Ch. 25: Woodsman and Red Riding Hood

A.N.:

Hey everyone!

Sorry about missing July. A lot of crazy stuff was going on.

I am back in school as of yesterday but I will continue to do my best to get my stories updated.

Anyway,

I am trying to make this story as interesting as I can because I feel like a boring, predictable one would be an insult to you guys.

So…I hope this update was worth the wait! :)

Read and review if you want!

As we waited for the delivery, I became increasingly anxious. The likelihood of a Splicer attack increased the longer we stayed in one location. In addition, we risked unnecessarily drawing the ire of a wandering Mass Production Model as the lumbering giant attempted to access the Little Sister Vent in order to summon one of the little girls to be his temporary partner in a Gathering Session. I did not know how many of the Tin Men were roaming the war-torn halls of the slowly capitulating sunken city but with our ever-increasing pressure on her ADAM supply line, Sofia had no choice but to have every active Protector out in the streets in an attempt to stop us and keep the pipeline alive.

However, fortunately, my anxiety was short-lived as the sounds of a large object moving through the vent network soon drew my attention to the access point behind me. I turned to see the top of a young brunette's head appear in the vent's opening. Her grimy white ribbon and dirty hair was soon followed by her heart-shaped face. After studying her for a moment, I realized that she was the Little Sister that I had "exorcised" in the workshop at Ryan Amusements.

I was struck by how bright and cheerful her emerald green eyes and smile were considering the circumstances that she was in. I could not imagine how traumatic being kidnapped and then changed into a Little Sister before being "exorcised" by a big burly man clad in an intimidating armored diving suit wielding a massive mining drill had been on her. The nightmare fuel environment of post-Civil War Rapture had undoubtedly only compounded what she was going through. The fact that she seemed to be holding it together even at her young age was very admirable as the situation would have been overwhelming for most full-grown adults.

I moved forward to assist her as she smiled even brighter while she continued to emerge from the vent. By then, I could see most of her upper body and I noticed that the young girl had a length of twine rope the thickness of an average man's index finger wrapped around her frame in a kind of harness that circled around her waist and her shoulders in a way that reminded me of how a backpack was worn.

As I reached out to assist her with my gloved left hand, the dirty and tired angel waved her right hand while she also addressed me with a cheerful tone, "Hello mister!"

Not wanting to add to the already hellish nature of what she was experiencing, I let out as least terrifying-sounding of a grunt as I could in response. As I had helped her down to the landing of the vent, I saw that the other end of the rope was still inside the opening of the access point. The child turned back to face the vent and then began to pull on the rope.

However, due to the shape of the interior shaft of the ventilation network and the presumably large size and weight of the object that the little girl had been tasked to deliver to us, she was unable to pull it out of the vent. I reached into the opening with my free left hand until I felt my fingers brush up against a knot of rope. Gripping the knot, I lifted the entire package out of the vent.

The light of the war-torn street revealed the object to be a rectangular shipping crate that was about the length of one of my arms and was about as deep as an ammunition box. The crate was constructed by various slim pieces of wood that formed a skeletal frame. The length of rope was wrapped around the box with four parts of it running along each side of the crate before joining together at the very front where they were tied into a knot. Through the spaces between the pieces of wood, I saw several glowing vials of Gene Tonics and ADAM. On top of the crate, I saw various crayon drawings of flowers, the Sun, and a crude version of an Alpha Series Big Daddy. In addition, there was a large red bow tied around the center of the top piece of wood.

As I lowered the crate down onto the street, the former Little Sister chirped in a grateful tone, "Thank you, mister."

I let out as friendly of a grunt as I could in response. After I placed the crate on the ground, I unsheathed my diving knife and then used it to cut the rope free from the little girl. She giggled and twirled around as if she was dancing as the ropes fell from her tiny frame and onto the ground. I could not help but let out some grunts of amusement as I cut the rope from around the crate and then shoved the tip of my non-magnetic knife underneath one of the ends of the top plank of wood. After prying up the corner, I then moved to the other side and repeated the process.

When the plank was loose, I screwed my knife back into its sheath, took ahold of the board with my gloved left hand, and then lifted it off the crate. I tossed the board aside and then examined the contents. Inside, there were four large vials with accompanying empty EVE Hypos. The first two on the left were completely filled with pure ADAM judging by the dark green substance inside of them and the remaining two appeared to be filled with some Gene Tonics. The two on the left both had tags that were attached to their necks by thin white string. The first tag had the Greek symbol for "Alpha" written in black ink and the second tag had the Greek symbol for "Delta" written in purple ink.

I was perplexed until I remembered that my brother required occasional doses of ADAM that had been produced by Emily's body in order to restrain his biological kill switch. He had already mentioned that Emily was smuggling out care packages to him so, even with both of them quarantined, Emily and Eleanor had found a way to get two vials of ADAM to Tenenbaum, who then put them into the care package.

I briefly questioned how clueless Sofia actually was considering that even putting the two young women in quarantine did not stop them from helping their Big Daddy Protectors. However, I decided that such a move was simply akin to locking a teenager in his or her room and expecting that the locked door and the physical walls would be enough to force her or him to behave. Given her profession, one would think that Sofia would have known that there is no force on Earth that can make a rebellious teenager such as Eleanor stop doing what she has her heart set on doing.

My companions had gathered around the crate by that time. Jennifer leaned down towards the small child until she had her hands on her knees. The armored young woman then waved at the little girl with her right hand. The girl giggled while she held her tiny balled fists up to be just below her eyes before she waved back with her right hand in response. The armored assassin reached forward and gently lifted the child up by placing her hands underneath the much smaller girl's shoulders. The former gatherer was clearly delighted by the action and the cheerful child pretended to be an airplane as the diving suit-clad woman took her over to the vent.

Moments before the little girl retreated back into the network, she looked at me and then said, "Good luck, mister! We believe in you!"

Before I could reply, she disappeared from view as she crawled back into the vent. The horribly transformed remnants of the human being that I had once been smiled briefly as I heard the child's last statement. The thought that my actions and presence were giving the kidnapped children a sense of hope that they would be going home filled me with a sensation that I had not felt since I was transformed into the armored abomination that was seemingly born in the depths of a madman's nightmares. There was little doubt that the sight of a blood-stained, heavily-built, diving suit-clad humanoid towering above the height of any normal human being that had glowing eyes was almost the textbook definition of the Boogeyman for a young child. After being feared and avoided as if I was the Devil himself, it was a strange but not unwelcome feeling of fulfillment to be seen as something other than a monster.

