BEYOND THE SEA (Bioshock 3 quest)

[DragonCobolt]

"So, I heard on 60 Minutes that they're pretty dangerous. Is that true?"

The lady at the front desk of the store, held a purse in both of her hands, her brow furrowed. The smiling Marathon rep chuckled, like he'd heard the question a hundred times a day. You were lounging in the seat by the front door, with one of the magazines. It was TIME, and you had flipped it open, frowning intently and not quite reading the headline.

"Those were plasmids from the 1950s," he said, grinning slightly. "Marathon products have been vetted by the FDA - that's why you won't be walking out of here with some SportBoost or Incinerate, but instead some high quality, modern plasmids." He gestured over to the big posters, which were backlit by some fluorescent lights. They showed a man in a color tee shirt and jeans, riding a skateboard over several awe struck passers. Below him was the logo ARISE. At the top right was the logo for Marathon Plasmids.

"Arise is one of our most popular health and wellness plasmids."

"How does it work?"

You sigh. This was going to keep going, wasn't it? You started actually trying to process the words on the headline. Premier Kosygin and President Carter At Bioethics Conference. The picture was of the two world leaders, both looking remarkably fit and healthy, walking past some fancy people at a fancy party. You kept reading the sentence 'the conversation continued the opening of the Iron Curtain, begun when the Soviet submarine S-451 first discovered the...' without getting past the last few words. Instead, your eyes kept flicking from the magazine to the clerk, trying to get a view of his tag, but the dumpy woman was always in the way.

"Well, the plasmid takes Adam and uses it to rewrite your genetics following a blueprint that Marathon scientists have worked out. Arise has a guaranteed fifty percent improvement in cardiovascular health, a resting bodyweight of one hundred and ninety pounds for men, one hundred and twenty for women, and a complete reversal of arthritis."

"Oh my."

Your eyes flicked down. You turned the page. This article was about the implementation of plasmids in the upcoming Olympic Games. Three professional athletes had been found using mental augmentation plasmids, and their countries were arguing that the use was completely fair, as the plasmids did not impact their cardiovascular or muscular systems. The sentence you got stuck on this time was 'however, Mentatis has been known to improve focus, reaction speed, and other cognitive features that the Olympic Ethics Board says have a direct..."

"Now, the process is simple. Adam comes in three types-"

"From those poor girls?" The woman asked, rubbing her knuckles against her lips. "Like on 60 Minuets?"

"No, no, again, this is modern processes-"

"You're sure?" She sounded nervous, but...also, not nervous enough to not have come at all. You sighed, then flipped the page. An advertisement for a brand of cigarettes. Your foot was tapping now.

"The modern processes used to extract Adam is safer, healthier and does not depend on humans at any point in the production chain, don't worry." The clerk said. "However, it comes in three types - pre-set, moderate flexible, and full flex. Now, you just want a basic, run of the mill Arise, that means you won't need a full flex injection. That's cheaper, that's good!"

"Oh!"

"However, it will require regular blood tests, to ensure the injections are tailored for your hormones and genetics."

"Oh..."

The clerk was smooth. "Now, moderate flexible, that will let you avoid that, for only a 50% increase in upfront costs and three extra months for the monthly payment. That's actually cheaper than the doctor's appointment - unless, of course, you have insurance?"

"Well, I do, but...I do hate needless."

You glared at the grinning face of the movie star. You were about to scream.

Finally, finally, finally, the dowdy woman was ushered into the back for her one time biometric scan - no needless, the clerk had promised. You closed your magazine and stood, trying to not let your agitation show. Your eyes flicked to his nametag, and you finally read it - and got ready for crushing disappointment.

Instead, the smiling clerk is Tony. Good. Good.

You had waited three days for Tony to be on schedule. You hadn't known his schedule. And, while you could have asked, you were doing your best to avoid drawing attention. You smiled a bit at Tony. "Hey," you said.

"Are you interested in Marathon products, ma'am?" he asked.

"I am," you said.

"Well, I'm going to need either your card or your parents," Tony said, his smile cheerful. "You need to be twenty one years old or have a doctor's permit and your parents approval to buy any Marathon products - though-"

"Ahem," you coughed. "I heard, uh, you could set someone up if they knew Lambert. With a discount. I am twenty one and, uh, my card's right here." You reached into your pocket, moving so that your body was between the security camera and the counter. You slid the five hundred bucks across the counter. Tony made it vanish remarkably fast.

"Well, it looks all in order here," he said, smiling at you.

You smile back, thinly.

***​

"So…"

"You can call me Jackie," you said, hurriedly. Tony looks at you square on, frowning slightly. You fidget ever so slightly, crossing your arms over your chest and sticking out your jaw. You inherited it from Dad. You weren't sure what he'd tell you right now - but that was because you were damn sure you were never, ever, ever going to let him know. You just...had to get her back. Then, come back to land before anyone noticed you missing. Easy. Easy, people snuck off to Rapture all the time, for the black market nip and tuck shit, right? CEOs did it all the time. All the time.

Yeah.

This was a terrible fucking plan.

"Well, Jackie," Tony said as he opened the door to the back room of the Marathon Plasmids store. It was a storage closet that had an old security camera which tracked back and forth, but had no recording light on it. "What do you want? We got uncut Arise, we have Shine, we have some new shit that they're gonna roll out next month." His grin was wry.

"I want weapons," you said, softly.

He paused. "You want…weapon plasmids."

"Yeah," you said.

