*SPOILERS*
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Booker's name had no more left Elizabeth's mouth then Marcus felt an unimaginable well of rage and malice come bursting to the surface of his thoughts. This man . . . this, this . . . False Shepherd wanted to take The Lamb away from him. That wasn't, couldn't be allowed to happen.
*I need a weapon.* A glass shard, some twisted pieces of metal and even a heavily bent tire iron where all within easy reach, but the False Shepherd had survived far worse than that. *Damn it all, there's nothing available!* Marcus seethed inwardly.
"Marcus I need you to get this door off. Do that thing with your arms, what you did before in the car." The Lamb pleaded. But The Lamb wanted to save the False Shepherd, and that couldn't be tolerated either.
"Marcus, I need you to help me."
*Help? I am, my Lamb, and that's all I've ever done, help. Just like everything else I've done, this is for your own good.* Mind set on what had to be done, Marcus balled his hands into fists clenched white and advanced towards the False Shepherd, flaring the cybernetics installed throughout his arms for good measure.
"Good, now I need you to- Marcus?" The Lamb asked with confusion evident on her face and in her voice. "Marcus what are you doing?" She was bordering on fear and panic now, realizing his intent.
*Also good, maybe now The Lamb could be made to understand.* Marcus thought, lifting the False Shepherd out of his ridiculous carriage. Like a ragdoll, he hung limply by the one shoulder Marcus had grabbed a hold of, unconscious from impacting the other, longer, carriage that had been pulling out. Just one swift, powerful punch through the False Shepherd's sternum and-
"MARCUS, STOP IT!" The Lamb shouted, and he could almost hear the furious tears she'd formed. Sparing a glance at her, he wanted her to know that he wasn't this 'Marcus' fellow, he was . . . he was . . . Who was he? Memories started shifting as that damned headache from last night returned with a fiery vengeance. Searing pain brought remembrances he'd never experienced even if his mind was insisting it had; a city floating side by side with clouds, The Prophet, *Is that who I am?*, giving speeches to the faithful masses of his flock, and above all, The Lamb, a girl locked away in an angelic tower for her own safety.
All could behold her sanctuary's majesty, but few would be allowed to see her own. It was for him to judge who was fit, or permitted, to lay eyes on her. Until the day he'd failed that is, when the False Shepherd broke through every obstacle he could obstruct to steal The Lamb away, to steal . . .
"Elizabeth." Marcus breathed. Taking small, wobbly steps towards the woman Marcus now knew had been wronged in so many ways; he feebly reached for her with leaden limbs before he collapsed into a convulsing heap of misfiring synaptic nerves and clammy skin. Here . . . there . . . all were bleeding, because each was now aware of the others.
*But there aren't very many of me. So few when everyone else gets so many different lives in so many different worlds. Was I really that bad?* Marcus wondered while the memories he couldn't reconcile with his own told him that yes, yes he was, is, and would be.
Elizabeth had dropped to his side and he swelled with what he knew to be the petty breed of pride, but she had abandoned her attempts to free Booker, the man who had done more than should be humanly possible to free her, to make sure he was okay.
*Elizabeth, I can see your past; Comstock, Columbia, Songbird, all of it.* Marcus wanted, but was unable to tell her. In any event, she was being pushed aside by big men wearing flame-retardant red coats, the firefighters had finally arrived. He briefly wondered if Elizabeth was afraid of the 'firemen', but any humor he felt towards his private joke was reduced to a strangled gasp as the emergency responders bound him to a stretcher, being very inconsiderate of his mental agony while they did so.
"Get the other man by that old fish bucket out on another ambulance, we need to get this one to a hospital quickly." The firefighter turned to speak with Elizabeth, who was following beside Marcus's supine body. "Miss, can you tell me what happened?"
*Yes Elizabeth, can you tell the fireman about how I almost killed a man I've never met?*
"It all happened so quickly. We were just driving down the road, when we nearly collided with B-, that man's car. I thought Marcus was alright, but after walking around for a few moments he collapsed" -*Nope.*- "It's a fine thing you showed up when you did, or I would have been in such a state."