I criticized myself for thinking such a preposterous fantasy. The girl was clearly still under the influence of the Gatherer programming. She was physically free from what the scientists in the Rapture Family had done to her but it would take years for her mind to rid itself of the Little Sister programming. She would likely never completely rid herself of what they had done to her. Any normal individual, let alone a child, would be justifiably terrified of me.

Returning my attention to the vials, I saw Alpha using his Telekinesis Plasmid and an EVE Hypo to inject Emily's ADAM into the IV Tube's opening on his left arm. As he did, I heard him letting out a soft rumbling grunt. The amount of ADAM in a re-purposed Plasmid/Gene Tonic vial was immense, approximately four or five times the amount of ADAM that we had been receiving from the Little Sisters that we had been temporarily escorting, but the reason for his body's reaction was the result of his deep rooted connection to his bonded partner. The effect was akin to two halves of the same soul being temporarily reunited.

After he finished and returned the empty vial to the crate, my brother bent down and discretely removed the tiny label from its stem. The secretly sentimental Protector took great care to not crush the piece of paper with his massive left hand as he quickly placed it in the special compartment on his weighted diving belt where we all kept our money. It was Emily's handwriting so she had personally written the symbol on the tag. Not wanting to interrupt my brother's brief moment of being reunited with his bonded partner, I turned my attention to the contents of the crate.

Using my own Telekinesis Plasmid and the EVE Hypo, I began to inject the ADAM into my system through the IV Line on my left arm. As I did, I felt my body begin to burn as if the substance had ignited every single cell of my physical being with a blow torch until I was a raging inferno that no force on Earth or Heaven could douse. The intensity of my body's reaction was far beyond what I had experienced when I had been injected with the ADAM that the Little Sisters that had been escorting had gathered. However, this sensation was one that I had experienced before and was also one that I was all too familiar with. As such, I instantly knew what it was that I was injecting into myself.

"I told you that it would be worth it."

Eleanor's enchanting voice filled my mind as her ADAM strengthened and invigorated my massive frame. While as far as my body knew it had only been a few hours since it had been graced by the touch of my daughter's ADAM, to me it felt as if it had been an eternity. The closest comparison that I could think of was freshly prepared food compared to canned or pre-made food. The canned food was all well and good but it could never replace its fresh counterpart. The effects were as much psychological as they were physical. I did not know how she had managed to smuggle out an entire vial of her ADAM but I knew that she was more than willing to go to extraordinary lengths in order to help me.

I said through our link, "Not that I am complaining but I hope that you did not hurt yourself to get this to me."

The powerful young woman replied, "Not at all, Father. It is just a drop compared to all the ADAM that Mother has forced into me. What is mine is yours just as much as what is yours is mine. Such a petty amount of pain is nothing compared to having to live without you at my side. Besides, the more I can bleed out of my system, the longer I can stall her plans."

Having finished injecting myself with my daughter's ADAM, I turned my attention to the remaining Gene Tonics. They were covered with grime and had clearly been in storage for quite some time. I quickly realized that they were more prototype Gene Tonics that had been intended for the Mass Production Models before the concept had been scrapped in favor of using the Tin Men's suits as the source of their strength and power. Using my Telekinesis Plasmid, I willed the leftmost vial out of the crate and close to my segmented eye so that I could examine it.

After briefly rotating the glowing glass container, I found the very faint label of "Lot 132-B" written in slightly raised letters along the side of one of the vertical metal strips. Eleanor was definitely getting into the experimental Tonics if they had never even been given a designation other than their Lot Identification. However, I trusted my bonded partner with my life so, without hesitation, I used an EVE Hypo to inject a syringe-full of Lot 132-B into the IV Port on my left arm.

Less than five seconds later, I let out a grunt of discomfort as I felt the substance begin to re-write my body's genetic makeup. The painful sensation of the very bone and muscle structure of my knee and ankle joints being swiftly altered caused a wave of nausea to hit me but I somehow managed to keep from involuntarily dry heaving. Meanwhile, my torment was being compounded further by the addition of the feeling of all of the muscles in my lower body being ripped apart and then rapidly expanded. I realized that what I was enduring was somewhat similar to what I had felt upon injecting Sports Boost into my body at Ryan Amusements but the agony was nearly tenfold. Fortunately, the Tonic's effects took hold within a very short amount of time and, about twenty seconds later, the ordeal was over.

As I regained my senses, I immediately noted that I felt less burdened by my heavy diving suit and, as I took a step to my left, the familiar resistance of lifting my weighted diving boot entombed foot was absent. Intrigued, I inspected the remaining vial in the crate and found that it was labeled "Lot 132-A".

Upon injecting myself with the contents of the vial, I experienced a similar flood of intense agony as the skeletal and muscular structure of my upper body were rapidly altered in the same manner that my lower body had been moments prior. The ordeal was worth it however because the results were the same as I felt completely unhindered by my heavy Alpha Series suit. Even my right arm felt completely weightless despite the massive industrial-grade, weaponized mining drill mounted over my right hand. Before, I had little trouble in wielding my tool of choice but now it was as if it was not even there.

There was something else different about my body. It felt as if a painless but still raging blaze was burning just below my skin across my entire frame. The sensation was not quite as powerful as the inferno that roared through me when my Protector Instincts took control but it was still very intense. Moreover, when I moved, I could still feel my muscles doing the work but, at the same time, it was as if there was something else powering my movements. Remembering the vial of Eleanor's ADAM, I began to understand what my daughter had given me and what the mysterious Lot 132 did to its host.

Even with all of our forced splicing, the Alpha Series Big Daddies were still bound by the physical limitations of the human body. Unlike the Big Sisters, whose bodies were literally fueled by ADAM, our bodies still relied upon its natural biological mechanisms and that meant that the only way for our strength to increase was to increase our gross muscular mass. However, being confined to a sealed diving suit limited us to a finite amount of space in which to do so. Becoming something akin to the Brute Splicers was definitely out of the question because it would compromise our suits. However, it seemed that the scientists working on the Mass Production Big Daddies had already found a solution to this issue but had either failed to see the potential that it could have had for the Alpha Series Big Daddies or they had deliberately deprived us of the opportunity as some kind of attempt to sabotage our standing as the superior Protectors.