"Hokay, that's gonna cost ya," Tony said, lifting his hands. "We can lose some Arise, we can lose some Leapfrog, but Zeus, Pyros and uncut Teak? That shit gets noticed, man. I'll have to fiddle the records and maybe share the payout around. Makes things expensive."

"It's okay," you said.

"...so, why the hell does a girl like you want a weapon plasmid? You're, what, eighteen? Nineteen?" Tony asked. The shelves are heavy and stocked with boxes. He ignores all of them and goes for a safe. He punches in the key, then flashes you a wicked grin. "Don't worry, it's my manager's code."

You chuckle, but it's without humor.

"I'm…going to Rapture," you said.

"You? You're going to Rapture?" he asked, laughing as the cabinet opens, revealing frosted containers. They are pale red and glow within. Their plastered on labels are all tiny, and rather than using the brand names, they're covered in medical scribbles. Even from here, the tubes look impossibly big.

"Yeah," you said. "Gonna go treasure hunting."

"You know Rapture's just a city, right?" he asked. "Your chances of getting mugged there's on par with-"

"Just…here," you said, rummaging in your wallet. You slammed down every bit of money you had set aside. "Would you fuckin' kindly give me a goddamn plasmid and stop asking me so many fucking questions?"

Tony lifted his hands, spread them. "Whoa, man. Peace. Peace." He put his palms together. "I guess you're going to Old Rapture, huh?"

Your glinty glare is all that he gets.

He takes the money, counts it, silently.

"That'll get you one," he says, nodding. "Now, without a Mark II or Mark III injection, you can only have one plasmid running in your system at a time. We only got three types that are weapons here - we have Zeus." He takes out a container, setting it down. "This one's pretty simple. You can send out a lightning bolt a pretty long way. It'll knock someone ass over teakettle. Might kill them if they have a bad heart, or if they're in some water. This?" He sets another one out. "Is Pyros. It's…it's pretty nasty. Incineration, sets something to about five hundred degrees. It's supposed to be used for industry and shit, like, welding without tools. But it works pretty good on people if your stomach's cast iron. That's why you gotta have a license from the AWS, ASME, the B-Trust, ya know. Those guys."

He takes out the last.

"And this is teek," he said. "It's pretty basic telekinesis. Ever seen Star Wars? Like that. But faster." His grin is thin. "We've got cases clocking in at an entire goddamn semi-truck, some people swear they've seen higher."

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Which do you want?" he asked.

—
Choose your Plasmid

[ ] Lightning - Vent 4 heat to apply Electric Shock (1) to all enemies in Area 1 [a room, roughly] with Range 2 [rifle range]. Reduce Vent to add +1 Range, +1 Area per vent reduction.

Electric Shock: Target cannot act until spark is cleared. If the target has a spark representing being wet/being in water, turn each Electric Shock spark into 3 Hit Sparks.​

[ ] Pyros - Vent 4 heat to create Wall of Flame (2) in an Area 1 [a room, roughly] area. Add +1 to area or +2 sparks per vent reduction.

Wall of Flame: Targets in area take 1 Hit Spark if they are in the Area. Can snuff sparks relating to ice, water, and other obstructions.​

[ ] Telekinesis - Vent 4 heat to launch an object that deals 1 hit Spark with 1 Mass [a few hundred kilos] to a single target in Range 2 [rifle range.] Reduce Vent to add +1 Mass, +1 Range or to throw +1 Object per Vent Reduction

 

[DragonCobolt]

You point with your finger.

"Teek, good choice," he says, nodding. "You know, they're making a mass limited version of this for general purchase." He grinned. "Assuming they can get it to work." He turned his back on you and took out the vial. He didn't immediately load it into a gun. Instead, he started to take out more apparatus - a small plastic case, some needles, and a few cables, which he threaded into a computer built into the back of the store. As the computer clicked and whirred to life, he continued. "Still, basically, we're going to run a quick genetic scan on you - once the gnomes are fixed, the adam can be finally tailored." He flashes a little grin over his shoulder. "You don't want the normal side effects - shakes, dizziness, loss of memory, fainting spells, psychosis-"

You frown at him. "You're not scanning my genetics," you said, softly.

"Jackie, it's standard practice-"

"You're not."

Your voice is very flat.

Tony turns to face you, frowning.

"Ma'am, I am not making a fucking splicer," he says, his polite service-speak mingling with the Rapture jargon that's been bleeding out into the plasmid market. The word splicer makes your skin tingle. It's something you hear on cop shows like Magnum PI, not in real life. "I'll delete the records, okay?"

You breath in.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The turbulence of the plane rocks you back and forth. The wings shudder and rain patters against the window pane. A nervous looking stewardess in a bright blouse with white buttons leans in, smiling gently at you. "Ma'am, do you need anything?" she asks, her voice concerned. You hold up a sweaty hand, panting slightly. Your eyes half close as you feel the gurgling, shuddering sensation of your stomach trying to crawl up and out of your throat. The worst part is your temples though. No, no. The worst part was the feeling of your right hand. You had it jammed into your pocket, so no one could see the twisting, distorting ripples of air skimming along your skin. You felt your organs twisting and your head throbbing. You gave the stewardess a thin smile.

"S-Something to drink. Water?"

She nods and then walks back. You look out the window, peeking over the businessman who had the other seat. He was snoring quietly, a sleepmask clamped over his eyes, a bit of drool on his lips.

The plane rocks and jams you back into your seat. The stewardess returns, moving gazelle swift, and places a glass of water in your hands, with a little lid on it to keep it from sloshing. You nodded. "T-Th...Thanks..."

