Rapture Noir: The Familiar Sting

The Familiar Sting

 

Two Weeks Ago:

 

        Rock Flanagan nibbled away at the thoughts in his head, trying to wiggle out a reason for a thief to break into the Sinclair Deluxe Apartments and steal seemingly useless items. The moody dimness of his office at odds with the quick ringing of Morse code from his pencil against the notepad before him.

        Jobs were drying up. His partnership with DeWitt wasn’t yielding much of anything anymore, and besides he hadn’t seen him for near on three weeks now, not since the fracas over in Ryan Amusements. It used to all be so simple, just follow some spliced up dame’s wandering husband and watch the money come flowing in. Sinclair was raising rents too. Pretty soon he might have to hock his camera.

        He looked over at it.

        Last a lifetime, yeah sure.

        A knock at the door finally pulled him away from the list he was making of the stolen items, blankets, stuffed animals, ribbons, things like that. He looked up to a silhouette in the frosted glass.

        “It’s open,” he called, putting away the bottle of gin he’d had out.

        The door opened to reveal a girl with hair black as night in a dress to match, legs that seemed they needed a reminder that they had to end, and a pair of brilliant sky blue eyes.

        “Ah…” Rock said, straightening his tie and getting up, “What can I do for you miss…?”

        “I hear you’re someone who can help fix problems, Mister Flanagan,” she said.

        “If there’s a husband to follow or jewelry to be found, I’m your man. Here has a seat,” Rock offered the chair but the woman didn’t take it, instead she walked over and sat on the corner of his desk, crossing her legs. Such legs.

        “Well there’s no husband, but I would like someone found.”

        “Of course, of course.” Rock said, going back to his seat again. The girl turned her head, half her face was covered by her hair now, and Rock finally noticed that the dress was backless,

        “And who’s missing if I might ask?”

        “My sister.” She said plainly.

        “Well she shouldn’t be too hard to find if she looks like you,” he said with a smile, she smiled back.

        “We’ve been called twins, sometimes.”

        “Well, my fee’s are going up, but seeing as how you’ve had to come all the way here, I’m sure I can drop the pri-“

        The girl leaned over and took off his hat. The neckline of her dress was low, Rock would have had to of been blind not to notice, and she leaned over far.

        “I’m not sure I could be able to pay but… I sure there’s some… other arrangements we could make.”

        “Of… course…” Rock shifted in his seat, “If I… uh, could have your name?”

        She leaned back and smiled, ruby red lips making a sinfully sweet smirk, “Elizabeth.”      

 

        I lit a cigarette coming out of the small offices of the Rapture Tribune.

Truth be told, I had wanted work. Since Arcadia, since Eddies, fewer things came my way.

But I didn’t want it like this.

Some of Abby’s co-workers had known about us, and me walking in with Elizabeth… well… There were smarter men then me and they figured invading Russia in the winter was a good idea. But she insisted. Something about how she might be able to help. Probably like back at the casino, but in the end it didn’t do any good.

        I could still see the people’s sneers and glares, coming to my old girls office with a new one? Smart, very smart.

        Jameson, the editor, didn’t have much else outside of what was in the letter. She hadn’t come in for some time, and no one had seen her at her apartment. Now that I think about it, I don’t recall ever going to Abigail’s apartment. She’d always come back to mine. A lot like Elizabeth.

        I looked at her as we walked. I wasn’t sure how she felt about this whole thing, me trying to find Abigail. She seemed fine about it all but with her insisting that she come with me, well it could give someone ideas about making it clear who I’m with now. After she started coming around more I’d even put Abby’s picture away. It wasn’t even as if had I wanted to really end things with Abigail. I needed to figure some things out it… it just all sort of happened.

        I rummaged around in my coat pocket and found Abby’s address, near enough Hestia, and pretty close to the paper’s offices. Elizabeth didn’t say anything on the walk there, and that was a blessing. Before I knew her, when I was with Abby, I’d had dreams and thoughts that I couldn’t understand. I still had them but it was less now. They didn’t seem to fill up my head. Now with this news of Abby, well, I never stopped caring for the girl.

