Eleanor dreamt.
She stood in a vast hallway, everything having a grey tinge. The ceiling leaked here and there, forming puddles along the hallway. Everything felt partly slow motion. She looked at herself, wearing boots and canvas, in her Big Sister outfit. She stroked her head, glove rubbing hair—no helmet.
Eleanor walked down the hallway, gradually passing doors on either side, all closed.
She saw the first opened door and decided to look inside. She saw a golden statue of Father, standing triumphantly.
Eleanor smiled. "Hah, Father...just as I remembered him. At least this isn't a fever dream."
She turned side to side as she went, looking inside the rooms. More golden statues: one of Aunt Gracie here, or one of Andrew Ryan there, or that of a Big Sister lifting a Little Sister as a mother would her baby. Other golden statues consisted of an angel, Atlas of GE Building, caped knights with muskets, the Founding Fathers, Leonard Wibberley, Ayn Rand, Ernest Hemingway, George Orwell…
In the next opened door, Eleanor saw people wearing bunny masks and suits, dancing casually. Next, she saw some sort of gigantic, winged, beaked Big Daddy. Then, a black marble statue of a bipedal dragon, staring at her with his head tilted. He was quite a dashing, noble figure. Ghostly people in the next room, whispering and murmuring, but Eleanor could not understand them. A dark statue of a Schwarze Sonne was the next thing she saw, but paid little attention.
Eleanor witnessed the next dark monument in the next room, which seemed to be staring at her, a monument depicting Korczak and his children. Although Eleanor had never seen such a monument, and did not know what it was about, it stood out to her. The monument emanated with as much sadness as hope, how hopeless. She moved on.
The next room was different, having some colour. This room revealed a blurry scene, that of a porch with trees and sunlight further on. Sitting on the porch was a father, holding a baby wrapped in white cloth, their heads close. Eleanor paused, and just stared. The scene made her heart tingle with warmth, something exactly what she yearned for.
Could this be... Father and I? Long, long ago? Before Rapture? No, that can't be possible... She did not remember much before Rapture, but Father came from the surface. How beautiful it would be if she could be with Father and sunlight.
Eleanor stopped halfway in the doorway. "It would be very intriguing if I could see myself as a baby, but...I'll leave them alone."
Eleanor was about to move on, but stopped. She did not know why, but she felt like she was being watched. Although she knew this was a dream, the feeling of being watched and déjà vu felt quite real.
"You're watching me. I can feel it."
After a few seconds, she heard a heart beating loudly, accompanied by guttural breathing always followed by dripping. She felt heat flow through her backside, and wanted to turn around…
"Do not look at me, Eleanor, or you will fall into insanity comparable to your other sisters," a very deep, wet, guttural voice warned, the voice so deep it was difficult to understand.
At first, Eleanor did not care, but she heeded the warning. "You're quite the character," she remarked, not turning around.
"Not quite, girl. This is more than a dream, as you have realised," the voice continued with some tenseness, Eleanor feeling warm liquid spatter against her back.
The scent of blood and freshly cut flesh reached her nose.
"Mhm. My thoughts...how did you bond with it?"
"Similarly to how you could control your Little Sisters, though my mind is far greater than that of man or technology. Just as you bonded with your Father, so I have bonded with you…although without your consent."
"Why?"
"Because this is important for me, Eleanor, that's why."
"Who are you? Fontaine back from the dead? A Big Daddy with a new Plasmid? A lone scientist jampacked with sea slugs?"
"Eleanor's Darkness."
Eleanor huffed. "Don't play games with me."
"You can call me by my nickname, Spirry. Rest assured, I am not Frank or a Big Daddy, but I suppose you could consider me a scientist. Let's just say that...my experiments have brought the capabilities of those sea slugs to shame."
"Spirry? That's a rather...unamusing name for someone like you."
