time was not on our side and so our mixture would be far from industrial-grade but, given the circumstances, that could not be helped. The ingredients, essentially rust and aluminum in powder form, were not the issue that we were faced with. The problem was that the reaction would not occur unless the two ingredients were forcibly intertwined under pressure when the process started. If the two powders were not under pressure when they were ignited, the reaction would not take place.

How would we be able to put the two ingredients under such pressure? Upon exiting the Limbo Room, I addressed my allies with my Alpha Series voice, "Rust and aluminum…find some that can be crushed into powder. Time is not on our side here." Luckily, the broken residents of Skid Row had fled upon seeing the conclusion of the fight between Jennifer and Subject Delta as if they were rats fleeing from a sinking ship. While this was telling of the nature of Sofia's control over the grotesque remnants of the population of Rapture, their willingness to abandon their devotion to her in the name of self-preservation meant that the Pheromone Control System that Andrew Ryan had been persuaded to install in the city's Ventilation System to control spliced citizens was not functional, I would address that in due time.

In the meantime, the absence of Splicers made our search for the ingredients for the Thermite less difficult than would have otherwise been the case. The rust and aluminum came from the horrifyingly deteriorated infrastructure of Skid Row. Before, I had been concerned for The Drop, and by extension the rest of Rapture. Even with proper maintenance, the internal skeleton of Rapture would not have outlasted Andrew Ryan himself had the Civil War not claimed his life along with the sanity of those who survived to tend to the war-torn city. The weight-bearing aluminum beams and exterior skin that kept Rapture "standing" were immune to the ravages of time and salt water. However, the architects of the city had overlooked a critical detail.

The internal skeleton of the city was comprised of a combination of steel, bronze, copper, and other metals to a lesser extent. Aluminum was perfect on paper for the city. It was lightweight, easy to forge and shape, and was easily accounted for by Ryan's façade interest in aircraft on the surface had the government watchdogs been monitoring him. Unlike most metals, aluminum has a very high resistance to corrosion. However, aluminum has an Achilles's Heel: weight-bearing. Aluminum does not perform well under immense weight as it tends to warp and bend under pressure rather than stand firm like steel.

The city would rot from the inside out until the aluminum buildings would not be able to hold up their own weight due to their heavily damaged interiors. One building at a time, the dead city would become a pile of aluminum, rust, and glass on the ocean floor. Over time, the buildings would be consumed by the subduction zone located at the bottom of the nearby ocean trench. Rapture would become a myth until it finally ceased to exist in either the tangible or intangible world.

Sofia was no fool. Whatever she was planning to do with Eleanor would not see its ultimate fruition inside the walls of Rapture. She was aware that the city only had a few years left until it finally succumbed to the damage of time and the Civil War. Optimistically, the city had five years left at the most. However, the realistic expectation, based upon what I had seen so far, was that the city had less than few months left with a year being the maximum. The city would have already been a stain on the bottom of the ocean floor had it not been for the Rosie Mass Production Models.

I am become time, the destroyer of worlds. Once again, that phrase was proving to be more powerful than the god-like powers of Rapture and the mad dreams of twisted abominations born within its walls.

We regrouped before the damaged curved wall of glass beyond The Limbo Room. The child-sized piles of scrap metal were beside each other before us. After standing before them for a few moments, Jennifer asked, "What is wrong, Papa Delta?"

Riled from my thoughts, I assured her, "Nothing, Jennifer. I was just trying to think of a way to apply and keep enough pressure on the two materials to allow the reaction to take place. After all, that is what Thermite is: aluminum and rust that are under immense pressure when they are ignited."

Eleanor, having been thinking through the problem herself, started to suggest, "Well, according to Newton's Second Law, force is equal to mass multiplied by acceleration. Pressure is the force applied perpendicular to the surface of an object per unit area. So, all we have to do is…"

However, interrupting my daughter, Jennifer explained simply with a slightly muffled and steady voice, "You can use your Telekinesis Plasmid to force the two together and then I can use my Incinerate! Plasmid to ignite them."

