Ch. 16: Sins of the Father
A.N:
Hey everyone!
Sorry for the wait. It is crunch time at college because of finals.
Anyway,
We learn some more about Eleanor and Delta's past after he arrives in Rapture and just after first being changed into the first successful Big Daddy/Little Sister Pair.
Plus there is the first part of the big fight between Delta and the first Elite Big Sister.
Read and review if you want.
Upon entering Skid Row, I noted the horrible deterioration of the makeshift market district. Beyond the watertight security door, there was a second large doorframe. However, the open space was now on the verge of collapse. The frame itself had been reinforced with thick, railway cross-tie-like wooden beams that had been driven into the original, crumbing concrete structure. However, that did not seem to have been enough because I saw two enormous hydraulic jacks, one on each side of the doorframe and pressed against the long wooden beam along the top of the frame, that were as tall as I was and just as thick around desperately holding up the collapsing concrete form.
Given the amount of accumulated green corrosion on the brass casings of the jacks, I estimated that they had been there for several years. I grimaced as I saw another large jack through the crudely supported frame. This jack was in the center of the ransacked market area just before the vandalized pharmacy. Placed up on top of a concrete slab that was in an ankle-deep pool of seawater, the jack was valiantly holding up the protesting and leaking roof above it. The decorative collection of steel and glass of a skylight was inches away from where the jack's head was pressed into the cracked concrete roof and was somehow still holding back the enormous pressure of the Atlantic Ocean despite the thick algae and marine growth along its exterior.
Beyond the jack, I saw what remained of the once bustling pharmacy that somewhat resembled an American-style diner with its hollow aluminum structure and rounded walls. Seeing the advertisement banner that was made from a bedsheet, I recalled that the pharmacy was the first location that sold the substance called "Dr. Holcroft's Cure-All". To the left of the ransacked pharmacy, I saw a roaming Rosie Mass Production Model that was slowly making his way to the Little Sister Vent that was on the far side of the sunken lane that was next to the pharmacy and adjoining bookstore. Above the lumbering giant was another makeshift gangway that ran from the second floor residential area on the left to the roof of the pharmacy on the right.
As we moved through the crudely supported doorframe, suddenly, no less than three Splicers ambushed the Rosie by using two electrified harpoon-like tripwires to trap him before throwing multiple homemade explosive devices into his frame. One Splicer, a man armed with a revolver, apparently was the leader judging by how he was barking orders at two women, also armed with revolvers, who had appeared inside the pharmacy from his vantage point in the center of the gangplank. The explosives detonated against the giant's armored frame as clouds of fiery shrapnel. As the surprised Rosie roared in primal fury, his frame was engulfed by flames. Meanwhile, the Splicers began to hammer their victim with a hail of small-caliber gunfire.
The ambush was so brazen that it defied reason. The Rosie did not have a Little Sister companion and the Mass Production Model was in the process of getting to the nearby vent to acquire one. There was little reward in attacking a Tin Man that did not have Little Sister. In my own time all those years ago, the Splicers of The Drop never attacked us unless we had our daughters with us. What could have possibly motivated these three Splicers to attack the heavily armored behemoth?
The enraged Rosie largely ignored the ricocheting small-caliber rounds and the fire eating into his armored hide as he brought his Mass Production Rivet Gun to bear on the Splicers. Taking aim at the man above him, the Rosie opened fire upon the assailant. The loud, thundering report of the Rivet Gun filled the air as the smoking projectiles impacted the man with the force of a freight train. The Splicer quickly succumbed to the onslaught and, dropping his revolver, the man fell over the side of the gangplank. As he tumbled through the air on the way to the unforgiving floor, the man gurgled out, "Shiiiiit."
Wheeling around, the diving suit-clad giant roared at the two women inside the pharmacy. The two Splicers continued to fire upon the charging Rosie as he stomped towards them while firing his Rivet Gun. Quickly losing patience, the Tin Man retrieved a Proximity Mine from his inventory and then hurled the barbed cylinder at the women inside the aluminum building. The explosive device flew through the open window frames and then detonated in midair upon reaching the Splicers.
The explosive device's shockwave ripped through the pharmacy along with the accompanying cloud of fire and metal shrapnel. Both women cried out in agony as their frames disappeared in the explosion. The pharmacy's gutted shell groaned loudly in protest as the weakened sides began to noticeably warp and crumple. However, by some miracle, the structure managed to remain standing.
I mentally cursed. How was I supposed to take down this goddess-like creature and still somehow keep from bringing down the entire area of Skid Row with her? The Rosie's eye returned to a calm yellow as the giant let out a satisfied low moan. Turning back around, the now charred Tin Man began to slowly stomp towards the Little Sister Vent. Meanwhile, the armored young woman climbed up the side of the jack that was holding up the roof with unnerving ease. As she reached the thin neck of the jack, the Elite Big Sister jumped from the object to the roof of the pharmacy. Landing on her weighted feet, the goddess quickly turned back and looked down at me with her hellish red eye.
