This was the third time Stanley had woken up after passing out from overexertion. The sheer volume of ADAM he was using was ravaging his body and frying his brain, leaving him feeling as though he had been purged of every pleasant feeling and left with a wrung out sensation. It had become difficult for Stanley to tell whether he was awake or not. He had repaired enough of the leaks by now to have slowed down the current by a significant amount, so when he awoke simply floating in red-tinged darkness of the church-like establishment that had been built from the old pumping station, he could easily mistake it for the red-tinged darkness he saw whilst his body attempted to re-establish itself after so much abuse. Even Splicers would never dare to use so much ADAM in such a short period of time, the effects of prolonged usage already evident in their congealed skin and mutated limbs.
Stanley clenched his hands, locating his arms floating above his head. He didn't need to worry about the welding glove anymore; it had been crushed when Stanley had awoken after first blacking out, a result of Stanley failing about in the practically Arctic water. His hand had connected with a nearby pipe and the tool had simply shattered, rusty silver shards slicing through the water as they dispersed.
He slowly brought his hands to his head, feeling the shape of his helmet through the thick material of the gloves.
So, this must be what a Big Sis' sees, he thought idly, his brain gradually bringing everything back into focus as he stared out of the porthole. Awake, defiantly awake. Yes, those were the emergency lights he could see, glowing from in-between the pipes, providing the color to his otherwise monochromatic world. Black, grey and red had assumed the role of every object he saw, and in his hazy condition Stanley briefly tried to recall what real life actually looked like. Wasn't it meant to be more blue? Or perhaps whiter. More yellow? He couldn't think clearly, his brain allowing his thoughts to lazily drift without attempting to direct them.
He slowly twisted in the water, trying to see which way was up, and his head collided with something extremely hard. He bucked in the water, yelling with shock and his feet collided with another object, sending his body spinning in the opposite direction. His head cracked against something again. He quickly maneuvered in the water, his hands outstretched to prevent himself from any further damage. He could already taste blood as the jolt had rammed his jaw shut, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He squinted through the glass of the porthole as his eyes adjusted to the object he was attempting to examine, resisting the urge to spit the blood. What was he even looking at? Small grey squares…tiles? Yes, those were tiles…oh! The floor!
He was looking at the floor.
Stanley brought his feet to the floor and kicked off, propelling himself towards what he hoped was the ceiling…only to meet a sudden lack of density. His porthole frothed with water as he unexpectedly jumped into the air, falling back into the water sideways with all the grace of a whale collapsing back into the waves after breaching the surface.
But that…that made no sense!
This time, Stanley placed his feet on the floor and stood up slowly. He emerged from the water, staring around the room in disbelief. Had he done it? Had he repaired the leaks?
No, he decided; he could still feel a slight current in the water that swirled around his waist and feet, and he could still see some of the leaks high on the pipes that he could never reach now without the water as a medium to swim through.
But still! The room had been entirely submerged when he had lost the fight with consciousness, and now the water was only up to his waist!
Stanley reached behind his head and gripped the base of the air hose. With a sharp jerk, he removed his helmet and took a huge breath.
He laughed, gagging on the foul recycled air, delighted at how disgustingly familiar it was.
He could see the welds he had made up on the pipes: great longs scars in the metal that were the very thing that had probably saved this district.
Stanley quickly drew out his radio.
"HEY! Hey thinker?" he called excitedly.
"Yes, Stanley Poole?" Thinker's response was nearly instantaneous; his double layered robotic voice sounding muffled through the damp speaker.
"Well, it ain't perfect but I think I've done it," Stanley breathed, raking his hand through his hair with his free hand, "I've repaired the leaks in Slag…I mean Siren Alley. So what, do I get a prize or somethin' now?"
"This is good news, Stanley Poole. Now, you must shut the pumps down. There should be the main switch located at the control desk. This will need to be deactivated."
"Wait, I thought these pumps were keeping Dionysus back in the clear?"
"The structural defect in DNP has been rectified. It is now safe to turn off the pumps."
Stanley waded through the water, making his way in what he assumed was the right direction. He passed through the Securis door and entered the main control room, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the rusty looking switch on panel. Two screens were bolted into the wall on either side of the switch, both broken. A panel reading "Dionysus Park" glowed with a dim orange light just above the console.
Stanley strode forward and as he reached for the switch, he felt his boot connect with a loose object on the floor. He looked down quickly, jumping away slightly. Through the water he could vaguely make out the object's long shape, and with a grin he instantly recognized what the object was. He quickly slammed the switch upwards and bent to retrieve the shotgun from the floor, glad to finally be armed with a useful weapon.
He hadn't actually noticed the sound of the pumps until they began to slow down; the rapid throbbing gradually losing its rhythm like a dying heart pumping its last few liters of blood before stopping entirely.