"Don't worry, we're almost out of the worst of it," she says, her voice gentle.

You nod and then down half the drink in one go.

The turbulance lessens. Your sweating doesn't. The fever will break soon. It has too. It has too. You were still surprised you got on the plane - you had been in such a state of headaches and sweats, panting and trembling, but you had managed to pass it all off as being a little hung over. Crawling paranoia, like ants in your brain, had kept whispering that people were going to clock that you had a plasmid, that you were dangerous, carrying a weapon on a plane. Hijackers were still a huge problem, but none of them had involved plasmids yet. Yet. Hah. You weren't going to hijack the plane. It was already going to Rapture.

God...

Your eyes closed.

She smiles at you, gentle and warm. Warm sunlight dapples along your fingers. You're far enough away that Dad won't see. He's...the kind of guy who wouldn't understand. Her finger traces along your wrist, circling around the loops of chain inked in dark gold.

"I wanna tell you a secret..."

She leans in close.

The low ding-dong of the plane's announcer PA jerks you out of your reverie. The speakers are so crummy that the pilot still sounds annoyed, despite their chipper words. "All right ladies and gentlemen. If you would look out the port windows, you will see that we're approaching the Rapture Tender."

You leaned around. Even the businessman tugged his sleepmask up.

The Rapture Tender isn't a ship.

It's not even one or two ships.

It's a fleet of ships. Four aircraft carriers, three ocean liners, and the beginning of the Rapture Platform, all clustered around a single solitary lighthouse that juts from the ocean like some bizarre tombstone. The lighthouse has been fixed up and polished, so it shines even at night, and the lights from the ships gleam bright against the ocean, lighting it up like a bonfire. The aircraft carriers have been cleared of military vehicles, but even with their broad sweeps, only tiny little planes could come in. The really big, really comfortable modern passenger airplanes instead fly to ports and people take the cruise liners out. But you couldn't pay for comfort.

You paid for speed.

The plane looped around. The PA crackled. "Everyone, buckle your secondary seats, this is very rough."

You strapped in. The stewardess then had to come around three times as the plane circled twice - she got two guys to finally buckle their seats and not unbuckle them after a few hissed conversations. You, being strapped in from the beginning, wished you could kill them with your brain. Then you remembered you could.

Finally, the plane came down. Landing on an aircraft carrier felt a hell of a lot like a crash: The entire plane jolted to a stop and slammed you and everyone else forward. A few people screamed, and at least one person started retching, but the extra straps did their jobs and no one broke a bone.

You wondered if the stewardesses were paid extra for this.

You got unstrapped and wobbled into the aisle while other people started to stand. Unlike other passenger planes, no one had been allowed to bring carryon - and considering how hard the stop had been, you couldn't fucking blame them. So, instead, people just started to file off. The businessman yawned behind you, shaking his head.

"Fuck I hate this flight," he muttered under his breath. The pitching of the plane - the ship, actually - almost knocked him off his feet.

The deck of the Minsk was a bit harrowing. Cold wind blew from the sea and the ship rocked around you and some shouting sailors - speaking in accented but understandable English. "This way! This way! Come come!" The passengers were hurried to an cargo elevator that swept them off the deck and into the sparse corridors of the ship, where a very smiling looking, very fit, very Soviet man. He's dressed to the nines in their uniform, and speaks English with only a slight accent.

"Welcome, visitors, welcome," he said. "You have had a long flight, I am sure. Welcome to the New Rapture Economic Zone. I am Commander Sokolov, this welcome to the Minsk. This ship is a part of a joint Soviet-NATO effort to keep Rapture safe and open for commerce and scientific advancement. As American passengers, you will be sent to West Rapture, but presuming travel papers are in order, you can visit East Rapture at any time. However, as a representative of the current military governor of the NREZ, it is my responsibility to ensure that you are aware of all the regulations involving travel in Rapture. There exists three parts of the city. West Rapture and East Rapture, controlled by the two parties of the NREZ, and, finally, Old Rapture. Due to its age and certain shortcuts in its development and construction, Old Rapture is highly dangerous and is not permitted to be visited by anyone without proper authorization. The soldiers and sailors who protect the area do so to keep you safe, not simply to push you around." He flashed a big huge smile. "So please, do not take affront if they attempt to redirect you from the Old Rapture to the New."

"And the splicers, right?" the businessman asked, yawning loudly.

Commander Sokolov's smile got very fixed.

"There are no splicers in Rapture, sir," he said.

***
​

The submarine with passengers is utilitarian, sparse, and uncomfortable. You simply strap into a seat with four other people in a cabin, get shown the emergency shit like on a plane - though it feels particularly grim, considering how cold the water is and how far down you're going. There is a very tiny porthole that shows nothing but blackness. You breath slowly, steadily as the submarine starts to go down and down and down. The three others in your cabin are two people who look like scientists and prove it by excitedly sharing their specializations - genetics and deep sea biology - and then begin nattering on about their specifics. The third is a marine with a peppery scar on his dark cheek, who immediately conks out.

You close your eyes.

Almost there.

Almost there.

Just remember...

---
What did you pack?

[ ] You stole a second plasmid - write in a prior choice [START WITH NO WEAPONS]
[ ] You brought a knife. Nice and subtle. Gain a Knife and Assassinate (Vent 4 heat to create 1 Assassinated Spark, +1 per vent reduction)

Assassinated: so long as this spark exists, no one is aware that the target has been killed, nor that you did it.​

[ ] You brought a pistol - a revolver, to be specific. Gain a Revolver and Hot Swap (Vent 4 heat to create 6 Hot Swap sparks on yourself or any target within 1 Range. Create +6 per vent reduction, or add to +1 target.)

