weathertop | darling it's better down where it's wetter

Small mercies: these voices do sound, at least, a little more together than that of his ear-stealing friend of before. Well, one or two of them do. Or... well, maybe they're attempting to.

Anyway.

"Don't let go of 'er, whatcha doin'?" says a woman's voice, loud and absolutely in charge.

"Don't wanna touch the spiders, I don't wanna!"

"There aren't no spiders, y'great piss stain -- shut the fuck up about ya fuckin' spiders!"

(Okay, 'more together' might have been an over-generous appraisal.)

Another voice speaks up, a deep man's voice that sounds like it can never quite catch its breath. "Gotta -- get her, gut her, she's got it, she's gotta... no more sitting on my thumb, I'm gonna..."

But apparently he's not gonna, because there's a rush of flame and a fearful cry from the breathless man.

"Thumb back in yer arse, little man," shrieks the woman from before. "And yeh! Bitch! Don't you move no further, or I'll light ye pretty face aflame!"

Then, a fourth voice. A woman's. Sinclair might recognise the tone of utter cold disgust.

"Put your fire away, brute. I am still."

That accent.

After their last encounter, Sinclair would know it anywhere. If not for the thick German, then at least for the thick revulsion dripping from her words.

And really he should leave her there. He's not a hero, he would be better off just walking away. But burning bridges with that kind of permanence tends to come back to haunt you, she may be of some value to their cause.

Not to mention, he imagines Jack might be a little upset to learn of her tortured demise.

Or maybe not, maybe he's frustrated enough to be glad she's dead. But if Sinclair were a betting man, which he certainly isn't, he would put his money on needing Doctor Tenenbaum alive.

Now he just needs a plan.

Tenenbaum is rather annoyed with herself for getting into this position.

Her own fault: she was rushing to reach Olympus, she was focused on looking for the safehouse. She wanted to keep an eye on the would-be escapees. But, apparently, the splicers were also keeping an eye on her.

An ordinary splicer she can handle. Even a couple at once. A houdini splicer? One who's ringleader to a little gang? Not so much. Although Tenenbaum takes a little satisfaction in the fact that the gang is one member smaller than it was when they first encountered her.

They've taken her gun. But splicers are sloppy. They don't think things through. They haven't frisked her for others.

But they do have her arms up against the wall, in uncomfortably savage grips.

That could be a small issue.

"Alright, sunshine," sneers the houdini splicer, sticking her broken face right into Tenenbaum's. "Alright, y'selfish betch. Ye've got the ADAM, haven't ye? That's who y'are, ain't it?"

Much as she'd like to, Tenenbaum doesn't immediately contradict her. It seems like that misconception is what's keeping her from being killed outright.

But she does very obviously wrinkle her nose at the splicer's bad breath.

This one seems to be the most focused, and probably the most dangerous. The squat, stinking splicer at her left is swinging a pistol to and fro, though after the houdini's outburst, he doesn't seem in a hurry to lift it again. The one at her right is jumpy, twitchy, gripping his hook a lot more surely than he's gripping Tenenbaum's wrist.

She can make that work to her advantage.

"Why should I lead you to more ADAM?" she asks coldly, stalling for time. "From where I am standing, you have all enjoyed it a little too much, perhaps."

The houdini and the bruiser on Tenenbaum's left both make noises of fury. The other splicer seems barely there, still muttering under his breath and shuddering now and again. He's the weakest link here.

And when the bruiser gets angry, she notices, he focuses on his gun more than her wrist. Interesting.

"If you don't," shouts the houdini, "you're gonna be marshmallows! You're gonna bake! I'll use ye bones for kindling I will!"

Hah. Whether they think to get ADAM from her girls, or have convinced themselves she has a stockpile of the stuff, they are not going to get what they want.

"If you think I give this to you," she says, really piling on the scathing tone, "you are all even more insane than you look." She turns her face to the jerk on her left. "Go on."

Taunting him directly does it -- he all but lets go of her to point his gun. The houdini screams at him. The crawler shudders. And Tenenbaum snatches her hands away from them, gets behind the startled crawler, reaches for her concealed pistol. The noise level -- noted for Sinclair's benefit -- is suddenly pitched-battle-grade.

