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bleedingichorhearts · 9 months ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: This is funny, I used to fear this game.

𝕬𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Just in case you wanted to know what a Big Daddy sounded like, here. Big, underwater tin man loud.

TW // Imprisonment, organized crime?

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter II}

Pulling the black ski mask down on your head. You adjusted the bottom of it and tucked it into your black combat shirt underneath your vest. Your fingers adjusting the collar line of your shirt before you grab your protective goggles on the coffee table and slide them over your head. Your helmet coming on next as you place it on your head and pull at the straps, buckling them in and tugging at them again to make sure your helmet stays on your head no matter what.

Looking around the room, you scan the area for anything else that you might be missing. Double checking the areas you already glazed over. Your hands pattering yourself just in case. Do you have your hand ties? Check. Radio? Check. Vision goggles? You pat your helmet, check. Protective Gear? Got them on you already. Handgun? Check. Knife? You pat the side of your thigh, Check. Frag grenades? Check. Rifle? Nope.

Looking over your room again, you spot the rifle leaning on the wall near your made bed where you could be prepared for a rogue splicer that would just make a dumb decision to attack you at your most vulnerable. Not like one has yet, but it's better to be safe than sorry. You weren't willing to die in your sleep as a way out.

Walking over to pick up your rifle. You quickly unload the mag and count the bullets inside of it one by one, making sure that you were always stocked up on your ammo as it wasn’t easy to get ammo without having to pay, negotiate, or trade for it. Sometimes one even might have to kill for it. Not like the… people of this underwater city haven’t yet. It was like an apocalypse down here.

Reloading the rifle with rhythmic, metal clips with a satisfied nod. You cross off everything you need for the day from your mental list, always ending off on picking up your rifle when you go out somewhere within the area. Your body moving to exit your room as you open the door with a cringy squeak. Your nose scrunching up at the sound before you close the door again and lock it with a provided skeleton key as the building you were in was quite… vintage. In fact, most of the city was.

Waiting on hearing the click of the skeleton key locking your door, you twist it back and take it back when it gives a little metallic click. Your hands fiddling with the door handle for a second to make sure it was locked before putting the key in the front pocket of your vest for safe keeping. Giving it a little pat as you head off to an elevator to start your day off in the mythical, abandoned underwater city of “Rapture.”

This city of “Rapture” was an unpredictable and dangerous city. Its glass tunnels and buildings filled with mindless, mutated people addicted to this serum called “ADAM.” A no joke drug to be addicted to as most people, or what's left of them became dependent on the cursed source. Making the most regular people to be and become these… other beings called “Splicers.”

Again, ADAM was no joke or “cure” to mess with. You’ve seen it with your own eyes of how it works, of how the person's body shifted and screamed out in pain when they injected that long, metal needle into their veins. Addicted to becoming an unstable person that you have never met before. Not like you have met them before, but there are very noticeable differences on who or what the people used to be like.

Processed ADAM or “Plasmids” were also a hard one to watch people inject themselves with; painful even, but it came with the benefit that people supposedly didn’t get quite influenced by it as much as others did when they had raw ADAM, and it made a person gain a “superpower.” Whether it would be electricity, ice or fire coming out of their fingertips, insects or telekinesis. They always had one of these powers out of 11 documented. Some even being lucky enough to receive all 11 of them.

However, such power has its side effects. That one would– will need “EVE” to restore their ability to regain the power of such a mutation, and with many wanting to use that power. They went crazy without it. Going as far as overdosing on ADAM in hopes to falsely power them up. Which, ultimately, was possibly this city’s downfall. The creation of this serum turning the people that used to be down here all rabid and hungry for more, just like any other drug you suppose, but it had to be worse when all the people were confined to just this city. Unable to leave without a submarine to back up to the surface.

Though, this man called “Sol Snyder” promised that he would make this city prosper once more. To rebuild what has fallen and remake the city as it once was. Improving it bit by bit until it was better than what it has ever been, but the more you work underneath him. The more you disagree with his work and how he was achieving this secession, this… recreation.

Perhaps… he didn’t know what was going on underneath his feet? Of how many that die in these old, abandoned buildings as these others buildings and tunnels get recreated? Maybe he wasn’t in control of the whole city yet? You try to reassure yourself that Sol Snyder was– is a good guy, but your gut says otherwise, and who says that you should never trust your gut on such superstitions?

“Mornin’ Guard.” An old, masculine voice greeted you, interrupting your thoughts. Their calloused hands handing out a paper bag to you. “Figured ya needed somthin’ to eat while yer’ out there protectin’ my buildin’. I never see ya bring anything with ya.”

Staring at the old man for a second, you gently take the paper bag out of the old man's hands and into yours.Crinkling the bag throughout the empty lobby as you opened it up to look at its contents. Finding a rather good meal inside.