Hot Swap: Count as Heroic Effort for the purposes of ammo. Alternatively, expend 1 to use any special ammo you have as a free action.​

 

[DragonCobolt]

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)

 

[DragonCobolt]

You had some advantages here - and some disadvantages. No one knew who you were, so the people who stole Bri wouldn't know you were coming after her. But it also meant that you didn't have any contacts. Still...this was a boom market, with a bunch of people coming in to pull their fortunes out of the deeps. It was the city to be - you saw just how many people had been streaming through the entrance, how both the Soviet and American powers were throwing the gates open wide.

You could do this.

You crammed the last burger into your mouth, chewed, swallowed.

You left without wiping your fingers.

***
​

One trip to the nearest map and a few short walks down tube corridors, you came to West Rapture's docks. They were a series of large chambers that were then locked off into a series of glittering, shimmering moonpools that showed the electric blue color of deep sea water, lit by bright lamps. A constant sound of hissing and pumping filled the air, and crates were being hauled in from the exchange stations. Dock workers walked too and from their positions, and shouts and calls echoed off space that had been clearly built for stability and lasting, not acoustics. Thick blobs of scientists and military personal waited in clumps, until dockworkers gestured them to the berthing pools.

The place was fucking cold too. Fog steamed from everyone's breath and nearly everyone was in a rainslicker and jacket. You had brought a jacket, but it was pathetically light for this. You shivered and rubbed your shoulders, frowning as you took it all in - and spotted that there were several crews that stuck out from everyone else.

They were civilians, but they were armed.

They were technically equipped - with wrenches, cutters, carts, and other tools. But they weren't looking like scientists. They had tattoos and they had beards, and you saw one woman entertaining herself by literally sparking fireballs into existence and juggling them between her palms, laughing as she grinned at her friends.

That was who you were looking for.

On the TV, the general breakdown of modern discussions on the past few years was pretty simple: the twin follies of America's prodigal sons was that they took the basic ideas of America to dark, fucked up places. Ryan had been free markets without limits, while Comstock had been all about racism and slavery. With Columbia stripped for parts off the shore of New York City and reconstruction still taking place, and Rapture kicked open and regulated properly, everything was supposed to be hunky dory, and it's why Carter looked like he was going in for a landslide against the Republicans - who found that pissing on the Soviets after sixty three of them died fighting to save ten thousand New Yorkers was a losing proposition in most of the country/

But...

The thing was, it was still capitalism down here.

And capitalism meant freelancers.

The new freelancers of Rapture were called divers, and you...hoped you could get in with one of them.

As you approached the first Diver group, you saw this one was the smallest and the best geared. They had big bulky diving suits that looked like they were modeled on the old Protector DC2s, but they had been enhanced with the new Q-string engines that had been reverse engineered from Columbia. They sparked and hissed alarmingly, but the men didn't seem concerned. As you lurked close, their leader said: "All right, guys, Mr. C wants to see if we can find anything in Frolick worth taking. That means we want gentle clamps and extra eyes..."

The next group over was a lot bigger, but a lot scrappier looking - but they also had a few people with obvious plasmids, like the girl flaunting her fireballs. They were racking up oxygen tanks and cheap rubber wetsuits, while one of their members was setting up a portable whiteboard. The map had a label on it - but you couldn't quite read it, but...yeah, that was FF.

Fontaine Futuristics, you thought, somewhere deep in the back of your brain.

Then...you spotted a third option. One of the government teams was slotting huge cargo containers onto the sides of a submarine, suspended over the nearest moonpool. It was a flurrying anthive of activity.

Enough to slip in, if you borrowed a wet suit and breather?

---
[ ] Approach the small group
[ ] Approach the large group
[ ] Smuggle yourself in

 

[DragonCobolt]

The leader of the large group is a middling aged man with a curved scar along his cheek, a big bushy fisherman beard, and bags under his eyes. The crew are at work loading up their submarine for the crossing to Old Rapture, and he looks at you with his lips pursed. "Jackie, huh?" he asks, as you nod and slide your hands into your pocket. He sees where your eye is drawing and he grinned. "Didn't get it in Rapture, if you're worried."

"Oh," you said. "I wasn't really wondering. I hear the city's not...that dangerous. Right?"

"Not where the marines are," he said, frowning, then chuckled. "All right, you're new here. And if you have a plasmid, like you say?"

"I got one," you said, then grinned. "I can demonstrate?"

"What did you get? Some hacked sportboost?" He asked, scratching at his jaw. "Or one of those Tristar mods?"

"Uh, it's Honda Teek," you said, nodding and rubbing your hand along your wrist, tracing your tattoo a bit nervously as breath fogged around your lips. The man jerks his chin up, his beard bristling.

"Teek?" He asks, then looks left, then right, then leans in. "I'm going to assume you have a permit, right?"

You blink, then nod.

"Good," he said, softly. "And we're going to definitely get that permit, if we need to show it. From your luggage. But it's...pretty valuable. So you left it back in your apartment. Right?"

You nod again. "Right," you said.

So, Divers ran just about how you expected them to run. The man nods back at you, his arms crossed over his chest. "Pick up that crate. Subtle, like."