Sensing that I had already figured out what had been done to my body, Eleanor asked with her enchanting voice, "Do you like being like I am, Father?"

With my gruff human voice, I replied, "I cannot believe such a Tonic was developed but not standardized."

The beautiful goddess suggested, "They probably did not want to risk the public somehow getting hold of it. It would not have benefitted them even if it had though because of how it works. Even spliced, the average human being simply cannot keep enough of a supply of ADAM in his or her body for it. It is a permanent conversion and it has fatal consequences if its host does not maintain enough ADAM supply for it. My sisters and I developed it naturally due to our tissues constantly being saturated with ADAM and it is why we are so powerful."

I remarked, "Which is why you had to fill an entire vial with yours for me…my body is going to burn ADAM at an accelerated rate due to its build and the amount of physical activity I am going to do before we escape the city."

In response, Eleanor said with a grateful tone, "Thank you, Johnny."

Confused, I asked, "For what?"

My daughter explained, "You said 'we escape' without hesitating…not simply saying it to make me feel better. You are starting to believe in a life on the surface. As much as I love you, being a grumpy old man is irritating sometimes."

I replied, "Well, I am an old man, kid. We tend to be… you know…grumpy. Respect your elders, Eleanor."

The young woman asked with a teasing tone, "What was life like without electricity and moveable printed type?"

With a flat tone, I said, "It was great. We wore animal skins, grunted a lot, and hunted mammoths with pointy sticks."

Imitating the stereotypical caveman, Eleanor asked, "Johnny invent fire?"

Mimicking her, I replied, "No. Johnny invent wheel." Then, I said, "Johnny worry not enough ADAM to make to surface."

Continuing to imitate a caveman, my daughter said in response, "Eleanor smart. Eleanor calculate amount needed many times. Johnny need trust Eleanor. Eleanor love Johnny…want Johnny give Eleanor children on surface."

I smiled slightly before I assured her, "Johnny trust Eleanor. Johnny love for Eleanor burn brighter than big round thing up in sky."

Eleanor replied, "Johnny bad with creative love statements."

Annoyed, I said, "Eleanor fat."

She said in response, "Eleanor kill Johnny next time see him."

Struggling to keep from laughing, I replied, "Eleanor wish could kill Johnny. Johnny tougher than biggest rock. Eleanor get hurt if try."

Eleanor shamelessly assured me, "Eleanor want Johnny hurt her. Eleanor been bad girl…need Daddy punish her."

Forcibly repressing several images that quickly appeared in my mind, I said, "Eleanor need stop being weird."

The beautiful young woman replied with a flat tone, "Eleanor embrace being weird. Eleanor know Johnny like it when Eleanor pretend be bad daughter. Johnny weird just like Eleanor."

Meanwhile, I had been making my way towards the Circus of Values Vending Machine that was across from the Mermaid Lounge. Making it through The Pink Pearl and confronting Daniel Wales had greatly depleted my First Aid and EVE reservoirs as well as my drill's fuel tank. There was no telling what Simon and Sofia had in store for us once we made it through the locked security door. Even though my body was now literally fueled by ADAM just like a Big Sister, I could not take any chances by continuing forward without adequate supplies.

After I walked past the Gatherer's Garden and then turned the corner to walk down the street that lead to where we had first entered Siren Alley, I saw a Rumbler Mass Production Model making his way towards me. The Tin Man ignored the corpse of his brutally slain brother lying in the middle of the street as he watched me while he slowly stomped his way closer to me. I returned his gaze for a moment before he turned and walked inside the Mermaid Lounge.

As I began to purchase supplies from the vending machine, I remarked through our Pair Bond's link, "Eleanor make Johnny weird. Johnny normal before meet Eleanor."

I felt Eleanor smile before she replied, "Johnny welcome Eleanor make him weird. Weird more fun than being normal."

Then, she said with a normal tone, "Be careful, Father. You are going to have to kill Simon to get past him and Mother is not going to just let you stroll into our old home without doing something drastic to try to stop you. I am not sure what she is planning but she is pacing back and forth outside her office."

I replied, "Do not worry, kid. As you said, I am starting to believe in a life on the surface. By god if it kills me, I am going to get to see you smiling beneath a bright blue sunny sky at least once before this old body of mine gives out on me."

With a happy tone, Eleanor said, "Johnny…"

Having finished re-filling my various supplies, I smiled slightly before I said with a confident tone, "I'll get to you soon in one piece no matter what Simon, your Mother, or even the Devil himself does to try to stop me, Eleanor."

I moved away from the vending machine to allow Alpha to resupply and then turned to face the Mermaid Lounge. My beautiful daughter replied, "Ah, now that's the man I fell in love with."

As I waited for my brother to finish purchasing supplies, I idly studied the entrance to the Mermaid Lounge across the street from where we were. I was surprised that the bright blue sign that had spelled out the name of the bar-style restaurant above the wooden double doors was still functional despite the years of neglect. Even the purple image of a sideways swimming mermaid that was above the bold-lettered word "MERMAID" was still lit. Beside each door about halfway up the wall were two ornate brass lantern-style light fixtures that were also somehow both undamaged and functional.

Further down the wall from the right door, there were two navigational signs that were mounted with one above the other. Both signs were still giving off light, which allowed me to see that the top sign read "PLAZA HEDONE" and the bottom one read "Maintenance Station". Both signs also had a large arrow that pointing to my left down the street in the direction of the Gatherer's Garden Vending Machine.

The entrance to the lounge was situated a short distance from the edge of the street. Directly to the left was the large concrete flight of stairs that lead up to the second story deck of the plaza that we were in. Above the entrance was the short bridge that ran above the street below and had been where the Rumbler Mass Production Model that Subject Delta had killed was standing when we had first spotted him upon entering Siren Alley. Leading up to the entrance from the edge of the street was a short flight of stairs with only four steps. There was a pair of windows mounted into the wooden frame of the doors but they were covered with too much grim for me to see inside the restaurant.

Moments later, my brother finished replenishing his supplies and we began to make our way to back to the locked door inside the auxiliary pumping station. However, we had not made it any more than halfway down the street when, suddenly, an ear-shattering explosion came from inside the Mermaid Lounge that was powerful enough to shatter the windows of the doors. No more than a second later, a blood-chilling little girl's scream erupted from inside the lounge. The following thunderous roar from the Rumbler Mass Production Model and yells from various Splicers were almost completely lost on me as the Little Sister's scream of pure terror echoed inside my entire being as it began to slowly drive me insane.