There was never silence in rapture, but now that the pumps had stopped Stanley felt as though his ears had been stuffed full of cotton wool. Stanley stood and listened to the water, the blood of Rapture, as it seeped into every crack of the Alley, hearing the muffled drips and the softened trickles as his ears adjusted to the sudden dearth of bass notes in the general ambience of the vicinity.
Stanley re-entered the pump room, pleased to see that the water from the leaks had stopped falling, the pipes now empty. That would make it easier for whoever had to make the final repairs so that the pumps could be used again. That is, if they ever lost Dionysus again.
"Guess I'm done here," Stanley muttered to himself, walking back to the airlock, eager to leave. There was hardly any water left in Siren Alley now, the majority collecting in puddles formed in the dents of the floor, probable made by Big Daddies, Brutes or some moron with a mine. Despite having accomplished his task, Stanley suddenly felt alone for the first time.
He'd spent too long in this dead district. Time to move on.
Stanley neared the airlock and as he reached for the lever he suddenly paused, realizing something. He had been around the whole of the Alley by now, and he had only just noticed: where was the exit?
The airlock couldn't be the only way in and out of the Alley; it would not only be impractical as it only lead to Dionysus Park, but not everyone owned a wet suit and the airlocks were only to be used by the Rapture Maintenance teams.
Stanley walked out of the airlock and immediately saw his answer, and it was so blaringly obvious he could have slapped himself. A large metal gate was built into the wall opposite the airlock, the bars wreathed with weeds after having evidently not been open for a while. Stanley walked up to it, swinging the helmet in his hand leisurely. The entire gate was rusted, and though it needed to be opened by being slid sideways, it was evident that there was only one way Stanley was getting though there.
It only took three shots from the shotgun to blast a hole through the gate large enough for him to slip through, even with the bulky suit he was wearing. Stanley just hoped he'd actually find what he was looking for.
Activating the light on his suit, he swept the beam from one side to the other. He seemed to be in a street lined with boarded up shops, sporadic weeds growing up through the cracks in the floor. Lights, cracked and grime encrusted gradually blinked on one by one and illuminated the dilapidated road as Stanley walked past doorways that hadn't been entered in years, his presence activating them. It was as though the street was waking up, Stanley's echoing footsteps reminding it that yes, it still existed.
There were areas just like this all over the city, in every district. Locked doors, sectioned off streets, hidden passageways that had not only been forgotten by the insane citizens, but had been forgotten by the city itself. Stanley tried to read the faded signs as he went, examining the damaged ad posters lining every shop window. Many shops had several small rectangular stickers plastered to their edifices with the word "Eviction" printed in severe looking letters, block red against the white backgrounds. Other shops had the words "Condemned" in blue ink, and one even had "Quarantine" in lilac.
There was one recurring poster that seemed to be on every surface, an evidently home made advertisement simply with the words "Have you got the Weltz?"
Stanley's eyes widened, and suddenly he realized where he was. He immediately yanked on his helmet, hoping that it wasn't too late. There were areas in Rapture that were hidden for a reason, but then there were secrets that even the liberal minded people of Rapture were censored from seeing, though in this instance the "Police" had reacted far too late.
The Weltz had been a huge deal a few years ago. When jobs became scarce and all people had to sell were themselves, some people ended up even worse than the ADAM freaks. Mutations in the form of greenish looking bumps that would grow on the groin at first before spreading to the rest of the body, some disease mutated by ADAM began to spread amongst the citizens that satisfied themselves off one another. And it was here, in the shop labeled "Quarantine" that it had started. When people thought of Siren Alley, they thought of the Pink Pearl, but working for the Rapture Tribune had allowed Stanley to over hear the story.
A biologist by the name of Dr. Dabby Morden had been experimenting with the effects ADAM could have on the sex industry, and The Weltz had been the horrific result. The disease spread throughout the Alley, people died, the Alley was quarantined, the infected were "Treated" with a bullet in the brain and a swift disposal by burning. Dr. Morden's shop had been closed down, then the entire street had closed down and locked away.
And he'd just walked strait into it.
The disease hadn't been airborne, but what with ADAM and its evolutionary qualities, anything could have happened since then.
Stanley could see what he was looking for down the street, not yet awake but hopefully soon to be: the Siren Alley metro station. Fanfares flared as he approached, the sign blinking into life whilst the entrance attempted to permit Stanley access.
But it couldn't; the door, naturally was locked.
Brilliant, just fuckin' brilliant.
A/N: Just by way of asking, did anyone else notice that Siren Alley doesn't actually have an exit? I searched everywhere, and the gate opposite the airlock was the only explanation i had