"Just doing our jobs Miss." -*That must have thrown her off. People who save lives and put out fires were certainly not a part of Columbian public services. Firemen were supposed to start the fires, not extinguish them.*- "Now, if you know of any history of seizures with Marcus, or any other medical concerns you deem important, tell the paramedic." The firefighter told Elizabeth while handing Marcus's still seizing body off to the woman in question, he needed to help his partners with the other victim. The last thought Marcus could form before being slid into the waiting ambulance was *Fat chance buddy, I bet she doesn't want to remember anything about me.* and then he felt the darkness smother him like a blanket, taking his conscious with it.
Santa Maria Hospital was an odd healthcare facility. Intended to be a minor clinic that would handle the routine injuries one might sustain in a household accident, it had only two stories and twelve single occupant patient rooms. It would have had more, but local politics interfered. The California governor decided there weren't enough hospitals with specialized neurosurgery departments in his state. A ridiculous claim, it found traction anyways and construction halted until the architects could puzzle out a way to add an entirely new wing when the foundation had already been laid, eventually halving the number of patient rooms to accommodate the changes.
This fundamentally subverted Santa Maria's original purpose by creating a space too small to handle the patient load, nor was its size able to effectively handle the multi-car crash victims that most frequently required surgery to repair the damage they'd incurred. This resulted in a very low preference rating for dispatch officers. A little known emergency responder secret was that a pair of patients in need of neurosurgery would find everything they needed at Santa Maria's, as its small size almost guaranteed the patients priority treatment.
That was why, fearing brain injury, the crew aboard Ambulance #341 decided on taking their accident victim to Santa Maria Hospital, passing through the wall that encircled the facility's grounds like a medieval castle in record time. They were relieved to tell the on-duty personnel that his seizing had subsided, but the crew were flabbergasted at their decision to postpone surgery for now. While it seemed obvious to the paramedics that the need was there, this Doctor Wynand and her nurse hadn't seen the worst of their patient's episode, with all its bloody noses and flailing limbs. However, the final decision didn't belong to the paramedics and they quickly shuffled away to reinspect their vehicle.
The neurosurgery wing did receive its patient, but instead of brain surgery, Marcus Delavee was treated by a battery of technicians visiting from SabreTech CyberNetics. They flashed several waivers signed by Mr. Delavee stating that they in fact DID have permission to conduct one of the experimental surgeries listed below the dotted line, and they would be using their own Doctor so Masha Wynand must leave.
-Several hours later-
Marcus's skull reverberated with a torment he only had one associate for, a wicked witch named Cassie. He had just returned from his first failed attempt on Hidalgo's life when Cassie decided that she knew the "absolutely, I mean certain to be, the most perfect way to relieve stress." That twisted little lady wasn't even old enough to drink, but she had been adamant in her desire to make Marcus's first night back in the States, to use another of her phrases, legendary.
While he doubted there would be any records of Cassie's exploits, unless three counts of disturbing the peace could be included, but Marcus's hangover the following morning would certainly meet the criteria for legendary. Being underage, Cassie hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, and that meant she was there to enjoy every moment of his drunken spree, followed by his torturous return to a morning of suffering.
The first word she said to him clearly defined her sympathetic nature. Accompanied by uproarious laughter, she'd slapped her open palm against his cheek to try and sober him up, and said,
"Dumbass. God bless you Marcus, because you're such a dumbass."
He hadn't felt very appreciative then, and the mechanical beeping wasn't very enjoyable now. Truth be told though, Marcus believed this time to be worse as his cracked lips and puffy tongue were screaming for at least a little moisture, not to mention the body-wide ache making nausea another irritant. His mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton balls, the kind found next to the tongue depressors in little Ma and Pop clinics everywhere.
"Look whose awake sleepy head." A voice spoke from one of the bedside chairs. It was deep, gruff, but it lacked any trace of malice. It hadn't ever held anything beyond a firm discipline, as far as Marcus knew, since the day they'd first met, after Marcus moved to California.
"Hey Jack, you got anything to drink?" Knowing Marcus wouldn't appreciate his pity, Jack just laughed softly instead and pushed of his chair's plastic arms to rise to his feet. Leaning against the wall to the young man's right, arms folded without any real reason beside comfort, Rapture's Savior let his grin grow larger than the smile that rarely ever left as he spoke, trying to quickly skim over the question.
