darling it's better down where it's wetter

[did_unkindly]

It's been a day, it's been a day, it's been a whole damn day -- as near as it's possible to tell in this soggy excuse for a city. It's been a day since he killed Fontaine. And Jack is no closer to getting out. He's still down here. He did everything he was supposed to do and he's still down here.

All he's found is locked-down bathyspheres. Broken submarines. Even the goddamn boats are out of service. Where's Tenenbaum? Where's his fucking rescue?

Jack stares about into the greenish gloom, checks the ammo in his pistol, and then kicks and yanks off the rusting panel of a vending machine. His hands are soon full of little wires and pipes. A few seconds later, he straightens up with a grunt, and the machine gives him a tidy discount on a couple glowing hypos of EVE.

With his visit extended indefinitely, he's begun to wonder how many of them are left.

Now arbitrarily divided into chapters!
Part One: A Scene at the Rapture Adoption Agency ~or~ You Found [Pot of Ham]!
Part Two: Come On-A My House, I'm Gonna Give-A You Candy ~or~ Sinclair? More Like Sin Pantalones!
Part Three: Dream Sequences are a Fresh New Concept in Fiction ~or~ It's My Existential Trauma and I'll Cry if I Want To
Part Four: Southern Education Jokes ~or~ Engineer, Engifar, Engiwherever You Are ~or~ The Grave Escape
Part Five: Golfing Accident Memoirs ~or~ Mom... Dad... I'm Immortal ~or~ How To Make Friends And Immolate People
Part Six: Is It A Pie? Is It A Plane?? ~or~ Two's Company, Three's a Row
Part Seven: Escort Missions! In Rapture! Council's In An Uproar ~or~ Bioshock: Cheesecake Edition
Part Eight: Bread, Milk, BATTLE! ~or~ Pleasant Conversations, How They Bore Me
Part Nine: Choices, Schmoices ~or~ Baby's First Moral Philosophy ~or~ Go Away I Want To Take A Damn Bath
Part Ten: A Man Snoozes; A Slave Delays ~or~ The Four Second Rule Applies To Drugs
Part Eleven: A Hearty Meal ~or~ Skeletons In The-- That's Not A Closet
Part Twelve: We All Live in a Secret Submarine ~or~ Plasmids: Not Even Once
Part Thirteen: Paging Dr Tenenbaum To Surgery ~or~ Bribery And Deduction
Part Fourteen: The Prodigal Son Returns

Comments

[did_unkindly]

Wow the narration really went all out on that one, I'm starting to get suspicious, have you ever been a Chinaman for a month

"Yeah."

He says it kind of heavily, for reasons I'm sure I don't need to expand on. It's been an odyssey of discovery for Jack since he crashed that plane.

With a metallic clang, he closes the bathysphere door. The noise echoes around the silent bathy station. It's cold, all water and stone and metal, and far too big for so much emptiness.

"A lot of things, actually."

[modestman]

Sinclair nods. "Care to expand?" He's going to get Jack talking one way or another, even if it takes all day. He watches Jack to see if he knows how to direct the bathysphere to their destination and offers, "Persephone's out by Fontaine Futuristics, if it helps any."

[did_unkindly]

There's that unvocalised look of upset again.

"Not really."

...Well, at least he's honest about it.

And while he's not exactly happy about it, he mans up and [ERROR - NATURE_OF_BATHYSPHERE_CONTROLS.DAT - FILE NOT FOUND] sending them diving in a column of bubbles into the cold womb of the ocean. The destination: Fontaine Futuristics.

Jack sits down opposite Sinclair on the plush, mildewy bench.

"What are futuristics?"

[modestman]

Okay, so maybe he's going to have to be a little more specific with his questions if he wants any answers. But there's no harm in a little give and take, so Sinclair answers.

"Well I'm not sure what they were supposed to be originally, but for Fontaine it's laboratory of sorts, I suppose. Research facility, you could call it. It's where those plasmids you've been using were developed, still are. Trying to get them a little more stable, minimize the consequences of using them. Among other things."

He stares out of the bathysphere porthole, watching a school of fish disperse as they pass. He never did get used to the scenery down here, it seems to be the one consistently good thing about Rapture. In taller buildings, when you're a little closer to the surface, the sunset turns the whole city a burnt orange and red, fading into purple like a watercolor painting. Breathtaking, really. He'd never seen anything like it before. Sometimes you can stand at a window and look out at the ocean for a while and just forget. Everything is so peaceful out there, and then you come back to yourself in here. This place isn't a dream for anyone, even the now most successful businessman in Rapture. The money's there, but sometimes he has to sit down and figure out his priorities.

Which brings him back to Jack.

"How'd you end up here anyway?"

[did_unkindly]

Jack is looking out of the porthole as well, but he isn't enjoying the view. He can't help but think about the things behind the glittering windows, the fighting and violence and death. He's never known it to be beautiful inside. And now that he's spent some time on the inside, it's difficult to really appreciate the beauty of the facade.

"I crashed."

