Even in the naturally dim light of Rapture, the change from his dark room to the brighter hallway was enough to make Isaac squint. The door shut with a thud behind him.
A single bare bulb hung in the middle of the hallway, some unseen force dancing with it in a steady sway. He held a hand up, blocking the flickering glare. The light popped and crackled gently.
His eyes slowly adapted, the dead hallway becoming more and more clear to him. Mold covered the walls. The once colored carpet below now a mere path of dark slime. Brown spider webs of cracks ran up the wall, carving canyons through the stained and molded paper.
"Cracks and mold. Cracks and mold. All my kingdom for a patch of clean fucking ground and a solidly built wall." His voice echoed as he kicked the wall with his steel toed boot. A nice little indentation remained, a drip of water trickling from the sodden wall.
He sighed to himself and started off down the hallway of the once super luxurious hotel. Even the highest-class hotels were victim to the unavoidable water damage.
He padded down the bare concrete stairwell. Years of practice made his footsteps nearly silent. A skill that he had forced himself to learn after the splicers got more and more sensitive to stimulation.
The splicers had gotten… different… over the years.
When Rapture had fallen the inhabitants were still little more than citizens with some minor skills. They were often tougher than the average human but lost much of their sense to the drugs they had grown so attached to.
One by one the fools were picked off.
The weak couldn't feed their addiction and grew more and more wild until they were little more than feral animals. They were just as dangerous.
The strong took what they could and kept what little of their mind they needed to survive. The weak quickly fell to them, simple obstacles to the rapidly learning creatures.
The lowest links in the chain gradually got knocked off. Those that lost their grip fell just like the weak before them.
It was a natural progression as the city worked through its death throes. It was a picky being. Only the strongest would see its final gasps. The strongest of this hell would be laid out before the incomprehensible strength of the ocean.
This was both good and bad for Isaac.
The splicers Isaac encountered these days were no stupid creatures. They had enough mind to be tactical. They were semi-coherent enough to be unpredictable. They could practically smell him. Their senses were fined tuned through years of vicious selection. They were the best of their breed.
Luckily for Isaac, however, bullets did not care how long their target had survived. They did not care how well one could hear or how fast one could move. A bullet to the head made them die all the same.
Isaac gripped the grease gun a little bit tighter as he exited the front door onto into the main hall. It resembled more of a street than a simple hallway. The ceiling extended dozens of feet into the air above, the glare of lights casting the metal beyond into a deep, impenetrable shadow, reminiscent of a night sky that he had never seen in his rather short life.
He raised his hand, shaking the baggy sleeve of the coat back before carefully, reverently, unfolding the worn sheet of paper.
Brown, rusty splotches coated its cloth like surface. Blood stains. Rust stains. They blended together.
It was the original. The paper that he pried from her cold, beautiful hands.
Of course, he had made copies, but he always carried the original for luck.
Isaac rarely looked ahead on the list. Preferring to tackle each task individually. He only really glanced ahead if he found something that seemed so useful it had to be important for the bathysphere. So far, this method had worked perfectly.
He glanced down at the final couple items need for his escape.
"Four meters of copper wire. Easy. Ball cock valve. Easy. 1-inch rotary valve. Don't know what that is for. Might be hard to find... Nah, those are in instruments and stuff..." He deftly mumbled to himself. His boots creaked as he rocked back and forth ever so slightly, his eyes darting across the paper.
"Modified little sister harvester?" His eyes widened as his heart sank.
What the hell did he need a harvester for? Sisters were rare. Stealing from one of them was downright suicidal. Protectors were still fairly common. Even with the ever-increasing tenacity of the splicers they were far from extinct. One might even go as far as to say they were learning as well.
The Protectors had shown themselves to be horrifyingly adaptable in a way that betrayed intelligence far beyond the simple mindless beasts they supposedly were.
Even worse yet, he had felt… things…
He had felt the eyes of something on him when he had seen what he had thought had been a lone Little Sister far down a hallway. He had felt the eyes of something on him and it made his skin crawl. It tickled his spine and filled his mouth with the flavor of fear. He had run from that hallway faster than he had run in years.
Then there were the sounds. The distant screams. Fear, an emotion that splicers so rarely felt, had weeded its way back into the population. Something had to bring that fear. Something that he never wanted to meet.
"I have to get a harvester off a little sister? Really?"
He checked the list again and looked closer. Sure enough, warnings of the dangers of stealing from a little sister were scrawled around that familiar, lovely handwriting.
"Save the best for last why don't you..." He mumbled, looking at the flickering lights far above, throwing the question to the fluorescent heavens.
Isaac folded up the paper and tucked it in his breast pocket before reaching up and running his hands through his hair, the machinegun dangled from its sling at his waist.
He reached back and slipped a canteen from his bag, quickly spinning the cap off and taking a long drink of the metallic water. He started off toward the last place he had seen spools of the ever-rare copper wire. It would surely be corroded by now.
