Thread: A Friend to the Parasite [Bioshock]

The security door glowed coolly under the low lights from outside. Something big and aquatic floated by, casting a warped shadow across the security door that wandered along the metal at the same lazy speed. Eoin wasn??t quite sure if the sight was nightmarish or just surreal something outside groaned, perhaps one of those giant golems or perhaps it was the sound of Rapture??s slow, steady death. There was the banging, too, the constant sound of a renegade monster searching for a little, baby escort. The redhead wanted to shiver but instead said in a calm, clear voice that he couldn??t recognize, ??So how do we go about entering this place?? Another bang. Louder. ??We could rope one of those Big Daddies up for us.? Eoin turned his head toward his left, not looking at the quarter of his escort that had spoken, but listening. No, his eyes were still stuck on the door they??d think he was still considering the massive amount of steel but instead his mind was trying to translate what they had just said. Rope a Big Daddy? Why, one would need to be a Little Sister to catch their attention in a way that didn??t end up with one of the monsters drilling a new whole into a person. Of course, when The Boss didn??t speak, Muscles 3 continued, filling in the silence and the faint sound of screaming. ??Mr. Atlas gave it to us, sir,? he said nervously. Even someone who could crush a man??s chest in with one hand was afraid of the nutty splicers. One or two, now, that was fine. But sometimes the lunatics managed to band together and then one had a pack of beings that laughed like hyenas but wielded weapons like men. ??Scrambles their brains for a bit. Makes ??em think you??re a Little Sister. One of them drills would work real nice.? A sharp, piercing scream that sent all of their hands to their weapons. A woman??s voice, maybe, or a child??s. The sound was cut off quickly and somewhere above metal and wood clattered about. The banging had stopped. There was an echoing sound of heavy boots shuffling and though Big Daddies didn??t bother anyone that didn??t mess with them first, the middle-aged man felt a panic attack threaten to close down his windpipe. ????Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace and rest can never dwell, hope never comes,??? Eoin muttered miserably, and Number Three gave him a stupid, dull look. Even afraid, Eoin had a moment where he hated the guard and his flat gaze. There was nothing there, all the lights turned off, soda without the pop. The geologist wanted to pluck out his eyes with his old rock hammer, mash them up and rub them into the empty sockets for all the good they did the dullard. The moment passed and he hissed ??Well, go on, man. Don??t just stand there and lollygag. Move.? Another rattle. Eoin stepped back into the shadow of another guard, Muscle 1, a large, dark bear of a man, his favourite. Sometime ago, he??d lost his tongue, literally, and the Irishman appreciated not having to listen to unintelligent garbage from him. He hated this place. --- ??Ssssssss.? She hissed along with her hooks, pleased, oh so very pleased at the sound of metal sliding on metal, sending off sparks and infintesimely small shards of steel that she could practically taste. Her face was curled, lips twisted into a smile, an enraptured smile, nearly orgasmic, nearly talking-in-tongues, high-on-jazz-and-booze-and-medicines-cooked-up-in-little-labs orgasmic. Ssssssssssssss. She let out a startled bark of laughter, snickering as it echoed along the glass walls, and even the water outside seemed to shimmer with her voice. She was powerful. She was power. She could hear the EVE singing in her veins, pretty, oh so pretty blue, so pretty, so very much like the pretty ocean and like those pretty cocktails they served down in the dark bars of Harlem and Atlanta and she missed them so much, so very much, but she didn??t miss the being afraid, didn??t miss being ??Sweet Thing?? and ??that high yellow girl?? when here she was the toughest thing on the block and on the roof and her hooks sang soprano when she went for her prey. ??Maaaaaaaaaybeeeeee.? Her voice was reedy, voice hoarse from abuse. She screamed lots these days. ??Youuuuuuuu??ll think of meeeeeeee.? The Inkspots had never been sung such a way her voice was a creepy rasp, sending even other splicers running. She was the toughest thing on the block. She was big in a little package. She glided down the stairs with all the air of a queen surveying her kingdom. ??When youuuuuuuuuu are all...? Ssssssssssssss . ??Alooooooneee.?