"Not anymore Marc. Your little lady friend has been sweating bullets though; surprised she hasn't been given a bed of her own. Elizabeth . . . that was her name right . . . well she went for a restroom break, 'outta be back any minute now." Jack hadn't stopped leaning, moving only to include expressive arm motions as needed, but now he turned to look Marcus in the eyes, man to man. Jack knew he was one of the few people the bed-ridden mercenary truly respected, as well as how much he expected that respect to work both ways, so he wanted the young man to know, definitively, that he was getting nothing but honesty.
"Marcus I think it's real good you've found yourself someone new. After Klarissa left, the girls and I, we-"
"We're not a thing Jack" Marcus cut him off, his mood instantly and noticeably souring. "I know you're only watching out for me, and don't ever let yourself think I won't be eternally grateful, but please don't go there."
He'd known Klarissa was more akin to a minefield than a talking point for Marcus, and Jack had fully expected Marcus's reaction. The two had been close, how close wasn't any of Jack's business, but she had almost certainly been among his tiny circle of respected friends, if not the more exclusive circle of those he loved. Knowing thanks to Drunk Marcus that he himself was among the latter number, Jack saw fit to one day help his friend past this darker spot in his life.
*But not today boy'o.* Jack echoed another voice from his own dark times. Holding his hands up in defeat, he dropped the subject right as it walked through the door.
Elizabeth had been able to beguile Jack into believing she needed to use the restroom. She'd had seven, maybe ten minutes to execute her plan without arousing suspicion. She felt a little ridiculous being so cautious, but drawing attention to her abilities only ever brought trouble. Traveling with Marcus to the hospital had presented Elizabeth with a problem; there was still a Tear leading into nineteen-twelve New York standing wide open in the street. At first she'd seen no way to rectify the situation short of walking several miles back to it, but hours of careful thought had led to an infuriatingly simple solution.
Elizabeth knew that creating a Tear was far easier than opening a path into the Sea of Doors. That wasn't difficult either, but she could only do that when her abilities were operating at their peak and her power was practically limitless. Curiously hobbled as they were, it had proved exhausting just to open the Tear, and therein lay her solution. All Elizabeth needed to do was open a new Tear, and her own weakness would cause the other to collapse.
So she had gone walking the hospital grounds looking for a Tear small enough to be opened and closed without drawing unwanted attention. The only items of interest in the area though were the multitude of angelic statues standing in various poses around the courtyard. Elizabeth had been leaning in to examine one, a smile on its face with arms outstretched, when she found what she'd been looking for; a small Tear at the statue's pedestal rippled from the distortion left by an apple currently inhabiting another universe.
Elizabeth had quickly looked around, seeing no one who wasn't too occupied to ignore her on the other end of the courtyard, and no one else at all on her end; she'd braced herself and tried to pry through the barrier separating this world from the apple's.
The resistance she felt was startling. Elizabeth hadn't had to fight this hard to open a Tear since Comstock had, unbeknownst to her, installed a Siphon in her tower. When her fingers failed to find the first "thread" in the fabric she was looking to unravel, she begin swiveling her head to find the reason for her weakness.
Slowly, as her right middle and index fingers slipped through a gap, allowing her to begin pulling to widen the breach, Elizabeth's eyes settled on the angel in front of her. A hitch caught in her breathing when her efforts began to catch up with her, returning her focus to the growing Tear. It was almost the size of a jewelry box for engagement rings by that point, and Elizabeth had used the same two fingers for both hands pulling at the Tear's edges.
Soon, she knew she'd have to start attracting attention from someone, and so she redoubled her efforts. With a final "Humph!" of exertion, the candy red apple completed its journey to a world it had no business being in, seeing as how it had probably been eaten in this world already. Still, that meant the Tear into New York must be closed, and to be safe, she had closed this one as well, finding it much easier now that she was actually doing what the hidden Siphon wanted.
The presence of Siphons raised questions, big questions that Elizabeth hadn't had time to answer right then, as she would need to run to make it back to Marcus's room within reasonable time. Why every single angel statue in the courtyard had fought her attempts to pull the apple through, would just have to wait. Forcing the thought to the back of her mind, Elizabeth opened the door leading into her newest guardian's room.
She was certain something had transpired while she'd been gone. The tension in the air was palpable, an electrical current that set her skin on edge. However, it was forgotten as she realized Marcus was awake.