As I stopped in front of the pharmacy, the armored ex-Little Sister raised her arms up into the air. Miscellaneous objects such as concrete chunks and scrap pieces of wooden boards began to gather in the air above her for a moment before she willed them all towards me with her incredibly powerful Telekinesis. Without missing a beat, I raised my left hand up and used my own Telekinesis to take control of a large chunk of concrete before it smashed into my face. Before the Elite Big Sister could react, I launched the object back at her though with noticeably less power.
The concrete chunk, which was the size of a basketball, impacted the goddess in the center of her hellish eye with enough force to send her stumbling backwards about four steps. Quickly recovering, the Big Sister let out a mechanical-sounding hiss before she jumped from the roof to the edge of the nearby gangplank. Her feet had barely made contract with the edge of the flimsy structure before she propelled herself towards me.
The woman rotated her body during the flight to have her tungsten-tipped needle ready to penetrate deep into my frame. Revving up my industrial-grade drill and with my left hand now surrounded by dancing blue electric arcs, I let out a low-pitched, rumbling, guttural roar. With the force of a speeding locomotive, the armored goddess slammed into my frame. Her needle easily punched through the thick hide of my right shoulder while simultaneously, the spinning razor sharp tip of my drill tore into her hourglass-like midsection. The thin leather corset and underlying black canvas were ripped away completely to reveal the chainmail armor beneath.
As metal sparks flew in the small gap between our bodies, I felt the disturbing sensation of her needle sucking inside my body. Luckily, the needle had failed to make contact with any of my arteries and, thus, she did not draw out any of my ADAM. Since her body was connected to mine because of her needle, she was forced to more or less straddle my waist with her long athletic legs and firmly grip the left handle on the back of my copper diving helmet with her right hand. I could not use my Electro Bolt or Incinerate Plasmids to dislodge her without inflicting damage upon myself. Instead, after cocking my left arm back, I plunged my gauntlet-encased left fist into the center of her eye.
The raw force of my physical assault was enough to completely shatter the glass of her eye. Howling as if she was a wounded animal, the Elite Big Sister retreated from my body. After landing on her feet, she made her way over to the side of the nearby base of the hydraulic jack while her hands were up around the jagged hole in her face. Upon reaching the jack's base, the woman leaned against it and placed the palms of her hands on either side of the center of her head. Then, letting out a continuous series of strange noises that sounded suspiciously like they were negative statements about me, the Elite Big Sister began to remove her head.
Inexplicably, I found myself spellbound as I watched the diving-suit clad young woman slowly twist her head to the side whereupon it gave off a loud metal click as the watertight seal was unlocked. As she removed her head, smooth, silver hair appeared. Once the goddess had removed her head, she dropped it into the deep pool of frigid Atlantic water at her feet.
I felt mesmerized by the sight before me. The Elite Big Sister's face was impossibly delicate and beautiful considering her origins and purpose. The masterpiece-like contours of her frost white complexion gave her the appearance of a snow angel with her symmetrical tight cheeks, small nose that had a slightly sharp ridge, subtle pointed chin, and thin but inviting pink lips. Her shiny silver hair was clearly much longer as the remaining length disappeared into the interior of her suit.
When she looked back at me, I noticed the only inconsistent aspect of her otherwise flawless face: beneath her closed eyes were patches of dark purple as if the poor young woman was suffering from extreme sleep deprivation. The traumatic experience of surviving her Big Daddy's violent death and the subsequent trauma of puberty must have damaged her psychologically even more than I had originally thought.
The extent that her immense ADAM exposure had warped the young woman's physical appearance prevented me from initially identifying her. As she opened her eyes, my gaze was met by a pair of viper-like vertical black pupils that were surrounded by a paper-thin glowing red ring that had tentacle-shaped projections of dark green ADAM branching out from it. However, behind those predatory eyes, I saw a flash of insecure confidence that I had only seen once before: Jennifer.
My supposedly nonexistent heart sank upon realizing who this Elite Big Sister was and also upon the equally demoralizing realization that Subject Lambda was likely deceased. Jennifer turned her body so that she was facing me once again. Her predatory, viper-like eyes narrowed in fury before she charged forward. I raised my left hand up and began to will a blast of Electro Bolt from my ported digits. However, she reached me before the electric arcs could leave the open metal tips of my fingers and roughly slapped my hand aside, causing the blast of Electro Bolt to instead strike the Circus of Values Vending Machine that was in a small cut slot in the far concrete wall.
The machine let out a loud electrical hiss as my genetic electricity suddenly returned power to the machine's dormant systems. The eerie, ghost-like voice of the clown filled Skid Row as he cackled in an evil manner. Meanwhile, the lights of the machine returned and, for a brief moment, bright blue light once again bathed the surrounding area as it had all those years ago. However, the machine's new life was short-lived as the overloaded circuits ignited. Within seconds, the machine was nothing more than a burning steel carcass.