Seconds later, I completely snapped as I heard the endangered little girl let out an agonized cry that sounded as if she was being gutted alive before she then screamed with an almost impossibly loud voice, "NO! HELP! PAPA DELTA!"

I did not even have time to register the flood of maddening rage that stormed into my mind as Subject Delta was let out of his cage before I was sprinting towards the entrance to the lounge with my drill already revved up as the single-minded goal of saving the already wounded little angel from what was undoubtedly certain death. The memory of Sally's screams as she was being cooked alive inside the vents of Fontaine's Department Store fueled my resolve as the possibility of not being able to reach an endangered Little Sister in time to save her from an inhumanly cruel death was once again all too real.

In less than three seconds, I had reached the entrance to the bar. The doors were automatic and I could have waited for them to open. However, I never even slowed down because I was certain that if I hesitated for even a moment, I would be finding the disemboweled corpse of the little girl. The sounds of splintering wood and sheering metal filled the air as I collided with the double doors while they were only a quarter of the way open. The force of the impact caused the wooden frames of the doors to break by first splitting vertically at the spot where they retracted into the walls when they opened and then bending inwards to give way to my frame.

Upon entering the lounge, I took in the situation instantly. The restaurant was two stories with the flight of stairs to gain access to the upper floor directly to the left as you entered through the doors. The first floor was largely dominated by the bar area that was directly in front of you as you entered the lounge.

The wooden bar counter was "L"-shaped and situated in a way that you faced the shorter end as it ended flush up against the dividing wall between the bar and the kitchen area on the left side of the floor upon entering the establishment. Two light fixtures hung down from the ceiling above the bar counter by a wire that connected them to their ceiling mounts. Directly above the bar counter was a matching edge of the second floor because the upper floor did not extend all the way out to the front wall. At the back of the bar area was the restroom and an El Ammo Bandito Vending Machine with the machine against the back wall and the entrance to the bathroom to the right of it.

To the right of the bar was a side room that was accessible via an open doorway. From where I was by the entrance, I saw several booths against the far exterior wall of the side room. Mounted against the wall at the upper right corner of the doorway was a functioning television monitor that had yet another security camera image of either me or Subject Alpha along with the word "Interloper" at the bottom. Just to the right of the entrance to the lounge was a large brown leather sofa. Against the wall before the doorway was a large piano and against the wall just beyond the doorway was a working jukebox.

To the left of the entrance to the establishment was the staircase that allowed access to the second floor. The flight of steps had a ninety degree turn approximately halfway to the top floor as they followed the contours of the building. Vines had taken root in the damp restaurant and had started to overtake the surface of the steps. Mounted into the narrow wall that was between the ground level flight of stairs and the entrance to the kitchen area was a Little Sister Vent. The entrance to the kitchen was simply an open doorway and there was a First Aid Station mounted against the right side of the doorframe at about shoulder-height for the average person.

Just like the rest of Siren Alley, ornate wooden panels dominated the majority of the surface area of the restaurant. Time had decayed the panels and now several were peeling and discolored. In addition, the establishment itself had been thoroughly trashed and left with cracked walls and with various types of garbage covering the floor. At one time, the Mermaid Lounge had catered to the artisans and merchants of the city and I had even seen it in its prime multiple times while I had escorted my master around the city. However, this once respectable establishment was now the scene of a nightmare that could have only happened in the ADAM-fueled madness that was Rapture.

A massive hole that was the size of one of the city's security doors was between where I was and the bar table. Given the large amount of wooden splinters that coated the surrounding area, the remnants of smoke clouds in the air, and the damage inflicted upon the roof of the lounge directly above the hole that was significant enough to allow seawater to begin to drip down to floor below, it was immediately clear that very powerful high explosives had been used.

In the center of the hole was the bloodied, mangled body of the Rumbler. The Tin Man was still somehow alive despite its entire left side being so badly torn apart that strings of flesh and tissue were hanging down from the edges of the afflicted area in a way that resembled dripping pieces of red spaghetti and multiple ribs could be seen. Its now useless left arm hung down at its side in an unnatural manner as the limb was only still attached to the rest of the wounded giant by a few remaining strips of the left sleeve of the Protector's diving suit. The left leg was as equally damaged as the left arm, which had rendered the armored titan immobile as its right leg simply could not take the full weight of his heavy frame.

The Mass Production Model was being swarmed by approximately seven Thuggish Splicers that were striking the overwhelmed giant with all manner of crude bludgeoning weapons while being careful to not get directly in front of their victim to avoid its shoulder-mounted rocket launcher. The besieged giant was desperately trying to fight them off with its one functional arm so that it could go rescue the screaming child that sounded as if she was in the restroom at the rear of the bar area. The little girl was clearly being attacked by one or more individuals that were attempting to harvest the sea slug out of her while the rest of them were attacking her protector.

With my only concern being about the survival of the precious angel, I continued sprinting forward and collided with the group of homicidal addicts. The sounds of cracking bones and various cries of surprise and agony filled the air as I forced my way through the crowd, trampling several of them as I did so, before continuing my single-minded journey to the rear of the bar area. Upon nearing the restroom, I let out an enraged guttural roar in an attempt to draw the attention of the individuals inside and also to try to call out to the screaming Little Sister.

The tactic appeared to have worked because I heard a man let out a cry of both surprise and agony before he yelled, "Fucking bitch! Grab her!" There were several sounds of movement inside the small room before I saw the terrified little girl run out. Her gathering tool was gone and she was holding her right arm tightly across her chest to keep her bloodied and torn blue dress from falling off and tripping her as she ran from the men inside the bathroom as fast as her tiny frame could propel itself. Judging by the large amount of blood covering her upper body and how her dress had been torn in a way that would have allowed access to the girl's bare torso, it was safe to assume that the Splicers had been mere seconds away from removing the sea slug from her stomach.

Green tinted ADAM-infused tears were streaking down her blood spattered cheeks and an expression of pure terror was etched on her once innocent face. However, as she saw me running towards her, a glimmer of hope appeared in her glowing yellow eyes and she lifted her left hand out before her to reach out to me as she screamed, "Daddy! It hurts! Make it stop Daddy! Please!"