"Glad to see you're alright." she told him while trying, and failing, to suppress a smile. Elizabeth made her way to the overstuffed recliner by the bed's corner, the one opposite Jack, continuing to speak once she'd collected her dress's voluminous length underneath her tucked legs ."I didn't expect to see you conscious so soon, still feeling any pain?"
Marcus had been calmly watching Elizabeth since she'd entered the room, his eyes an ambivalent mixture of wariness and pity. The change from their usual state of disinterest or incredible focus had an unnerving effect on her.
*What's changed? Did he figure out who, or rather what, I am, and if so, how? Nobody in this universe knows who you are, unless the Luteces had paid a visit. I never can count those two out, always interfering in my life.*
Naturally, Elizabeth kept her fears to herself, making her face as impassive and benign as she was able, while waiting for Marcus to answer. "Just a little dazed and confused is all."
And that was true enough. Elizabeth's entrance had caused the impossible memories Marcus had seen on the road to start circulating through his head again, albeit more passively, like a see-through background that only served to enhance the woman before him. Images of the flying city and Elizabeth's own torturous experiences there had redefined his mental image of her. She'd changed, no metamorphosed, from a possible helpless victim of Hidalgo's that needed his protection, into a powerful woman who'd survived things that rivaled the worst of his own experiences.
*And more than a few that surpass them. At least I could fight back, but her; she had to watch someone else take the risks. Not to diminish the danger she faced, it was just different from the sort I know. Isolation for the first nineteen years of her life, and nothing but death and misery for the rest of it, and all the while Elizabeth wanted to save others. Small wonder they called her the Lamb.*
That thought brought unwanted emotions with it. Again, he felt like the thoughts he was forming weren't entirely his own. Marcus grimaced as pain that was becoming uncomfortably familiar squeezed his eyes tightly shut, causing his fists to clench hard enough to drain the color from his knuckles, and frightening ideas imposed their will over his own reasoning. This time though, he fought back a little more effectively, vying for control of his mind.
Marcus wanted to take Elizabeth and run. He needed to get her as far away from Booker as humanly possible. The logical part of his brain doubted this was necessary, -*You don't even know if Bookers here!*- and it argued against giving in to these foreign reactions. This battle of conflicting thoughts wasn't restrained to being a mental struggle only. Marcus's hands were opening and closing rapidly. His face was scrunched into a horrible mask of taxing concentration, and the breaths he drew were ragged at best.
Jack had surprised Elizabeth by reaching Marcus first, his own face taking on a blend of compassion and seriousness that made her question whether men like him came from a mold. Marcus, Jack, and to some extent, Booker shared many physical aspects, namely powerful, broad shoulders, muscular, well defined torsos, and a height that let them tower over most other people. Comparatively, while the three had very different mental characteristics, they all betook the same stony persona when it became necessary.
That was reflected on Jack's face while he tried to break Marcus's spell. Up this close, it confirmed Elizabeth's earlier theory of 'Tear sickness' being the cause of Marcus collapsing on the side of the road. The real question was what had triggered it? True, she had opened a Tear near him, but he hadn't passed through. Speculatively, it did tell Elizabeth that Marcus very well could have somehow learned who she was, perhaps by glimpses of his life in another reality bleeding through the Tear. Although that theory just left her wondering how much he knew, and that was entirely dependent on who he had been.
Stunningly, Jack was swiftly able to bring Marcus back to his senses, or at least end the nosebleeds and seizures, only requiring Elizabeth to "give him space." Softly humming a four-note tune, he stroked back and forth across Marcus's trembling brow, treating him more like a fever ridden infant rather than the adult they both were.
Marcus gradually settled down over the course of several minutes, until he finally lapsed into an unsettled sleep, one Elizabeth suspected would be plagued by more memory induced nightmares. Two nurses, one of whom passed Jack a brief smile, had already been through to confirm what Elizabeth already knew; Marcus's seizure was over.
Now that Marcus was quiet again, Jack moved to get two Styrofoam cups filled with water from the tap. Handing one to Elizabeth, he downed his own in one quick draught, before refilling his cup. This time Jack only sipped at it, staring off at some distant horizon only he could see, leaving Elizabeth to stand awkwardly at Marcus's bedside.
