Reborn [BioShock]

2: The Working Man's Poorhouse

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Eventually, I got up and made my way down the flights of stairs at the end of the hall. Each one was dark and extremely grey with heavy bolted doors at the landings and debris piling up in the corners. It was morose to say the least, a sort of abandoned bomb-shelter.

I soon landed in a large, open hall. It had a few levels to it, with massive pillars rising from the open terminal centre, a huge, round light on each looking into the middle. The floor beneath was an expanse of glossy, scuffed tiles that reflected the cold light emanating from the hall's centre. Doors like the ones on the stairway ringed the hall with glowing signs hanging over them, and if I listened closely enough, I could hear haunting cries floating down the stairwell.

I quietly made my way around the hall, taking the railing's assistance. I listened to the mournful screams echoing off the steel walls and tried not to think of anything but where I was and how to get out.

Suddenly, I tripped and fell towards the wall. A door slid open, as if activated by me, and I saw a light flickering inside. Deciding it looked cozier than this cold, metal hall, I found myself exploring the room, and I prayed that there would be some sort of provision inside.

It was a dark, white room, with winding hallways. The hallways were lined with rows of bunk beds, and each bed itself was thin and growing mold. Some were soaked in blood, with corpses dangling off the side. One corpse I found was decapitated with a disgusting mess dripping off the bunk onto the floor. I was extremely glad that the head was nowhere I could see. That would be the last thing I'd need that day.

Upon rounding a corner, I stepped back in fear. A creature like the ones I saw earlier was hunched over a counter. He wore an oversized, muddy dress shirt strapped down with suspenders and suit pants with blood stains along the hems, and his head topped with messily-shaven brown hair. A plethora of weapons was strapped onto his back and hip. He sounded like he was sobbing violently.

"Those damned splicers...they always gotta take all the Adam...and they leave me with nothing! I need to live, too, and they leave me with nothing!"

I leaned to the side, trying to watch what he was doing. He pulled out a blue, glowing syringe and stabbed it into his wrist. He injected it, grunting as if it was extremely painful. All of a sudden, his veins erupted in a blue lightning. He cried out as the liquid surged through his body, and he looked towards his hands as they began to glow.

"I need more," he growled.

I coughed quietly, trying to muffle the sound with my hand.

The man paused. He twisted his head to the right, revealing a gathering of scars across his cheek. His face was mostly obscured by the shadows cast from his hair and brow, so I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them glaring into the darkness.

He felt my presence, I could tell. And this idea was terrifying.

"Hello there," he greeted me.

I shuddered. "Hello, sir."

He just stood there, his hands slowly pulsating.

Then he spoke again, his voice deep.

"You got a dad?"

"...No."

Then he was gone. He dematerialized into thin air. I stood agape, until I looked to my left and saw him standing forlornly in the shadows. The man stared at me with a biting glare.

"Yes you do."

I was shocked by his strange obsession with my father. "No, I don't. My father is dead," I whispered, memories rushing out of my mouth.