        It was only once we reached Abby’s door that she finally spoke up.

        “Are you sure about all of this, Booker? I mean, you might not like what you find”

        What might I find? A range of things went through my mind, chief of which was her body sprawled out on the floor, blood from her wrists or throat. What would I do then, I wondered. Out of all the conversations we’d had, hell even the fights, Abby never came up. I still wasn’t even sure how much Elizabeth knew, she didn’t even ask about my eye. I just nodded, and knocked at the door.

        After there was no reaction I knocked harder, eventually hammering on it. I called Abby’s name, told her it was me, “Just open the door, Abby! I want to talk. Abby!” I tried the knob and it was locked, “Well, if she’s home she doesn’t want visitors.”

        “Here, let me try”

        Elizabeth nudged me over and knelt down, a pair of metal tools appearing in her hand. Lock picks. She went to work.

        I remembered I always liked the way she looked when she picked a lock, how she bit her lip, or her brown hair slipping from behind her ear. I chuckled to myself as I looked away.

        What was Abby doing this for? Did she really just lock herself up in her home? I’d barely seen her since I went to Eddies with Elizabeth, and not at all since she’d started really hanging around my home. It really was because of me, wasn’t it? Of course it was, just going off and never talking to her, what else could she think?

        “Got it” I heard Elizabeth chime as she got up and pushed it open.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, filling it like wine in a glass. I let out a sigh after seeing that the floor was clear. One less thing on my conscience at least, but hey, It was still early.

        Elizabeth stepped inside and I followed after her. Being inside Abigail’s apartment felt strange, this was a private place for her even from me. It made me wonder about how many people knew about her past, and how many people had ever even seen inside this place. I found a light switch and flipped it. In the few seconds of flickering I nearly thought I saw the girl lying on the bed, but no, just some rumbled sheets and a pillow all twisted up.

        I looked around. Abigail’s apartment was very much like mine, two room apartment, bed in the main room. She lacked the desk, but a table and a typewriter sitting on a small writing desk filled the space it would have left. Wardrobe, cabinets, the whole deal. I took a few steps around the table to the bed, always good to make sure a place is empty. As I took a step a crunch like biting into a carrot echoed in the dead silence of the room and I froze, looking down.

        Before the bed were strewn maybe ten, fifteen hypos.

I knelt down and picked one up, the needle was smeared with blood, carelessly injected, “Abby what are you doing?” the entire walk here, I’d had a feeling. The same one I’d had when I took the Orden kidnapping. Even as her father told me of the case I knew I wasn’t going to find Mavis, not maybe Abby too had been swallowed up by Rapture. I set the hypo down with a sigh.

        More of them were knocked aside and I looked up to Elizabeth walking over and sitting down on the bed, “Let me see…” she closed her eyes, and sat still.

        She’d tried explaining this to me once. She’d done it back in the casino when she told me where Heath Hayes was heading to. She said it was like ‘remembering something that hasn’t happened here yet, but maybe somewhere else’ in the end she said it was like the tears. I got up and did my best to quietly walk to the writing desk. A note, maybe she left a note.

        The typewriter was empty, but next to it was a stack of papers, and on top a few photo’s and paper clippings. On top of all of them was a photo I’d barely remembered. It showed Abigail, Elizabeth and I. They’d taken it after Hayes was rounded up in Pharaoh’s Fortune. I remembered when Elizabeth noticed the cameras she tried to turn away. Her face was a little blurry in the picture, but it was definitely her. Abigail must have paid for the original.

        Under it was a clipping with the same picture; Elizabeth’s face was circled this time. And below that another photo of a group of people, with a dark haired woman circled. It… almost looked like Elizabeth. Another clipping with another circle, and another, and another.

        I slipped the top photo into my coat pocket and set the clippings back down, I guess I wasn’t the only one with Elizabeth on my mind.