Clearly stunned by being upstaged, Eleanor remarked, "But…but…I…that's my…" Then, I heard her scream internally through our bond.

Admitting that she had purposed an excellent suggestion, I placed my massive gauntlet-encased left hand on Jennifer's right shoulder as I grunted, "Great idea, sweetie."

However, my gesture only made Eleanor scream even louder. Nearly deaf from the ear-shattering screaming of my beloved bonded daughter, I said through our bond, "Eleanor, please calm down."

She finally stopped screaming and then remarked, "I am the smart one! That is how I contribute! That little bitch cannot just take my place like that!"

I assured her, "Eleanor, she could never replace you. Besides, you contribute in other ways. If it wasn't for you, I would be dead right now."

The beautiful young woman was silent for a moment before she said with a downtrodden tone, "I don't want to be a freak who uses her closest friend and father figure as if he was a golem for her escape. I don't want to be the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Father. I want us to be together…to be equals…I don't want to be using you even if it is unintentional."

I was stunned for a moment. Using me? Is that what she was afraid of doing or at least making me think that she was using me? As my bonded Little Sister, it was true that Eleanor could indeed control me if she desired to do so. However, she had never used me and she certainly was not using me now.

I replied with my weathered human voice, "We are equals, Eleanor. Don't ever think any different. I treat the others with kindness but I would sooner die again than have anyone other than you by my side."

The pale brunette's cheeks became flushed briefly as I felt a surge of stunned bliss emanate from her through our bond. I saw the innocent, uncorrupted child that I had protected all those years ago. Her eyes were a soft, warm blue that were filled with wonder and curiosity. However, seconds later, she smirked as her eyes sharpened and became a frigid blue before she said with an edged tone, "Jennifer seems to be taking a shine you, Daddy. Would Daddy like to watch the two of our sweet, tight, firm bodies intertwine as we caress each other until he takes us both like the bad little girls that we are? Would Daddy like to punish the bad little girls and make them beg for it on their knees like good little girls?"

Mortified, I remarked, "Eleanor!"

She ignored me as she continued, "As big as you are, I don't think I could fit you in my tiny little mouth, Daddy. You would have to make me gag on it as you thrust it down my throat. Would Daddy like to look into his daughter's eyes as she gagged on his…"

More horrified than ever, I interrupted her, "Eleanor stop!"

Clearly marveling at the effect her words were having, the cruel, authoritarian side of my daughter continued with a glint of red light visible in her blue eyes, "Don't try to hide your darker thoughts from me, Father. I know all about those pent up desires of yours. Dirty old man…"

Looking away, I said in a low tone, "Don't toy with my feelings."

Her soft yet strong right hand gripped my chin and she gently turned me back to face her. Due to her unnatural height, she was able to look me in the eyes. Her enchanting vibrant blue eyes were now a mixture of warmth and frigid authority that was nearly hypnotic and was certainly enough to drive any ordinary individual to fall under her spell. However, there was a shadow of deep-rooted sorrow behind the hypnotic pools of blue that was born of the soul-crushing misery of her cruel life. I had seen the shadow before but, this time, I saw that there was a glimmer of hopeful rejuvenation that had taken root in the edges of her eyes and was slowly spreading inwards.

Eleanor released her grip on my chin and then slowly closed the short distance between us as she simultaneously turned her body until she was curled up against my chest on her left side with the left side of her head resting just below my neck. The intense heat radiating from her body felt like a painless roaring inferno but, due to the absence of any pain, her unnaturally hot frame felt very soothing against my own.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around the unimaginably powerful young woman that was both every man's dream and every man's worst nightmare. Whatever madness had caused Sofia Lamb to twist Eleanor into the beautiful creature that now rested against my chest in the world created by our forced physiological bond was beyond my comprehension. All of her attributes were already at inhuman levels of perfection yet the madwoman was still forcing ADAM into my daughter at an alarmingly increasing rate.

