Part 2: Awakening

Death was not as long as David had expected it to be. As the last visages of life had left his body, the Little Sister burned into his retina, the world had gone dark. However, only a breath later he suffered from a horrendous jolt of electricity arcing through his body. Every cell suddenly screamed in agony, his muscles tightening to the point of tearing, his bones threatening to shatter, and his mind feeling as though it were being pulled from his skull.

Then his body went limp and David fell from the Vita-Chamber. He landed face first on a cold, steel floor, unable to lift his arms to cushion his fall. For several moments the assassin wondered if he'd been brought back only to lie there, suffocating under his own weight. For all intents and purposes, he was blind and deaf. What light there was, only reached his eyes as a distant blur. His hearing was little more than a constant roar, like he'd put his head under a waterfall. Gravity seemed like it was pushing him to the floor.

At first, David considered just lying there, letting his body succumb to the pain and weariness. Never one to shy away from a challenge or give in to pressure, the half dead teenager dismissed the idea and rose to his knees. He had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out as his muscles protested the motion.

As he sat there, swaying to and fro, David willed his eyes to focus, squinting at the world around him. Slowly, the room began to take focus. As the pain in his head began to fade, his senses began to function again. And for a brief moment, he wished they hadn't.

For one, the room was on fire, a hole in the wall revealing a bit of piping that had burst and was alight in flames. For another the room was leaking. And, unless he was mistaken, it was buckling under the pressure of the ocean. None of these facts revealed any information in the slightest as to his location. Some of the aesthetics vaguely reminded David of his time under the employ of Ryan, but not anything to tell him where he was in Rapture.

At one point it may have been a lab, not so different from the labs where David had been inducted into Ryan's service. However, it had suffered from several catastrophic failures. As though punctuating his thoughts, a piece of the ceiling slipped free to crash to the floor.

As the last remnants of pain and unease began to lift from his body, David felt a new sensation creep outward from his stomach. It was the same burning discomfort he'd felt only moments after Fontaine had shot him. It carried with it a quiet numbing that seemed to turn his insides into unfeeling, dead tissue.

"Number Thirteen," a voice called over the noise of flames and water slapping against tile. "If you can hear me, pick up the radio." Turning, David found the voices origin: a simple, handheld radio. It hung next to the vita chamber as though someone had put it there just for him. With more effort than it should have taken, the newly living teenager pulled himself to his feet. "Thirteen, are you there?"

With a ragged growl, David plucked the radio from the wall. When he tried to speak, he found that his voice box was all but ruined. Putting a hand to his throat, the teenager found a ragged scar that wound its way around his neck, a remnant of Fontaine slitting his trachea open. Keeping his voice low, and his sentences short, he found that he could still speak, though the act itself was painful. "Here…"

"Good," the voice responded in an almost cheerful tone. While David couldn't recognize the speaker, she spoke with an unmistakable German accent. There was also a level of intelligence, a fluency to her words, something that came from a lengthy education.

"My name is Dr. Bridget Tenenbaum. I can get you out of here, but only if we hurry." Without warning the floor pitched to one side, the room tilting violently. As David stumbled to the nearest glass door he saw the reason for the room's unstable condition.

"You are in a section of Fontaine Futuristics that is falling into the Trench," Tenenbaum explained. The view through the bulkhead spoke volumes. Where the airlock should have continued to another portion of Fontaine's building, it stopped abruptly, its edge jagged where the small room had broken away from the rest of the structure. The rest of Fontaine Futuristics was at least fifty feet above him, still resting on the edge of the trench. "As you are now, you cannot leave. The pressure is enough to kill you, and the sea slug in your chest is ending your life, yes?"

Though she said it like a question, David knew Tenenbaum wasn't asking. It was a fact: the sea slug was killing him. It had been since Fontaine had shot him, and would continue to do so. Even if this Dr. Tenenbaum could help him, there was no way for him to get to her. The ocean would crush him like a tin can.

"But there is a solution," Tenenbaum continued. Even as she explained, David could feel his body dying. His fingers were going numb, the world was beginning to blur again, and even the air around him was taking a metallic tinge, as though each breath was poison. "Look for a display case near the door."

Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear his vision, the former assassin did as he was instructed. Near the door was a display case, as tall as him, and containing what looked like a diving suit. "This is what you are needing, Thirteen. It will combat the poisoning effects of the sea slug, and let you walk along the ocean floor." Before she had finished, David began to don the heavily armored suit. He fumbled with the various components, struggling with the clasps and buckles, trying to force his numb and shaking body to function properly. As he locked the final components into place and reached for the helmet, Tenenbaum's voice returned.