Meanwhile, Jennifer buried her left shoulder into my armored chest with enough force to throw me off-balance. Before I could recover, she let out a hiss and then delivered a sidekick into my chest. I stumbled backwards as my body twisted around while I attempted to remain standing. As I struggled to remain upright, Jennifer jumped onto my back and began to attack my life and combat-support systems.
Letting out an ear-shattering enraged roar, I turned towards the pharmacy and then stumbled backwards. Upon slamming into the aluminum hide of the building, Jennifer let out an agonized cry as I heard her bones crack beneath her suit. The raw force of our impact sent us straight through the thin aluminum hide of the pharmacy. Threatening to collapse the building down around us, we penetrated the exterior wall and continued on until we finally stopped upon making contact with the check-out counter.
After dislodging from my back, the armored young woman ran for the backroom. I followed her to find that the backroom resembled a small laboratory with dark red and green glass containers across the entire length of a shelf that was mounted to the wall that separated the pharmacy and the bookstore. There were also several dirty white cooking pots and the bottoms of several metal tobacco containers. Several bottles of Cure-All were in the empty spaces between the glass containers that were interconnected by spiral tubes. On the floor, I saw the mummified remains of the man himself, Dr. Hollcroft. The man appeared to have taken his own life because of the open container of unidentifiable blue pills in his right hand.
I was clearly no match for Jennifer's athletic abilities as she jumped through a small hole in the back of the room. The hole was too small to allow my much larger frame passage into the bookstore. Mentally cursing, I ran out of the pharmacy to intercept her before she could disappear into the dark corners of Skid Row. Without her glowing red eye, it would be nearly impossible to spot her before it was too late. Why was Jennifer acting like this? Did she not recognize or remember me?
Upon exiting the pharmacy, I turned and began to stomp down the small path beside the two buildings. However, I was horrified when I saw that the Rosie Mass Production Model had summoned a Little Sister from the vent that was across from the entrance of the bookstore. I was struck by the onslaught of the little girl's pheromones that were nearly identical to my beloved master's. The beautiful dirty blue and white dress-clad child turned and waved at me as she said with her edged voice, "Daddy! I'm all better now! Where is my sister?"
Her question was answered seconds later when Jennifer screeched loudly from where she was in the interior of a hole in the side of a walkway that ran overhead the gutted building that was across from the bookstore. Before I could react, I had been hit by a Security Bullseye, or perhaps its successor Security Command, bright blue glowing polyp. Almost immediately, the shrill alarm of the security system filled the air while the bright light of the security camera that was up on the wall above the small little market corner that surrounded the vent illuminated my armored frame.
I roared in primal fury as I was pelted by .45 caliber rounds from the security bots' onboard belt-fed Thompson Submachine Guns. The two automatons circled around me just out of reach as they continued to hammer me with the high-powered pistol rounds. Meanwhile, the confused Rosie Tin Man continued to observe the spectacle that was unfolding mere feet away from him. However, the Eleanor-controlled Little Sister cried out in distress as she ran past the Rosie, "Daddy!"
My master had good intentions but she put me in an even worse position as the Rosie, ignorant of what was really going on, stomped forward to "defend" his charge in a single-minded manner. I heard Jennifer let out an amused mechanical-sounding cackle as she observed her handiwork. Powerless to do anything other than console my master, I ignored the circling security bots and bent down to allow the approaching little girl to ride on my shoulders. The Rosie let out an ear-shattering primal roar as my master quickly climbed up and took position on her throne.
I stood just in time for the Rosie to level his Rivet Gun mere inches from the surface of my segmented hellfire red eye. With my new surge of strength from the temporarily repaired bond between my master and me, I reached out with my gauntlet-encased left hand and grabbed ahold of the short barrel of the Tin Man's weapon. Letting out a grunt of exertion, I bent the barrel of the weaponized industrial tool nearly forty-five degrees to the left.
I did not give the Tin Man enough time to react before I followed up by revving up my heavily-modified industrial-grade drill and then thrusting it straight into the abomination's scorched chest. The thinner leather and canvas hide of the Tin Man's chest was poorly armored compared to the thick steel of his head and, as such, the razor sharp tip of my spinning drill bit easily tore its way through the protective layer and into the soft flesh and bone beneath.
However, just as torrents of blood began to eject from the Tin Man, the giant used his gloved left fist to deliver a violent and very powerful melee strike. The blow succeeded in sending me stumbling backwards a few feet before I could recover. When I did, I turned back to see that the Tin Man had turned his Rivet Gun over and was now wielding it as if it was a club. Despite the dire situation I was in, I could not help but be somewhat amused by the sight of the tactician resorting to raw brute strength.
I willed a blast of Electro Bolt in the Tin Man as he lumbered forward despite the huge bleeding wound in his chest. With the big brute temporarily neutralized, I swiftly turned my attention to the swarming security bots. As they briefly paused in midair, I willed two blasts of Electro Bolt from my ported digits into the automatons. With the Rosie almost about to recover from my earlier Plasmid assault, I rushed over to the security camera. Jumping up, I grabbed ahold of the top of the spotlight-like device with my left hand. Then, using my weight, I fell back down to Earth and tore the weakly attached camera from its wall mount.
