My Bioshock Fanfic

[Jack Scythe]

Paul Steinhaus checked the time, eight thirty. He would make it in time; he picked up his mask and set off to the bathysphere. Today was no ordinary day, today was the day of the masquerade ball, today was the day all of the upper echelon of Rapture celebrated the coming of a new year, the coming of 1960. But Mr Steinhaus was not part of the higher reaches of Rapture’s society, in fact, he was nowhere near it. He was just a lowly fish packager at Fontaine Fisheries. But he was given the invitation by his boss, the man himself, Frank Fontaine for tremendous service during the working year. A bit of a surprise to Paul. The bathysphere arrived and Paul stepped in. He fixed up his tie and sleeked his hair, then, put on his mask. It was a special mask crafted by one of Fontaine’s personal entourage. It was decorated very elegantly and depicted a rabbit (a very popular theme through Rapture this year). The bathysphere came to a very sudden stop. He had arrived; nervously Paul opened the door and stepped out.

Paul was surprised at what he saw, masses of people in beautiful masks and dashing suits and dresses. The air smelt of expensive cologne and perfume. There was a man in a wicker suit, lighting a women’s cigarette with his fingertips. “Plasmids” Paul thought “the cancer killing Rapture”. Paul had never touched a Plasmid, or a tonic. He knew what they did to people, they changed them, turned them insane, blind, even killing them. But the citizens of Rapture flocked to them, every day there was huge queues to get Plasmids from Gatherers’ Garden vending machines. Paul noticed there was a large queue to get in to the Ball. He casually stepped in line and waited. When he got to the front, after about 10 minutes, he handed the masked host his invitation and stepped in. He remembered that all waiters, hosts and chaperones at the Ball wore special deer masks – to make them distinguishable from the masses. Sheepishly, Paul stepped in to the ball and searched for a familiar body in the crowds.

Paul didn’t immediately spot anyone but he persevered. And after 5 minutes of looking, found someone, Juan the tailor. Juan was a tall man, about six foot four inches, with large muscles, from all the tonics he took. Paul walked over to Juan and greeted him with a quick “Hello, Juan”. Juan turned and replied “Paul! Greetings my friend!” his smooth Spanish accent confirming he was who Paul thought. Paul immediately noticed his mask, a white eagle with a gold-lined beak, topped off with a collection of feathers covering his long, sleek black hair. “I shall get you a drink, a red wine?” enquired Juan. “Yes please, if you would” replied Paul. Juan went to the nearby bar to get their drinks, and Paul remembered how he met Juan.

Juan was the first person Paul had met in Rapture, they both instantly clicked. They were two of only a few Europeans in Rapture. And with Paul being German he received a lot of discrimination. The Second World War had only finished five years before, so it was understandable. Juan had been a good friend to him ever since, in fact, he had made Paul’s suit for the ball.

Juan returned with the drinks, “So, how is the suit?” Juan asked. “It is very good, as always.” Paul answered happily. Paul took a sip of the wine, and was delighted. It tasted different to any wine Paul had tasted before. Being a fish packager he could only afford cheap wines. But this was different; it had a refreshing taste, a clean taste. “You like?” Juan asked, laughing. “It’s amazing.” Paul gasped. Cheerily both men laughed in unison. “Listen to the music, it’s beautiful.” said Juan. It was not until then that Paul truly paid attention to the music. A fifty man orchestra played a thick, dynamic song. Violins soothingly played, cello’s added to the Violin’s tune and trumpets and trombones cheered magnificently. In front of the stage, masked couples danced together. It was an amazing atmosphere. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may we introduce your host, Mister Frank Fontaine!” a voice bellowed from the speakers spread around the hall. A large cheer resounded from the crowds.