        “There’s… too much” Elizabeth said behind me.

        “Huh?”

        “It’s like… there’s too many places. It’s all pulling in different directions.”

        “Well… uh, what can you make out?”

        “There’s the Medical Pavilion, and… and Arcadia. The docks, and Point Prometheus, Fort Frolic, there’s people on a stage… I can’t see where she’s gone. Or maybe she’s gone to all of them. In the end I…” she said, eyes downcast, “I’m so sorry Booker.”

        “That’s uhh.. it’s okay,” she was sorry? She’d just given me five leads and she was sorry? Best not to mention the photo’s, but I think I’d finally found the reason for Abigail’s change in appearance. I never should have left that damn file sitting around.

        “I doubt we’ll get much else here. Let’s get going.”

        We left as well as we could, trying not to touch anything else. I’d gotten my first look, but I couldn’t do this all on my own, I’d have to call it in to the security boys. Hopefully it wouldn’t be Mast. I could never stand Tom and the feeling was clearly mutual. I locked the door from the inside and pulled it close.

And ended up just staring at the door.

        This really was just all my damn fault, wasn’t it? If I could have just gotten around to using my damn desk drawers for something other than booze, or if I’d found a better way to deal with, with whatever it was that was wrong with my head back then Abby might still be here.

        At that thought it occurred to me. I’d never gotten an answer from Elizabeth that night, and I’d never bothered to ask again. Why did I have those dreams and thoughts? That drive to find her? When I turned to look at her she was rubbing the side of her neck.

        “I’ve… I’ve got something I need to do, Booker.”

Another little disappearance. She did this, usually just for a day or so.

        “This about,” I looked over to the other end of the hallway before Abby’s apartment, a security camera panned left and right. Did they have audio pickups? “That thing you told me about?”

        She didn’t nod her head, but she didn’t shake it either. It was more of a shrug, she started to walk away.

        “Wait, when uh... when will you be back?”

        “Oh, the usual. Tomorrow. I’ll wake you up if you’re asleep.” She said, a kind smile across her face. She gave me a little wave and began to walk off. I watched until she was out of sight.

        I don’t know if she saw a look on my face, or what, but I got the feeling she wasn’t leaving because of what she said about Rapture. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked back to the door.

        Got to make sure the boy’s know where to look, and gotta keep any squatters or anyone else out. Rapture had a big rule on theft, or at least not getting caught, and taking from a crime scene was a whole league over that. I pulled a small bit of chalk out of my pocket and started writing on the door.

        I’ve done you wrong, Abby, and I’m sorry. But I’m going to do my damndest to make it right.

        I left the door and headed back home; I needed to write some things out. Behind me in the light of the apartment’s hallways Abigail’s door stood out with the words ‘Crime Scene’ scribbled on it.

 

        I’d like to say that Abby’s disappearance sent shockwaves through Rapture, but that would be a more boldfaced like than I’m used to. The next morning the paper came, the penumo brought me whatever new mail I had and the rest of Rapture went about the day like it was any other Monday. I felt more than a little insulted.

        Yesterday I’d been up and down the docks are Neptune’s, and no one there’d seen hide nor hair of Abby. It was the same over at Arcadia save for the teller remembering us.

        So that left Prometheus, the Pavilion and Fort Frolic.

        Point Prometheus was closer, I’ll start there.

 

        Prometheus was a little different from the last time I’d been there, but I just couldn’t place it. Maybe it was all of the Fontaine signs being replaced by Ryan Industries’. The little amusement ride was being retrofitted for a more Ryanesque feel as I stepped off the bathysphere.

        I walked about, it’d been a month since I was last here – looking for Mavis – I need to get a better idea of things. The library was still open, presumably still holding all the various books that frankly I’d never have any interest to read. I also couldn’t see Ryan shutting down Fontaine’s plasmid businesses either. Really it was the Little Wonder’s school that would always surprise me the most.

