Raptured: A Fan’s Fiction of 2K’s BioShock -revisited- Would you kindly join us for the story so far? The year is 1960. Beneath the frigid waters of the northern Atlantic Ocean lies the hidden city of Rapture. It was built to be a utopia, free from the hands of God and state, where art and science could flourish without restraint, and where anyone could become anything... I’m trapped in a mad city under the sea. Rapture. That’s what they call it. Like being raptured. You’re going to heaven. To paradise. It’s hell. I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m tired. The gun - a Webley, I think - is heavy in my hand. I’ve never fired a gun before today. It's louder than I thought it would be. I was flying home thirty minutes ago. I was warm. Mom and Dad won’t even know where I am if I die. A plane crash over the ocean, no survivors. Maybe even no wreckage found. A funeral with an empty coffin. Empty words about great things not done. But no, I’m gonna die down here, a mile below the ocean, killed by Splicers. I don’t wanna die. It stinks down here. Dead plants and stagnant puddles of water. Something I hope isn't rotting flesh. The lights still work, amazing. The place is dead, and it's still going. Like the Splicer's. Cold water drips on my head. This damned place is leaking. Of course it’s leaking. It’s an underwater city, and it's cold, and it’s leaking. How much pressure is this city under? How long until something important breaks and the whole city drowns? This deep down, it'll crush us all flat... No, clear your head. Relax. You’ll get out of here. Just gotta stay cool. A woman walks around a corner ahead of me. Tattered dress. She’s singing off-key, swinging a pipe. There’s brown on it, either rust or blood. I hope it’s rust. She doesn’t see me. Maybe if I keep quiet... My foot slips in a puddle. The rubber squeak echoes in the space. She turns. She sees me. Oh God. She screams. Lifts her pipe. Runs. I fire. Ears ringing. Missed! Fire again and again. Hit, one or both doesn’t matter. She stumbles, but keeps coming. She's too close. She swings, smashes my wrist. I cry pain pain pain the gun clatters to the floor. I stumble backwards. Slam against a table. Shark grin. Blood in the water. Hunger in her eyes. She screams at me. “Monster!” I'm gonna die No. I don't wanna die. Survival instincts. Desperation. I scream. My hands scrabble. There. Something cold. Metal. Heavy. She's so close. Her breath is ragged and heavy. I swing. Wild, but it hits. She screams again, stumbles, drops the pipe. Leave just leave please leave she's reaching for her pipe and I wrap both hands around the handle and I don't know who's screaming and Dad's telling me to knock it out of the park Son and I swing as hard as I can... I feel the crack. I can't hear it over the screaming. Her mouth's open. She goes slack. Her head makes a hollow thump as it hits the broken tiles. Dead. She's dead. The screaming stopped. I've never killed before today either. Ragged breathing fills my ears. My breathing. My lungs ache. It hurts to breathe. My throat hurts. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. My hands shake. My whole body shakes. I slump down. Try to ignore her. My wrist hurts. I try moving it: I don't think it's broken. Small miracles. What did I grab? I look. A wrench. Red, heavy, rusting. I can't tell if there's new blood on it. I'm shivering. Adrenaline or the cold, I don't know. My clothes are still damp from my swim in the ocean. It itches. I force myself look at her. Her dress was beautiful once. She was beautiful once. Like this city. But now... now... I shudder, and not from the cold. Her skin's hanging loose on her bones. Her brown hair is filthy, matted. Sores everywhere. One arm covered in bruises and scabs. She looks like she's starving. Blue dress under the grime, white lace. She's wearing a bird mask that hides her face, broken and dirty and held together with tape. What does she look like under there? I reach for the mask. No... no. I can't. Let her have that. Pretend she’s still beautiful under there. Pretend she’s still human under there. Splicers. They were normal once. People. Just like me. This crazy city got into them, and it’s eating them up from the inside. All of them. This city's in me now too. Is that what’s gonna happen to me if I stay here too long? Go mad, killing people and drinking their blood or whatever these things do to survive? No. Don’t think