You turned. The crate he had jerked his chin at wasn't huge. It was near the submarine, blocked from a lot of the rest of the longshores by its bulk. You breathed in, then held out your palm. The shivering sensation that ran along your spine was like raw, crackling electricity. Your fingers spread, bit by bit, and the crate shimmered, then lifted - ever so slightly. Ever so slightly. You released your strange grip and the crate creaked back to the floor. The man grinned slowly. "Hot damn," he murmured. "WE only have two combat capable plasmids in the group - Lilly with inferno and Mack over there with a hacked Tristar telepathy implant. Now, uh, as I was saying - the areas where the USMC and the MPR-"

"Wait, MPR?" you ask, holding up your hand - a third faction?

"Soviet Naval Infantry," he says, grinning. "Russians."

"Right," you said, slowly.

"They lock down areas very conservatively. They seal, they settle, they study. We're more like...strip miners. We're here to pull information, plasmids, Adam, even money, guns, loot, anything that can be yanked out of Rapture. That tends to piss the locals off." At your look, he nods. "You do know why submarine 0451 found this place, right? They were chasing after some smugglers, bringing weird technology and guns back to the Baltic. People have been coming to Rapture since the place was open - old timers say that half the ports in the world had rumors and whispers about it, New York had a whole fucking club dedicated to Rapture sightings, there was a piece in some old times I have up in my room back at the Blocks." He chuckled. "Fucking Ryan."

"Andrew...Ryan?" you asked.

"Yeah. Smug prick thought he could just pull every intellectual and artist and fucking engineer in the world to the middle of the Atlantic and no one would fucking notice?" The man takes out a cigarette and pops it into his mouth. He starts smoking it. "Smug prick."

"Uh...picking up some personal animosity here," you said, a bit hesitantly.

"Yeah, one of them he pulled down was my father and my uncle - they both bought it before they could pay to bring me and mom, when the whole city went down the shitter." He sighs out regret, cigarette smoke, and hot steam all at once. "Anyway, Rapture managed to keep pulling enough desperate, deluded and daredevil dipshits through the seventies to keep almost a steady population going. Some died. Some left. Some stayed. And then there's the ones that have been down there since the 30s. You've seen what Adam can do, right?"

You nod. "Carter looks like he's almost forty," you say, quietly.

"Yeah. And the automated systems are still working at fixing the place up. Now...we're fixing her up faster..." He looks haunted. "...shit, fuck, Jackie, sorry, the name's Martin, Martin Wilkins."

You nodded.

"So, we're going into Fontaine Futuristics. From what the eggheads have put together, Fontaine was a big pusher in the civil war that pulled Rapture apart, and his area is one of the least mined, and most heavily populated. Splicers still live in the apartments, and there's a lot of Suits around, keeping everything functional. There's also the..." He paused. "Shit, I don't mean to scare you. But...have you heard about the Lost Girls?"

You frowned, thinking.

"There...was an expose, on 60 Minuets, talking about the early plasmid trade. There were kids, uh, kids who were used to process Adam internally?" you asked, biting your lip slightly. "It sounded sick. But they all got out or...or died, right?"

He shakes his head. "There are still...maybe one, two hundred of them in that city. Doing the rounds. Processing Adam. Someone modified them in the 60s or 70s, we're not sure when - they don't just reprocess it from corpses, they're actively growing more...they're..." He paused. "They're something else. And if a Lost Girl is around, a Suit is around, and everything gets really, really dangerous. Splicers smell right to Suits - they've got the right..." He shrugged. "Maybe they're just used to em or something. But us? We're automatically dangerous. And these Suits are old, but they're built like tanks, riddled with plasmids, and their repair gear is...well, you know what they say about power tools?"

You shake your head, your throat feeling dry as a bone. The moonpools felt like they were sucking every bit of warmth from your blood.

"They don't know the difference..." Wilkins pulls a slow drag, then blows it out. "Between metal and flesh."

He flicks the cigarette into the pool. It sizzles out, then sinks into the depths.

"Go talk to Lilly, she'll get you suited up. We head out in an hour."

Lilly is, up close, a tough and competent looking lady with nut brown skin, short cropped hair, and a chain tattoo on the back of her neck - bigger than yours, with little dollar signs between the links. She is currently dressed in a sleek wetsuit, which looks thick like sealskin and blubber, turning her all into planes and lines, with only the barest hint of a curve where her body presses against it. SHe turns to you and blinks.

"Wilkins hired on a newbie an hour before we go?" she asks. "What did you say to him?"

You grinned. "I have teek."

"Holy shit," she whispers. "Who did you kill to get that?"

You flinch.

"Kidding, kidding," she holds up her left hand. "Everyone comes to Rapture for their own reasons and if Wiley Wilky trusts you, I trust you." She grinned. "So, you ever dove before?"

You nod. It's a lie, but, you're not about to tell anyone that.

"Cool, here," she said, walking over to their supplies. "We have a few spares - this team gains and loses members. Uh, not to dying or anything." She adds, hurriedly. "Most of the time, we bug out if anything looks too risky. No, some people just get their first check and bounce - and, hey, a job in Rapture usually pays for a year of living easy on the surface, if you don't mind living cheap." SHe chuckled. "but we're not here to live easy and cheap. WE're here for the big bucks..."

As she speaks, you look over the wetsuit. It looks like it's made to go on over your clothing. You start to tug it on, after taking off your shoes. It slips on, tight and uncomfortable. You stretch out in it, rolling your shoulders, and then grunt quietly as Lilly comes up behind you with a backpack that she straps on. You feel the weight and glance back. "We're not going in the sub?"