Upon reaching the frightened Little Sister, I quickly bent down and picked her up as gently as I could with my gloved left hand before standing back up while I placed my new temporary charge on her "throne" on my back. The reality of how disturbingly little margin for error there had been became even more apparent as I had no sooner placed the endangered young angel on my back before a large, well-built, and middle-aged man with greasy short black hair wearing a bunny mask that was modified with a demented smile carved from ear to ear and dressed in bloodied overalls had sprinted out of the bathroom with a well-used meat hook in his right hand and a length of rope in his left hand.

The man had been sprinting so fast and I was so close to the entrance to the bathroom that he did not have time to react to my presence. A loud gasp escaped the would-be child murderer as he collided with my heavily spliced and armored frame and fell backwards to comically land flat on his posterior. I glared down at him with my segmented eye that was giving off a hellish red light while letting out a low, rumbling, demonic-sounding growl for a moment to allow the man to fully grasp the extent of how much he had screwed up by being part of this disgusting assault on a Little Sister. The man's overall physical demeanor morphed from confidence into one of panic and terror as he tried to run past me and make a desperate attempt for the smashed open exit to Siren Alley.

While I let out a deafening guttural roar that shock the decayed restaurant, I grabbed the fleeing denizen by his neck with my left hand and then thrust the whirling razor sharp tip of my heavily modified drill through the center of his back. His blood-choked screams as my drill bored through his torso to appear as it exited out of his chest made me smirk beneath my copper diving helmet.

These vermin were no different than the heartless woman in Fontaine's Department Store. They all thought nothing of putting innocent little girls through the cruelest torture imaginable if there was something in it for them. That woman wanted revenge and the Splicers wanted ADAM but, in the end, they were all the same: perfectly content to severely harm if not kill the most innocent and precious beings on the planet but then they always gave me the same confused look when I turned the tide against them as if they truly expected that nothing would happen to them.

I knew what I was. In truth, I had long since lost count of how many people I had killed. I never felt any regret for anything that I had done to them. However, I would sooner die than harm someone that had not given me a reason to hurt them. I especially would never be able to understand how any human being could actually decide that there was a reason or justification for him or her to harm a child. It is a hardwired instinct to protect the future of the human race but yet I had noted a disturbingly large amount of people that did unspeakable things to children and some even specifically enjoyed doing such things to children. The fact that there was even a need for a monster such as me was a testament to the nature of human beings.

Gripping the man's neck firmly, I ripped my drill free from his body while simultaneously pulling in the opposite direction with my left hand. The denizen's screams were cut short as I essentially ripped his body in half. The lower half collapsed onto the floor like a deck of cards and I thoughtlessly threw the upper section held in my left hand into the jukebox behind me where it landed with a wet popping noise before sliding down the exterior of the now sparking and smoking entertainment device to come to a stop on the floor against its base.

I turned to face the crowd of Splicers around the Tin Man. I was greeted by the sight of them looking back at me with expressions of either fear or anger. Because they had not directly attacked the little girl, I decided to let them be the masters of their own fate. I pointed towards the open exit of the Mermaid Lounge with my left hand and then let out a loud grunt while I gestured for them to leave. Afterwards, I returned to be in the standard combat posture for my kind with both of my arms lifted up before me so that my drill was at the ready and that the bright blue electrical discharges of my Electro Bolt Plasmid were dancing along the contours of my gauntlet-encased left hand.

They were silent for a moment as they looked around at each other. As they did, Subject Alpha and Jennifer made their presence known where they stood on either side of the exit. Three Splicers, two men and one woman, who had clearly been severely injured when I trampled them as I made my way to the bathroom, silently exited the lounge and then disappeared from view. The remaining denizens, a middle-aged man dressed in a tattered business suit, a young woman wearing a dirty blue dress, and two young men clad in what had once been dockworker outfits, hesitated briefly before they made their decision.

The older man was the first as he ran towards me with his section of lead pipe held above his head. The younger two men followed after him before, finally, the woman joined them. I let out a guttural roar as a final warning for them to back off. However, the thought of getting the ADAM inside the child on my back was too much for them and I was left with only one course of action to protect her.

I willed a blast of Electro Bolt from the ported digits of my gloved left hand into the first young man. While he was briefly paralyzed by the high-powered electrical attack, I thrust my drill into the left knee of the older man who was just about to swing his pipe. My strike hit home and, as the former businessman began to collapse onto his crippled joint, I reached down and grabbed him around his neck with my left hand. I effortlessly lifted the confused Splicer up into the air in front of my just in time to intercept the second young man's swing with his crowbar.

The older man cried out in agony as the powerful strike of the crowbar hit him with enough force to drive the blades into his back. The dockworker ripped his bloodied tool out of his fellow denizen while he took a step back in confusion. I then threw the businessman at the other young man, who had recovered from my electrical attack and was once again running towards me. The tactic caught the likely inexperienced fighter off guard and both men collapsed onto the floor in a pile.

By that time, the female Splicer had reached me and I turned just in time to grab onto the shaft of her golf club with my left hand as she swung the club end towards me. Seeing that the golf club's insulated grip had corroded to the point that the woman's hands were in contact with the metal shaft, I willed a blast of Electro Bolt from my clenched fist into the shaft. She screamed as the bolts of genetic electricity traveled from the golf club's shaft into her body.

The second young man moved to swing his crowbar at me just to my left. I released my grip on the club while I revved up my drill and then turned to face my incoming assailant. The Thuggish Splicer threw the entire weight of his body into his swing only to have the tip of my highly modified drill thrust into the center of his chest. His screams of pain briefly filled the air along with the sounds of cracking bone and ripping tissue as the weaponized mining tool had little difficulty in boring through his chest to exit out of his back while I was showered in his blood. I then powered down my drill and forcibly pulled it back out of him.

The remaining two men were still getting to their feet so I turned my attention back to the woman. By that time, the female Splicer had recovered and tried to swing her golf club at me once again though with noticeably less force as her body was still struggling to shake off the trauma of being electrocuted by my Electro Bolt Plasmid. Though addiction to ADAM left an individual somewhat desensitized, extreme sleep deprivation made an individual far less tolerant of pain than a healthy person.