The horizon was one Jack had hoped to forget. He was finally free of Rapture. The recently unmasked Frank Fountaine lay dead below the surface of the North Atlantic, the mind control he'd used on Jack was broken, never to be reenacted again, and despite everything that had been thrown against him he'd managed to save five little sisters, now his daughters, Masha and Leta, Sally, Veronica(1), and Susie.
Despite their enthusiasm at being freed, the moment had been bittersweet for Jack. They were still stranded on a lighthouse just off the coast of Ireland (2). They had no food, miles and miles of water, but none of it was drinkable, and the wet spray powered by icy winds was likely to make them freeze to death within a few days.
Of course he couldn't tell the girls this. Jack had to be the strong one, the Savior that had seen them through the Hell that was Rapture. "Hey, at least the sun was shining." He'd told them, even as the sun cast his offers to help the children out of the bathysphere in a brilliant golden hue. In truth, it had sounded hollow to him, but to the girls he had just pointed out Heaven; the real one, and not the pristine façade Suchong's conditioning had forced upon them.
It was obvious they didn't remember their past lives. Jack never heard one cry for "Mom and Pappa" since he'd saved them. The girls were dancing around, filled with the ecstatic joy one found in children, and only Sally seemed to hear the melancholy in his voice when he spoke to them again, assuring himself more than the girls, as he told them everything was going to work out fine. Sally had turned and took his hand. She didn't say a word, just gave it a hard squeeze before rejoining the others. Sally was good like that, always knowing when someone needed a pick-me-up, and that was probably why she'd chosen that moment to enter the room.
"Hello Father, is everything alright?" Even with her neat, blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes, Jack often thought the most noticeable feature about Sally was the French accent she'd always displayed despite an obviously German heritage.
It wasn't just the whole "Blue eyes, Blonde hair" gag Americans everywhere applied to Hitler and his ilk either; Sally lacked the tall, slim frame and high cheekbones the English laid claim to. In their place, she stood at a resolute five feet, seven inches in height, her build, while thin, appeared far more sturdy than the anorexic sticks one saw prowling the Californian streets at all hours of the day and night, and her cheeks held a pudge she insisted was far more adorable than having "face handles." Yet every time she opened her mouth to speak, you expected her to ask for a fresh croissant and whether or not you wanted to visit the Eiffel Tower again.
It utterly baffled Jack and it wasn't like Sally remembered any more than Veronica, Masha, Leta, or Susie did about their families. It was just another mystery better left to the Hell that created it. At least this one didn't plague his conscience the way most others did when Jack thought he was alone. He'd never claimed being strong had ever been easy.
"Do you want the truth Sally?"
"Always."
"I've been better." Jack didn't wait for her inevitable question, pressing forward while she watched him concernedly. "I'm worried about Marcus-you know him, in the bed? . . . anyways you've met him a few times- he isn't doing too well."
"There is no need to worry, I'm certain Masha and Leta will take very good care of him." Sally reassured Jack. "Speaking of which, where is Masha? She isn't one to ignore a patient for so long." She continued, a confused expression adding credence to her words.
"Especially one who just seized again." Jack confirmed. To Elizabeth, his voice was tinged with concern, just a smidgeon, barely enough to notice, but it was certainly there. She felt her heart start to beat a little faster, a little harder, as a reaction to Jack's voice.
"I figured something was going on. You could hear those screeching monitors all down the halls." Sally told him with pursed lips, catching on to her father's tone. She glanced back at the door, seemingly considering whether she needed to leave and find Masha or not.
"How well does Marcus know you Jack?" Elizabeth asked in an attempt to change the subject brewing worry in the room, letting out the breath she'd been holding when Jack seized the bait.
"Ah let's see, we would have met about eleven months ago," Jack told her. "give or take a few weeks." He added with a chuckle.
"Are you that uncertain of when the two of you met?" Elizabeth questioned, finding it hard to believe Jack could be so unsure.
"No, I'm not." Jack answered, taking a more serious tone now. "Marcus disappeared for a few weeks, so the meeting never really stuck. Not at all the kind of thing you think would proceed a friendship like ours." He finished with his smile back in place.
"Are you two really that close?" Elizabeth doubted, finding Jack even harder to believe than before. "Marcus hardly seems the sort to make friends."
"Let me put it to you another way. I would leave my daughters alone with Marcus without a second's hesitation Elizabeth." Jack said earnestly. "Besides, I've seen plenty of evidence that contradicts your theory. Can you honestly tell me that you have no reason to believe Marcus can be compassionate?" He asked Elizabeth in a way that told her he already knew the answer.