“I got cha a classic ham and cheese sandwich and a small bag of chips with a small apple juice box. I gotta keep ya strong out there!” The old man said, taking his dark blue cap off. Showing you his bald spot on top of his head. His gray hairs all frisled. “I know it ain’t much, but I can’t let a younglin’ like you wanderin’ about my buildin’ without rewarding ya for yer troubles.”

Your heart warms at the kindness of this old mans soul, a smile growing behind your mask as you never really received much down here for protecting and transporting a lot of stuff around the city. The only things you get in return were just some ammo and get assigned another mission to be at for the next day.

You tip your head in him in a respectful appreciation, and lightly fold the paper back up for later use as the meal the lab would provide there was… something else, practical mush one would say, like some wet paper or chalk. Sure, it was more nutritious, but it wasn’t as flavorful. It has always tasted like you were eating some crummy cardboard. So you were very appreciative for this real meal to be offered to you.

“I’m glad you liked it! Now, get along there! Your friend is watching for ya.” The man informed, putting his cap back on. His gray hairs poofing out at the sudden replacement of his cap. His oval shaped body shuffling around to continue his duties as the host of this building, softly whistling away.

What a kind old man, giving you a fraction of his food and a place to stay instead of having to be in that… disgusting lab 24/7. You were grateful that he was one of the first people you had met in this underwater city. Finding each other when you had got lost on your first day. Trying to figure out how the bayspherse’s worked, and where to go when some areas were sealed and blocked off. The many water tunnels didn’t help you much either, and so didn’t the signs that were littered on the ground, destroyed and withering.

You still remember your first meeting with the man however, his figure wandering the city just as you were. Going through the areas he and other… civilians were not prohibited to go through. Searching through things for survival. Which is where you occasionally come in when assigned to an area to keep people out here they shouldn’t be.

The old man looked so confused about where he was, looking like he didn’t put himself in a dangerous position. Looking all around him confused and then jumping at your presence and nearly taking off thinking that you were a splicer when you positively showed him that you were in fact not a splicer. You were a normal human being.

Admittedly, you tried your best to relocate him back to his building he talked to you about and described to you. Talking about all his daily things he does down here while he’s at it. Complimenting how it was calming to live underwater and watch as the fish swim by and around the buildings despite the threat of splicers, but complained about how he has to trade some items with other healthy people to get some necessities in return down here while saying how you had it easy, working underneath Sol Snyder. It apparently grants some more privileges in this city.

Anyways, when you finally lead him the right way towards his building. The man suddenly offers you a room at his building that he has owned from generation from generation, and his name “Nicholas Zimmerman” or just “Nick” for short. Entrusting you with his nickname already as he extends his hand out in a hopeful deal.

You stared at him for a second then, calculating your opinions. Weighing how the underwater world really was more dangerous than it is perceived from up above, and how Nick here really sounded like he was a real genuine person to be around with down here. You could honestly see why he offered you a room without having anything in return, and you didn’t really didn’t hesitate to accept his deal.

Turning back around to head for the main lobby’s doors. You make your way through the doors and out for the city, going through some sealed, glass tunnels that provided a safe way to travel from building to building without having to drown, swim or get pressurized by the water.

Oh, and not to mention great underwater scenery too and sea life that comes around as there were high kelp stalks that reached almost halfway on some of the tallest underwater buildings here. Neon signs that glowed and flickered out in the water, pointing to whatever that building held, and the water was a little murky, but that’s what you get for being in an underwater city. Most of the time it was a clear blue-ish green as long as the bottom of the sea was untouched or until a school of fish swims about like some tuna or if you’re lucky enough an occasional whale or shark.

You question sometimes how one built such an underwater city without it exploding by the pressure like. How did they get oxygen down here? How did they make this city without drowning? This city looked like it was made in the 1950’s. You were sure they didn’t have the right equipment back then for them to not have a casualty.

Shaking your head, a whale-like groan shook you from your thoughts. Stopping you as you turn and look over through the water tunnel. Watching as a Big Daddy mined away at some rocks. His harpoon drilling into the rocky, solid object; creating a brief rise up of sand on the bottom of the sea.

If you remember correctly, this was an Elite Bouncer. Judging on how he has red stripes over his suit and his hand is equipped with a harpoon rather than the original drill of a classic Bouncer. You take a guess that he was assigned in this selection of the city to remove or collect the minerals here for improvement for the city.

The Bouncer groans again, his bioluminescent pothole's flickering to a yellow then a green before he jumps. His form floating seamlessly through the water to come up closer to the tunnel, and landing with a vibrating thud. Bring up the sand beneath his boots when he landed, creating a little sand cloud around his legs.