The slow swing gave me enough time to ball my left hand into a fist and then deliver a bone-shattering punch into the center of her ADAM-disfigured face. The force of the blow sent the woman staggering backwards for a few steps until she lost her footing and fell onto the ground on her back. Before she could recover, I moved to stand directly in front of her. As she looked up at me with an expression of both physical and spiritual exhaustion, I lifted my right foot and then stomped down on the center of the front of her skull. The result resembled a ripe melon that had been smashed with a sledgehammer.

Ignoring the bits of skull fragments and brain tissue sticking to the exterior of my right diving boot, I turned my attention back to the last two Splicers. The younger man had gotten to his feet and was rushing towards me with his monkey wrench held above his head by his right hand. I revved up my drill and then rushed forward. My Drill Dash succeeded in sending him stumbling backwards. Before he could fall backwards, I reached out with my left hand, took hold of his right shoulder, and then thrust my diving helmet-clad head into the center of his forehead.

The brutal power of the impact split open his skull, causing him to let out an agonized cry while blood began to pour out of the wound. I released my grip on his shoulder and the man began to sway back and forth as he struggled to remain conscious. Behind him, I saw the last remaining Splicer get to his feet and then begin to limp into the side room through the open doorway between the piano and the jukebox. The swaying denizen before me began to lift his wrench to swing it at me. However, I simply thrust my drill into the right side of his forehead. The already weakened skull was no match for the strike and the all but decapitated corpse fell backwards onto the floor.

I chased after the fleeing man and, upon entering the side room, I found him facing me from the other end of the small space. Along the wall to our right, there were several windows that allowed a view of the seafloor just beyond Siren Alley. The blue light from the windows illuminated the man's horribly twisted and exhaustion-filled face. However, a glimmer of happiness was in his eyes as if knowing that this was the end of the line for him had given the fallen businessman the first genuine positive feeling that he had felt in a very long time.

As I moved towards him, the Splicer lifted the section of pipe over his right shoulder so that his left hand was free. He then gestured for me to give him a moment. I was going to ignore his request until I saw him retrieve a cigar from a pocket on the inside of his coat. Realizing what the Splicer had asked for, I stopped and let him lit his cigar with what was likely the last amount of fluid in his gold-plated flip lighter. After lighting his last cigar, he tossed the spent lighter onto the garbage covered floor and then took a few drags from it.

Then, he held it long-ways out in front of him and nodded at it before returning it to his mouth. Afterwards, he looked at me for a moment and then smiled as he shrugged. The broken resident of Rapture held his cigar with his mouth as he began to hold the section of lead pipe as he had been before. The Splicer let out a long sigh and then began to move towards me with the pipe raised above his head. I revved up my drill and then thrust it into his chest. He never even attempted to swing the pipe.

After dealing with the Splicer, I exited the side room and then made my way over the bathroom. As I did, I grunted to Alpha and Jennifer with my Alpha Series voice, "Her dress is torn and falling off. I recommend thinking of a way to repair or replace it." Not waiting for their response, I turned and entered the bathroom.

The ornate wooden panels were replaced by square white porcelain tiles as the path turned to the left immediately upon entering the restroom. I turned the corner to find a tiny room that was only large enough to fit three stalls along the right wall and four sinks along the left wall. On the damp, urine-soaked floor in the middle of the room was a large pool of blood that had pieces of the Little Sister's dress in it. The numerous smear lines and tiny hand and footprints all around the pool indicated that the child had struggled with all the strength that her small body possessed to try to defend herself against her enormous attackers. The set of tiny bloody footprints that went to the exit of the restroom silently told the tale of the child's escape after I had called out to her from the bar area.

Movement in the last stall drew my attention to a middle-aged man with short brown hair wearing a blood-stained lab coat that was the standard style of the various medical and scientific professions in Rapture and had likely once been white but was now light brown, stained green rubber gloves and boots, and a dirty surgical mask. He was turning to face a different direction almost every second as if he was desperately looking for something while he was clutching the area around his left eye with his left hand. In his right hand, he was holding a surgical scalpel that was still dripping noticeably green-tinted blood onto the restroom floor. He must have been crouching in the back corner of the far stall because I had not seen him when I had first entered the restroom.

The Splicer's erratic behavior was, for once, justified because the Little Sister's Gathering Tool was sticking out of his left eye. It appeared that the needle had been driven deep enough into the socket that it had lodged itself into the area of the skull at the rear of it because I watched him attempt to pull it out but the tool did not even budge. Considering that it was unlikely that he had done it to himself, it was clear what happened.

When I had called out from outside, the two men were distracted long enough for the Little Sister to grab her Gathering Tool and then thrust its needle into the one that had the scalpel inside her opened abdomen along with likely his other hand and maybe even the other man's hands to forcibly hold open the gaping hole as her body's almost immortal-level regenerative ability tried to heal it back shut. Whether or not she had been aiming for his eye or was just luck in the heat of the moment, I did not know. However, either by the child's own planning or by some kind of miracle, the needle had pierced through the man's eye and the resulting confusion had given her enough time to get to her feet and run as fast as she could out of the restroom.

I began to physically shake with rage and I felt as if I was going to vomit as the most likely series of events began to play in my mind. The beautiful, innocent little girl riding on my back had been walking with her Protector without a single worry in the world one moment and then, the next, a group of Splicers had all but blown apart her guardian with some kind of powerful high explosive. She had then been taken into the restroom and held down on the urine-soaked and garbage-covered floor by two filthy ADAM-addicted men. Still confused about what was happening but also terrified, she desperately tried to get them off of her but she was powerless to stop them from tearing open her dress.

The horrifying truth of how endangered her life was became painfully clear when they then began cutting her lower abdomen wide open with an unsanitary scalpel that had been god's know where while their dirty hands that probably not been washed in ten years were literally inside of her to keep the hole open. She was completely aware of what was happening to her throughout the entire ordeal because her Little Sister Conditioning forced her mind to confront reality whenever she felt threatened or was gathering ADAM from a corpse. I could not even begin to imagine what had been going through her mind as she was seconds away from dying as two men were for all intents and purposes gutting her alive while she was fully conscious.

However, by pure dumb luck, we had been walking right outside the building and had heard her cries for help. Not even knowing what was happening or if there was still time to save her, I had burst through the entrance and rushed to where I heard her screaming. Out of desperation, I called out to her as I was running and that distracted the men on top of her long enough for her to grab her tool. Before they realized what she had done, she stuck the tip of the sharp needle into the one wielding the scalpel. In the resulting confusion, she was able to get out of the bathroom and to the safety of my protection just in time before the "muscle" had caught up to her.