Okay, the time Sinclair had for planning has just run out. Apparently their civil debate turned heated in the blink of an eye, but he probably should have seen that coming. Splicers aren't exactly the most stable creatures on the planet.

He steps out from around the corner and pulls out his gun, immediately cocking it and firing a shot at the first splicer he sees.

It whizzes right past him, drilling a hole in the wall.

...Call it a warning shot.

The splicers turn from their squabble on the landing, seething rage at being interrupted.

Sinclair would probably have said something heroic like, "let her go, if you know what's good for you," or perhaps just simply, "back off," but unfortunately splicers don't shut up long enough to get out one-liners.

The point is that he has their attention. So he'd better figure out what to do with it, and quick.

Warning shot. Sure. Tenenbaum won't grant you that one.

She goes still for a few moments and just stares at Sinclair, this man who's stepped out of nowhere to effect who knows what bizarre and stupid plan. You don't give splicers a warning shot, dude. In Rapture that's legally defined as suicide.

Speaking of suicide... that's not one of her ambitions, so she pulls herself together very quickly -- quicker than the splicer in front of her, who she quickly shoots twice in the back of the head. That leaves spider guy, who Sinclair oh so kindly showered with wall bits just a moment earlier, and...

Schieße. Where did the houdini go?

Okay, well at least it proved as enough of a distraction to get one splicer down. That's an accomplishment, right?

The second splicer hoists over the railing and launches himself up to a lower part of the ceiling, gurgling curses over the clanking of hooks. Sinclair steps back out into the center of the room, where the splicer will have to drop down to the floor if he wants to get anywhere near him.

He's got to hit this one. He can't miss. Sinclair aims his gun, but as soon as he does the hooks come flying. He tries to keep moving, make himself harder to hit, but one grazes his arm and he accidentally fires, almost slipping in a puddle. Where the shot goes, he's not sure.

At least not until he hears the crash and sizzle of a now busted vending machine. Nice one.

The splicer lets himself fall from the ceiling, cackling wildly and pitching one hook after another until he decides to go ahead and charge him.

At this point, Sinclair's life is flashing before his eyes and yes, he's absolutely certain this is the end. But as a last ditch effort, he fires a shot--

the splicer freezes in place, going completely rigid, eyes rolling back in his head and convulsing for a few of the longest seconds in Sinclair's life before he falls limp onto the wet tile.

His eyes follow the puddle...back to the vending machine, sparking away just a few meters from where the splicer now lies, totally lifeless.

"HA HA HA HA HAAAAA," the warped recording sounds off, skipping and tone wavering. "COME BACK WHEN YOU'VE GOT SOME..."

And with that, the lights flicker, there's a popping sound, and the machine dies.

You did your duty well. Godspeed, soldier.

Edited 2013-03-23 00:07 (UTC)

When the vending machine is a better shot than you, Sinclair, you've got a bit of explaining to do.

Tenenbaum aims her gun at the crawler, but with limited bullets she can't justify taking the shot unless she's reasonably sure it'll hit. And with crawlers, once they get going with their acrobatics, you can never be reasonably sure. Maybe Sinclair can take care of himself-----

He shoots the vending machine. Tenenbaum knows he can't see it, but she still deigns to throw an 'are you serious' kind of look in his direction.

Well, either he'll spontaneously evolve firearms skills or he'll wish he hadn't entered a firefight without them. In either case, Tenenbaum has a houdini to look out for.

A second later, there's a shriek of anger and the scene becomes a literal firefight, flames coalescing out of a red cloud and shooting straight at Tenenbaum. She dodges -- but the houdini caught her off guard and her cheek feels scorched, she has to pat out a flame on her sleeve. More fire follows and she breaks into a run.

Survive for the girls. Come on, Tenenbaum. Anything less is not an option.

She shoots behind her as she runs, and from the shriek of pain and the cursing she gets a hit -- but the fire keeps coming.

And then -- it stops.