This was going to be a long day.
His pack jingled a slight bit, the weight of the numerous valves and runs of wire doing little to weigh on his spirit. It had taken him hours, but he had found all the parts he needed.
Except for the harvester, of course.
His hands were stained with rust and a slight bit of blood from his toils. The slight crust was quickly washed away by a splash from the canteen.
He tilted back the battered metal container, enjoying the feel of the cool water sliding down his cold-parched throat.
His mind wandered for a moment. There was a possibility that he could find one of the harvesters abandoned. Few splicers cared for the harvesters when they had their hands on the ADAM slugs themselves. It made sense that one would be left behind.
A different part of his mind scolded him. Such a situation was nearly impossible. Sisters never lost or left their harvesters.
"Don't go looking for trouble"
Those were words he had heard so often.
"You might not like what you find"
Isaac shook his head to clear his thoughts. His focus shifted back to the water droplets working their way down the neck of his canteen.
"Stay"
The words practically echoed down the hallway.
They always floated along with him. Noises to fill the silence that seemed like the only constant companion in his life.
Isaac sighed. Such thoughts did little to comfort him.
"Why stay?"
Of course, there was no answer. There never was an answer when he needed one. He had learned that long ago. He had begged for answers on the dark floor of his room. They never seemed to come.
Isaac shook his head again.
His mind wandered for a few moments. The protector would be a tough obstacle to find a way around. His long rifle could take one down. He had done it before.
Things didn't always go to plan though. He had learned that as well.
There were things creeping out of the guts of the city that were never supposed to see the light of the upper halls. The screams of the splicers caught by that unseen creature always lingered on the edge of his thoughts. They were the unknown variable in all his plans. It was something he could never account for. It was something he didn't want to have to account for.
Like the splicers, fear had worked its way back into him as well. It wasn't the good fear. It wasn't a productive fear. It was a fear of that pure unknown, that fear that tugged at his back and made him want to curl up and never move. It was one more thing to put him on edge.
With a sigh, Isaac hoisted himself off of the bar and continued on his way.
A sick feeling of betrayal settled within him.
Hair-like figures tickled its fingers, wet with an unseen water.
Filth lay beneath the hair, an unnatural combination of softness and sharp hard pieces. It dug into its fingers, sticking to them as it pulled its hands back like the muck of the deepest corners of the halls.
The smell was unsettling. Its smell was of a frigid cold darkness but felt warm to the touch. It tickled its nose and made it want to breath deeply despite not needing the breath.
It reached back down and rubbed its hands over the damp not-hair, working the filth from its fingers on each damp strand.
Its shoulders slumped, tension draining from it for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.
Thump
Golden orbs flicked open, the thrum of the deck plates tickling its senses. It was a comfortable way to wait, senses in tune to the City. Each creak of motion and footstep could be felt through the floor. Nothing in the city moved without singing through the floor. One could always listen and feel.
It glanced down at its hands. The filth and hair were long gone, replaced by dull steel and dark leather.
Thump
Another vibration tickled its feet.
Visons of glinting breastplates and plume topped helmets flickered into its vision. Vibrant colors blinded it for a moment, the lurid details driving frigid pain through its head.
As quickly as the discomfort came it was gone. Painful, unsettling colors replaced by the comforting monotony of the dark hall.
"Daddy…"
The steady footsteps of one of the lumbering protectors finally reached its ears, seemingly faint compared to the hearty song of the floor.
It was a comforting sound. Even before it had donned its fine hat and suit it had felt that song. It was always near, and when it wasn't dread was always at heart.
It shifted its fingers in its gloves. Even the memory of times without its dear protector filled it with tingling dread. For a moment it felt the not-hair. It was comforting.
The creature moved with purpose.
Leather and steel shifted with smooth movements, gliding without a sound.
A length of hardened steel skittered across the deck plates, sparking ever so slightly.
A song of its own to answer the great, lumbering father.
Steel shod boots snagged an outcropping on the crumbling wall, propelling the lanky being into the shadowy heavens. It snagged a support beam and launched itself through the rafters and ceiling layers, flying above halls and paths that the inhabitants of the city were long confined to.
From above it was unstoppable. It could see all. The monsters could not reach it so much as they could reach the great shadows above.
It only took moments for the creature to find its position, crouching upon a wide beam covered in shadow. Its gloved hands clutched the metal as it brought its knees near its face, curling its skeletal height into a deceptively small form.
Below it lay Father, a silent mountain contrasting the pattering of the tiny feet of the little one. The grand protector towered above the dancing princess, its massive helmet casting a regal glow into the mist filled air.
Sparkles of gold glinted off unseen droplets.
The scent of ADAM hung in the air. The creature had not noticed from its distant post prior. Its own ever-growing ADAM scent drowned out much of its once finely tuned sense of smell.