What possible good could come from a being like Eleanor? What was Sofia trying to accomplish? Whatever pipedream she was trying to achieve clearly was important enough to the psychiatrist to manipulate large numbers of her brainwashed followers to sacrifice their lives with the promises of "Salvation". That level of commitment indicated that there would be no talking sense into Sofia. As far as the elder Lamb was concerned, she had already taken the leap and was past the point of no return.

"Would you love me more if I was not a freak, Father?"

I pulled her in closer and then placed my chin on top of her head as I assured her, "You're not a freak, kid. You are the most beautiful creature that I have ever seen. I don't care what you are, Eleanor. Love is internal, not external. As long as there is love, it does not matter what the rest of the world thinks."

Before I even felt that she had moved, Eleanor pressed her incredibly soft lips against my own at an angle. Caught off guard, my body reacted before any latent hesitation could mobilize inside my mind. This time, I noticed that Eleanor "tasted" spicy to me even though that was impossible. As we continued to kiss, her taste took on the feeling of an electric current. Moments later, when she withdrew from me, I remarked, "That was…interesting." She winked at me in response.

Moments later as we were making our way back to the entrance to Skid Row with the powdered remains of the aluminum and rust held securely in the Pneumo that had been to the left of the entrance to the Limbo Room, my built-in shortwave radio came to life as Sofia lectured me, "For Grace, the paradise of Andrew Ryan was most unkind. She spoke against him in song and he had her blacklisted. It left her penny-less. But in The Family, she has found hope; a reason to draw breath. Ask yourself Delta, do you deserve to take it from her?"

I ignored the taunt of my murderer once again as I continued towards the exit. When we neared the large supporting jack in front of what remained of the pharmacy, The Drop's Public Service Announcement System crackled to life and then Gracie announced, "The Tin Daddy is not a man! It is half dog and half devil; made by Andrew Ryan to condemn our children to a walking death!"

I mentally sighed. I had become accustomed to being seen as a monster by the city's population; a towering butcher that was clad in a diving suit; the faithful watchdog of a ghoulish little girl. Sofia seemed content with poking the dead horse with a stick and her faithful mouthpiece seemed content to voice her ill-informed hatred for not only me but all of the Big Daddies. They reminded me a little of Hitler and his Propaganda Minster Joseph Goebbles with Sofia's grand plan for "paradise" and Gracie's voice being the instrument by which Sofia spread her message.

Upon exiting Skid Row and entering the tunnel, I heard a young woman crying. With Alpha 1 behind me carrying the upside down Pneumo in his free left hand and Jennifer to the left of him, we continued forward. I reached the abandoned refrigeration unit and saw that two red metal fuel containers had been placed in the middle of a pool of petrol. Further down the tunnel, I saw a heavily bandaged individual that I could only assume had once been a woman due to the feminine shape of the frame. Behind the Splicer, I saw that the previously inaccessible path to the Sinclair Deluxe had been made accessible by The Drop's population while we had been in Skid Row.

Showing a trace of mental stability, the bandaged Splicer used Incinerate! to ignite the petrol before retreating towards the far end of the tunnel. A broken cackle escaped the woman as the flammable substance quickly succumbed to the flames. I watched the flames overtake the containers with a macabre fascination before I flattened my gloved left hand towards the containers so that my palm was facing them. Then, after willing them up into the air, I sent the flaming objects flying towards the retreating Splicer.

The containers impacted the woman and detonated in a fiery explosion that sent metal shrapnel through the air in all directions. My tactic backfired as the entire tunnel shook as the metal and glass structure groaned loudly in protest. The curved glass ceiling of the section of the tunnel where the explosion had taken place was now alarmingly cracked. Sea water was dripping through the cracks that seemed to be slowly spreading to the undamaged sections around them. Luckily, the tunnel continued to hold up but I did not know for how much longer.