"Even I used to be a child. You know the importance of childhood. If you prefer a longer name, it is Spiritus. But Mikha'el works, too," Spirry remarked, pronouncing the name Michael in Hebrew. "I need the help of an extradimensional trinity to be free. Like you, I want to be free, and see the sun." His words softened Eleanor a little, but she remained suspicious. She thought about herself and her ascent from Rapture, but what kind of baptism did this strange fellow desire?
"I am not going back to Rapture. And even if I wanted, I can't go back."
"I know that. That's not what I mean. The only help I need from you...happens here. I also need you to stay alive after this is over, Ms. Lamb."
"I can help you, Mr. Spirry, but only will if you tell me... what are you? I want to know you, now," Eleanor softly demanded, though expected the gentleman to continue his habit of riddles. Though, this was the first time anyone called her Ms. Lamb so professionally. She was unsure if she liked it or not.
"What I am? Well... An angel of death, some would say."
"You're just like Mother, always playing a game... Well, angels don't smell like blood, so you must be something else, an antonym of an angel."
"Very good, clever girl," he somewhat teased. "Everyone has their own personal demons to slay, Ms. Lamb, isn't that why you drank the blood of angels?"
"Hm... What do you want me to do, Mr. Spirry?"
"You are an ideal child, Eleanor, a Utopian, one who serves the path of good without question. You must save one more little girl, one who was forgotten by time. Find her behind one of the doors."
"This dream I am in…it has a lot of doors, if you did not notice. Which one do I need to find?"
"You will know."
"How?" Eleanor asked, starting to turn around, still moving ever so slowly due to the constraints of the dream, but then Spirry grabbed her head and turned it forwards. He was quite strong, overpowering her head with one hand, a grasp she could not resist. She felt his giant, sharp fingernails poking into her scalp, but was not afraid.
"Patience and determination, Eleanor," he whispered, Eleanor feeling his breath on her hair, ears and neck, all of which became moist. His breath strongly smelled of blood, and reminded Eleanor of sucking out ADAM and drinking it as a child. "If you see me, you will go mad. Your Plasmids won't work here, for the time being…so don't bother trying to teleport. Eleanor, save the Little Sister forgotten by time. You are the only one who can."
"Fine, have it your way...but don't follow me. I don't want you breathing down my neck."
"As you wish." His beating heart, and gargly breathing, stopped.
Eleanor turned around, slowly, but saw no one. All that was left of Spirry was a pool of blood on the floor. She raised an eyebrow. "Hmm…" He must have been using some sort of custom Plasmid, one that allows him to transcend bodily and mental limitations. I must be careful.
Since those sea slugs could be used to break down an individual to the most basic properties, this man must have undergone some seriously extreme modifications.
Eleanor rubbed the back of her head, and found blood in her hand. She sighed, wiping her friend's blood on her leggings. "Alright...let's go find this Little Sister."
For the most part, Eleanor strolled but only saw a repetition of what she already saw. Sometimes, she tried to open closed doors—locked.
Eleanor continued searching the rooms for what felt like hours on end. She sure wished sleeping was easier than this but had no choice in the matter tonight.
Grunting, Eleanor checked on a closed door, locked. She leaned into it to try and see through its window, but could not. She thought she heard a music box, an appropriate thing for a baby. Perhaps the Little Sister was here? Eleanor knocked on the door… No one answered.
"Hello? I am looking for a...my sister. A Little Sister from Rapture. Is she there?"
"Who's there?" a man inside asked, walking to his side of the door. "Is that you, Esther?"
"No, I'm Eleanor. I'm looking for a Little Sister from Rapture."
"Hunh? What? What do you want?" he demanded.
"Nothing, I'm just looking for my sister. Is she there?"
"What do you want with her?"
"Nothing. Mr. Spirry told me to save a Little Sister."
"Huh-what? Go away, you're crazy."
"Alright." Eleanor moved on.