Sinclair snaps out of his stupor in time to turn around and watch the houdini splicer volley fireball after fireball in Tenenbaum's direction, but if a spider splicer is hard to hit, a houdini's going to be impossible. She teleports from spot to spot and Sinclair aims but there's no way, she won't stay in one spot long enough for him to even attempt a shot. With his luck, he'd end up shooting Tenenbaum and then all of this would have been for nothing.

And then the fire stops. There's the sound of air, like suction, and then it's just quiet. Which is one of the more alarming things that could happen during a fight with a splicer.

Sinclair looks to Tenenbaum, as if she might know where the splicer is going to pop up next. But of course she doesn't. Neither of them do. At least not until he hears it again, the whoosh directly behind him. He spins around and fires.

The bullet expertly dodges the splicer and shatters a wall lamp behind her, showering glass and sparks onto the tile. She doesn't even flinch, but a wicked grin spreads across her face and Sinclair can see the heat in her fists crawling up her forearms.

He pulls the trigger again, with the gun more centered on his target--

click

...It's empty.

And now she knows it. Her grin spreads even wider and she cackles, amused at first but the volume escalates until she's screaming laughter and she takes a step toward him.

She's going to kill him, she's going to burn him alive he's going to be fried on the spot if he doesn't do something,

"I know where she keeps the ADAM," he says, loud enough for her to hear it over her own barking.

She pauses, looking at him for a moment, clearly trying to decide if it's worth listening.

"I know where the doctor keeps her ADAM," he says again. "I can take you to it, she's got buckets of the stuff. More than you've ever dreamed of. You couldn't run out of it if you tried."

Oh god please let this work, please, please let this work.

What the shit is Tenenbaum listening to right now.

A bluff -- maybe. But Sinclair runs with Jack now -- Jack, who knows where her girls live, who she knows she cannot trust. If it is a bluff now, can she be sure Sinclair cannot and will not make good on it if pressed?

Good thing she was planning on killing this splicer anyway, really.

The houdini is staring at Sinclair with greed written all over her face. The thought of a bluff hasn't even crossed her mind. A reality has to exist in which she gets her ADAM.

"Three down," she cackles, "and more for me!"

And now, she's stood still long enough for Tenenbaum to get a bead on the back of her head.

Blam! Blam! Blam! and the splicer lands in a puddle, what's left of her face bleeding weakly onto the floor.

He watches the splicer drop and after a second of staring at her dead, bleeding body, he exhales.

"You," he says to Tenenbaum, laughing a bit nervously, "are one hell of a shot."

Seriously, that was too close for comfort. He can improvise all day long, but when it's a matter of life or death it changes the game a little. And not in a fun way.

"Remember it," she tells him flatly.

Uh... complement taken? I guess?

Tenenbaum carefully wipes some blood from her cheek, then starts to reload her pistol. The whole time she's watching Sinclair closely.

"Perhaps next time, you learn to shoot before you enter a fight, yes?"

It's probably a little late for that, if he hasn't learned how to shoot straight yet then he'll probably never learn. He shrugs in response, then decides to take the conversation a somewhat less embarrassing route.

"What are you doing out here? You're gonna get yourself killed." He keeps his tone amused, although he figures the information could be useful. Tenenbaum's flat is in Olympus Heights, but nowhere near his. She's got to have some reason.

Yeah, because she's just going to straight up tell him she was trying to case his joint.

"Food is growing short. And I have many mouths to find it for."

A long, steady look. She's wondering how he'll answer. Sinclair might know something about those mouths, if he's inferred the right things from news articles, or if Jack has given them away.

Sinclair knows about the mouths. It's been mostly rumor, but it was plausible enough for him to believe. Really it didn't matter to him one way or the other. The Little Sisters weren't, aren't, his department. The Big Daddies who protected them...a little more so, but he has other priorities. And really, he can't say he disagrees with her cause, even if he wouldn't ever care enough to take it up himself.

"I was just heading back from the grocer myself, I didn't realize there was another one in this wing," he says with a wry tone.

"Hah," says Tenenbaum. "Not all of us have goods to trade. Or are welcome among the traders."

Downside of inventing a drug that helped lead directly to the downfall of civilisation? If someone recognises you, the cost of a head of lettuce will mysteriously skyrocket before your very eyes.