The deranged child butcher finally seemed to become aware of my presence because he turn to face in my direction. However, just as every other resident in this godforsaken city was, he was so mentally destroyed by ADAM that he was completely ignorant of the reality of his surroundings and probably did not even remember what he had been doing mere moments ago. Apparently believing that I was his nurse and that the Little Sister, who I could sense was now glaring at him with a level of hatred that no child should ever be capable of feeling, was here to be operated upon, the former doctor ordered me, "Nurse! Help me restrain this patient."

Completely snapping, I walked up and stood in front of the twisted, broken shell that had once been a human being, reached up with my gloved left hand, took a firm grip on the back of the Gathering Tool, and then began to twist and pry. The butcher began to scream in pure agony and misery while he collapsed onto his knees. I let out a loud laugh in a series of grunts as he uselessly clawed and stabbed my left hand. I made it last as long as possible to ensure that the Splicer felt powerless to stop me from removing something that was very precious from his body no matter how hard he fought back. Then, I removed the Gathering Tool out of his eye socket with a single, slow, smooth pull so that he could perfectly feel every last inch.

I found the result somewhat amusing because it reminded me of a headless chicken and how the decapitated birds were known for sometimes running around aimlessly and bumping into things. While he ran into the sides of the bathroom, he screamed at an incredibly high pitch that I had not been aware that any testosterone-possessing human male had the physical ability to reach. As I watched the denizen's melodramatic response to having one of his eyes forcibly removed from its socket, I could not help but note that the seven or eight year old girl had handled her abdomen being cut open far better than this grown man was taking simply losing an eye.

After removing the pieces of the Splicer's eye, I handed her "toy" back to the Little Sister. As she took it from me, the little angel said with a very polite tone, "Thank you, Papa Delta."

I grunted in response, "No problem, sweetie."

At that moment, the screaming Splicer ran directly in front of me. I reached out with my left hand and caught him by his neck. I turned to face the toilets and saw that the one in the middle stall was completely filled with dissolved human waste. I pressed the Splicer against the wall in front of me so that his back was facing me, lifted my drill up, and then began to drag the tip along the screaming man's spinal column until I found the right spot. When I found it, I pressed the razor-sharp tip into the spot. As my drill severed the spinal column without killing him, the Splicer went limp save for a few twitches.

Removing my drill and holding the paralyzed individual by the back of his head, I turned and then walked into the middle stall. I placed the helpless man into a kneeling position in front of the toilet and then began to lower his head down at a purposely slow rate so that the would-be Little Sister butcher had enough time to study what was inside the toilet bowl before his head was submerged into it. After his head was sufficiently inside the bowl I ripped two of the sinks out of the wall and then used one to anchor his legs and the other to keep weight on top of the drowning Splicer's head. After all, it was simply good manners and etiquette to ensure that the human waste stayed inside the toilet bowl while one was answering Nature's Call.

Even though air bubbles continued to slowly trickle up to the surface of the contents of the bowl, I knew that my job was done. I addressed Topside, "My part is done, Old Man. Be careful with her, please. I just derived a theory about what happened…she might have endured more than just an attempt on her slug. They only had seconds alone with her but we both know what can happen to children in even a short amount of time."

As we switched control over our body with our segmented glass eye and axillary lights reflecting the swap, I assured him, "It is alright, Delta. She is still alive because of you. You saved her…okay? I'll protect her…I promise."

The normally indifferent killer was clearly still rattled by how close of a call it had been. I could not blame him thought because I had also expected that we were going to find the little girl's ripped open corpse. I had seen my fair share of dead children on the surface during the war and, on a few horrific instances in Rapture, murdered Little Sisters that had had unspeakable things done to them before they had finally killed her. The one good thing about not needing sleep as a Big Daddy was that I would never have to see the sight of the destroyed little girls again in my nightmares. To have been so certain that you were going to find her corpse only to see her running towards you screaming for help and to then stop her pursuer, literally knocking him flat on his ass, just after you had placed her on your back was what every Big Daddy Protector fantasized about but, of course, life simply did not work that way.

The rescue that Delta had just pulled off was as close to a fairytale as Rapture was capable of allowing. Had we been any further away from the Mermaid Lounge when the pair had been ambushed or had Subject Delta done anything differently, the little girl currently humming a happy tune as she stood on the special mount on my back would certainly be dead right now and Delta would have certainly redecorated this establishment with the Splicers' guts if he had not destroyed it in the process of getting justice for the slain child.

Clearly wanting to be left alone for now, Delta simply requested, "Protect that little girl, Old Man."

His presence left my mind before I could respond. I studied the drowning former doctor in the stall for a moment before turning around and walking over to the only intact sink. The sea water that come out of the spout was filled with build-up from inside the pipes but it was better than the alternative of continuing on with human waste on my left hand. It did not bother me because I was accustomed to being covered with all manner of foulness but I was handling children. After sufficiently washing off my gauntlet-encased hand, I turned and began to exit the restroom.

As I walked, I asked my new companion, "Are you alright, sweetie?"

The precious little girl replied with her edged voice, "Bad men touched me and ruined my dress but I am okay thanks you, Daddy."

I exited the bathroom to see Subject Alpha and Jennifer standing around the bar counter. I began to make my over to them. Beyond them, I saw that the Rumbler had succumbed to the horrific injuries that he had suffered at the hands of the Splicers. His lighter, less armored suit made his model far more susceptible to injury than any Protector Model that I had ever seen. Even the Alpha Series had more armor than they did. In addition, while my brethren were less armored than the Bouncer and Rosie Mass Production Models, we were notoriously difficult to ambush. Like all the Mass Production Models, the Rumbler was fairly passive even while guarding a Little Sister. The lumbering giant probably never even saw it coming.

As I made my way over to them, I remarked, "You are a very brave girl."

The Little One giggled before she said, "Thank you. It really hurt and I was scared but I knew that you would save me Papa Delta."