As Fontaine stepped onto the stage the orchestra played a fanfare. Paul noticed Fontaine was accompanied by two burly masked bodyguards. Mister Fontaine stepped up to the podium in front of him and spoke in to the microphone. “Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for coming to this grand event hosted by myself. I am sure you are all enjoying the music, and the drinks.” A large laugh came from the crowd and the unmasked Fontaine signalled it to an end “Now, as you may or may not know, Fontaine industries have been doing a bit of research… into the use of Adam and Plasmids.” A large amount of noise came from the audience as they talked about this announcement. “Now we can’t really tell you anything at the moment, but I guarantee you, 1960 will welcome a new range of exciting and unbelievable Plasmids!” A large cheer and applause come from the crowd and a large grin appeared on Fontaine’s face. “Another thing I want to discuss with you is the reason we’re all here today, the new year!” Another cheer from the audience “1960 will be here in about… fifteen seconds. So would you kindly join me in a countdown to the new year?” A satisfying “Yes!” came from the crowd. And Fontaine turned to one of his bodyguards with a great smile on his face.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy new-“ Fontaine was cut short by a gunshot. The bodyguard on Fontaine’s right was hit by a bullet and collapsed in a bloody heap. In the centre of the crowd an unmasked man wielded a gun. “Splicers!” shouted Fontaine. Everyone in the hall ran wildly, Fontaine retreated to behind the stage. More gunshots, people lay dead on the floor, others ran madly.

Paul looked at Juan. He thought Splicers were a myth, used to scare people from using too many Plasmids. But they were real, and they were in the hall. “We need to get out of here!” Paul shouted to Juan. Paul ran to the exit, but Juan ran towards the bar. A woman was cornered by a Splicer; Juan turned the Splicer round and hit him with a punch that would knock out most men. The Splicer’s jaw shattered and the assailant fell to the ground. The woman ran off, and as Juan was about to flee too, the Splicer got up and stabbed Juan straight through the stomach with a long, rusty knife. Juan fell to the floor in a puddle of his own blood, Paul looked on in despair. But he couldn’t save Juan, Paul ran to the exit.

Crash! A large explosion roared from the exit and the doorway fell through, crushing and killing all people within the reach of the exit. Paul fell to the floor in the blast. Now he was trapped. Paul noticed a large laceration on his leg that was gushing out blood. “Now’s not the time to be stopped” Paul thought. He noticed a host was dead beside him and was grasping a gun in his bloody hands. Slowly, he crawled to the host and retrieved the gun. It had been a long time since he had used one, but he remembered how to. Paul checked the ammo, “Six bullets, it’s full.” Paul clambered up and was confronted by a Splicer wielding a lead pipe. The Splicer jumped towards Paul, ready to attack, Paul fired the pistol and embedded a bullet in the Splicer’s chest. Stopping it in its tracks. Paul noticed the Splicers face, mutated by Eve. Paul limped towards the stage. He would have to climb up it and get to the emergency exit. All the hosts had been given pistols in case of emergency. Many Splicers were getting shot down. But more hosts were dead. And over half the civilians had been killed in the blast, and many were now being slain by the Splicers.

Paul was limping to the stage when a Splicer dropped onto him from the ceiling; it put a sharp hook to Paul’s throat. But Paul grabbed the weapon and wrestled with the Splicer; Paul broke the Splicer’s arm and bit its face. The Splicer jumped off in agony and Paul stomped into its head, spilling its brains on the hall floor. Paul spat out a large chunk of the Splicers’ nose and tasted its blood in his mouth. Paul was almost sick from the taste, but kept on moving. In front of him a host had been hit to the floor by a Splicer, Paul shot it in the back of the neck, releasing a stream of crimson blood, but was too late. The host lay mutilated on the floor. Seeing no immediate threat ahead, Paul climbed on the stage.

Paul raced to the stage exit. He was now in a long corridor. The walls were decorated with vases and ornaments. Paul saw there was a rest room to his right and walked in cautiously. With his gun drawn, Paul kicked open every stall. “No Splicers, it’s safe.” Paul looked in the mirror and saw his blood soaked face. His mask had fallen off in the blast, his hair was white with dust and he had a long laceration down his cheek. Paul washed the sour taste from his mouth and tended to his wounds. Paul opened the door to the corridor and proceeded down it, he saw Fontaines other bodyguard against the wall, a large blade holding him up through his stomach. His jaw had been ripped clean off and blood lined the wall and floor of the hall. Paul carried on slowly then, from a door to his right, a Splicer jumped out behind Paul. Instinctively Paul picked up a vase from the wall and swung it at the Splicers malformed head. It smashed and fragments of the vase stuck in the Splicer’s head as it fell to the ground. “He couldn’t have survived that” Paul thought to himself.

[Jack Scythe]

Paul opened the stubborn door out of the corridor. Paul was out of the hall, but he wasn’t safe yet. Paul went past the dead bodies on the ground; they weren’t just in the hall. Paul drew out his gun and ran to the nearby bathysphere. He was too late, the bathysphere lay on fire. It was ruined. Paul turned and ran to the other Bathysphere port. Paul was surprised that there were no Splicers on his way there, but he was also suspicious. Paul ran in the Bathysphere. He was going to the only place he could right now. Fontaine Fisheries.