Even before the petrol-fueled flames died down, a female Thuggish Splicer clad in a ruined white dress screamed as she ran towards us from the area around King Pawn with what looked like a small wooden post that had a small brass pulley on the end above her head. The deranged woman's mouth was open, which revealed the horribly decayed remains of the few teeth that she had left within her sickly green mouth. As if in her own world and thus ignorant of the wall of flame in front of her, the Splicer ran into the ignited oil slick and immediately was consumed by the hungry flames.

Shocked by suddenly being forced back into reality due to the agony that was racking her body, the denizen stumbled a few steps before completely losing her footing. She fell face forward onto the unforgiving metal floor of the tunnel as her mutated body was devoured by the flames. I forcibly suppressed the instinctive desires to want to know her name and who she had once been before Rapture's Nightmare had claimed her sanity and her humanity. Such desires had to be suppressed. Otherwise, one would drive him or herself to madness.

The damaged tunnel somehow managed to hold up for a long enough period of time for us to reach the far end. There, above the operational watertight Security Door, was a crudely made sign with "Sinclair Deluxe" written in black letters. As the door's aged mechanism struggled to raise the watertight door, I heard a man laugh somewhere ahead of us. The laugh was interrupted by the sound of small arms fire and various angry cries.

However, I did not have time to try to understand the source of the chaos as the sound of cracking glass erupted behind us. We had no sooner exited the tunnel before the cracked glass ceiling submitted to the pressure of the Atlantic Ocean. The sound of an alarm that had been muffled and distorted by the corruption of time filled the dust-filled air of The Drop as the watertight Security Door slammed shut behind us.

Remembering that Subject Delta had destroyed the Security Door to the area around King Pawn, a brief stab of fear entered my mind as I realized that there was nothing to stop the surge of icy Atlantic water as it plowed through the downtown section of Pauper's Drop. The pumps in The Drop were already struggling to keep the makeshift former housing of the Atlantic Express's workers from flooding completely. This new surge of sea water would easily overpower them. My mind raced as I tried to remember if there was a watertight door between the downtown area and the area around the Fishbowl Diner. I knew that there was a door between there and the Sinclair Deluxe. However, I did not recall there being one that would prevent the flood from reaching the diner.

How long did we have until the train station was made inaccessible? The watertight security doors would seal shut and prevent us from being able to return to the station. The remains of my human face cringed beneath the emotionless copper face of the monster as I realized that we were out of time and the only option to get the genetic key from Gracie was nothing short of an assault on the likely fortified Splicer nest that was the Sinclair Deluxe.

This was a Protector's worst nightmare. The multistory complex would provide the resident Splicers with tactical superiority as they could attack from nearly every direction. The dimly lit decaying corridors would provide the deranged individuals with a near endless supply of ambush points. There would not be an avenue of retreat once we entered the upper floors because other Splicers would be waiting for us if we tried to go back through the single crumbling hallway that connected the floors.

However, we had no choice but to press ahead. To the left and right of us, similar to the layout of the entrance to the downtown area, were two flights of concrete steps that led up to the tunnel that ran in front of the Sinclair Deluxe. In front of us against the oxidized brass and mold-covered wall was an abandoned food cart. The sounds of fighting seemed to intensify as we began to ascend the left flight of stairs. My curiosity was admittedly aroused when I heard that some of the unaffiliated Splicers of The Drop had beaten us to assaulting the Sinclair Deluxe.

As we approached the landing, I heard a male Splicer yell, "You've got the space! Let us in!"

Over the sound of small arms fire, distorted human screams, and explosions, I heard a woman yell back, "Nonbelievers are not welcome!"

Moments later, my suspicions were confirmed as the watertight Security Door opened to reveal a scene of absolute chaos. Despite the flight of metal stairs before us that obstructed my view of the rest of the tunnel, I could already see five Leadhead Splicers in front of the right entrance to the Sinclair Deluxe. Two were women that were armed with crudely modified Thompson Submachine Guns that looked as though they were about to fall apart from lack of proper maintenance. The three men were armed with a revolver, a shotgun, and an equally abused Thompson.