"Plasmids and weapon specialists ride on the exterior. We have to go in first," she says. "Then, we find a safe docking port - the old bathysphere systems have locks that we've designed these...to..." You finish strapping the backpack on. The weight is heavy. Comforting. She holds up a helmet to you and you take it. It slots onto the metal gorget. She slaps your helmet with a thump, then starts checking the seals. "...mate with."

You grinned, a little. "At least the subs are having fun."

"Heh." She chuckles. "Now, we usually go armed with harpoon guns. They work well enough in the water, and well enough on the surface. But some people prefer to pack normal heat. Since, uh, you didn't bring any, you're going to be using your plasmids if anything spicy shows up." SHe grins. "Don't worry, again, we run if its anything we can't handle."

You nod again.

Lilly slides her helmet on with a click and then stands still. You realize she wants you to check her seals. Stepping up, you do your best. You run your gloved fingers along them, and feel one of them click more securely into place. You rub your finger against it, then give her a thumbs up, then slap the top of her helmet. The rest of the team is getting similarly geared up.

"Now, this suit has a shortwave radio built into it, works right here." Lilly patted a box on your belt. "Tick up for general, middle for the breach team, and down for straight to Wilkins. Give it a try."

You clicked the big fat metal toggle to the middle. "Uh, hello? This is, I'm...a new member of the breach team. I'm Jackie."

A second later, a male voice crackles. "You should say over once you're done, Jackie."

"Over," you say, hurriedly, speaking over his over. Everyone laughs. You blush, but find yourself smiling.

You feel...bad about lying.

But hey, you were still going to help these guys, even if you were planning to ditch them once you were in Fontaine Futuristics. Once you were there, you could make your way through Rapture until you fucking found Bri. Then...then you'd be able to work for a ticket to get both of you out of here.

Right.

"This is Bus-1 Actual, we are go, over." Wilkin's voice is coming over the line.

"This is Breach TP Lead. We are go, over." A male voice.

"Breach Fire, go. Over." Lilly, next to you.

"Breach Lance 1, go. Over." Another male voice.

"Breach Lance 2, go, over." A female voice.

There was just you left. You gulped, and then croaked. "T-This is...Breach Teek, go. Over."

"All right boys and girls. Lets dive." Wilkin's voice is firm and confident. Before you, Lilly steps over and then drops into the moonpool. The splash is not as loud as the grinding, rattling creak as the submarine lowers link by link, the chain lowering it down into the water. You jumped in after Lance 1 - who was called that, you saw, cause he had a harpoon gun. Your feet hit the water. It was shockingly cold, even with the wet suit. The whole thing was humming with some kind of engine to warm you up, and it was still fucking cold. And dark. The darkness was stark and terrifying, stretching out beyond the brilliance of the lamps.

There are a few footprints of light, stamping along towards the dim, guttering embers that are Rapture.

The neon is gone.

The art deco is quiet.

The power lines are only fitfully repaired.

The only permanent sources of light in that vast, dark city are the areas claimed by Soviet and American intervention - a glowing light shining along coral covered, reef encrusted buildings that loom like brass tombstones among the floodlamps. Subamrines cruise by overhead, thrumming along with their propellers beating a slow, steady whomp whomp whomp in the water. They go in...but you don't see them going back.

Lilly swims over to the submarine and you see a handhold. She grabs onto it. You grab onto another behind her, and she slaps the sub twice, then holds on. More echoing slaps ring out, one after another after another, until there's just you. You slap twice, thump thump, and the submarine lurches into motion. Your legs draw out behind you and your stomach drops, as if you're really descending now - like all the flight and the slow dropping was just prelude, was just the preamble, was just the sick fucking joke before now. The tombstone city is coming, closer and closer and closer. Your throat is dry and your body is soaked.

The cold is in your bones.

I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have come here.

---
HEAT: 5/6
SPARKS:

LIFE SUPPORT (2): so long as this spark exists, you can breathe underwater (lose 1 per time you enter the water, or spend a scene in water. Refreshes when you can refill air tank by entering pressurized structures.)​

UTILITY (3): can be spent to reveal you're carrying something small, useful and logically on a wetsuit. Refills if you gather up all your gear before leaving a scene, otherwise, requires a Diff 3 check to recover new gear.)​

[ ] You arrive...and see something unusual (Succeed a Diff 4 Awareness check by lightly overheating)
[ ] You arrive. Everything seems quiet. Until... (Fail a Diff 4 Awareness check, resetting your heat to 0.)

Mechanically: It was a diff 7 check to get in. Your Lying skill is 2, so, it took 5 heat. Now, you're can either fail awareness and be ambushed, or you can succeed the awareness check and spot the ambush before it happens...but something makes the situation more dangerous.

 

[DragonCobolt]

The submarine kept cruising through the darkness. It felt like it would last forever.

Then, suddenly, the cone of light - visible, only in the way that it makes tiny bits of floating sealife, little motes of simmering brilliance, flash and fade - falls onto a cone of rusted over, greenish brass, corroded along the edges and with a long overgrown, encrusted title above it: FON-T- F-

The submarine slows and comes to a stop. Wilkin's voice comes over the line. "All right breach times. Find us a way in, make sure the place is safe. New girl goes in last. Stick to Lilly, Jackie. Over."

"Got it, boss. Over."

