SEEING RED, Chap. 2
After the most exiting 25 minutes of my life, I heard a dinging sound and the Bathysphere control panel informed me "you have arrived at your destination". The iron bozo's hack had worn off. So after taking out some (well, a lot of) pent up anger out at the traitorous door, I proceeded to follow the familiar scent of rust and negative IQ left behind by big daddies, specifically alpha series.
Something was different about this rouge that I couldn't figure out. Sure, I'd heard stories that once in a blue moon an alpha will keep its sanity long enough to hack and blast its way into the more populated levels, but they always went mad sooner or later. However, our little genius here must have been at least 10 years alone, judging by the number of sea creatures clinging to his metallic behind.
I have to admit, this piqued my curiosity, so after consulting the worldwide most accepted and renowned method of decision-making, the ADAM slug toss (if it cracks its head, heads, if it slices its behind on a rock, tails), and various other little adventures, I began to search for some binoculars. Following up on the most fun filled and definitely not tedious task of piecing together some shards of glass and rocks into a makeshift telescope (grade A building materials), I discovered that the rouge was headed towards the train station.
Now, holding true to my oath to the late slug that had bravely sacrificed its head to help cure my indecision, I kept scouting from afar. What I did notice was the mournful look sigh he gave to the rumbler in the tunnel nearby. Poor guy. It probably reminded him of his own little sister. I almost felt sorry for him.
He came up to the edge of a cliff and, like any self-respecting big daddy, jumped off without a second thought. I decided to swim the longer route around a large boulder and was rewarded with some time to get up close and personal with a giant squid's beak. An ADAM needle to the eye made him a lot less keen on touchy-feely.
Now I've tracked a lot of stuff, from a prototype big- and little brother team to a squid that got into the water filtration, but this was by far the worst chase I had experienced so far.
At this point, you're probably wondering, "Hey, Ms. Creepy Audio Recording, you only flipped a slug and got hit by a giant squid. How could that possibly be bad as getting metal grinded by a leather-armored ADAM crazed teenager as his creepy little brother stood a laughed?" Well my esteemed listeners, the reason I am even more irritated than usual is that to get from the point slug to point makeshift espionage, I had to cross point irritated squid nursery, point scrape-your-armor-on-rusty-metal-sheets-and-have-t o-deal-with-rust-poisoning, and finally point septic tank. You really don't want to know about point septic tank.
You can imagine how relieved I was when he opened an airlock and stepped inside. And, like any other point in my life, my relief was short lived.
As soon as he closed the airlock and started shambling off to wherever I stepped into the airlock and… was met with a fist to the face. Apparently getting to wherever was not at the top of tin man's agenda.
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Authors note:
Thank you, my dear future readers, for reading this far into a story that turns out to have the same name as an already published book. So on that note, I decided to put my disclaimers here: This has nothing to do with the contemporary romance novel "Seeing Red" by Halton Arp or by Sidney Halston. I've never read either and therefore can't pass judgment, but I can assure you I didn't know either existed before I came up with the title. It's based off the glow from the big sister's helmet. Also, in case you're too dumb or greedy to guess, I don't own bioshock. No offence to my nonexistent (right now, but there's always hope!) readers. Also, I realized that my name will probably tick some people off (on my own, no flames yet ), so I'm willing to take suggestions on a new one. Unless it's ButSniffer49 I'll probably consider it. For now, Annoying Anon says stay irritating!
Muttering: "That was possibly the worst catchphrase ever Anon. Go beat yourself with a wooden rod.""Shut up conscience!"