"I am sorry, but this will hurt." Not sure if he'd heard her correctly, David locked the helmet into place, and, almost in response, the suit gave an ominous hiss. Once it had become airtight, something drove its way into David's left arm. He looked at the spun copper that composed the plating that covered his forearm. A clear tube ran from somewhere on his back, along his arm to the exact spot where the pain originated. The tube instantly filled with a glowing blue liquid: Eve. As though it had gotten a taste for his flesh, the suit drove more hypodermic needles into his body. He felt pinpricks of white pain in his stomach, chest and along his spine. Finally a searing agony leapt into his chest, driving him to his knees, as a final needle buried itself in his heart.

Once the suit was on, however, David instantly felt better. His senses returned with sharp clarity, and the burning, numbing sensation receded. He took a deep breath, savoring the way the oxygen nourished his lungs rather than poisoned them. "You are feeling better now. Yes?"

"Much," David responded. He barely noticed that Tenenbaum's voice now emanated from within his newly acquired helmet and not the discarded radio. It still hurt to talk, and his voice was still rougher than it used to be, but, as he stood, feeling the balance in his new suit, David felt life return to his tired limbs. "Now what?"

"Very soon, that room will collapse and follow Persephone into the trench." David vaguely remembered Tenenbaum's name from a list of those who worked with Frank Fontaine, but at the moment he could care less. By his count she had not only prevented a very painful and debilitating death from the sea slug, but may have also brought him back from the dead. "Even with that suit, you cannot survive those depths."

Moving around, testing his flexibility in the diving suit, David found himself before a full length mirror. It had probably been placed there for the express purpose of showing the suit's new inhabitant their appearance. The man who looked back at David from the mirror, through a mask of copper and brass seemed alien. The boots gave him an extra few inches, their copper plated soles looking like medieval armor. Copper plates made hard points over his shins and knees, breaking the pattern of thick, insulating fabric that composed the body of the suit.

"That suit was designed specifically for Ryan's… boys like you," Tenenbaum explained. Around his waist a belt, that supported his frame, held several diving tools, as well as an empty holster, though for what David couldn't guess. Along his spine a series of ridges, made from copper plated steel, led to the heavy armor on his shoulders. While the teenager could feel the weight of the suit, it didn't seem to actually push down on his shoulders, as though the suit somehow supported itself. While the suit added height and stature, to David's frame, it was nowhere near as bulky as the clumsy diving suits used to build and maintain Rapture. Rather, it fit his body like it had been custom tailored for the teenager.

"It will amplify your abilities, as well as offer some protection." David flexed his hands, looking at the heavy brass that capped each finger and backed his fists. His left arm held only the Eve tube, and a slotted plate of copper, as though something were missing. His right arm held what could only be a weapon. A hypodermic needle, at least six inches long, extended with a flick of his wrist. It reminded him of the same tools used by Little Sisters to gather ADAM, not only in its size, but because there was a clear vial behind the needle, empty, waiting to be filled.

"That is designed to harvest ADAM," Tenenbaum described as though she could see David looking at the weapon attached to his forearm. "Sophia Lamb may have had notions for you to assist with the Little Sisters in their gathering, but now we will never know."

The name Lamb sent a mild shock of recognition through David's brain. While Sophia had been one of Ryan's, she had been nothing like the goons David had worked with. She was something different, cold, calculating and manipulative. She'd toy with his and the others' minds, twisting their thoughts.

Looking back at the mirror a final time, David put a hand to the spherical metal that shaped his helmet. The face plate, a circle framed by copper support, glowed faintly, turning the glass opaque. It was as though he were wearing a mask. He couldn't see his own face. David fingered the mirror for a moment before slamming his fist into the glass. The newfound strength that coursed through his body felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at any moment. As he moved away from the mirror Tenenbaum continued to describe his new suit of armor.

"The needle will drain the blood from a splicer, but I do not know for what purpose." Splicer. The word conjured a host of images and half whispered secrets. They were addicts, obsessed with altering their genetic makeup. Most people in Rapture would never mention them in polite society, like drunk, or socialist. "What effect it will have you, I also do not know. Now hurry Thirteen, we have work to be done."

"David… My name… is David." Without waiting for her to reply, the armored teen moved back to the clear bulkhead, wondering how he would get it open. Above him, the city of Rapture glowed like a beacon. Now, it offered none of its former glory. Structures that had once been created with only architectural artistry in mind were now ghostly skeletons, crumbing in the dark. Only a few, dim lights could be seen through the ocean haze. Between his derelict room and the city, a series of cables seemed to anchor the falling lab to Rapture, a thin lifeline back to the city.