You are supposed to save the goddamned girl, Ms. Lamb, not walk away. Spirry's voice sounded in her thoughts, clearly upset. Do not let go, Eleanor. Never let go. Find the girl again, and try again, even if it means breaking the fucking door and killing anyone in your way. You're a big girl, Eleanor, and big girls aren't afraid to get rough.
"Why can't you do it, then?"
My appearance would plunge the child into insanity or scare her to death. I am not what a child should set eyes upon. As for the man, he is a broken, sinful soul. I do not wish to horrify him further, either. Do this for me, for him, and for the child.
"I can. But why did you pick me?"
I don't like typical, stupid people. You are exceptional, even more impressive that you are so young. You are Utopia, Ms. Lamb, and I won't let your parents' efforts go to waste. I need you and your conscience to get this done.
Eleanor sighed. "I guess I won't be having a normal life after all."
Normalcy is for typical, stupid people, Eleanor. You are too good for that. If you had a normal life, you would never be what you are now.
Eleanor continued seeking the doors, but once again, it was a repetition of what she had first seen. But, whenever she saw Father, standing tall and triumphant in his golden armour, he gave her hope, always.
Eleanor was about to open a door but loud thudding sounded farther down. Someone was angrily banging against a door elsewhere. Eleanor went to investigate.
"Open this door, right now!" a man demanded, having a rather British accent. He wore a bright brown suit, and continued banging on the door, demanding it to be opened.
Kill him.
"Why?"
Don't ask. Don't think. Do it.
"I don't have any Plasmids or weapons, just my hands."
Beat him to death. Strangle him. Crack his neck. Bite his throat open. Break his back over your knee.
"No, I won't kill anymore. I left that behind." Eleanor heard tuning sounds. She touched her nose, and saw blood on her fingers.
Eleanor began shaking. Her body heated, she had difficulty breathing, and all her blood vessels, and the veins in her eyeballs and under her skin, glowed red. She gagged, feeling blood leaking out her mouth and eye sockets. Her blood was rather hot, enough to cause her to sweat down her forehead. She heard a distorted, static sound in her head. Faint yellow light beamed out her eyes.
Then I have no choice but to change you, Eleanor, to make you into the likeness of your unbaptized sister. After you leave this realm, you will be able to use your Plasmids. But do not think I am forcing you to do anything. Either you help me, or I'll have to do this myself. Show me your answer.
Eleanor fell onto her hands and knees, feeling static throughout her body. Blood leaked out her mouth, nose, ears and eyes. She choked on blood. Spitting a mouthful of blood out, Eleanor picked herself up, her back, knees, and elbows bent, shoulders low, torso swaying about as if containing explosive excitement.
What's going on!?
Lips crookedly parted and teeth clenched, Eleanor darted forth, not really knowing why. The slowed state of the dream seemed to diminish; Eleanor could now move normally. The greyscale effect faded away, and she seemed to have...ran out the dream? Everything looked normal, real, like she was in an apartment building somewhere.
Eleanor reached the man banging on the door and tackled into him, knocking him clean off his feet. He shook his head and coughed, turning onto his back to see what just happened.
The blood leaking out Eleanor's mouth and eyes drizzled down her attire, and all that blood, her glowing veins, the yellow lights shining out her eyes, and the glowing blood vessels in her eyes mapped within the yellow light, gave her quite a surreal look. She was quite the demon to behold. Yet, she backed off.
The man was not afraid, remaining calm and stolid, and picked himself up.
"Huh...the probability—"
Eleanor punched him in the liver. He scrunched up and fell to one knee. Eleanor kneed him in the face; he reared, leaking blood.
Without thinking, Eleanor rammed the heel of her boot into the man's sternum, breaking a few ribs. He convulsed, gargling blood. Eleanor mounted him and fed his face punches, but also kneed him in the crotch multiple times. He tried to defend himself, raising his arms, but Eleanor grabbed his arm, held it against the floor, and pounded his face in. Jawbone softened by such blows, she grabbed the jaw and pulled it sideways; it wetly crack.