        Fontaine had gotten girls, little girls, and turned them into those these. Little Sisters. IT really was enough to put you off of ADAM. The thought that it was all processed by those little girls. I turned from the would-be school and came face to face with a Big Daddy. He was tall, damn near inhumanly so, and as he looked down at me all I could see in the face mask of his dive helmet was my own face staring back at me. The mountain of a brute just stared me down. I don’t know what kind of thoughts these metal men have, but I got the feeling that he was debating how easy it would be to kill me. I can tell you I damn near expected to just be a smear on the floorboards.

        “Come on Daddy! Plenty of places to go still!”

The Little Sister’s voice broke whatever spell had come over the both of us; she reached up and grabbed the monsters hand, and started to pull him away. As she pulled him away the little girl twisted around and waved an eerie and grotesque smile over her bulbous face. It was all very familiar.

        She pulled him to a maintenance door, the same one I’d used to come up from Paupers Drop, and they disappeared in the gloom beyond it.

        You heard stories, of Big Daddies. Stories like they’d kill a man for just looking at a Little Sister, or kicking vending machines to try and get a free double. Or that if you were caught damaging a window or bulkhead; they’d rivet your fingers to the outside. Seeing one so close in person it’s easy to see how the rumors spread.

        With a shaking hand I pulled out a cigarette and snapped my fingers and as the flame came to life I stared at it and saw Abby sitting in her bed, tears along her face as she injected more and more EVE into her veins. I rubbed out the flame and shoved the cigarette back in my pocket. If I see Abby or a Little Sister every time I try to light up or use a plasmid, I’ll be going cold turkey in now time.

        Cramming my hands in my pockets I continued my rounds. I gave out Abby’s description to anyone that looked like they’d been there for longer than a month but to no luck. If Elizabeth was right and Abby did come this way, she kept her head down. Maybe Elizabeth just picked up the time she came here for those plasmid demonstrations. She did say it was hard sometimes getting the right time for it, sometimes what she’d see wouldn’t even happen, or never had happened.

        I sat down at a bench and watched the workmen at their jobs, tearing down and rebuilding Fontaine’s Eugenics Entertainments ride. The damn thing half reminded me of a love tunnel, though I couldn’t imagine where the thought came from, I’d never been to one before.

        Abby wasn’t here. I doubted she even came this way. Other than for a story or for the library there was nothing here for her, or most of Rapture and I doubted she cared to learn about gene therapy or inheritance.

        Fort Frolic might be better. Abigail was a good looking girl, and the sorts that visited the Fort often could appreciate that. Someone there should remember her.

 

        And remember her they did. Abigail had been around Fort Frolic a fair amount, though not in the past week. She’d been looking at dresses in the shops, and had even stepped into the tobacconists too. One shop keeper even said she was thinking of getting a flask ‘for her old man’ that one stung.

        Here at least, Elizabeth was right on the money. The last time anyone could recall seeing Abby she went to the theatre. She’d seen a showing of Cohen’s ‘Patrick and Moira’ its last showing, in fact. But no one could give me any sort of info on where she’d gone, or why.

        At the end of the day I decided to head up to Pharaoh’s Fortune. After bringing down Heath Hayes they always had a free drink for me at the bar. With Elizabeth out I didn’t really want to be sober, all those dreams came back if I was.

 

        I was expecting a wakeup call from Elizabeth but no luck there; she was still out doing whatever it was she did.

        I pulled myself from my lonely bed and got dressed.

        I’d had another dream again in spite of the booze. We were on the run from people maybe? We’d had a fight, I’d gotten shot and she patched me up. The only thing I could really remember of it was at the end, I felt like maybe I didn’t have to leave.

        It wasn’t the worst of them at least. Always seemed like half of them ended with me dying.

 

        Unlike Point Prometheus the Medical Pavilion never seemed to change, except maybe the posters. White tiles gleamed in the sterile light, the only real color coming from the stains on the orderly and nurse gowns and smocks.

        It took some working, but a few hours after arriving Steinman called me into his office.