With one problem solved, I turned my attention back to my remaining adversaries. My self-reported victory was short-lived, as I became aware of the sound of incoming rocket propelled grenades. The projectiles were coming from the gutted building across from the bookstore. Luckily, yet another large hydraulic jack was between myself and the building and, thus, the high explosive rounds were harmlessly exploding against the jack.
Since I was able to ignore the entrenched sentry turret for now, I returned my attention to the charging Tin Man. The weakened Rosie attempted to club me with his tool but I quickly sidestepped his assault. Instead of cracking open my skull, the Rosie demolished one of the wooden merchant vendor stands against the wall. Flanking around the big brute, I revved up my drill and then thrust its spinning bit into the Rosie's life support systems on his back.
The sound of tearing and ripping metal filled the air as my drill's hardened steel alloy bit tore into the exterior of the large tank on the brute's back. The Mass Production Model Rosie's Life Support Tank was able to briefly resist my drill's tip. However, seconds later, in a massive explosion, my drill bored through the tank's steel hide and the pressurized contents made contact with the sparks being given off by the cutting grooves of my drill's bit. Thanks to the Electromagnetic Dynamo Upgrade on my drill, I, and, more importantly, my master, were unscathed. However, the Rosie was not as fortunate as the explosion destroyed what little there was left of his Life Support Systems. Letting out a final whale-like wail, the giant collapsed in a flaming heap on the cold wet concrete ground.
On my back, Eleanor chirped, "Daddy's gonna give you storms and birdies!" I felt a surge of pride at my master's words and could not help but let out a series of laugh-like grunts. Once again however, the celebration was premature. Jennifer growled with a mechanical tone as she jumped from the hole to the side of the jack. My master pleaded with her sister, "Sister please stop hurting Daddy! He wants to help us get free from bad word lady!"
For a brief moment, my master's words seemed to have an effect on Jennifer. Her head cocked to the side as if she was confused. My master continued, "Bad word lady is using us! Don't you see? Papa Delta wants to take us all away to the bright shiny place without a ceiling! Bad word lady doesn't love us at all! Papa Delta loves us all!"
It seemed as if Eleanor's words had made Jennifer come to her senses for nearly a minute. The fury in her frightening yet mesmerizing eyes abated while, at the same time, her expression softened. However, just as it seemed as if my master had succeeded in diffusing the situation, the former Alpha Series Little Sister shook her head. When she looked back, the look of homicidal rage had returned. Whatever nightmarish hell was going on inside her mind, she was clearly was too far gone in her desire to kill me to be reasoned with for the time being. Perhaps, if I managed to incapacitate her, we could reason with her more successfully.
Hissing, Jennifer lunged from the jack towards me with the intention of sending her sword-like weapon's razor sharp tip through the glass skin of my eye. I reached out and grabbed her outstretched weapon by its tip with my gloved left hand. Then, turning, I threw her into the only remaining nearby wooden market kiosk. The flimsy structure could have hardly been expected to successfully absorb the force of the impact and, instead, the entire kiosk collapsed down on top of the armored woman.
Taking advantage of Jennifer's momentary disorientation, I turned my attention to the two disabled Security Bots. The automatons were lying on their side near the corroded hydraulic jack. Their running lights were flickering erratically and their propeller blades were uselessly spinning and slicing into the concrete floor. After quickly making my way over to them, I used Johnny Topside's prior experience with the machine in the Atlantis Express Train Depot to locate the crudely crafted machines' on-board Central Processor Unit and then detached the necessary cables to manually "hack" the target perimeters. By then, Jennifer was getting to her feet from beneath the boards that had fallen on top of her back.
Acting quickly, I stomped down onto the first hacked bot with my weighted right foot and took ahold of the bot's pull-start cord handle. Just as Jennifer had managed to get to her feet, I pulled on the cord. Giving off a loud chirp and revving up its two-stroke gasoline fishing boat motor, the Security Bot rose up into the air. I smirked beneath my emotionless copper face when I saw that the hacked bot's indicator light had changed from yellow to green.
Giving off its "attacking" chirp, my new ally began to assault the armored goddess before it. Giving off an infuriated screech, Jennifer raised her right gloved hand up to shield her face as the .45 caliber rounds began to impact her frame. One of the high-powered rounds easily punched through her gloved hand and hit her in her right cheek. The young woman's mangled jawbone and teeth were visible momentarily before her skin began to emit a soft yellow glow. By the time that she had lowered her right hand and willed a ball of genetic flame to manifest in its palm, the bullet's damage had been erased from her once again angelic face.
