Shivering, Becky forced one foot in front of the other as she entered one of the hideouts of the Saturnine, fighting the urge to either run or throw up. Or both. Evidence of their rituals were clear all around the cave; corpses floated in different stages of decay around her, all with knives protruding from their hearts.
Lovely.
Straw figurines were placed in a line along the cave, leading towards an altar full of rotting fruit and vegetables. She looked about her fearfully, as though one of the figurines would leap at her and attack. She wasn't afraid for her health; she was confident that her truce with the Saturnine would protect her from harm. She just hated being surprised, that feeling when your heart stops momentarily and your temperature briefly skyrockets.
She took a deep breath to steel herself before she did what she never thought she'd do. Summon the Saturnine Court.
She reached into her pocket and withdrew a circular lighter, a gift from her mother which just so happened to be identical to the lighter Grace Holloway owned. Not that she knew that of course. They'd never met.
She flicked the lid and began to lean forward when her world exploded around her.
Red velvet curtains blossomed on the rocky walls, grotesque corpses morphed into angels sleeping on the floor with their neon halos and wings whilst rose petals usurped pools of blood. Where the straw figurines had been, elegantly kept topiaries depicted different animals whilst the stone alter filled with rotting food was replaced by a white clothed table filled with luxurious delicacies.
Becky slowly looked down at herself. She appeared to be wearing a lovely green silk dress, complimented by black high heels and black silk gloves that reached her elbows. In the polished marbled floor below she was freshly washed, her brown hair tumbling in silky waves down her shoulders, her lips red and her cheeks slightly blushed against milk white shin.
She looked…beautiful.
Which is exactly why she began to cry.
She cried broken heartedly, for she knew that despite the wonderful images she was seeing, she knew it just wasn't true. That's why the Little Sister's mental conditioning wears off at a certain age; no-one could remain naïve for ever. They became too old to carry on believing such fantasies, began questioning what they were doing. Why are the angels here? How did they get here? If they are giving angels kisses, why are they using instruments rather than their lips? And thus starts the realization that their life is a lie. Realizing the irony of Rapture being the exact opposite as they grew up, being the descent into Hell rather than the ascent into Heaven.
All this being said, why was she still able to see it?
Something buzzed at her side, desperately trying to get her attention. She looked to her left to see her old elite security bot hovering anxiously beside her. Seeing him reminded her how her life was supposed to look like and her ersatz world shattered, reverting back to the horror of Rapture. She reached out and stroked its red casing, running her fingers over the name plate that had been welded on to the bot before she had hacked and re-activated it: Bradley.
"Thanks Bradley," she said, highly aware that Bradley was the only thing in the world she had to keep her company.
She looked back down at the floor, checking that everything was back to the way it was supposed to in the blood saturated cave water. Her lank, greasy hair fell in clumps around her neck, hopelessly knotted whilst her chapped lips were pursed with sadness. The pitiful amount of makeup she'd scavenged from purses whose owners had long since died had been ruined by her tears, eyeliner running twin tracks down her face. She hastily scrubbed them away and hoped that her eyes weren't too puffy. She couldn't show weakness, not to them.
She turned back to the straw figurine and quickly lit it. The figure caught on immediately, followed closely by the others as the fire worked down the chain. She stood and waited for the Court to arrive.
She didn't have to wait for long.
The very air warped as a Houdini Splicer teleported into the cave right in front of her, both fists tightly grasping a ball of fire, ready to throw at a moments notice.
"Give me one good reason not to sacrifice your carcass to Saturn right now," the Splicer growled, his face covered by a blood splattered mask of tree bark. Becky put her hands on her hips and raised her chin defiantly. The splicer was so close she could feel their blood scented breath on her face.
"Because I'm the only one who keeps Rapture topped up with the oxygen vital for survival, moron," she replied, displaying more courage then she felt. She needed to assert herself amongst these people, or truce or not they'd tear her apart.
"Oh, hello Becky," the Splicer brightened, removing his mask to reveal a male face, his youth not quite lost behind the ADAM abuse.
"Hello Frond," she replied. As per their nature worshipping…nature, they'd all re-named themselves after plants. It seemed more like what kids do when they make a club, but whatever. Each to their own. Frond was easily the most tolerable Saturnine of the cult, and appeared the most normal. And because of this, he was never used for important thinks in the cult, as he wasn't as dedicated as others. He still partook in the sacrifices and drinking the Blood/ADAM cocktails, yet he was still viewed on as "un devoted."
