Seeing Red, Chap. 5
The effects of having a big daddy stabbed in the back while he is standing behind you can vary from joy, sorrow, to screams of pain because his bulk is crushing you. It sent me into a whole new category of rage previously unknown to all of mankind. To avoid any mental trauma that may be inflicted by describing my vengeance upon the overzealous splicer, let me confine my description to three nouns: lead piping, acid, and marshmallows. I will leave it to you to decide what verbs go in between, along with all other sentence parts.
After marveling at the newly red sewage canal, I raced back to my favorite hunk of metal to see what could be fixed. Fortunately, his armor had absorbed most of the force of the attack, but that posed a problem. With a puncture in his armor, he couldn't go into a puddle without crumpling up like a soda can, much less the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. In itself, this wasn't a big deal; all I had to do was find a sheet of metal of about the right size to fill the hole.
Unfortunately, I had no idea how to weld the metal onto his armor without hurting him. We sisters just use incinerate and try not to burn all the way down to bone in the process, but I couldn't bear to inflict that on the poor rust bucket. He had been through enough as it was. So that meant I had to find a way to remove his armor.
I carefully lead him into a small pharmacy a little ways away from a sewage treatment plant, and sat him down at the register. A puzzled groan followed my abandonment of him in search of some knockout gas (well, he sure wasn't going to give up his suit willingly).
It took some persuasion to obtain access to his oxygen tank, although the effort to remove it was much more taxing. I quickly attached the gas container and made sure the metal titan was out cold before I removed his helmet.
His head was bloated like a balloon filled with red liquid, not unlike the round boils of raptures residents, with dents for his eyes and mouth. Somehow the stretched smoothness of his face made him seem innocent, despite his massive size. The rest of his body carried the same balloon like appearance. With a snicker I noticed just how much he resembled a humanoid pimple. As he shifted in his drug-induced slumber, the liquids under his skin shifted with surprising speed, almost as if the fluids were acting as muscles. I caught myself growing hungry and began to realize why. He was filled with ADAM! The fluid inside seemed like muscle because it was muscle. So that was where the big daddies got their insane strength! No wonder they were almost unstoppable! He carried enough ADAM to splice a whale!
In a desperate attempt to stop myself from draining him dry, I returned my attention to welding. Not being used to repairing armor from the outside, I had to improvise a little. I crawled inside the vast cavern of his suit and tried to imagine being large enough to take up all that space. I let my hand slip into his glove and tried to maneuver my blowtorch to the midsection of the suit. The metal piece was finicky and hard to put in place, but once it was the feel of my suit heating up was good against my skin. It gave me the feeling that I was in a sauna, which is probably not the best reaction to second degree burns (at least, I assumed they were second degree, I hadn't taken off my suit in ten years).
After one long and surprisingly pleasant scorching, I clambered out of the newly repaired body armor only to find that its former inhabitant had woken up. He had a forlorn look on his face and was staring through the glass window into the open sea. His expression reminded me of a baby gulper eel; a huge mouth and tiny eyes gazing blankly into the oceanic void. I screeched to get his attention (thanks for that's social barrier Tenenbaum), and he seemed to pull himself together. The old giant strapped the armor to his body with the familiarity that only years of living in nothing else can bring and began marching out into the hallway. I trailed him quietly; curious to see where he was going.
Authors note: Ok, even I have to admit this chapter was a little short on humor, but in my defense, sarcasm would have ruined the mood. Anyway, Delta's description: good or bad? Wasn't sure what big daddies should look like, but then I remembered that they consume a lot of ADAM from their sisters, but they never seemed to have any plasmids, so I came up with a place for it to go. Also, I tried to find a description that didn't make him too human, because I kind of liked the idea of playing as a mutant in bioshock 2. I know, I know, (spoiler alert) Sigma was cured, he became human, blah blah blah, doesn't that mean that daddies are human? Well, all I have to say is that my Delta is one pin needle away from humanity, so it stands to reason that if Sigma was like delta and he had Tenenbaum with him (which he did at the end of the DLC), then the operation should have been fairly easy. So haha, I outscienced all of you (nonexistent, thanks for that universe) haters.