Elizabeth started to deny, but stopped when she remembered that it was Marcus who had opened his home up to a total stranger with little thought.
Sporting his smile, Jack told her knowingly "That's what I thought." Momentarily falling silent, Jack glanced over at Marcus, who just beginning to show signs of consciousness. Turning back to Elizabeth, Jack spoke more quietly than before, both as an effort to negate Marcus's chance of eavesdropping and from his own emotion. "Just because the man hides behind his shell, that doesn't mean nothing reaches him. Marcus likes to . . . what I mean is . . . Damn it, how do I say this?" Jack drifted off, pacing the room, while he rubbed his chin in frustration.
"Does he . . . pull away from others?" Elizabeth tried innocently.
"YES!" Jack whirled animatedly around to face her, speaking in an excited, but hushed, whisper. "That is exactly what he does. Marcus reaches out to others, but he always pulls back at the first chance people give him."
"That's a little sad." Elizabeth murmured, her gaze falling to the ground as she failed to find a more complex term that truthfully expressed how sorrowful that was.
She was a little taken aback when she realized Jack had closed the distance between them. He had stooped down to look her in the eye, and Elizabeth felt paralyzed by his penetrating gaze. "Marcus is my friend, and any pain you cause him, I'll have to pick up the pieces again. Please, for my sake as well as his, don't hurt him."
There was no malice, only concern, in his voice. Quieted only by the sincerity and passion in Jack's voice, Elizabeth could only find enough of her own voice to ask "Again?"
"Look Elizabeth, Marcus wouldn't want me telling you this," Jack began, looking and sounding conflicted. "but a few months after we met once more his girlfriend, Klarissa Stiendl, left him." Elizabeth opened her mouth to question Jack, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I know what you're going to ask, but I don't know much more than you do. Only thing Marcus has said on the subject since then is that she lied. He didn't say how, or on what issues though."
"We're not a couple, Jack." Elizabeth curtly told him.
"I know as much. Marcus was very adamant that wasn't the case, but you don't have to sleep with Marcus to hurt him, Elizabeth." Jack told her.
The frankness of his words made Elizabeth's face burn with a heated blush, and she desperately tried to stammer out a denial. Her panicky, half-formed words had Jack's unrestrained laughter booming down the hospital halls, causing Marcus to jolt upright from his bed.
His eyes rapidly scanned the room until they visibly relaxed after finding Jack, Marcus's reaction only adding fuel to his uproarious laughter. Still, Marcus seemed to be fine with Jack filling the silence in his room. Marcus looked, to Elizabeth, to be in a much better state. Within a few minutes of waking, he was arguing with the nurse who had smiled at Jack earlier. He identified the young woman by her first name, Leta, trying to convince her he was fine.
It was playing out more like a friendly squabble, and Elizabeth wasn't surprised when Leta caved to Marcus's will. Though no one in the room was prepared for the sudden entrance of a Japanese doctor wearing a lab coat with a logo reading "SabreTech CyberNetics", it quieted Marcus and placed a dark frown on his face.
"What do you want, Mr. Datae?"
"Please Agent Delavee, I may be your employer, but call me Hideyori." The intruder purred with an almost melodic accent. The undercurrent to his speech told Elizabeth that this man was perfectly comfortable ordering Marcus to call him by his first name. A glance at Jack, Leta, and Sally told Elizabeth that none of the room's occupants had very positive opinions of Hideyori Datae, least of all Marcus.
"What do you want, Hideyori?" Marcus asked with barely detectable sarcasm. Elizabeth was certain this unsettling man had heard, but when he spoke again, Hideyori gave no hint of being offended.
"I just wanted to make sure your new implants took." He told Marcus, unperturbed by the strength with which he clenched his jaw, or by the degree to which the veins in Marcus's neck and forehead were distended.
"What implants?" Marcus growled. "I didn't put in a request for any additional implants."
"No you didn't." Hideyori agreed. "But allow me to read an article from SabreTech's Direct Action Specialist Healthcare Plan, the same one you signed when you joined the ranks of Shadows Incorporated. And I quote,
"Any implantation of previously unimplanted augmentations, e.g. cybernetics, can be performed without the explicit consent of the signee, as SabreTech CyberNetics president deems necessary. This extends to muscle enhancements, bone reinforcements, shock absorbers, i.e. any cybernetic, barring those that require implantation onto the eyes, brain, ears, and/or other delicate surfaces related to the nervous system."