Paul stepped out of the Bathysphere and was shocked at what he saw. His friends, all his friends, dead. But there was also many dead Splicers’, he counted fifty. Paul warily proceeded to the entrance of the Fisheries. A Splicer was looting one of Paul’s dead friends. Out of rage Paul shouted and shot the Splicer in the back of the head. The Splicer fell forwards and blood ran down the floor. Paul reached to the large double door to the Fisheries and banged on it three times with the butt of his gun.

A slide on the door opened, and staring at Paul was a fellow packer. Peach Wilkins. “Paul, I’m so glad to see you. Quick come in.” he shouted. The large doors opened and Paul stepped in.

As soon as Paul stepped in the Fisheries, Peach closed the doors. “Have you got a gun?” Peach asked Paul. “Yes, it hasn’t got much ammo left though.” Paul replied solemnly. “Wish I could help you there.” said Peach.
“What happened here?” asked Paul. “We were just celebrating the new year when they came. They slaughtered us. I’m the only one left.” Peach muttered.
“They all died?” Paul couldn’t believe it. “They’ll be coming back soon” Peach exclaimed. An ear-splitting scream ran through the cold halls of the Fisheries. “Here they come!” shouted Peach.

A Splicer ran towards Peach, but he shot a hole through it with his Shotgun. A Splicer jumped at Paul and he rabidly hit it with the butt of his pistol, smashing its face to an unrecognisable pulp. Paul felt its blood spray onto his face. Peach was shooting down Splicers left, right and centre. Two more Splicers came at Paul and he shot them down instinctively. Then, another Splicer ran at him. Paul pulled the trigger, but to no avail. He was out of ammo. The Splicer jumped on him. Hit him to the ground. And scratched at his face. Blood ran down Paul’s face, the Splicer delivered three blows to Paul’s face. Paul felt his nose break and blood run down his face. Paul tried to fight back, but the Splicer delivered a smashing head butt to Paul. Another cut formed on Paul’s forehead. Peach was fighting off three Splicers; his shotgun easily took care of them. But he was unaware of what was happening to Paul. Another Splicer approached Peach and was shot down. There was no more. Then, Peach turned to his left and saw the Splicer on top of Paul. He tried to fire his weapon, but was out of ammo, Peach ran towards Paul. The Splicer saw Peach running at him and with one swoop bit out Paul’s throat. Paul went limp. Peach dived on the Splicer and was cut by it’s sharp fingernails Peach delivered 3 blows to the Splicer, killing it. Peach ran to Paul and stared at his bloody, dead friend. Peach screamed in despair and collapsed to the floor.

Rapture was about to change forever.

[TheSploicers'reCommen]

Yeah, I posted a response to this on the Bungie forums as Tartan 118. But thanks for bringing me to the 2K forums.

[JokersWild]

This story is very personal to me, the characters are exaggerated parallels of real people I know, I would love responses and any constructive criticism you can give, so feel free to ask about holes in the story or tell me grammatical or structural corrections/suggestions.

Chapter 1

Tom sat at the booth, drinking with his friends. His grin going from ear to ear, as he looked around the table.

“The gangs all here!” he exclaimed.

As he was looking around the table smiling happily at all of his friends the Eve began to wear off, slowly his face twisted and contorted into a look of horror disgust. His delusion vanished and he realized the harsh reality. The bar was a crumbled ruin, his glass cracked and filled only with brine dripping in from the damaged pipes above him, and worst of all, the bodies of the people around him were all lifeless.

“Christ what did I do? Peter, Daniel!? Lionel?” He was screaming at the lifeless bodies of his friends. He sat for a long time trying to assess the situation.

“Alright I've got 5 bodies here, Pat and Daniel have been dead for months, but I was just with Lionel before I went under, and I don't even recognize these guys.” His voice was nervous, and he was unsure of just what exactly he had done. He sat there for a long time in an eerie silence, a thoughtful and sombre look on his face, struggling to recall the events leading up to this point.

“Have a fun little tea party you pathetic ****?!”