As Jennifer attacked the lone bot with her own powerful version of Incinerate!, I re-activated the other bot. The Security Bot chirped as it became operational once again and then began to join the other assailed bot in the attack on the Elite Big Sister. Jennifer was in the process of hurling her genetic fireballs at the first bot as I faced her. I began to move towards her with my drill and Incinerate! Plasmid at the ready. However, an explosion to my right caught my attention.
I turned my entire body just in time to see that the rocket-propelled grenade's warhead had compromised the hydraulic jack. The shaft had snapped near the base and was now lying on the ground off to the right near the bookstore. A loud, cracking sound drew my attention to the roof above our heads. Horrified, I saw that the deep cracks in the concrete ceiling were beginning to widen at an alarmingly accelerating rate. Seawater began to pour into Skid Row through the cracks mere seconds after the supporting shaft of the jack had been removed.
Having seen enough, I turned and began to retreat back towards the pharmacy. I had to get my master away from the collapsing ceiling! I had no sooner entered the pool of the partially submerged section of the path next to the pharmacy and bookstore before I heard a deafening crash. Seconds later, I felt the presence of a new onrush of icy Atlantic water at my feet. I quickly reached the front of the pharmacy and turned to look back.
I saw a huge pile of rubble where I had just been moments prior. The path to the area beyond the bookstore was rendered inaccessible by the pile of debris. Worse, a river of seawater was now cascading down through the hole in the ceiling that was the size of bathysphere. The thick veins of water were running along the contours of the pile of rubble as the water made its way to the concrete floor. Skid Row's aged pumps and drain systems were, by some miracle that escaped my understanding, holding back the tide of water but only just barely as there was now a thin layer of water everywhere.
The faint, retreating echo of the Security Bots' Submachine Gun fire informed me that Jennifer had retreated deeper into Skid Row. I would need to find a way around the rubble pile in order to pursue her. That is, if Skid Row did not fall apart on me before then. Maybe the others were right. Maybe, I was nothing more than a brute; no better than those lumbering, disgusting Tin Men. Sensing my downhearted mood, my master remarked, "Don't be sad Daddy. I don't like it when you are sad."
Noticing the path to my left that seemed to offer an alternative route to the other side of Skid Row, I began to make my way towards it. As I did, I rumbled with my Alpha Series voice, "Sorry master…I did not intend to upset you."
To my surprise, my charge replied, "I am not upset silly. I don't want Daddy to be hurting on the inside. Bad word lady failed…I am still yours Daddy…just as much as you are mine. My brain is silly but I know that my feelings for you aren't because of Papa Suchong and Papa Alexander! I know it! I feel it in my heart!"
I only vaguely noted the corpse of a fallen Rosie in a side area as I continued forward through the damp, tight passageway. I smiled slightly beneath my copper and glass face at my master's shameless trumpeting of her love for me. As her Big Daddy, I understood my purpose. However, I had to admit that it was nice to have more than just my master's acceptance. It was true that the circumstances made the nature of our relationship socially taboo but for her I would do anything if it meant making her happy.
Ahead of me, I saw an El Ammo Bandito Vending Machine and a path that went off to the right that appeared to allow access to the second floor residential area. Further on, I saw the large panels of reinforced glass that granted an excellent view of the surrounding Atlantic Ocean. As I recalled, this curved wall of metal and glass was the end of Skid Row and was directly across from the entrance to the small Jazz Club named the Limbo Room. My recollection of the Limbo Room sent a red hot stab of pain through my mind as I remembered what Johnny Topside had thus far been unable to on his own merit.
Grace had become a prominent singer in Rapture upon being invited to the city along with her husband. For a while, all went well. Then, her husband had spoken out against Andrew Ryan's increasingly authoritarian policies. He was "vanished" in the middle of the night by Ryan's Security Teams as a result. Without her husband, Grace struggled financially and spiritually. She spoke out against Ryan through her songs. However, the ever egotistic Ryan was unable to take it on the chin and had her blacklisted.
Now destitute, Grace found herself in Pauper's Drop along with the rest of the citizens of Rapture that had fallen through the cracks of society. The Drop was a slum even then. The mushrooms that grew in The Drop had more worth than the human beings that took up residence there. The residents just wanted some glimmer of hope; to be told that they did indeed still have worth. However, no one in the rest of Rapture lost any sleep over the appalling living conditions of The Drop. Even Frank Fontaine wanted nothing to do with the impoverished residents of The Drop.
Then along came a certain psychiatrist named Dr. Sofia Lamb. This innocent-looking Lamb individual came bearing hope; words of kindness; promises of pipedreams about unity and metamorphosis. All of these things were, in short, everything that the residents of Pauper's Drop wanted to hear. Desperate for anyone to tell them that they were "loved", the residents began to fall under the psychiatrist's spell one by one. However, Lamb knew that she needed "the voice" of The Drop: Grace Holloway.
I hated the woman for the fact the she was still breathing but I did have to hand it Sofia, she was very proficient with her mind games. Grace went to her for a therapy session at that church abomination in Siren Alley. Lamb instantly picked up on what I picked up on as well when I had first met the singer: she was sterile and desired nothing more than to be mother. During the second session, Lamb turned the poor woman's greatest desire against her. The psychiatrist got into Grace's head and soon had the entire population of Pauper's Drop under her spell.