Eleanor sat up beside him, punching him in the abdomen and belly, strong knuckles sinking into him. She continued throwing punches until blood seeped through the man's suit. She ruptured organs but kept punching, fabric sinking into mashed flesh.
Breathing heavily, Eleanor got up, yellow-beaming eyes forming spotlights on the injured man. Blood still poured out her eyes and mouth, patting upon the floor. She did not even know where all that blood came from, apoplexy? A lot of her blood spilled onto the man's suit, too. In fact, a puddle of blood had already formed. She spat out a mouthful of red, staring at her twitching knuckles.
Not sure why she was acting the way she was, Eleanor grabbed him by the shirt, more of her own blood pouring onto him, lifted him off the floor, and pinned him against the wall. She headbutted him in the face repeatedly. His nose was totally fucked, eyes swollen, and his brow split then bled profusely. He was, unsurprisingly, unconscious.
Curling an arm around the man's midsection, Eleanor picked him up, positioned him sideways mid-air, then slammed his back over her knee. She pushed him off her leg, mounted him again, and started headbutting his face again. Gradually, her forehead crushed his skull inward, his head gradually collapsing into itself. There was not much face left, just mashed redness.
Eleanor continued headbutting the man's face until she felt her head making splatting sounds. He was clearly dead now…but she was not done. She used psychokinesis to lift the man's body, then conjured a ring of telekinesis around her hand. Fist empowered by Telekinesis, she threw a wide haymaker, the telekinetic mass erupting on impact. The front half of the man's head burst and splatted onto the glass panel of a door, as well as Eleanor's face and front. The semi-headless corpse fell into the pool of blood, the redness reaching the door and running underneath it.
Turning, Eleanor saw her reflection in the glass in the door. She was quite drenched in blood, mostly her own, her skin sticking to her outfit. Breathing deeply, Eleanor wiped her mouth, staring at her own reflection. I see a freak…
Without thinking, Eleanor grabbed the doorknob and shook it. Locked. Screeching like an angry dolphin, Eleanor headbutted the window, smashing the glass. She leaned through the door and unlocked it, forcing it open.
"What the hell!?" A man stood from his desk, grabbing a pistol with a large magazine in front of the trigger. The man ran towards a door, firing at Eleanor. She screeched, charging the man as bullets thudded against her body, one whizzing past her ear. She grabbed his wrist and pulled, slamming her head into his—he flopped over, limp and unconscious.
Eleanor turned, opening the door the man had ran toward. She stepped into a bedroom with a white crib. She felt sharp pain in her brain and eyes, accompanied by sizzling and a high-pitched inhaling noise. Her vision changed into red cracks, as if she could see her own blood vessels. The pain and noise were so much that Eleanor fell onto her hands and knees, panting. Blood drizzled out her eyes and mouth, leaking onto her lap and pooling on the floor.
Static and tuning erupted in Eleanor's thoughts. After a few seconds, her glowing blood vessels and veins, and yellow lighting beaming out her eyes, faded away. Her eye sockets and mouth stopped leaking blood, only dripping a bit. Everything returned to a dreamy greyscale state, Eleanor's movement partly slow-motion again.
"Wha...what happened?" She caught her breath and waited, trying to regain her senses and memories.
Eleanor sat up, spitting out some blood. She rubbed her hands across her eyes, but just smeared blood across her face. She saw the crib and paused.
"The Little Sister..."
She walked to the crib, placing her hands on the railings, and looked down. Quietly staring back at her, lying on her back, arms up, wiggling a bit, was a beautiful little angel with dark hair and big blue eyes.
Both pairs of big blue eyes stared at each other for several seconds.
"Uh-oo-wuah, eh-hih, w-w-wihh..." Was the baby trying to say something to Eleanor?
Eleanor did not know how to react, or what to do.
"You... You...you look just like me..." Eleanor whispered. She had never seen a baby like this before. This was so surreal to her.