He twisted around lightning fast, temporarily shocked out of his depression, his gun was out before he was even facing his new foe. “BANG, BANG” two shots rang out almost in the same instant, the holo-points soaring towards their target. With two loud cracks that sounded like just one, they smashed into the bar sign “The Sea Dog”. The sound hit him before he actually saw what happened. “What!? I never miss” he thought to himself, his inner voice frantic. Then he realized that the sign was floating free of all gravity, using the supercharge of eve still in his body, he broke his opponents psychic grip and whipped the sign back at him, snapping his spine and pinning him to the wall behind.

“Didn't think you were that quick, you must've been hittin the plasmids pretty hard.” Tom could hear the twisted smile in the mysterious strangers voice. The man groaned and gurgled as his body died, His face was still concealed in the shadows but the voice was familiar. As he stepped closer he the shadows began to draw back and the face was revealed.

“Julias? What the are you doing here? and just what the **** were you trying to do!?” Anger rising in his voice. “I get it, you came here to kill me, you know you've sunk low before, but I never actually thought you hated me that much.” His anger began to subside and was replaced by pity, he thought back on a few fond memories with this man and made his way over to the bar. “I never could understand you, after plasmids, you really drifted away, or maybe it was before that, yes...you began drifting away with her.” He began rifling through the broken cabinets for an intact bottle, all he could could find was was and old bottle of cheap wine, he figured that would work. “Here, drink up, you might as well enjoy your last minutes alive.” He handed him the bottle, and pulled up a chair.

“**** you man, but thanks” He said it with a chuckle uncharacteristic of a man facing his death, and a smile not normally reserved for one's murderer. He coughed up a little blood and spit it out, “****, I'm trying to get red stuff in me not out.” His voice still had a hint of laughter, the weak laughter of telling a joke at one's own expense. He lifted the bottle weakly to his mouth and tipped the bottle high as he could, it was drained in a matter of seconds. He then threw the bottle at Tom with the last of his strength. The bottle hit him right in the face with and audible thud.

“Goddammit Julias!” His anger rising once again, “Your such an *******.” This time he spoke with a hint of a chuckle, “I just can't believe you, even in your final moments, and an act of kindness, you still spit in my face.” The tone of the conversation had now changed to something more familiar, both of them speaking like through their barred teeth, dripping sarcasm like venom.

“**** you Mr. High and Mighty, still trying to bull**** me even on my deathbed, that wine wasn't a gesture of kindness, It was just as hollow as everything else you've ever done in your life.” He was frothing now, his anger working to burn out his remaining life-force faster, but brighter. “You act like you do things for others, but when it comes down to it, your just covering your ass so you don't have to feel guilty.” He spat in Tom's face and then waited silently to die, not necessarily out of a sense of pride, but simply to spite his killer.

“Your a piece of ****, you think you have the right to judge me? To try and get in my head? Regardless of my motivations, I've worked hard and sacrificed a lot to be a decent person throughout my life! You have no place to even open your filthy dying mouth to me you slug. I know what I do and I love doing it, and I have nothing to justify especially to you!” His anger was apparent, and he was practically fuming, sparks shooting out of his hands. Julias's face was a mixture of embarrassment and rage, he'd be blushing if he had any blood left. He opened his mouth to get a kind of last word but it was filled with Tom's sparking fist. Tom continued to pound the dying man's face into the wall behind him until he was just hitting a dripping red piece of metal. As his anger subsided it was quickly replaced by regret. He sought to chase these emotions out of himself and pulled out a syringe filled with a glowing blue liquid.

“This is the last time, then I'm going to get my **** together, and figure out what's happened here, I just need to get to a better place for a bit.” He was shaking as he plunged the needle into his arm and pushed down the plunger. As the feint light spread through his veins, his face contorted into the parody of a smile and he took off through the halls, shooting bolts of lightning every which way and laughing maniacally. The last thought to pass through his head before all he could see was blue light was “I didn't always used to be this way...”

[1Nation]

I liked the last story although it would be hollow points not "holo-points". Very good work, keep it up, maybe write one of a big daddy owning some splicers 'eh?

[Circus of Values]

Very nice story man, really captures the insanity of the Splicers.

[Justlookaway]

http://forums.2kgames.com/forums/showthread.php?t=2285

I like your stories, perhaps you should post with the big dogs. Sorry, don't want to be a jerk, the connected thread really should be in this area instead of the general off-topic area. But please post here in the future, I would love to see more of your stuff.