Ol' Andrew Ryan was not about to let Sofia pull Rapture out from under him. He blackmailed his only real friend, McDonagh, to sponsor the Council's silence of Lamb. A reporter by the name of Poole became a mole in Lamb's "Family". Before long, there was enough evidence of collectivism to get Lamb sent to Persephone. Sofia knew that Persephone's residents would also fall under her spell so she did not resist the arrest.
Right before Ryan's thugs came for her, Lamb entrusted Grace with the care of my beloved master. However, because Grace lived in The Drop and I lived in political asylum in Dionysus Park, Eleanor was constantly escaping from Grace to visit me. No matter how many times I lectured her about the dangers of doing such, my master would not stop putting herself in harm's way by trekking across Rapture to return to her mother's "home" to be with me.
After a while, I stopped trying to keep her from visiting me. After all, I was just as lonely without her as she was without me. It was not like I was the life of the party or anything. Meanwhile, Eleanor, a stubborn, rebellious child with staggering intellect that had an unquenchable thirst of curiosity, had just as few social contacts as I did. That boy, Amir, vanished one day. My master was so distraught that I agreed to help her look for him. We never found him of course. Amir had shown her a book about the surface and now without access to that book or Amir, Eleanor's curiosity about the surface nearly drove her mad. There was only one person that she could call a friend and talk about the surface with: me. I was a little uncomfortable with her increasingly obsessive attachment to me but I just wanted company so I did not have it in me to turn her away.
We had been close before but, during that brief time, we became fond of each other. I had never thought of having a child before I had arrived in Rapture and met Eleanor. However, something about the young brunette child that held such charming wonder in her eyes when she looked at the world around her struck a chord inside me. It had been nearly a lifetime since I had encountered someone that could make me feel as insecure yet comfortable as Eleanor did. Then, one day, she asked me if she could call me her dad.
The voice in my head screamed at me to tell her no. It would be wrong for me to tell her that she could. She was not my child and therefore I had no right to twist her into thinking that she was. I had already sold part of my soul by allowing a young girl who was much younger than I was to become attached to me as a friend. I was a decorated military veteran. I, of all people, should have been a moral beacon in the otherwise corrupt environment that was Rapture.
However, I looked into her innocent blue eyes and my morality crumbled. I told her that she could call me whatever she wanted to as long as it made her happy. I suppose that karma has been ensuring that I pay dearly for such a moral failing ever since. However, if karma is real, then the universe has a sick sense of justice judging by the events that have transpired in the years since that decision.
After what happened soon afterwards, both Eleanor and I found ourselves as test subjects in an experimental program called the Alpha Series Gatherer/Protector Program. I became Subject Delta because I was the fourth candidate selected for the Alpha Series Protector Program. Eleanor became the very first Little Sister that survived the conversion process of being turned into an Alpha Series Gatherer. The conversion process was still in its research stage at the time and there had only been limited success with previous attempts. Either the girls simply died outright as a result of the surgery where they put the slug inside of their digestive track, or they lost a large degree of their mental faculties.
It was Tenenbaum who figured out what the problem was and Eleanor was the girl that they used to test her hypothesis. Unlike most of the girls that followed, my master's mental faculties were largely intact even after the subsequent, now somewhat infamous, bonding process that connected our bodies physiologically. It was ironic that the more they twisted us, the closer and more dangerous our attachment to each other became. Indeed, before Johnny Topside would have gladly defended her with his life. However, now, they had a far more fanatical and violent defender to contend with: Subject Delta.
People did not quite understand. It was indeed still the man Johnny Topside inside this armored monster. However, the Bonding Process traumatized his psyche to the extreme extent that it created a schism. One side was the personality of the compassionate former war hero nicknamed "Johnny Topside". The other side was of the apathetic living personification of homicidal rage that these people called "Subject Delta". In truth, I was still Topside and I acknowledged that fact. However, Topside is still so convinced that I am a completely separate being because of how polar our personalities are that he refuses to believe us when we tell him otherwise. The only way I could summarize us was that we are the proverbial "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde".
While the rest of the city bought into Ryan's propaganda that we were the "Saviors of Rapture", Sofia, Grace, and "The Family" could not have been more disgusted by us. When word got to Sofia about what happened to her daughter, the psychiatrist had her first taste of what it meant to have her world turned upside down. I can only imagine her reaction to the news, but, knowing her, it was most likely an internal firestorm. In Persephone, there was little to nothing that she could do to get her world back. Meanwhile, Grace was at a loss about what happened to Eleanor until one fateful day. We were making our first gathering session in Pauper's Drop. We had stopped in front of the Limbo Room to gather from a fresh corpse of a young woman.