He leans towards the glass, trying to pick out the debris of the flight, but they're speeding through the wrong part of the city.

"A plane crash."

Close enough. He still doesn't remember it, not exactly. And he's not exactly champing at the bit to tell Sinclair what he's inferred.

[modestman]

"That much was right then," Sinclair says. "What were you doing before you got here? Where were you living?"

The bathysphere is encompassed in darkness as it rises to the surface of the dock at Fontaine Futuristics. He decides to stay seated until Jack gets up, wait for him to make the first move to exit.

[did_unkindly]

Jack hesitates, waiting for Sinclair to make the first move, then gets up and shoulders open the door. It provides a nice distraction from actually having to answer.

What was he doing. Hahahaha.

He doesn't actually know; all he has is fake memories. And in his bitterness towards Fontaine, he doesn't want to repeat them to Sinclair, even if the alternative is not really having a response.

"I..." oh man making up a good story does not come naturally, why couldn't he have gotten that from Fontaine "...I was flying to... Britain." Yeah. He gets the door open and steps out onto the dock. "I had a job."

[modestman]

Even with the break to get out of the bathysphere, Jack's pause is a noticeably long one. The geography is right as far as where he crashed versus where he was going, but Sinclair probably would not have come along as far as he has if he couldn't at least spot a liar, never mind a terrible one. He's a gentleman, though. He'll let it slide.

"Where were you working, son? Maybe I can find something for you to do around here."

[did_unkindly]

"I was a..."

WHAT'S A JOB HE DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS

"...a fireman."

This was a bad idea but it's still better than trying to explain that he was grown in a test tube by a gangster, a nazi and a guy who hated puppies.

[modestman]

Sinclair can keep up a pretty good poker face when he needs to, but sometimes...it's really hard not to laugh. It's not that he couldn't see Jack as a fireman, it would explain a good amount of his athleticism and his affinity for thinking on his feet, but. He's relatively certain Jack just set a record for worst liar in Rapture.

But it did beg the question, what was Jack hiding?

"Not too many of those in Rapture!" he says. "How about a family? Leave anybody behind, topside?"

And only now does he take the initiative to go ahead and step in front of Jack. He's happy to follow him around, but they're never going to get to Sinclair's office that way.

[did_unkindly]

Yeah, that's probably a good idea, since Jack's fireman instincts can't tell him where to go from here and furthermore please stop asking him difficult questions.

"No!"

He doesn't follow Sinclair straight away. Just plants his feet, and glares at him as if daring him to argue.

"You know who my family is. You called me Ryan, didn't you?"

[modestman]

"Hey, hey, take it easy sport, you've been gone a few years, I just wasn't sure if you'd made a home up there." Sinclair turns around to look at Jack. He keeps his expression friendly, but something in Jack's tone tugs at his heart a little and for the sake of trust he lets some of that show too. Maybe it was a poor question to ask so soon after everything he's been through, so in something of an apology he adds, "Andrew Ryan's your blood, sure, but that doesn't make him your family. Didn't you know anyone else before you came here?"

[did_unkindly]

Unfortunately, that apology just serves to remind Jack that he doesn't really have anyone outside this place. He remembers people, sure. He remembers a whole loving family, in fact. But they're just fakes. And he really doesn't know how to vocalise that kind of awfulness.

So instead his face crumples a little and he stamps his foot, in perhaps the least mature display of emotion in the thread so far.

"I just want to keep walking," he snaps. "I don't want to talk about this."

[modestman]

"Alright, fair enough," Sinclair gives, not really sure what to make of Jack's reaction. It speaks for itself, of course, that he must not have had anyone, or if he did then they're no longer around to go back to. But the reaction itself, something about it strikes him as particularly odd. He can't quite put his finger on it though.

He decides to walk them the rest of the way in silence. It's obvious Jack needs a moment to collect himself, and Sinclair figures he might feel a little more at ease with a glass in his hand.

[did_unkindly]

Fontaine only needed Jack to fool himself and anyone who might sell him plane tickets. He was never supposed to talk to someone like Sinclair, who has both the time to pay attention and the context to know how people normally behave.

Deadlines were tight and some things just weren't prioritised.

Jack, the faulty product, follows Sinclair with a rising feeling of discomfort. It's starting to look like Sinclair's goal here is information, though what Jack could tell him he has no idea. He doesn't know much about the surface world. He doesn't know much about Ryan. Maybe he can give shooting tips, who knows.

...Speaking of shooting, that's a splicer screaming down that corridor. And another voice joins it, and another, and another -- it's a distant but numerous army of the things.

Jack's eyes widen and he reacts instantly, flattening himself against the wall with one hand aflame and the other on his pistol.

[modestman]

Sinclair makes it a few more strides before he realizes Jack is no longer behind him. When he sees Jack pressed up against the wall on high alert, he takes those steps back and motions for him to come along. "I was trying to tell you, Persephone's a detention center, a prison. Don't worry," he says, offering a reassuring smile, "ain't a soul getting out of there. You're perfectly safe."