The creature shifted its head, sniffling slightly.
The little one danced about, the distance between the protector and its charge growing every few moments despite the lack of nearby angels the princess sought so dearly.
The Father shifted, its mountainous form moving with a slow, deceptive smoothness that betrayed none of the brutal speed it was capable in violence.
The creature's eyes slipped shut for a moment.
Flashes of color greeted it instead of darkness. White lace curtains and shining armor randomly flashed through its vision.
Vibrant long clothes donned by figures not unlike itself twirled and twisted as if in combat.
Red flakes fluttered through the air, covering nearly every surface. Little flower petals that matched the clothes of the twirling figures. It was always so entranced by the twirling figures.
They always danced about, from knights to other well-dressed people. They spread the flowers wherever they went.
Its eyes flicked open and the creature shifted uncomfortably.
Sometimes the images were clear. Sometimes they were blurred. Sometimes they happened randomly. Sometimes they were hard to bring forth and always tinged with fog, empty spots that the lanky creature didn't know how to fill.
The clearest memories were the more recent ones, the ones that turned the creature's stomach and blurred its vision.
It was hard to keep track of the passage of time. It was difficult to remember when the colors that had once been so joyful and ever present became random and painful to witness like flashes of a bare lightbulb in a pitch-black room.
It knew that the lace had worn away and the armor grew dull. Its appearance had warped and twisted and grew grotesque despite its ever-present comforting sight. The dancers once beautiful movements grew jagged and scrambling. It was infuriating to watch such beauty slip away.
Even their beautiful flowers grew old and rotten. The once fine, flutter flakes turning into wet sprays. Blackish pools replaced the mounds of petals. The angel's feathers turned to dust about them, leaving nothing but dirt and rust.
Father grew distant, no longer sheltering them with their love. He barely followed it's ever lengthening paths in search of the slowly decaying angels. The scent of Adam seemed to pour from every corner, making it nearly impossible to distinguish the proper paths. The angels were so much harder to find than before.
Perhaps Father had grown tired of the struggles. Perhaps that was why one day he stopped following the confused paths that wound about, never seeming to lead anywhere.
Its dress had changed shortly after, soft flowing lengths replaced with hard metal and leather and a beautiful, tough hat.
Its leather gloves grew taught, the sense of loss pooling deep in its belly. How it missed the comfort of the colorful times.
It was still hard to linger near father. From a distance it was fine to watch. It couldn't go close by though. The draw was too much and the slight pang of betrayal too real. Father had moved on.
The little one below darted down a hall, the giant in tow behind.
The creature sprung to action, launching itself ahead of the pair. It would scout ahead. The little one wished to spend time with angels and needed protection.
It took a few moments, but it was able to sense the angel's scent. The little one had gotten close enough for the scent of the angel to be apparent to those with less finely tuned senses.
It glided through the air, leaping from rafter to rafter as it followed a quickly plotted course. Predicting the movement of the little ones was not as difficult as it seemed. Once they had caught the scent they moved in short paths unless they were growing old, It was only then that they became more unpredictable.
The lumbering steps of Father echoed through the halls far ahead of the pair, shifting the still air.
The scent grew stronger, blaring out like a beacon to the creature's nose. Its mouth watered slightly, tasting the air as it leapt across a wide hall.
It was close.
It ran its fingers down its harvester, testing the tip of the blade.
A frown twisted its features beneath its helmet.
Boots thudded off of a rafter, finally making a sound as the creature exploded across another hall. Sparks cascaded down the steel girders as the deafening screech of metal against metal rang out.
The harvester glinted with a new edge.
The creature kicked off another beam before landing in a low crouch, staring down at the open room far below.
A few piles large piles of rubble and debris dotted the clearing, rising up to half the height of Father.
In the center of the clearing lay the angel. Dark stains arced out from it in all directions. The pale, deformed skin of its back bared to the harsh lighting. Much of its flesh was flayed off, baring the pale white of shattered ribs as its lungs heaved from within like grotesque wings.
An angel.
Colors mingled together like the other scents in the air. The piles of debris that were scattered in the room held corpses as well, their fresh blood covering the rusted steel and filthy plaster in blackish stains. Each corpse smelled of Adam as well.
The creature shifted from its perch, pacing along one of the support beams as it circled the clearing, surveying the area further.
Updated 11/26/20
Wow its been a long time.
With everything that has been going on I figured why not throw an update out here?
My life has changed a massive amount in the past year. I was in a fairly long term relationship that ended a few months after my last update and have spent the past year trying to get myself back together after that.
Hope you all like the material! I'm sorry I never got around to posting the old version of the story. I figured like it would function as somewhat of a spoiler for the rewrite. I may repost it once I have more material posted in the rewrite. Nothing is certain though.
This chapter ends in a bit of a strange spot but the next should pick up nicely with it.
Anyway, I hope all of you have been staying safe!
~TheDeafListener