You release your grip and drift down. Lilly lets herself drift down, then starts kicking her legs. The fins on her feet caused her to cruise forward remarkably quickly, and you started to swim after her. The weight of your pack feels heavy, bearing you down. Keeping you down here. Down deep. You were suddenly aware of just how many people had died in this vast, dark sea. Not just in Rapture - though it was looming heavy in your thoughts, the faceless dead there, trapped forever beneath glass and brass and cracking wood. No, there was the countless sailors washed to sea, the desperate suicides, the war dead, furious and brooding.

Lily and the two Lancers reach the sides of the hatch, with Mack hovering above, legs kicking to keep himself above you all. He puts his hand on his temple, then nods. His voice crackles over the radio. "Not picking up any moving minds...not even the rats. Maybe some of the more complicated lichen, over."

"Yeah, that's what you said before that stalker showed up out of fucking nowhere..." Someone muttered.

"Your mic's on, Luke."

"Shit."

A nervous chuckle escapes just about everyone, ringing through the line, while Lancer 1 and 2 took up place to either side of the hatch. They start to haul on it. After a bit, one sighs, then says: "Uh, Lilly, can...you know?" He points - the radio discipline relaxing slightly in the face of the darkness and the moment between the now and the horrible what comes next. The door opening. You remember watching a horror movie, once, and the slow delay in a door opening was pure agony. Lilly holds out her hand, and a glowing spray of bubbles explodes around the door. It's muted compared to what normally happens when people on the TV throw around weapon plasmids. But the effect is impressive, even so. The lancer grunts, then takes the hatch and braces. His friend shoves the other way.

The hatch groans, then swings inwards.

"There we go!" A short pause. "Over."

The breach team swims into the airlock. There is a hand crank the second Lancer starts pumping. The water sloshes and surges down, gurgling away. THe inside of the airlock is crusted with cruft and detritus, and the pump jams halfway through.

"Here, let me," you say, sloshing over in the water, letting it surge around your belly. You kneel over, then sigh and yank off your helmet. The fierce, biting cold of the airlock stings your lips and you lean over, shuddering and shivering as you hand the helmet to Lilly, making sure to keep it out of the water. She takes it, and you put your ear to the pumping mechanism. "Uh..." You start to hammer at the side of the pump mechanism, and hear something inside slurge and shift around. "Okay, pump now."

The pump rattles and whirrs again and you and the LAncer work together to get the water to drain, then drain, then...it's gone.

Lilly grins and takes her helmet off with a click. SHe hands you yours and shows you where to hang it.

"All right, boys and girls," Mack says. "Lets see what we can see."

The flashlights that everyone has - you find yours after tapping at your vest and finding the hanging attachment - click on and stab bright lights shine out into the narrow space. Then...finally...the inner door opens. Light spill out - stark against the darkness of the interior of Fontaine Futuristics. The tile floor is cracked and puddles of water are everywhere. The air smells moist. The rot tingles on your tongue.

THe two lancers step out. Lilly steps out next, snapping her fingers - a small ball of fire appearing around her hand, then flickering away.

As they step out, more lights begin to paint more signs. You can see faded graffiti. What looks like a barracade that had been abandoned decades ago, the wood rotted to mulch, the metal reinforcements jutting like skeletons. They shine a crazy array of shadows along the far walls of the broad boulevard. Mack walks out. THen you walk out, slowly. Your flashlight shines around.

How the hell could anyone live here?

How could you find Bri?

"Well, we-"

The shriek comes from your right. It makes you jerk back and stumble away, splashing into water. Your heart slams. It was a blood curdling noise, and then, warbling, distorted, it grows lower, then louder - and there's a jangle of metal. You fumble, grabbing for a chunk of pavement. It snaps into the air around your palm, and you push backwards. Your tank slams into a metal lamppost, while the Lancers aim their harpoons at the blaze of red, and the shining blue. And the pale white. A face peers from the darkness, distorted and inhuman.

"Hold! Hold!" Lilly says, her hand held out.

The cackle comes back...and the jingle...

And...

"Ha...ha...ha..." the warbling voice continues. "Kill...your...kill your..."

You blinked.

The face was in a box.

"Kill your...cravings...at the Circus of...Val...ues..." The warble drones out into an electric crackle.

It's a fucking vending machine.

"Oh..." you whispered. You had nearly pissed yourself.

"What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?" Lilly's voice is a soft hiss, fierce and furious.

"I-It's just a vending machine," you say, dropping the rock you had drawn into your hand without thinking. You stand, one of the Lancers helping you up. But as you stand, a flickering light overhead jerks your head up. An electric bulb is whirring up. More are coming online, lights spilling throughout Fontaine Futuristics. As you look around, your jaw dropping, Wilken's voice comes over the line.

"Holy shit, did you see that, breach team?"

"Yeah, sir, the lights just came on," Lilly says. "The vending machines are on. Over."

"A-Aren't they always on?" you asked, nervously.

"No, Jackie. They're not. They've been offline for, like, eighteen years. The theory is that when Andrew Ryan's corpse finally decayed enough to stop tripping the genetic computational systems, everything he owned stopped working," Lilly said, quietly.

"It took..." You did some math. "Six years?"

Lilly snorted. "He died at the bottom of the Atlantic, in a room that was very, very cold shortly after he bought it." She sighed. "But-"

"BReach team, it's not just Fontaine Futuristics."

Wilken's voice comes over the line.

"What?" Lilly asks.

"Holy shit..." Mack's voice jerks you over. YOu and Lilly and the Lancers jog over - and you see that there is a window, huge and gloriously absurd. In contrast to the tiny slits that New Rapture had...Old Rapture wanted people to marvel. To gape. Fuck the safety. And, well, you were marveling.

You were gaping.