The baby made big eyes and tilted her head. Eleanor tilted her head and made puppy dog eyes in return. The baby bent her knees and grabbed her feet. Eleanor's shoulders dropped, deeply moved by the sight of something vastly more innocent, purer, and gentler than her. She could just stand here and watch the baby forever. Memories of being a Little Sister, and prancing with Father, rushed in Eleanor's thoughts…
Now, do you see why this is so important? Spirry's voice returned. You know what's the difference between the man you headbutted, and your Father? Your Father was a real parent. That other man is not like Father, but a failure. He's a gambler, a murderer, a loser, a deceiver, a rube. In fact, the baby is not even his child. Not naturally, anyways. Don't let that idiot have her, but it's your choice to save her or not.
"But this is not a Little Sister, this is a baby... Spirry, did you lie to me?"
If she looks like a Little Sister, I consider her a Little Sister. What else could the child be? She has to be a Little Sister, there is no other explanation. She even looks like you... A tiny Eleanor. For all I know, maybe she is you. Now, take her.
"I... I can't steal a baby."
You do not exist for the express purpose of my expectations. Either you save the girl, or I do it myself. Act quickly, your presence here will soon end. Show me your answer, Ms. Lamb.
Eleanor leaned into the crib, gently grabbing the baby. Her skin is so soft...
The baby did not resist, not even bothered by blood, just so quiet and innocent. What a beautiful baby... Eleanor lifted the baby, and felt comfortably peaceful. The prospect of saving a girl felt heavenly…but all of this was a leap of faith in a dream, and this was not a lucid dream.
Eleanor smiled. "You're so beautiful..." Eleanor walked out the bedroom, not even bothering to look at the man, and simply left the office, leaving behind only bloody footprints. After she left the office, she realised she was... underwater?
Eleanor jerked to the side, gasping, realising that she indeed was underwater! She looked at her hands, baby gone. She noticed her needle-mounted Big Sister apparatus, though. She raised her hands, feeling her helmet. She must have gone diving for some reason but couldn't remember why, and then…fell asleep? The sudden change of realities was quite the shock for her, and she just drifted underwater, dumbstruck.
"The baby... Wait, was all that...just a dream? What was all that? I can't remember what happened later..." Eleanor placed a hand on her visor. "Huh. A strange experience that was..."
Senses returning, Eleanor felt rather lonely floating in such vast water. Looking down, the water below her was dark blue, and below that, an abyss of darker blueness. From the darkness, something arose. A sea serpent? A sea monster? Eleanor's lighting turned yellow. She never fought a sea monster but most of her Plasmids would work underwater.
Eleanor was not afraid. She had fought Spliced-up hulks and gunmen, and would die for Father, so why should killing animals be any different? She waited cautiously, and the sea monster emerged from the darkness.
An oarfish...
The sea creature swam vertically, perhaps twenty feet long, silver in colour, having relatively large eyes. It was quite a beautiful animal, almost two feet in breadth, long and skinny and big-eyed, just like Eleanor. The two made eye contact. She and the oarfish swam on the spot, dorsal fin quickly undulating in the water, the two remaining levelled.
"Hello there, beautiful, how are you?" Eleanor greeted, visor green. She extended an arm, stroking the magnificent animal, the combining of an angel and a fish. The two stayed with each other for a few minutes, swimming alongside one another. Eleanor was lost for words, totally distracted by the regal fish, not even thinking about her strange dream she had awoken from.
Soon, the oarfish swam downwards, and rather quickly. Eleanor wanted to swim after it, but farther down the ocean was not where she belonged.
"Goodbye, beautiful." Eleanor swam up like a dolphin. Hopefully, she would be able to find the lifeboat sooner or later…
After swimming for what felt like an hour, using psychokinesis to amplify her movement, Eleanor finally reached the surface. Helmeted head bobbing, she looked around. Eleanor only saw water in all directions. The ocean was mostly smooth but the waters began waving up and down a dozen feet or more.
"Oh my... This could be a problem..."