Tracer fire filled the air and multiple spider web cracks were on the glass walls as the Splicers that were affiliated with Sofia Lamb and The Family, but had been unfortunate enough to be outside the fortified apartment complex when the structure's imposing Fire Door had slammed shut, were now apparently more than willing to sacrifice their lives to prevent any unaffiliated individuals from getting near their safe house.

It was almost a macabre fascination to study the behavior of the Splicers. Before now, I had merely treated them as if they were merely enemies to be cut down and then forgotten. However, now, I was beginning to understand that having a better idea about the nature of these poor broken individuals would greatly benefit me. Tenenbaum had described them as being "drug addicts" and "vicious animals". It was true that compared to the social outcasts and thugs that were the Splicers all those years ago, these creatures were only human in the vaguest sense.

However, they were still human beings beneath their spliced, grotesque appearance and ADAM madness. The scene playing out before me proved that they were not too far gone. They were willing to put aside their differences to coordinate an attack on The Family's safe house. Naturally, this was due to extraordinary circumstances, but it was proof that we were not as alone as I had originally thought. The city was indeed not under Lamb's spell outside of certain pockets of die hard followers. The rest of the city merely did its best to not earn the ire of Lamb's Followers, Big Daddies, and Big Sisters. If we continued to apply pressure, the city might have another Civil War on its hands.

As I reached the top of the short flight of stairs, I saw four Thuggish Splicers, three men and one woman, rushing towards the defending Leadhead Splicers. Behind the cannon fodder, I saw six Leadhead Splicers that were armed mostly with crudely repaired revolvers expect for one that was armed with a Thompson. The unaffiliated attackers clearly did not have the same access to equipment or modifications that Lamb's Followers did. However, that did not seem to faze them as they brazenly charged towards the defenders.

The Thuggish Splicers reached the Leadhead Splicers before the first man was cut down, or more like blown apart into large chunks, by the shotgun-wielding male Splicer. However, the remaining Thuggish Splicers brutally bludgeoned the shotgun-wielding defender to death with their improvised melee weapons of sections of lead pipe. Ignoring the blood and brain matter on their torn clothing and the glass walls around them, the pipe-wielding individuals turned and began to rush towards the unfazed defenders.

In a hail of lead, the Thuggish Splicers were cut down but not before the one of the women was cut down by the coordinated fire of the attacking Leadhead Splicers. In response, the man wielding the revolver retrieved a Molotov Cocktail from the small, torn bag that he had strapped to his back. Cackling like a madman, the Splicer ignited the soaked strip of cloth with genetic flames. As he threw the former wine bottle turned incendiary device, the deranged follower of Lamb yelled, "Burn heretics!" The cocktail landed in the center of the Leadhead Splicers. Consumed by flames, the individuals screamed in agony as they ran in different directions. None of them made it more than a few steps before they crumpled to the ground as their cooking bodies submitted to being burned alive.

As I moved towards the Sinclair Deluxe, the remaining defenders turned towards me before quickly retreating back into the lobby. We gave chase to them and upon entering the lobby, I grunted loudly as a hail of .38 and .50 caliber rounds impacted my armored fame. Even with Armored Shell, the powerful anti-material .50 caliber rounds easily penetrated my large frame and caused massive internal damage. Ignoring the agony of ruptured intestines, collapsed right lung, and several other damaged organs, and also the discomfort of the contents of my suit's First Aid Reserve Tank being pumped intravenously into my body to repair the damage, I let out a deafening guttural roar as I powered up my modified industrial-grade drill.

I began to stomp towards the Splicers where they had taken cover behind the check-in counter. Bright blue electrical arcs were emitting from my drill and a miasma was directly before its spinning bit. The incoming rounds were deflected back towards the Splicers by my drill's deflection field, much to their surprise and shock. As I reached the check-in counter, the last Thompson-wielding woman's head exploded from a center mass hit by Alpha's newly improved Prototype Rivet Gun.