Bringing your hand up against the glass, you could feel the vibrations this Big Daddy gave off through the glass and metal as he rumbled. His whale-like call loudly coming through the glass, giving you goosebumps as his free hand slowly came up on the other side of the glass, completely engulfing your hand in his shadow. Leaving you impressed once more on how much bigger these beings were.

These… beings were very interesting to you. How much bigger they seamlessly could get. How they seemed so slow, yet so fast at the same time. It was an almost freaky thing to think about. How such a thing of old scuba armor could make such a loud sound of a whale or how fast they could move. They were honestly supposed to sound haunting, but they never could, at least not to you.

You found them more… comforting.

A sudden static on your radio takes you out of your admiration. Your hand leaving the glass as a demanding, female voice comes over the radio. “Where are you Guard 124? You were supposed to be here over a minute ago!”

The voice of this woman annoys you greatly and sours your mood. Your form quickly leaving the Big Daddy alone at the glass tunnel as he gives a low, longing moan when you move away from him. Your hands coming up to your radio to respond to the woman saying that you are on your way, and heading for the “Welcome Center” of the city.

—

“Ah! Glad you’re finally here.” The female scientist greeted with a taunt, shoving a man towards you in nothing but a dirty white, medical dress and a bag on his head. His chains on his wrists clinking together as he stumbled forwards, and nearly colliding into you. “Take this subject here to Fontaine Futuristics and it shall be assorted from there.”

Gently taking the man from his arm. You steadied him properly back up on his feet, feeling just how skinny this man was just by holding his one arm. Your hands able to wrap around his arm in just one go. He must have not been eating well, even before he got here. You briefly wonder if he has an eating disorder.

Wait, Fontaine Futuristics? What did this man do to deserve such an ending?

“Well? Get along, it’s best for them to get there earlier.” The scientist said, waving her hand at you, trying to shoo you off. Sending an angry spark of fire down your nerves. This woman.

Closing your eyes and deeply inhaling to cool your heated nerves. You were annoyed by this scientist's attitude already, even when you received her radio call. She just was an annoying person to you, and you know she would be the type to report you at every move you do like a damned Karen.

Opening your eyes again and exhaling, one of your hands grabbed the bag on top of the man’s head and pulled it off of him. Static, jet black hair sticking up messily first before you noticed his steel blue eyes that blinked rapidly up at you. Trying to readjust his eyes to his new surroundings. His cuffed hands coming up to hold your shoulders for support despite him being a head taller than you.

“Hold on there Guard. Why are you taking the bag off its head?” The crabby scientist asked, looking up at you from her clipboard, tapping her pen on it. Her brown eyes sternly staring at you through her rectangle glasses like you were stupid to take the bag off the man’s head.

“Would you prefer a healthy subject or a poor one?” You ask the arrogant scientist, tilting your head at her in a rude manner. Watching how her eyes darkened, and glared at you a bit more harder like that was to kill you.

“Hmmph! It’s not like it would survive anyways.” She huffed before turning around on her heels to go who knows where. Probably to go report and you like she always does. You wonder if they even look at the reports with how many she’s filed against you already.

Softly pulling the man forward to let the man know to follow you. You led the man through the area a little bit before walking into a bathysphere and selecting your destination to “Arcadia” before you could go to “Fontaine.” The bathysphere jerking around before closing the door, scaring the poor man as he puts both of his hands on your shoulders and grasps at them while the bathysphere sends off to the Arcadia.

“W-Where... am I?” The man hesitantly asks after a moment of silence. His eyes looking at everything around him but you. Unsure if he should be the one asking questions.

“You are in the northern Atlantic Ocean, west of Iceland.” You respond, shifting your weight as the man doesn’t let go of your shoulders. The sound of the water flowing against the bathysphere filling the background noise.

“I’m… I’m in the ocean?” He spoke, puzzled. No doubt questioning how he got here. His eyes watching the bathysphere glass door as you both moved through the water. “How is that possible?”

You hummed, not answering that question as you shift your weight again. The bathysphere shaking again to a stop at the Arcadia before it opened the door. The man sticking closer to you than one should for being a prisoner.

Gently pulling at the man to lead him again. He followed with little restraint as you led him into a different bathysphere. His form practically hiding behind you as you select for this bathysphere to go to Fontaine. The whole thing going through the same shaking process of it starting up before going up and through the water.

“…What did you do to be brought here of all places?” You broke the pregnant silence, knowing people that were criminals, insane or political dissidents were to come here and deserve such a fate. A possible second chance others might say.

“I…I killed a household… with my bare hands.” He admitted, looking down at his cuffed hands that gripped onto your shoulders. Probably imagining the family's blood staining his hands or ‘sneakily’ observing you.

"Ah." That would do it.

“I…I thought I was going to prison?” He questioned, looking around at his surroundings again. Looking almost sorry for what he had done, but that’s how most killers get you. Waiting for you to drop your guard, to be way too comfortable with them.

