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]

It's kind of really really hard to lie when he's asked a direct question like that.

He shakes his head.

[modestman]

And there's guilt all over Jack's face, anyone could see that. Sinclair's expression is some just short of frustration, something a little more on the distressed side when he speaks.

"Kid, I was-- you were dead. You died in that bathysphere. I think that warrants some sort of honest explanation, don't you?"

He's not exactly pleading, but at least this time he's not asking purely out of intrusiveness. After all, the image is still fresh in his mind, and the lingering sourness of guilt. As much as he always hates being in the dark about anything, this time it might make the difference between escape and imprisonment. This time, he might actually need to know.

[did_unkindly]

"He told me to kill him," Jack blurts out at last, almost cutting Sinclair's question off.

There are a hundred and one good reasons. He can't get the image out of his head. He doesn't want to make his only remaining ally leave by keeping too many secrets. He's just bad at saying no.

The statement hangs heavy on the air, and he doesn't know what to say next.

This is not how he imagined the tearful loving papa-kid reunion would go, Sinclair, you jerk.

[modestman]

Well that...

lines up pretty well with the facts.

If Ryan wanted to die, he would shut off his own Vita Chamber, but--

"...Why?"

[did_unkindly]

"I don't know. I don't know!"

Theories, theories, theories, but there has been a lot to come to grips with since the encounter in Ryan's office, from Ryan himself to Fontaine and the entire story of Jack's own purpose and history. Crashing in a mysterious city and shooting up superpowers doesn't have shit on what he's had to wrap his head around since breaking through that door. And how can he even know what the hell Ryan was thinking? He doesn't know the guy except from a few audio messages, and being yelled at over the radio. He knows a loving figment of his imagination better than he knows his flesh and blood father.

He glares at the floor, his face and the place behind his eyes prickling hot.

[modestman]

Sinclair sighs, watching Jack stare down the cracking tiles. It's understandable that he wouldn't know Ryan's motives, Sinclair figures he might actually have a better handle on that part than Jack. But for the short time Jack has been here, Sinclair also doubts that he himself would have motive enough to commit this murder for the reasons anyone else would. As brave as Jack is, it's hard to believe he fell from the sky purely to be Rapture's savior, defeating the tyrant to free the city. There's something else here.

He makes sure to soften his tone a great deal before he says anything else.

"So why'd you do it, son?" Simple enough, non-accusing. Just asking, if your motive wasn't Ryan's then...what was it?

[did_unkindly]

Wow, is that ever a question he never intends to answer honestly.

He could do it, if he could give any of the reasons Fontaine fed him. He could do it, if he could even say that yeah, I heard enough, I wanted to kill him.

He could answer, if he knew for sure that, when everything came together and he realised what was happening, he still would've done what he did without the influence of that phrase.

"Doesn't matter," Jack tells the floor roughly. "He's dead."

[modestman]

Sinclair gives Jack a somewhat pitying look. Whatever happened in that office is obviously something that's been messing with Jack's head ever since. That's something he's seen a lot of since coming here. When people have no solid guidelines to follow, some sort of instruction to tell them right from wrong, they tend to forget. And they start to wonder. And they confuse themselves, they lose track of their morals and it eats them up. At least it did before they figured out they could splice their turmoils away.

"Look at me, kid," Sinclair says after a moment. "Andrew Ryan had his coming for a long time. If it wasn't you, it was gonna be somebody else he ruffled up. If you're feeling guilty, I can tell you a hundred percent you don't need to."

[did_unkindly]

He looks at Sinclair when he's bid to. He listens. He even tries to take the words to heart.

Then slowly, he goes back to glaring daggers at the floor.

He's uncomfortable, unsettled, but he doesn't think he feels guilty. He isn't ashamed of killing Ryan. He's killed plenty of people. But it -- it wasn't Jack doing it, exactly. And he had so many questions. And Ryan seemed so ashamed of him.

"He said..." Jack's voice is still rough. "He said I was a big disappointment. The biggest."

What's worse is that he doesn't know why he cares.

[modestman]

"No one could please Ryan, son. By the time you came around, he'd chased off every friend he ever had," Sinclair says. "Kept saying everyone was turning against him, but it was really only ever him turning against himself. He was always a bully, but a different man built this city than the one you killed in that office."

He steps forward, risks squeezing Jack's shoulder. "Andrew Ryan's opinion ain't worth a cent, kid. More than that, it ain't worth another second of your time. He's got enough already, don't give him anything else."

[did_unkindly]

Jack allows his shoulder to be squeezed. His body is tense, very tense, but I'm sure Sinclair wasn't expecting differently.

He is a little comforted. A little.

And he nods (at the floor) to show he's... at least, he's understood. He's trying to understand.

But he can't... he can't do this. He should be having this conversation with the sun on his face. It should be about something that's passed, something that doesn't matter any more, not... this. Not here.

The thought reminds him that they're exposed.

He rubs his face and looks at Sinclair. "I want to go somewhere safer."

It's kind of a relief to think about survival, no further than the next few seconds of his life. The moment, not the big uncomfortable questions.