Before the male Splicer armed with a revolver could retreat, I swung my razor sharp drill bit into his heavily bandaged and deformed skull. My drill easily removed a large chunk out of the right side of the man's skull. The disgusting remains of the man's brain was visible like the core and seed of a piece of fruit than one has taken a large bite out of but the Splicer merely continued to fire his revolver at me. With one last strike, I destroyed the Splicer's brain and his corpse crumpled to the dirty floor.

Turning my attention to the remaining Splicer, I saw him retreating through the white sliding door to the right of the ransacked shelves against the back wall behind the counter. However, before I could give chase, Jennifer jumped through the large, square-shaped opening in front of the check-in counter. As I watched, the nimble woman landed on her hands and feet but, within seconds of making contact with the floor, she stood and then used the immense strength of her legs to reach the open doorway before I could blink. The Splicer never had time to react before she used her powerful Telekinesis Plasmid to will his body back towards her. The man cried out in shock and misery as he found himself being skewered by the Elite Big Sister's large weaponized needle.

A sick suction sound filled the air as Jennifer drained the ADAM out of the Splicer to heal her goddess-like body. I turned and made my way through the sliding dual metal doors with the ornate glass circle in the center that allowed access to the main hallway. The large imposing Fire Door towered before me at the end of the hallway.

As I moved towards it, my built-in radio crackled to life and the southern accented voice of Sinclair filled the inside of my copper head as he remarked, "That little ruckus you caused has the entire Drop jumpin', son. Better get to Gracie on the double. The pumps are holding the flooding back for now and one of the Splicers had the spark of intelligence to dynamite the paths to downtown but this place is done for. Get that key from Gracie and let's hit the trail before this place drowns."

I mentally sighed in relief. With the paths to downtown blocked by rubble, we had nearly half an hour before the water would completely flood the rest of The Drop. Of course, we had to make it back to the train station before the watertight Security Doors sealed. However, we had more time now than what I had originally thought. My thoughts soon turned to something else: Gracie.

I could not just leave her here to slowly starve to death. The Security Doors would keep the Sinclair Deluxe from being flooded but they would also seal the former singer inside the apartment complex. I did not want to kill her over something as trivial as a simple misunderstanding. Nor did I want to leave her to slowly die a slow horrible death as her aged body ate itself. I would have to decide what to do when we reached her. For now, I had to focus on getting through The Family and their safe house.

As we stood before the large metal obstacle, I turned towards my brother and then used my Telekinesis Plasmid to lift the metal powders out of the Pneumo. I then turned back towards the door and moved the Thermite down the center of the giant barrier in a long, thin line from the top to the bottom. When the door's center was weakened, I would be able to bust through it with a Drill Dash.

Continuing to hold the Thermite in place, I started to move back towards the doors that were by the check-in counter. As I did, I grunted, "Don't look at it while it is burning, it is like looking directly at the Sun." My companions acknowledged me with their respective responses. Then, Jennifer willed a ball of genetic flame into the Thermite.

I had my eyes closed during the very brief reaction. The sound of hissing and a very bright flash that was visible even through my eyelids were the only detectible aspects of the Thermite reaction. However, that was normal for the mixture. A Thermite reaction was rapid and intense. When the intense light was no longer visible, I opened my eyes and surveyed the damage done to the Fire Door.

The Thermite had done its job perfectly. A narrow, uniform line had been cut straight through the thick door straight down the center from top to bottom. So clean was the line that it looked as if someone had taken a large surgical blade and cut a single incision down the center. I revved up my modified drill and then charged towards the barrier.

In an ear-shattering screech of metal-on-metal, my heavy frame impacted the weakened obstacle. The force of the impact was enough to send the two sections of the barrier flying back into the first floor of the hotel along with large sections of the surrounding wet concrete wall. In a cloud of dust, the heavy metal sections landed on the dirty tiled floor and vibrated the entire structure like a small earthquake.

As I calmly entered the fortified hotel, I bellowed with my Alpha Series Big Daddy voice loud enough to cause a ringing in my ears, "KNOCK! KNOCK!"