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
Looking away from the small crowd of curious onlookers that had gathered in the small courtyard around the bookstore to observe us at a safe distance, I physically turned my broad shoulders and hunched over slightly so that I was able to see the small white dress-clad brunette where she was just beside my massive right foot. The blazing red light of my segmented eye cast a faint shadow over the scene that met my gaze. There at my feet on the cold, damp dimly lit concrete floor, was my beautiful Eleanor.
She was hunched over the corpse of a young Caucasian woman that was clad in dirty maintenance worker attire and had a horribly mutated face. Judging by the amount of bullet wounds that riddled the corpse, it was very likely that the Splicer had meet her end at the business end of a Thompson Submachine Gun at pointblank range. The killer appeared to have left a calling card in the form of the small blue butterfly that had been left on top of the woman's chest. The echoing sound of Eleanor's Gathering Tool filled the air as she drew the ADAM-rich blood out of the corpse. However, my master's attention was elsewhere as she glanced up at me with a saddened look in her enchanting glowing yellow eyes.
Alarmed, I grunted in a questioning manner. Eleanor's eyes shinned momentarily with even more sorrow before she explained with her edged voice, "I'm sorry, Daddy. If it had not been for me, the mean bad people wouldn't have made us like this."
I let out a reassuring grunt while I gently lowered my gauntlet-encased left hand down onto her head. She giggled slightly as I softly rubbed her tiny forehead as gently as I could in my condition. When I withdrew my hand moments later, she had finished drawing the ADAM out of the corpse beneath her. I returned to my vigil and kept an eye out for any Splicer that may attempt to snatch Eleanor's Gathering Tool from her at the last second. Luckily, the Splicers had yet to learn that the real prize was on the inside of a Little Sister and not in the reservoir of her Gathering Tool. As such, the rare Splicer that was desperate enough to risk everything in an attack on us always went for my master's "toy" and largely ignored Eleanor herself.
On this occasion, however, the residents of The Drop were clearly more than content with merely observing us from a safe distance. A moment later, a loud unmuffled burp followed by a giggle signaled that Eleanor had consumed the ADAM-rich blood of the corpse and was ready to move on. With his job done, the monster went back in his cage. As Subject Delta became dormant once more, the red light being emitted from my eye changed back to a calm golden yellow.
I turned my entire body to face my beautiful daughter and then offered her my gloved left hand. She surprised me when she shook her head stubbornly and then said, "I want to go to the bookstore." When I let out a questioning grunt, she smiled before she explained, "They might have one about the surface."
I paused briefly. Before that moment, I had been worried that Eleanor had given up on her dream of exploring the surface world. However, clearly that was not the case. If anything, she was now more determined than ever to escape Rapture. It was a near impossible dream but the longer I could keep her imagination and intellectual curiosity alive, the more likely it was that she could overcome the madness that they had put inside her mind. Her real personality was a flame inside of her that was in peril of being extinguished forever by the Little Sister Conditioning that they had forced into her. If I failed to keep the flame lit, the real Eleanor Lamb would be lost forever.
I could not save my friend all those years ago but there was still a chance for me to save Eleanor. Regardless of what happened to me, I would not fail this time. I smiled beneath my emotionless copper face before I let out a grunt of agreement. My daughter smiled and jumped up and down briefly before taking ahold of my left hand. Dragging me along behind her, Eleanor made her way towards the bookstore beyond the crowd of onlookers.
As we approached, the crowd began to disperse. That is, except one individual. An elderly woman clad in raggedy clothes looked intently at Eleanor as if she was unsure that she was indeed seeing what she was seeing. I began to feel uneasy as I identified the woman as Grace. Would the devoted Lamb follower and godmother of Eleanor try something foolish to try to get my daughter away from me?
Luckily, Grace retreated away just in time to prevent being seen by Eleanor. As such, we were able to reach the bookstore without Eleanor's good mood being spoiled. The "selection" was what I expected with water-ruined old cook books, "used" pornographic magazines, and outdated textbooks. By some miracle, Eleanor managed to find a travel magazine that did not have too much water damage or inappropriate images in it. The store owner was essentially pushing us out the door so we got the magazine and an old Geography textbook for free.
With her small stack in her grasp, Eleanor led me out of the small establishment. We began to make our way over to the glass panels in front of the Limbo Room. However, this time, Grace had no intention of letting Eleanor slip away from her. The elderly woman appeared in the middle of the path that allowed access to the area around the Limbo Room. As she neared her former "aunt", Eleanor suddenly stopped both singing and walking as she noticed Grace. To two locked eyes for a brief moment. During that unsettling instant, one could have heard a needle drop on the other side of Skid Row. An eternity seemed to pass before Grace finally asked with a concerned tone, "Eleanor…what happened to you baby girl?" She began to walk forward towards us with her hands reaching out towards my daughter.
I let out a threatening growl in an attempt to scare off Eleanor's former caretaker. Eleanor shook her head before she called out to Grace as she hugged the magazine and worn book to her small chest, "No Aunt Gracie! Stay back! Daddy can't help it!" The elderly widow failed to heed our warnings and was now within grabbing distance of my daughter. I was left with no alternative other than to defend my bonded partner.