[modestman]

Sinclair nods, dropping his hand but still watching Jack's face. He can tell he was listening, but it doesn't look like he feels any better about anything. He supposes he can't really blame him, it's one of those things that takes time. He's got to realize it for himself, he can't just be told.

"If I could figure out where exactly we are, I could take us back to Olympus heights," he says. He's familiar with most areas of Rapture, but he just can't seem to place himself here.

[did_unkindly]

Thank you based Sinclair for knowing when to let the subject lie.

"It looks like the doctors' place," offers Jack, who has spent enough time electrobolting people in Med Pavilion to recognise the black and white floor tiles and stabbed-scrapbook decor.

He shivers. The heating in Rapture has seen better days, and soaking wet clothes aren't great insulation.

[modestman]

He's right, it's a part of the Medical Pavilion Sinclair's never seen, but design is right for it. Now they just need to figure out which way is north and maybe they can start making some progress.

"If you know where to go, I'm following you. I don't favor getting lost in this place."

[did_unkindly]

"I'll work it out."

It's not a part of the Pavilion he recognises specifically, but he covered a good bit of the place when he was here last. It's just a case of finding his way back to familiar ground, and another bathy.

Looking around, Jack shivers again, but this time not from the cold. The last time he was here, this was all new to him. He didn't have a clue. He was following Atlas's voice.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

There's a signpost of sorts over there. He starts jogging towards it.

[modestman]

In the silence that ensues, Sinclair finally has a chance to think about what just happened. The bathysphere plan was a bust, but it's just a minor delay. They've got a backup plan of sorts, or Sinclair does anyway. They can still track down a sub and take off that way, this isn't the end of their escape.

He just has to remember that. Use it to stave off the staggering disappointment of having to once again stay in Rapture for an indeterminate amount of time.

"If we're going back to Olympus," he says, following Jack to the sign post, "we're gonna need a better game plan than last time. Don't know what I'm gonna do if I take a splicer hook to my other leg."

[did_unkindly]

"Maybe... I should find the torpedoes. Blow them up."

It's basically a fetch quest! He's good at those.

Most of the business names on the sign are unfamiliar, but Steinman's on there of course, and so is the main atrium. Perfect, no sarcasm. He starts to trot along at that easy loping pace he's developed, the one where he isn't stealthing or fighting just yet, but could switch gears to either at the drop of a hat.

A glance back at Sinclair to make sure the guy's following.

[modestman]

Alright, that's the answer to a question nobody's asked yet, but he'll bite.

"And just how do you expect to do that, chief? Even if you could find them, how do you plan on destroying them without taking out half of Rapture? Maybe you can't die, but some of us don't have that luxury," he laughs, following behind Jack as well as he can.

[did_unkindly]

Well, it was relevant, gosh.

Jack thinks about it, while he marches along with the inexorability of a Big Daddy. What if... they exploded outside the city... telekinesis them into one another? No, with his luck they'd probably all crash straight into Olympus Heights. Hack them? Hmm, if a mis-hacked vending machine zaps him in the face then a mis-hacked torpedo would probably straight up explode it. Hmm.

"What if... I stop them from firing?" he suggests. Man, this whole thinking for yourself business is hard work, he hopes it's paying off.

[modestman]

Sinclair nods. "It's worth a shot, I s'pose. We probably ought to track down something with a little more muscle than a bathysphere this time if we want to get anywhere. I imagine Andy stashed a submarine for himself somewhere. Don't believe he'll be using it any time soon."

[did_unkindly]

Jack wouldn't have taken Ryan for someone with an escape plan from his beloved city, but he figures Sinclair knows better. He's spent a few more years around the guy than Jack has.

Left turn, coast still clear. But there's a splicer talking loudly to himself somewhere off to the right, so Jack keeps his voice down.

"Do you know where?"

[modestman]

"Not for certain, but I would put my money on Hephaestus somewhere," Sinclair says back, lowering his voice accordingly and reflexively reaching for his gun. There are plenty of things to hate about Rapture, obviously, but ranking in the top two or three is having to constantly fear for your life. It gets old fast.

[did_unkindly]

Of course that's where it is. Of course he's going to have to go back to the general area of Ryan's office. Reluctance enters Jack's expression when Sinclair mentions Hephaestus, but he's not going to argue, not if it's necessary. He's used to doing horrible but necessary things.

He just kind of nods and lets that conversation die for now, and concentrates on leading them to the elevators up to the atrium.





Uh, to the rubble. The rubblevators.

Those things aren't taking them anywhere.

[modestman]

Sinclair notices your expression there Jack, and he starts to open his mouth to say something but--

those are the most useless elevators he's ever seen.

"I don't suppose you know where the stairs are?"

[did_unkindly]

"They should be nearby."

And this corridor is a dead end without the elevators, which leaves...

...the corridor with the noisy splicer in it. G r e a t.

Jack takes the opportunity to put his back to a solid wall and refill his revolver ammunishit it's wet inside. Wow. How did this thing even fire straight earlier? He's been walking around Med Pavilion with a glorified water pistol.

You know what, he's just going to casually switch to the wrench. Let's stick with the basics until his other weaponry is no longer a plankton hotel.