Reborn [BioShock]

8: How to Make Use of a Madman

Introducing: Douglas Ward's POV

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The cold eyes of the splicers made me wary as I ascended the stage stairs. I immediately felt the white-hot spotlight beat down on my forehead, and wiped it off. The splicers onstage didn't even notice me, they were all locked into place, focused on the suffocated woman sitting in the center. The floorboards creaked quietly as I stepped up behind the man with his hand on the back of the chair. "Excuse me, sirs," I swallowed, "but can I interrupt for a minute?"

He swiveled around and his eyes widened underneath the white plaster mask. One eye was swelled up and red, the skin surrounding it boiling with bruises. "Oh, the repair man! It's about time you arrived." He gestured out at the audience. "Now, what would your name be?"

"...Douglas Ward," I muttered.

"Ah, Mr. Ward." He turned back and shook my hand forcefully. "My name is Isaac Merlo, you may call me Isaac." His eyes grinned. "Welcome to our rehearsal. The leak is at the back of the theatre, you'll know it when you see it. Go on, now."

I shoved my hands into my pockets. "I'm not the repair man," I told him bitterly.

Isaac blinked, confused. "Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to ask your friend a favour."

He sighed, turning to stand next to the woman in the chair. She strained to look at him from underneath the chains. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ward, but I'm afraid you cannot interrupt our rehearsal. Especially not to bother our leading actress. She's busy."

The woman laughed. "Like hell I am!" she retorted. "I'm more than willing to take a break from this heap of shit."

I looked at Isaac, furrowing my brow irritably. "I swear, it'll take just a second."

"Who do you think you are?" he hissed, stepping towards me. The rough surface of his mask glimmered in the sweltering light. "You must know nothing about show business. We will sit here and wait for her to say the line if I have to choke it out of her myself."

My voice dropped. "One minute, time me. After that, you can force your actress to say all the bullshit you like."

He paused and sighed again, studying me. "Sixty seconds, and then I want you off my stage."

I leaned down nervously next to the woman, clearing my throat. Her face was knotted with stitches and scars painted with streaked powder. Red lipstick dribbled down her chin. Her dark copper hair unfurled over a straining purple gown, clenched to the chair by iron chains. "They don't need to choke me, you already broke my neck." So she did recognise me. Her chocolate eyes glanced over wearily.

"My apologies," I whispered. "I'm a bit of an asshole."

"Really?" she responded, grinning slightly. "You don't seem it. Most assholes I know aren't quite as handsome."

I swallowed, running my fingers through the shock of hair drooping over my forehead. "Anyway, I noticed you took the liberty of borrowing something from me."

"Oh, that freaky little bugger?" She giggled to herself. "It looked pretty important. I didn't think you'd mind if I played around with it for awhile."

"I need it back. Where the hell did you put it?"

Isaac called out morbidly from somewhere behind me. "30 seconds."

"Son of a bitch." This won't go over well, I thought. The man loves his play. "Where is it?"

She sneered. "Why do you even need that thing so badly? It's just a stupid piece of metal."