like that. Gotta clear my head. Gotta get out of here, put all this behind me. Find one of those minisubs that brought me here, and get out... A tile shatters. My cheek and hand stings from the flying shard. Red spots on my hand. Brain's slow, can't think... Bang. Gunshots! Splicers! Fall towards where I think my gun is, hands scrabbling in the dark. More bangs, near misses. Where is it can't find it gotta move No time "Hello, little fish!" Laughter, close behind me. Thinks he's won. Roll over, now. Oh God he's so close I think I can smell his breath and one eye glaring at me and I'm feeling hot so hot I could burn up concentrate feel it I could snap burn him burn him BURN HIM My fingers snap. He burns. His whole body covered in fire. Laughter to screaming, flailing, crying and the air stinks with burning meat and I scramble to my feet and swing my wrench as hard as I can... And it stops. He falls, twitching, then he's still. His whole body is charred. And the smell, like Fourth of July ribs in the park oh God I feel sick... And my hand, my arm... it looks just like him, charred black, glowing red, flames still flickering over it. I flex my fingers. My skin cracks, I can't feel it. Plasmids. This city's curse. Like magic, spliced into my very genes. Another loud bang and pain my arm oh god it hurts blood More of them, two or three, too many. I try to concentrate on the fire but I miss and a puddle of water flashes to steam, and now the pain is in my stomach and i'm falling and theres red and i cant think oh god it hurts it hurts it hurts the floor is so cold and wet and hard and im on my back and theres a white light its flickering and the pain is everywhere and I DONT WANT TO DIE! "So long, little fish!" Everything feels so slow. I watch the pipe swing down at my head. I wish I was home. Mom. Dad. The farm... pain light darkness Darkness. I blink. Dark. Warm. Am I dead? No, I'm alive. How? Where am I? I feel around, it's cool and slick, glass. Not totally dark, a faint glow from all around. Fresh air, faintly blowing. Something on the other side of the glass, I can't see what it is. I reach forward, maybe there's a button or something... The glass in front of me slides open, a set of moldy red curtains parting on the other side. Rapture's wet and stinking air rolls over me. I cough at the stench. I'm still in Rapture? Noise. Voices. I hold my breath, trying to hear. They're arguing, fighting. "Where'dya go, little fish?" Little fish? The voice sounded familiar... I creep as quietly as I can. No gun, but I've still got the wrench. And my plasmids. Think about the fire again, call it up... my whole and healthy hand crackles and burns again. Never thought I'd be so glad to see that again. I barely breathe as I sneak around the corner, closer to the voices. Why? Everything in my body is screaming to run, run away as fast as I can. No, I need to know what's going on. I peek around the corner. Three splicers, gathered together, near two more on the ground. One was pushing another, the third yelling at them both. Something familiar about all this, but I don't want to see it. And they don't see me. Good. That makes it easier. No second chances. No more hiding. I have to live. One snap. Two. Three. yes And a few seconds later, it's all over. The screaming, the crying, it's done. I feel sick. I stumble over, quiet as I can. Each fight had to have attracted the next one, and oh God I hope no one heard this one. My body's still shaking, but I feel rested. Refreshed. I can't believe I can feel this good... Blue dress. One of the bodies is wearing a blue dress, Oh God. oh god oh god oh god This... I scrabble beneath the table, and there it was: a revolver. My gun. Fresh blood on the floor. Fresh bullet holes in the floor. This... this is where I died. I can't breathe. I force air into my lungs. In, out. In, out. Stay calm. Think. I retrace my steps, finding where I came out. It's a fancy glass tube, lots of brass and electronics. And a big fancy sign that says "Vita-Chamber." "What the fuck?" I... I don't want to be here anymore. It's all a blur. I'm picking the bodies clean. Moving by instinct. Survival. Ignore that you're looting people, they're just bodies now... I stop at the one in the blue dress. She called me a monster. My hand twitches. Maybe I am one already. I wanna go home. I don't wanna die. Just... keep moving. Keep moving. Find a way out, and get the fuck out of Rapture.