[did_unkindly]

How, Jack wonders, can he act so calmly with those muffled screeches and threats coming from just down the corridor?

"A prison for splicers?"

It makes sense, he supposes. They're not doing anybody any good out there in the rest of the city. But those noises are still unnerving as all hell.

[modestman]

"Not just splicers, no, but a good majority of them," Sinclair explains. "I, um--" ...He's not really sure how to say this. It's several thoughts at once and he needs a second to pick them apart in order to get them across clearly. For one thing, he's not in the habit of discussing all the types of people who end up in Persephone. For the most part that's been between Andrew Ryan and himself. Ryan sends him the unfortunate individual and Sinclair provides a secure way to get them out of Ryan's hair.

It's safe to say that the game has changed a little, with Ryan gone. This is something he certainly does not intend to tell Jack, but Rapture is in the somewhat frightening position of being up for grabs by...just about anyone. And it's not that Sinclair doesn't have the ambition to take it, no, something quite the opposite of that. Rapture is plagued, condemned. There is no saving this place. His plan, if he can work it out in full, operates on a much grander scheme. Persephone is no longer exactly a top priority. And with no one sentencing transgressors to life in a cell (or worse), the prison itself may very well end up empty. At least once the labs get a hold of the last of them.

"--Andy Ryan would send me the odd rebel... the dangerous ones of course. Folks that posed a threat to the well-being of the city. Weak links in the Great Chain, he'd say. You won't be able to hear a thing from my office." He motions for Jack to hurry up; the quicker they're out of earshot from the splicers, the quicker Sinclair can turn the conversation back around on Jack. That's what he's here for, after all.

[did_unkindly]

The hesitation worries him. Like I said before, while he has trouble with subtle motivations, Jack isn't stupid. Sinclair's been perfectly eloquent up until Jack asked about the prison.

He listens patiently, no longer flat against the wall but not turning his hand off either.

Then Sinclair mentions ol' Andy Ryan, ol' buddy ol' pal and his neat little political talking points, and Jack's face just sours.

"...You're Ryan's man."

[modestman]

Sinclair winces internally. Of all the conclusions Jack could have drawn, that was one of less preferable. Judging by Jack's face, it might have actually been the least.

"Not a chance, kid," he says, taking extra care to keep his tone casual. "I offered a service and Ryan utilized it, that's all." But Jack is still planted in place, the obscene yells of the incarcerated somehow intensifying the silence between them. "Listen," he tries again, a little more seriously, "Ryan had his fair share of enemies, you know that son, and he was trying to keep a handle on his city by sending his problems to me.And maybe those people belonged here, maybe they didn't, but I did not work for Andrew Ryan." And that's the absolute truth. If Jack doesn't believe that, this conversation is going nowhere at light speed.

[did_unkindly]

Okay, we'll admit it, the idea of locking up people who might not deserve it with a bunch of crazy splicers doesn't sit quite right with Jack. But on the other hand, there must've been a reason for it. People don't do things without a reason.

"Do you know what I did to him?" he blurts out.

As soon as it's out, he half-wishes he could take it back. He doesn't sound guilty or proud of it, he doesn't know which to be, he's all mixed feelings about this shit.

But, well, if Sinclair was any friend of Ryan then now's the time for him to show it. At least Jack'll know what kind of company he's getting himself into.

[modestman]

The question catches Sinclair a little off guard, and he searches Jack's face for a second for any kind of hint as to how he feels about what he did. But Jack's expression is solidly unreadable, so Sinclair exhales and answers.

"I know what you did, son."

[did_unkindly]

Jack is not really sure at all where he intended this to go next.

"So... so if you're gonna try and get revenge for him--"

Revenge. He might have missed out on a lot of things that would win you a Father of the Year award, but Fontaine taught him all about revenge.

"--I can stop you."

He doesn't sound like he's about to start blazing his guns at Sinclair, but it's definitely a threat. A sickly-sounding threat, admittedly, but not an empty one.

[modestman]

Sinclair shakes his head. "I don't believe that'll be necessary. We weren't exactly best of friends. Besides," he gestures at Jack's still active plasmid, "you've got something of an upper hand here, so to speak."

He could also mention that at the moment, he's actually entirely unarmed, but it's never a good idea to lay all your cards on the table. And once they get back to his office, that won't be an issue anymore. He takes another step back to try and move Jack into following him again.

[did_unkindly]

He takes an automatic step forwards. Following is pretty much what he was built for.

Then he stops himself, because an unpleasant thought has formed.

"Did you... see it?"

The tone is completely different now -- he's worried. He doesn't know why he should be worried, it's not like the words would work any more even if Sinclair heard and repeated them. In a purely practical sense, it probably doesn't matter. But when Jack thinks about someone else seeing what happened, his stomach turns over in a weird and unpleasant way, and he finds himself hoping very hard that the details of the scene in Ryan's office stay between as few people as possible.

(His hand goes out at last, like a neglected candle.)