She gets it. It's a huge pain, but she gets it. She just wishes it didn't do harm to the children as well.

Sinclair nods. He's dealt with that a couple times, but fortunately he's got the money to be welcome just about anywhere. Doctor Tenenbaum is, apparently, not as fortunate. But she seems to have done okay for herself so far.

He pauses, about to say something, but this isn't the place.

"Well," he says finally, reaching into his pocket, "I don't know about you, but after all of that I could go for a cigarette." He pulls out the box and opens it, offering it to her. It's a peace offering and an invitation. They've got a few things to talk about.

Tenenbaum accepts a cigarette, and lets him light it, too.

"Perhaps somewhere more safe," she suggests. Together, if he's up for it. There are a few things Tenenbaum's curious to know, and while Sinclair himself is here...

Ladies first, of course. He lights his cigarette after hers and pockets the rest again, taking a few steps back to where he left his groceries around the corner where he'd been hiding.

"The kid's asleep right now, if you want to you're perfectly welcome to come back to my flat," he says, already starting in that direction. "Do you drink? You strike me as a vodka woman."

"He is staying with you?"

She'd suspected as much, if they were trying to escape together, but confirmation is... something. Tenenbaum can't help but wonder how much Sinclair knows about what he's getting dragged into.

No word on the vodka, but after a moment of thought, she does begin to follow him. She was looking for his safehouse anyway, so here's a shortcut.

(Sinclair she thinks she could take in a fight if she has to. Jack... she hopes it wouldn't come to that; he didn't seem bent on revenge when they ran into each other before. It's a calculated risk.)

"As long as he doesn't start eating the furniture," he laughs. "I don't believe he's ever not hungry."

But there's a risk there too, he's not sure how happy Jack would be to wake up with her there. After their last run-in, he was...pretty upset. He's bringing her back with relatively high stakes in acquiring something in the process, whether it's help finding a way out or just an ally. Anything is useful at this point. But if Jack wakes up and Sinclair has nothing to show for it, he's not really sure what's going to happen.

Something flickers at the edges of Tenenbaum's mouth. The massively accelerated growth did interesting things to his metabolism; if only it were so easy to get the girls to eat their vegetables.

She pushes it down; it wasn't a smile. If anything, if Sinclair is even looking, she might appear a little sick.

"You are not wrong about that."

Hey, it's no secret that she and Jack know each other.

Whatever face Tenenbaum is making, Sinclair definitely smiles. A small one, but there's no mistaking it. Apparently Jack has a reputation.

He lets them walk the rest of the way in silence, partly because he's got nothing to say and partly because he would rather not attract any more attention than absolutely necessary.

Once they get to his door, he motions for Tenenbaum to wait a moment while he goes in and adjusts his turrets to let her pass, and then reappears to motion her inside.

"I've got a study in the back, we should be able to talk there without disturbing him," he tells her.

After a brief pause -- the time it takes to wonder if this is a huge mistake, and then dismiss that as emotion rather than logic -- she follows him in.

Jack is there, fast asleep, tossed around a bit but still curled around his wrench. He hasn't eaten the couch but he has drooled on it a bit. Maybe that's a preliminary warning sign.

He lies there like a living, breathing accusation.

Tenenbaum's glance is subtly pained, and goes on for maybe a few seconds too long. Then she gathers herself. Her face returns to normal.

Once they've made it to the study, she says quietly, her voice as dry as Rapture isn't: "You have given him a bath at last. My congratulations."

"He took it willingly too," Sinclair laughs, closing the door behind them and heading straight for the liquor cabinet. "Was it vodka? I'm a whiskey man, myself."

He pulls down the bottle for himself and a couple glasses, filling the bottom of his. There's nothing wrong with having a routine. This is how he executes most of his business conversations. Only this time, there's a little more at stake. Which, with as long as he's been doing this, is saying something.

"I will take whiskey."

She raises an eyebrow at the fact that Sinclair literally has and maintains a liquor cabinet. There aren't many with the means for that in Rapture any more. Well, she won't look the gift horse in the mouth.

"Who knows what disgusting thing he will next find to roll in," she muses, as if the Big Daddy pheromones weren't entirely her idea.

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