Bioshock 2

Chapter 5

Eleanor raced across the rooftops in her big sister suit. She was glad that she was as athletic and agile as on Olympian; it really helped her endeavors. She loved the feel of being able to clear a gap as wide as ten feet with ease. Piece of cake, really. She thought and smirked inside her helmet. It was like everything came to her with ease, and she knew why as well. The memories and skills of most Rapture's citizens were injected into her when she was very young. Now it was being put to good use; however unnecessary it was at her childhood.

It wasn't long before she had arrived at the downtown area of New York, with all the shoddy and broken down buildings, it was a haven for drug dealers and the like. Certainly not a place that Ryan would hang out by choice. Unless it wasn't his choice, she pondered. The thought didn't comfort her any more than the one where Ryan came down here of his own free will.

As she came down to the run down apartments, she slowed herself down and strained her ears to see if she could hear cries for help from Ryan. The fruits of her labor were in vain, and she resumed her race across the buildings.

"Ryan, where are you?" She whispered, feeling her heart-beat increase. Not from running, but from all the thoughts that came from her imagination that pertained to Ryan's fate.

In the meantime, Ryan was gagged, bound and blindfolded to a metal chair. He twitched, showing signs that he was actually conscious and not deceased. As he regained his senses, he could feel the dried blood of the side of his head where he had been struck, and the entirety of his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

"Oh look, ouah little squealah is waking up." Said a guy with a strong bostonian accent. He snickered, and Ryan could feel his fear shoot up like throwing gasoline on an open fire, although he tried not to show it.

"You ah so annoying with your little camerah, little shuttahbug. Now, we have a little problem. You were taking pictures of our little operation, and that's bad for our business." Ryan heard a gun being drawn out of its holster.

Every fiber of Ryan's being screamed at him to scream, to call for help and flail his body around until he hit something, but his prideful nature kept him silent. He refused to speak. He didn't want to give his faceless enemy any satisfaction. Ryan would show the man that he would remain stoic throughout this crisis.

"It's a shame. I was hoping we could avoid this. But you had to up and ruin everything. That's going to cost you, as well as us. Don't worry though, we'll recover." The boston man said, and he added with such venom in his voice that it made Ryan cringe, "Unfortunately, we can't say the same about you. Pity."

Ryan heard the sound of the hammer of the gun clicking into place, and Ryan gulped down his fear. The sound of the hammer made him shiver, and sent trails of goosebumps down the length of his arms. The fear cut through him like a hot knife through butter. He thought defiantly: At least I was a pain enough for them to notice me. That makes me feel better.

Eleanor was watching the entire exchange through the broken skylight, frozen with horror as she heard what the man holding the gun had said. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, what this guy was saying, was it actually true? She wished she could deny it, but Ryan was there, tied up to a chair with a gag and blindfold. Ryan had deliberately put himself in danger, and for what gain? All that he had accomplished was that he had angered the local crime syndicate. You moron.

She leaped gracefully from the rooftop, landing silently behind the two men. She raised her needle, but stopped. She didn't want their blood on her hands. It would raise too many questions that she wasn't willing to answer if the law force decided to investigate the matter. Instead, she just grabbed the man with the gun from behind and placed her gloved hand over his mouth.

He uttered a silenced cry and he struggled against Eleanor, but to no avail. He was completely out within a few minutes and dropped the gun. Eleanor dragged him to a dark corner. When he would wake up, he would have a pounding headache and a size ten shoe-print on the side of his face.

Eleanor untied Ryan, seeing the bruising where the rope had cut into his skin had aroused her anger.

Forgetting to remove his blindfold, Eleanor placed Ryan over her shoulder. With another graceful jump, she exited the same way she had entered.