"End quote." Hideyori finished, watching Marcus all but frothing at the mouth.
Jack subtly put himself between the two, fixing Marcus with a stern look, telling him to calm down with his eyes. Turning to face Hideyori, Jack asked him. "Would you care to describe these new implants, and why you felt they were necessary?"
"Gladly." The man said. "These new implants our a new invention of ours, a prototype intended to save lives. If it functions properly in the field, these cybernetics should repair and even reconstruct any tissue damaged in a traumatic manner. I'm sure you'll understand that the exact method is a highly classified trade secret. As to your second question, Agent Delavee has a history of injuring himself, so why not put that to good use?"
Jack started to make an argument in defense of his friend's rights, but Marcus grabbed ahold of his arm as he stormed out of the room, dragging Jack behind him. Sally and Leta quickly followed, leaving Elizabeth alone with Hideyori. She could feel his eyes following her as she hurried after the rest. Jack and Marcus were in the middle of a heated debate, forcing medical personnel and patients alike to step aside as they made their way towards the front exit.
"Were you not listening Jack? It's done. The cybernetic implants are already grafted to my bones . . . or muscle . . . or wherever they stuck them."
"Surely there is something you can do. Isn't there a customer service desk, or-"
"Customer service?" Marcus laughed ruefully. "I'm an employee, not some shit-for-brains consumer who's feeling he was treated unfairly." He told Jack as they walked through the exit doors and into the open, green courtyard that was filled with carefully disguised Siphons. Marcus pulled Jack of the paved walkway, disobeying the "Stay of Grass" warnings that seemed to be posted every ten feet.
"I. Signed. A. Contract. That's all there is to say Jack. I brought this on myself."
"I told you to get out of that Cartel hunting business they've got you doing. I warned you that nothing good could come out of a company trying to play God." Jack said, sounding defeated, but quickly growing more forceful as he continued talking. "Did you ever listen to my stories? Did you think they were fairy tales, or that I made them up Marcus?" Jack pulled the long sleeve of his left arm up to his elbow, explaining why he wore such an unseasonably warm shirt as he thrust the exposed forearm in front of Marcus's face.
Elizabeth was revolted by the staggering number of scars scattered across the veins of his flesh. They looked like wounds caused by hypodermic needles, but they each had the diameter of a dime. None of the scars were new, but that didn't change the disgust she felt at the sight of so many ugly disfigurements. Jack however, only seemed concerned with getting his point across to Marcus.
"Do you think this was a result of street drugs?" He asked incredulously.
"NO!" Marcus lashed back, drawing attention from a passersby. "I've seen what monsters like Hidalgo do to people. You've got your stories, and so do I, but I'll be DAMNED if I forget what you've told me!"
It was a strange sequence of events for Elizabeth, watch Marcus direct his anger at the very man he was agreeing with. To her, Jack accepted his anger with a quiet countenance. It did seem like Jack had more to say, but if he did, he kept silent.
Marcus waved for Elizabeth to accompany him as began walking towards the exit leading out of Santa Maria's courtyard. Elizabeth followed, and without any hesitation she saw, Jack and Sally came as well.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read and review. All praise, criticism, and thoughts are appreciated. (Just don't be hateful please.) As a side note, I'm considering incorporating a romance between Elizabeth and Marcus, and I'd like some opinions. At this point, it's still up to a flip of the coin, so to say, so I'd like some outside thoughts on the subject. Note, a popular consensus doesn't equal consent on my end. I 'll respect everyone's opinion, but I still reserve the right to take this story in the direction I see fit.
P.S. I'll try to update at least once every other Wednesday, but it will probably be more frequent depending on how much time I have to work the story.
(1) Veronica is a little sister included in an audio diary that was removed from the final game, however it is still in the localization text and is associated with the file, GUL_L_9L11_Log_ Gulag_QuestLog-1
(2) While some may argue the accuracy of this post, after all, anyone can start a blog, this is useful to me as a reference and I will be adhering to the information within. /where-under-the-sea-is-bioshocks-rapture/