"I suppose you want the Court then?" he asked, sitting into his hip and folding his arms.
"I do if you wouldn't mind," Becky replied. Frond sighed and reapplied his mask, before disappearing with the painful sound of tearing flesh.
Becky hummed tunelessly to herself as she waited. Again, she didn't have to wait for long. The room temporarily fragmented like broken glass as a result of the mass teleportation, before calming to reveal the assembly of the Saturnine Court.
Becky struggled to remain still, her instincts ordering her to gtf outta there!
She couldn't bolt though. Not if she wanted to remain in power of Arcadia. She did however squeak and jumped slightly back, much to her embarrassment.
The court was arranged in a horse shoe shape, the leaders in the middle whilst the followers flanked either side. There were about fifty Saturnine members in total, their number decimated several years ago by the same guy that was there when her mother died. She knew that he wasn't directly involved with her death, but he'd been there.
"Langford! What is the meaning of this interruption?" A sever sounding woman shouted. She extracted herself from the direct centre, her face hidden behind a mask made from woven vines.
Belladonna. Leader of the Saturnine.
"Right, listen up! I have a proposition to…propose to you," Becky announced. She felt her cheeks grow warm with fear, her mind desperately trying to conjure up coherent sentences that were defiantly not like the one she had just used. Bradley buzzed encouragingly at her side.
"We have tolerated you for several years now Rebecca. You shall be respectful to us in our place or worship, and address us accordingly," the woman said, her eyes flashing with anger. She reached up and hooked her fingers into the vines, pulling the mask off of her face.
"Tolerated me? I have tolerated you. You have invaded my district and have drained its recourses, and what do you contribute? Nothing. You are as much a parasite as any surface dweller who finds his or her way down here. Be grateful that I don't have you forcibly removed. And by the way, it's Becky. Remember that, unless you want me to start calling you Donna. Do you want that? Donna, leader of the Saturnine? Or perhaps Bella," Becky retorted, her fear blotted out as anger took hold. Who the hell did this woman think she was, squatting in her district and mooching off her land? Belladonna reddened.
"Fine then, Becky. What is this "deal" you speak of?" Belladonna enquired.
"Ouch, didn't think it was possible to put so much poison into a word," her voice quivered slightly, "Anyway, I'm sure you heard the message over the radio, the one about cleaning. Well, what I am about to say is tied in with that. I propose to you this. Rapture had a hell of a lot of ADAM saturated dead bodies, and I know a local cult that loves to drink ADAM saturated blood. See where I'm going with this?"
Belladonna looked astonished.
"Child, you're talking about supplying us with enough blood for thousands of rituals. Why would you offer such a gift?" Belladonna asked, her previous anger forgotten.
"Believe me, giving you the blood is just a byproduct of my goal. We're cleaning up Rapture, and you're getting rid of the bodies. You doing service and being paid with whatever you can get from the corpses."
"I'm sure you haven't thought this through. What will become of the drained corpses, store then in our shrines? Or perhaps re-circulate though the city's food, I've heard through the grape vine that there's a shortage…"
"The Eternal Flame is still active in the Medical Pavilion as far as I'm aware. You will also be responsible for taking them to be properly cremated."
Belladonna considered this, her lips slowly curving into her approximation of a smile.
"Your deal is very appealing. If you allowed us to do this, we would not only tend the trees but aid in the revival of the city. There is one condition though."
"What more could you want?"
"A guarantee that none of us will be harmed whilst cleaning the corpses. We are few, and cannot afford to lose any more followers."
"Get that grace?" Becky said, raising the radio that had transmitted the entire conversation.
"Yeah, I got it. One sec."
Becky raised a finger, silencing Belladonna before she could speak.
"Attention Rapture. In aid to the revival of the city, we have employed a cult known as the Saturnine to clean away corpses. They will be disposed of swiftly, and they shall NOT be interrupted at any cost. They will be wearing masks made of bark or vines, so you will know who they are. Family, we are not only ascending the steps of Imago, but uniting our city as one. We are not just the Family, or the Saturnine. We. Are. Rapture!"
Nice going Grace. Nothing like an inspirational speech.
"So, do we have a deal?"