By then, I had reached the bar counter. I retrieved my charge from my back and slowly placed her on the edge of the counter so that her legs were dangling over the side. She looked at my two armored allies and smiled brightly while waving happily at both of them. I marveled that she was in high spirits despite what happened to her. Her disheveled brown hair that no longer had a bow tying it back up in a ponytail and badly torn, blood-soaked dress that revealed her pale upper body in several spots was a testament to the brutality of the attempt on her life.

I felt a brief wave of anger as I saw that, despite her body's miraculous healing ability, there were now several long, thick, and jagged scars that formed a sideways "H" starting at the middle of her torso and ending just above her waist. The scars clearly were not from the surgery to implant the slug and would be a highly visible reminder of her ordeal. Wherever she went for the rest of her life, this girl would be followed by the shadow of Rapture. However, she was still alive and that was all that mattered.

Confused, I asked, "How did you know that I was nearby?"

The cheerful child giggled as if I had just told her a joke and then replied in a way that was clearly Eleanor speaking, "She did not know that you were, Father. I have been telling them stories about you for years and now they know that you are here. It is the happiest and most hopeful that I have seen them since they arrived in Rapture. Every fairytale has a brave knight that saves the princess when she is in danger. That is what you are to them, Father."

I replied, "I'm not a knight. I'm the axe-wielding woodsman that breaks down the front door and brutally bisects the wolf after it eats Red Riding Hood and her grandmother. I save by violently killing those that prey upon those that cannot defend themselves."

Eleanor remarked, "A dark hero for a dark fairytale…but a hero nonetheless. The girls don't care, Johnny. They idolize you. You are the hero that the children need to believe in right now."

I let out a sigh in the form of a low grunt. Then, I asked my companions, "So, any ideas about her dress?"

Alpha raised his left hand to reveal a roll of familiar silver tape that was meant for use in ductwork. In retrospect, I should have expected my brother to suggest the use of duct tape to fix the little girl's torn dress. I respected my close friend and his ability to fix and build almost anything but, because she was a human child and not some inanimate object, there was no way that was going to happen as long as I had something to say about it. After I stared at him silently for a moment, he simply gave a slight shrug before lowering his hand back down to his side.

Jennifer suggested, "It is beyond fixing and a liability. So, just let her go without it. What is wrong with her being nude?"

I let out a loud grunt while briefly placing the palm of my left hand over the forehead of my copper face in a facepalm. I asked rhetorically, "A nude little girl being paraded around the Red Light District of a war-torn city filled with homicidal drug addicts…what could possibly go wrong?"

Finally, the Eleanor-controlled Little Sister suggested, "The orphanage is on the other side of the security door that we are about to go through. There are probably some dresses left inside it somewhere. I can hold this one up for now. If we hurry to the orphanage and get another one, I do not mind holding it up for now."

I replied, "Out of the question. You need to be able to grab onto the handles on the back of my helmet." After thinking briefly, I looked at Alpha and instructed him, "Tape it just enough so that it can stay on without her holding it but not hurt her when we take it off when we get a new dress at the orphanage."

Moving towards our new companion with the tape in his left hand, he replied, "Yes, sir."

After securing the dress around the collar and making an "X"-pattern across the front and back of the top section with the robust, multi-purpose tape, my brother was able to make the torn dress stay in place. However, the improvised repair would not hold up to any punishment. We would have to make the Little Sisters Orphanage our first stop after we unlocked the security door.

After returning the little girl to my back, we exited the Mermaid Bar and made our way back to the Axillary Pumping station. As I entered the station, my helmet's built-in radio activated. Sinclair addressed me, "Ah, now through this Junction is the rest of the Alley, includin' the very pumpin' station we're after. Father Simon has been recruitin' Holy Rollers down there for Lamb."

Nothing was out of place inside the station. We ascended the metal stairs up the locked watertight door on the second floor. After fighting through The Pink Pearl and with what had just happened at the Mermaid Bar, it seemed as if entering the code and unlocking the door was going to be the easiest part of the journey to the Pumping Station. I entered the code and the door began to open with a loud mechanical grinding noise. For once, something was actually working in this dying city.

However, the door had only made it about a quarter of the way open before there was a loud banging noise and several electrical arcs shot out of the transformer on the other side of the metal railing. All the power in Siren Alley failed leaving us in pitch darkness. Eerie silence filled the district until seconds later when a deafening air raid siren began to pipe through the intercom.

After a moment, Sofia Lamb addressed all of Siren Alley through the decayed announcement system, "Father Simon Wales, can you hear me?"

The built-in headlamps of Subject Alpha's and my diving helmet activated and provided adequate illumination of the confined space of the station. Jennifer moved to stand at the top of the left staircase and Alpha moved to stand at the top of the right staircase.

Meanwhile, the manipulative psychiatrist continued, "I have trapped a dead man at your doorstep. And Simon…Daniel is dead. Murdered. Can you hear him crying out for justice?"

The call to arms had the desired effect as what sounded like a full blown riot began to descend upon our location from Simon's side of the locked door. As we prepared to fight for our lives against the horde of incoming Splicers, Sinclair addressed me, "They've cut the power on ya…you're stuck 'til the back-ups kick in. I'll help you hold 'em back! Check the pneumo!"

I turned and ripped the top of the delivery tube off with my gloved left hand. Seconds later, a full cartridge of Trap Rivets, two Mini Turrets, and a full container of fuel for my drill shot out of the opening. I tossed the cartridge and turrets to Subject Alpha and then quickly topped off my drill's fuel tank. While this had been going on, it sounded as if the Splicers were going to beat down the locked door. Luckily, they could not crawl under it or lift it and it was designed to withstand a tremendous amount of physical force.

My brother set up a line of Trap Rivets on the edge of the top step of the right staircase and then retreated a few steps away. As he was placing the two turrets on the ground in front of him, the intercom inside the station activated and Simon himself addressed me, "Know this, Beast…Daniel's body may grow cold, but his spirit rests with the child of the Lamb. You shall roast and blacken in the pit, and it will be a grieving brother sends you there…"

Seconds after his delusional threat, the sounds of multiple Splicers entering the station through the ventilation network above us filled the air. I let out an enraged guttural roar and revved up my drill in response to the crazed laughter and derogatory remarks about the Little Sister under my protection. The vent covers in the ceiling of the station fell to the ground and the first wave of Spider Splicers dropped into the room. Hoping that Simon had sent enough cannon fodder for me to vent my anger about what had been done to the little girl on my back, I began to thrust my drill into the nearest Splicer.