Your hand slid down to the knife you had tucked into your pocket. It was small, sharp, and easily hidden. You sighed as there was a series of loud THUMP, CLUNG, CLANGS that echoed through the whole submarine. The two scientists ahead of you both look up, while the marine jolts awake. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and then looks at you.
"First time?" he asks.
"Yeah," you said, looking at the porthole. You can't see much but inky blackness. Then, a tiny flicker, a spark of star-bright bubbles through the darkness. Seeing that, the marine shudders.
"I hate those things," he says.
"What are they?" you asked, glancing at him.
"They're the Suits," he said, quietly.
You frowned. The Suits. Those were just...urban legends. Whispered conversations at schoolyard. Ookie terror stories that got joked about in MAD. Dumb political cartoons. You could remember the illustration of Carter's big face, his tiny cartoon knees wobbling as he peeked around the corner at a smashed up statue of Comstock, with a big diving suit looming behind him with a helpfully labeled SOVIET EXPLOITATION on it. Stupid.
"I...thought Rapture was dead, Old Rapture, I mean," you said as another series of more distant thumps and whirring sounds vibrated through the whole submarine.
"Well, technically," the male scientist across from you said. "Several portions have been renovated for forward teams - I'm actually going to be working at Hephaestus, studying the area that flooded. There's an entire array of deep sea lifeforms that have adapted to the radiation in the water using Adam." He smiled at you, hopeful like he had a chance. You gave him the look you gave most men who smiled at you like that.
The marine, though, shakes his head. "Suits been keeping it barely alive for forty years now. They don't die, not really. You know that, right?" He looked at you, then gave you a big goofy grin. "Nah, just messin' - it was probably one of the work teams fixing up the Warf." His eyes sparkle and you punch his shoulder.
"Dick."
The lights turn up and the PA crackles. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Rapture. Watch your heads..."
The corridors of the submarine remind you of the passenger airliner. You shuffle and duck and finally, come to the hatch and step through...into West Rapture. The submarine berth makes you feel like you've stepped back into an airport, with a few major changes. For one thing, the windows were all replaced with stark walls, not undecorated but instead designed to have this kind of brutalist simplicity, with abstract lines and bars on them that indicate...something. There were potted plants running along the walls, with small sunlamps hidden behind them. A few front desks were set up and lines of people were going through them - a line for civilians, a line for soldiers head to their positions. The marine gave you a nod and started for his line, while the scientists immediately spotted some of their colleagues. You caught a few names, and an excited: "...our team is gonna get time with Lamb, if you can..."
Fuck.
It was an airport right down to the fucking shop for people buying things to entertain themselves on the ride up and out. The candies were laid out, and the magazines and paperbacks. You frowned at the rack of THE SHINING and FIRESTARTER. "Classy," you muttered, your eyes moving to the magazines. They were a solid two months behind date, the Times was still showing the cover for Columbia Day with the somber picture of bombed out Harlem, with the smashed combat airship crumpled to pieces in the wreckage. NEVER FORGET was printed under it all. You scoffed, then headed for the line.
The woman at the desk is Indian, with dark black hair and a demure, perfect American accent. "Welcome to West Rapture, may I ask what brings you to the New Rapture Economic Zone?"
You had rehearsed this.
"My name's Jackie Smith, I am here to find work," you said.
"Ah, good choice," she said, tapping at her computer. "The NREZ has a demilitarized boarder between NATO and Soviet Bloc member states, so, travel is as easy as using a passport." She takes your passport, stamping it. "Welcome to Rapture."
You smiled at her, then walked past, breathing a slow sigh. You stepped into the main concourse and looked around yourself. Despite everything, you were...impressed. The concourse was a large, brutalist concrete edifice, clearly made and just sunk to the bottom of the ocean with the aim of being nearly indestructible. It felt like it - you didn't see any leaks or stains anywhere. There were large signs pointing directions to apartment complexes and laboratories, and a lot of people bustling about. There were plenty of restaurants and eateries, but seeing the glowing arches of a McDonalds...didn't exactly make you feel like you weren't in a goddamn airport...
One thing you had to say, at least your shakes were gone. But now you were hungry. You frowned, then shrugged and headed for the McDonalds. There was a TV in the place, which was running news that had been pulled from up top, probably through the lighthouse. You walked in and got into line behind a cheerful white suited man, who was talking loud enough that you thought he might be drunk.
"You were at New York? I was at New York too!" he said, his German accent quite thick. "I served on the North Fleet, I was there!"
"No shit!" The Asian guy ahead of him in line turned back, grinning. He was in a uniform, you weren't sure which one. "Were you a pilot too?"
"No, just saw the...how you say?" The East German guy tapped his chin. "Dur Feuerwerk? Das Feyyerverk?"
The asian guy frowns, then grins. "The fireworks? Boom boom boom?" He makes little popping gestures with his hand.
"Da!" The East German guy says.
The two are getting along great. Which is fine but...
"Ahem," you said, jerking your chin. The two look at you, then at the big empty space in the line. They walk up and order together. Once they're out of the way, you get a big mac. Then, with your stomach growling, you get a second. Then frown, and add a third.
"So, uh, your whole work crew got off at once, huh?" the cashier asks, trying to sound casual.
"Something like that," you grunt.
You pay, then head off to the corner and start scarfing down burgers. You're so fucking hungry, it's insane. As you lick the mustard and ketchup off your fingers, you start getting able to think again. You're in Rapture. Now, Bri is somewhere here. You just needed to find her. There had to be a central database, right? They were taking down passports and names. You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to remember.
Shattered glass. Screaming from downstairs. Your instinct, hide, remain still, remember what you were taught. Hating yourself for it. "This the one?" Then an angry voice. "Are you Brianna Wynand?" Muffled noises. "We got her, come on Taylor, bag her." Muffled shouts, then a scream, from Brianna: "Splicer! Splicers!" Then...a thump. Silence. Dragging noises.
You glared at the one and a half burgers you had left.
Stupid. Coward. Stupid fucking coward.
Your palms rubbed against your face.
She was in Rapture. You had a name, two names. They thought she was Brianna Wynand - but that was impossible.
Your stomach forced you to get the next burger into your mouth. Chewing.
If they had kidnapped her for Old Rapture, you might be able to skip a database and just get hired on as a work crew.
Or...
Or maybe it'd be better to play normal? To act like Jackie Smith, like an immigrant coming for work. What if they were watching for anyone to come after Brianna? But what if they just crammed her into some black market lab, what if they were torturing her right now? The need to find her, to hold her, to touch her was almost overpowering.
Focus. Focus Jackie. Focus.
---
[ ] Look for a database and try and gain access with some quick talking (Social Build)
[ ] Look for scavenging work. (Combat Build)
[ ] Look for work in Old Rapture as fast as you can. (Tech Build)