I let out a final warning in the form of a deafening guttural roar as the burning artificial fury of my Protector Instincts stormed into my mind. With my eye and auxiliary lights now emitting a hellfire red, I quickly grabbed ahold of my charge with my gloved left hand and then relocated her over my back to her throne. As I did, the magazine and book fell out of Eleanor's grasp and they landed unceremoniously on the damp concrete ground as if to mock us for having tried to make a positive out of our horrible situation.
I raised my industrial-grade weaponized mining drill up at the ready in an effort to intimidate the defenseless woman. I did not want to hurt her after all. If she had been just another ADAM junkie, I would have killed her long before now. However, she was Eleanor's godmother and, as such, I forced myself to exercise restraint. Amazingly, the unarmed widow showed me no fear as she bore into me with her weathered eyes in a cold glare. Raising her right hand and pointing at me with her right index finger, Grace demanded, "What have you done to Eleanor you goddamn monster?!"
Eleanor begged from my back, "No Aunt Gracie! Please don't be mean to Daddy! He is a victim too!"
Grace advanced as she demanded, "Give her back!"
Mustering all my willpower, I managed to resist the urge to thrust my drill into the woman's face. I was unable to prevent myself from acting upon my Protector Instincts however. Through our bond, I pleaded, "Eleanor…please forgive me." I raised my left hand up towards my right shoulder and then swung it back into the side of Grace's face. The blow was strong enough to send her falling onto the unforgiving concrete floor and I was certain that it had also broken her jaw.
Eleanor began to cry loudly. The scene was attracting too much attention. I had to get my daughter far away before the Splicers arrived. Seeing the magazine and book on the damp floor, I quickly bent down and gathered them up with my left hand. Then, as the sound of approaching individuals filled the air, I hastily retreated towards the exit of Skid Row.
When I finally found a small, isolated spot near the Fishbowl Diner, I felt my Protector Instincts subside. I lowered my massive frame down onto my left knee to allow my daughter to depart. My mind was a frenzy of thoughts and emotions as I stood back upright. What would Eleanor think of me now? Would she hate me? I did not want to hurt Grace but she left me no choice. Eleanor would understand that right?
A soft giggling tore me from my thoughts. Confused, I looked down to see that my daughter had somehow managed to retrieve the magazine and book from my slackened grasp without my notice. She had the magazine open and in her lap as she sat on top of a discarded shipping crate that was tall enough to bring her up to my waist and with her legs dangling over the edge.
My confusion only increased when she beamed up at me as she turned the magazine around and up towards me so that I could clearly make out the image. It was a beach scene that was set in a cliché "island paradise" with white sand, several coconut trees, nearby sparkling blue ocean with perfect waves for surfing, and a perfect blue sunny sky. The ink of the image had paled due to the exposure to moisture and the text was illegible but my daughter did not seem to care in the slightest.
She asked me with overwhelming curiosity, "Where is this Daddy? It is so beautiful."
I started to question her sanity but then it dawned on me that Eleanor was telling me that she did not blame me or hate me at all for what had just happened. Better yet, my plan to keep her true personality alive seemed to be working. It was a long shot that we would make it out of Rapture alive but I did not care. As long as I could keep Eleanor happy and safe, I did not care about escape.
With my daughter looking up at me expectantly, I replied through our Pair Bond, "Appears to be somewhere in the Bahamas, kid."
Eleanor turned the magazine back around and hugged the image against her chest as she closed her eyes for a moment. Then, she opened her eyes and asked with her Little Sister voice, "Where are the Bahamas, Daddy? I would love to know what clean beach sand feels like on my bare feet." Then, almost to herself, she added quietly, "And lie against Daddy's warm chest while wearing nothing but my thin swimsuit."
Clearly, I had either misinterpreted or misheard her last statement so I simply shrugged it off before I replied through our bond, "A little below and to the east of the southern tip of Florida."
Eleanor proudly stated, "I know that one! It is the state in the United States that looks like a boot!"
I grunted with an encouraging tone. My daughter blushed slightly as a result of my praise before she asked, "Would you like to look through the rest of the magazine with me Daddy?" I let out an affirming grunt in response as I moved to stand next to her. When I was in position, Eleanor inched her way along the edge of the crate until she could lean against my frame. I quickly lost track of time as my daughter slowly progressed through the pages. Every image fascinated her for what seemed like hours as she continued a steady stream of questions for me to answer.
Any remaining concern that Eleanor had been damaged by what they had put her through was erased during the countless hours that we spent devoured the contents of the travel magazine. The pale angelic brunette that was with me now was indeed still Eleanor. Moreover, my own mental faculties were still largely intact minus the damage caused by the Protector Instincts. Escape was not out of the realm of possibility. However, for now, I would not waste my energy on such achieving such a pipedream. Eleanor needed me and I needed her. We were in this together and we would get out of this together one way or another.