        “What can I do for you, Mister DeWitt? It has been so long since you’ve called on us. No chance of fixing that scar is there?”

The man’s manic grin was far more off putting then before, “Er, no, Doctor. Actually I was hoping you could tell me if you’ve seen someone, do you remember when I last saw you, there was a girl with me.”

“Ahh yes, Miss Abigail.”

        “Yes, I was wondering if you’ve seen her recently.”

        “She has been coming around rather often for the past few months. Hair tonics, surgeries…”

        I figured, “When was the last time she was in?”

        “A few days ago,” the doctor said, ruffling some papers, “Why, is she in some sort of trouble? Did the love birds have a fight?”

        I wish I could smack that grin off his face, “Doctor, Abigail has been missing from work for a week. You may be the only person in the past week that’s seen her.”

        “Oh…”finally the grin was gone.

        “I need to know exactly when she was here last, what she was doing and if she’d said anything.”

        “We-ll, she was here maybe” he looked through the papers, “Tuesday, in fact. A little bit of facial restructuring, the young thing wanted to look a little more mature, not really what I’d suggest but well the customer is always right.”

        “Did she say anything? Was there anything off about how she was acting?”

        “She didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, except that she insisted on paying under the name ‘Elizabeth’” he looked up from the papers. My mind was blank, “I’m sorry, is something wrong?”

       

        I up turned the bottle the last few drops of whiskey slowly dripping down into my mouth. Second bottle was gone, and I wondered if I had a third. I was pretty sure there was one in the cabinet. Getting up from the chair I stumbled and caught myself on the desk.

On a hunch I’d shown Steinman the picture of Elizabeth from the paper. Abigail had shown him the same picture, he’d said. She wanted to look like that, he said.

        What makes someone want to just to become someone else?

Well, I had an idea, really. Plenty of times in the war I’d wished I was someone else. Anyone else. Anyone that wasn’t in God damned Europe. But hell… still.

        Right, cabinet, scotch, or whiskey.

I pushed myself off of the desk and shuffled over to the wall and opened the cabinet. Rummaging inside glasses fell over, or shattered on the floor. I moved to a new one and did the same. The fourth cabinet had a small bottle of scotch. I ripped open the top and sucked down the liquid. It burned as I gulped it down but I didn’t care.

        A knock at the door startled me and I stumbled back.

        “W-Who?”

        “Booker? It’s me.”

        “Elizabeth?”

        “Sorry, I’m late, things got held up.”

I yanked at the door, fumbling with the knob. Was it her, or Abigail? The voice it was different wasn’t it? Or was I just too much in the bottle?

        “Are you alright? Book-“

The door finally pulled open. It was Elizabeth. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

        “Oh my God, Booker what happened?”

        I told her what I’d found out, Abigail’s surgeries and tonics, taking her name, all of it. I told her about how Abigail and I met, how even when I was with Abby I’d searched out for her. I told her about the dreams again but again I got no answers to my questions. Just more of how there were some things she was sure I didn’t want to know. She looked sad, like it hurt her to say such things.

        I clinged to Elizabeth like the drowning man I was. She took away the scotch and with nothing else to drown out the thoughts in my head, I kissed her.

 

        I opened my eyes. It was another dream, a happy one; they always were when she was here. I’d had a little girl, and Elizabeth walked with us in the street.

        It’d only been a few days and it was like I was back before I even knew her name.

I wasn’t like this with Abby. Maybe that’s why I had to find Elizabeth before. That need to see her again, or talk to her. At times it was an almost consuming feeling, hah, like drowning or choking. Like when you couldn’t get a cigarette for a long time, getting the shakes.

        Splicers were like that too, couldn’t get some EVE or another shot of ADAM, got less and less lucid, scatterbrained, obsessive. I could relate.

        I looked down at Elizabeth sleeping soundly against me. It was her, something about meeting her did all this to me, screwed up my head, and now she was the only thing that could make it go away. And I wasn’t even sure if I wanted that to end.