Seeing Red, Chap. 4
We all know that big daddies share the utmost affection, care, blah blah blah for their respective little sisters. However, did you, esteemed listener, know that their "daughters" couldn't give a flying splicer about them? That's right, I said it, shoot me Tenenbaum, because you were wrong! I know this because looking back I feel like an abomination! Ever wondered why a little sister only stays by her daddies's corpse as long as you're within her hearing range? If not, don't try it, you'll get yourself killed. My point is they only do it to try and play on whatever emotions their spliced assailant might have left, which, believe it or not, works better than you might expect. Ever wondered why there are no older models to be found in the same area where elite rust buckets flaunt their rusty splendor to the world? Hint, check the waste chute, you'll get an extra set of armor or ten. In fact, I think that I am the only big sister who actually went back to check up on their old fashion accessories (or rather, what was left of him after he jumped onto a generator out of loneliness). I can honestly say that every single little sister (my former self included) is exactly like Rapture's food: spoilt and vile. All accept one.
Eleanor. I can say with great assurance that I was the bane of her existence, mainly because I constantly teased her because she didn't make her alpha series jump down the nearest trash chute sans protective gear. Unlike the rest of us little [static]-s she actually cared about the one person in her life who would do anything for her. And I made sure she regretted it every time she so much as waved at me.
Looking at the metal hulk in front of me, I recognized a crack in his armor where I had had my latest-edition bouncer tear into him because Eleanor's hello had deeply insulted me. Ironically, he managed to tear the living [static] out of my little upgraded tin foil ball (probably because after having had to deal with me for a month my tin man was losing his sanity, as I would have). I knew I had to do something to make it up to him and his daughter, even if it meant putting my head on the line. Without a second thought I unbound him and burst into tears (or rather, blood ran out of my eyes, but it the thought that counts). I didn't even care if he beat me to death, heaven knows he deserved it. But he just put his hand on my shoulder and moaned remorsefully, even though he had no idea what I was crying about. Suddenly the hand stiffened and his groan of sympathy was cut short. A cackling laugh echoed through the confines of the sewage.
Authors note: Well, it looks like some residual dust has appeared on my fanfiction account. Cockroaches roam the confines of my "add chapter" button. And on that cheery note, I'M BACK, BABY (name that quote)! Yes, yes I have abandoned you all and no doubt madlink007, Disciple of Ember, and detrametal have probably long since forgotten about me (say it isn't so!), but nevertheless, after replaying bioshock 2 for the first time since my last addition to this story I was inspired to write yet another mediocre chapter and irritate you all (hey, I was named for a reason) with short chapters written at indescribably long time spans away from one another! Yay for depression! Anyways, as mentioned before, I am kind of at a loss for how to continue, so feel free to give me some advice in the reviews to help fill the gaping hole that low IQ and lack of inspiration have left in my storytelling. Yay for fishing for compliments! ;)
P.S. Yay for lame emotes!