“This…this is similar, in a way.” You answer, taking the man by the arm again as the bathysphere shook and stopped. The door opening again for the both of you to get out, and you didn’t hesitate to.

The man hummed this time, following you wherever you pulled to lead him. Going deeper and deeper into the building of Fontaine and into Fontaine Futuristics. His head looking all over the place as you led him around.

“What is this place?” He asked, looking around him once more. Observing his new surroundings again. His form testing up as he sneezes out at some roaming dust particles around the area.

“This is your prison, your cell, your recreation.” You spoke, reciting that last part from an old, repeated recording, leading him into a dim hallway that one would get spooked at as it was like going down one of those horror hallways.

“My… recreation?” He hesitated, looking at the long hallway filled with armored cells. Whale-like calls and groans leaving them; some deeper and lighter than others.

Passing by the cells, the man continued to observe the Big Daddy’s inside of them. Ranging from: Bouncers, Rosies, Rumblers, and Lancers. Each one looking a bit different from one another by body shape and equipment.

Bouncers were shorter, but heavy. Their entire torso, covered by a giant metal carapace. Their helmets studded with 8 lit potholes. A drill attached to its right arm. Meant to drill the deep-sea rocks for city expansion, just like the Elite Bouncer you saw on the way here.

Rosies were a bit taller than Bouncers. Their upper torso covered by a higher type of metal carapace, their diving helmets welded to it and three large lit portholes for them to “see,” and are typically equipped with a large Rivet Gun and are to restore panels and windows.

Rumbers were… nothing much. They were almost the same as the Rosies. Just more mobile, less armored and supposedly set with RPG’s, but for… civilized purposes they do not have them.

Lancers are slimmer, slightly taller, and decorated Big Daddy. Holding an Ion Laser as a weapon and are ‘supposedly’ to be a ‘finished’ version of the Rosies. It makes you wonder however, what the unfinished or unsuccessful ones were.

“What… are they?” He stammered, looking between the many blocks and different variations of Big Daddy’s. His eyes widening at how some acknowledge him as you walk him through the hallway, their… voices calling out at you.

“They are called Big Daddy’s.” You respond, slowly taking him down the corridor. Taking note on how some seemed more agitated when there was an addition with you.

“What’s their purpose?”

“A selective few mine the minerals on the ocean floor. Another repairs or builds more to the city and some are to bond to little sisters.” You inform him of what little you know. A Big Daddy groaning out at us as we passed his block.

“Little sisters?”

“…I believe that is enough for you to know.” You suddenly state, pushing open another section of the building. The screams of people echoing down it making the man tense up in my hands. His fingers tightly gripping at your shoulder again, wrinkling the clothing.

“Am I... supposed to become one of them?”

“I do not know what they will have in store for you.” You sigh, tugging him forward when his 'fight or flight' nerves kicked in. Pulling him further down the hallway. “I just transport and protect.”

An unexpected curdling scream made the man jump in your hands. His eyes quickly looking around him for the source. For any chance to find a way out of here.

“That— those are men. Screaming men.” He uttered, shivering. Never having the experience of any man screaming out in pain so pitifully.

You didn’t say anything except lead him into his cell watching as he continuously observes his new surroundings once again. His new home. His new death bed, unless he was lucky.

“It's… scary here.” The man admitted, shivering in his spot. Either by coldness or his fear. His hands never leaving your shoulder the whole time down here. No doubt about to leave a bruise later.

“Please, let me out. I’ll do better.” The man suddenly begs, tugging at your shoulder. Looking at you, begging you with his eyes.

“I...I can’t be sure of your survival.” You sigh, your heart clenching in your chest. This wasn’t right. It never was. “You cannot be sure of your own survival.”

“Please? I’ll do better, I promise.” The man begged, promised, his form shuffling a little closer to you. His chest quickly rising up and down, on the verge of hyperventilation.

Seeing this, you quickly take the side of his face with your hand and shushed him. Moving your thumbs up and down his jawline as he slowly accepted the relaxing gesture, nuzzling into your hand.

“Please, I’ll do better.” He begged again. His glossy eyes looking up at you. Hoping that you would save him from his fate.

“You know I cannot." You whisper and swallow, not trusting your voice nor the cameras that are set up all around the area. "Look at me, I put you in this cell."

A betrayed whine left his throat like the many others before him. His face nuzzling back into the palm of your hand despite what you had said to him. A couple of rouge tears falling down his cheek.

“I… I will try my best to make this more of a… agreeable experience for you.” You state, thumbing the tears off his cheek. Your tongue twisting in your own mouth, your jaw clenching as you try not to cry yourself. This was so wrong.

Your heart could only twist, flip, tighten and press harder in your chest as the man sobbed into your hand. The weight on your shoulders growing increasingly more heavy.

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