Because, fitfully and creaking, Old Rapture was starting to glow. The lights weren't all coming back - but they were coming back, windows flickering, humming energies buzzing through buried cables. The Suits, the American and Soviet repair work, all of it was combining at once - and someone had flicked a big fucking lightswitch on.

"Are the yanks saying anything? The ruskies?" One of the voices over the radio has a British accent.

"Everyone's saying everything, I can't get a clear thread...shut up!" Wilkens said. "Okay, breach time, you think you're safe in there?"

"Uh..." Lilly looks around.

While the place is alive, it's not crawling. You don't hear anything. Lilly looks hesitant.

You can push her... The thought twigs into your brain.

---
HEAT: 5/6
SPARKS:

LIFE SUPPORT (3): so long as this spark exists, you can breathe underwater (lose 1 per time you enter the water, or spend a scene in water. Refreshes when you can refill air tank by entering pressurized structures.)
UTILITY (2): can be spent to reveal you're carrying something small, useful and logically on a wetsuit. Refills if you gather up all your gear before leaving a scene, otherwise, requires a Diff 3 check to recover new gear.)​

Flashlight (1): you have a flashlight​

[ ] Push her to stay. (Diff 3 Charm)
[ ] Claim the place is safe (Diff 3 Lying)
[ ] Push her to go. (Diff 1 Charm)
[ ] Let her decide
[ ] Write IN

 

[DragonCobolt]

You remained quiet, watching Lilly. She had been here before. She had to know what to do, right?

Lilly nodded, then shook her head. "Okay," she said. "We're taking the only thing of value here - Mack, hack that vendor, see if we can shunt anything from the deep vaults. I'm not leaving here without something." She muttered under her breath.

"Got it," Mack said, hurrying over and then shoving a tool into the side of the hideous vending machine. As he started to wrench into the metal side with a series of soft grunts, you stepped over to Lilly, whispering.

"ONce we get the shit from it, we're going to leave?" you asked.

"Yeah," Lilly said, nodding. "It's safer in the water, splicers don't tend to have wetsuits-"

"Got it!" Mack says, and you see that the side of the vending machine has a complex and ancient looking collection of wires and pipes. You tear your gaze away as echoing noises start to ring throughout the Fontaine Futuristics building. A distant clattering. A scrape, scrape, scrape. You stepped close to Lilly, whispering softly.

"I hear something."

Lilly's brow has furrowed and she frowns, slightly. "Mack-"

"Almost got it," he said, then something hissed from the side of the machine, jerking your gaze back. Steam is sputtering and spurting from the side of the machine - but Mack is grinning and rack after rack of glowing blue syringes come tumbling out. He starts to yank them out and tossing them into a sack, nodding. "It's connected to a still operative cache, we're in luck."

A distant voice called out. "Sweetie? Are you there, sweetie?"

The echoing sound of the voice bounces off the walls, the ceiling. Ringing.

"Splicer," Lilly muttered, her voice soft as her flames flickered on.

"No! No! No! They're mine! Mine! Ahh, mine! Mine."

That was a different voice. Male. Deeper. THen you heard a third voice cackling and laughing.

"Shit," Lilly whispered. "Okay, we're leaving now."

Mack hefts up the sack of loot he's gotten and the Lancers step back to the airlock. Mack gets in, while Lilly says, quietly. "We're going to hold this back line - we should be able to get out before-"

The first splicer came around the corner down the corridor. They're in shadows, but you can see a gleaming hook, catching some of the light flickering from the ceilings. Water drips past them and even from this distance, you can see how wrong, wrong, wrong they are. Skinny. Too long. Too tall. They crouched a bit low, then gurgled softly. "Sweetie...sweetie's back! Sweetie's back!" She started to walk forward, scraping her hook against the wall.

Lilly didn't hesitate. She flung her hand and a ball of fire exploded - but the splicer wasn't caught in it. In fact, she was just gone.

"Where'd she go?" one of the lancers asked.

"Pump the airlock!" Lilly said.

"Lilly, what's going over there?" Wilken's voice comes over the lines, and he sounds so confident and so sure of himself - like he's just checking in on a little problem, not a rapid slide into hell. It makes your nerves settle, even as your hands clench and unclench. The airlock surges open with a clunk and Mack steps in with the treasure - while more footsteps filled the air, laughter coming with it. Lilly gestures you into the airlock, but you hesitate. Brianna's in this city, this city that has come alive and-

A gunshot rings out. The bullet pings off the wall near your head, and you jerk. But before you could react, a sudden scream came over the radio.

"Splicer on the hull! Splicer on the hull!"

---
Okay guys! You're in a 15 XP fight! While I design the spilicers you're gonna fight...YOU get to design the map in part. Due to choosing neither to stay or go, the party is caught between both. This means the map is divided into an inside zone and an outside zone! However, as the players, you get to add 6 sparks each to the map. The way it works is this.

You go, "On the inside, there is an explosive barrel (6) on one hex." Now, there's a hex with Explosive Barrel (6) on it, which represents that there is an explosive barrel there, which you can shoot or throw at people! You go, "The outside has thick coral spread over 6 hexes!" so, I make six hexes with Thick Coral (1) in them.

Indicate whether it's on the inside or the outside, and be creative! Possible sparks can be cover, difficult terrain, explosive barrels, hazards...even, like, fragile windows that you can break, or vents, or whatever. Again, be creative!

 

[DragonCobolt]

Your eyes are wild. Your heart is slamming in your chest. And you know that you have only a few seconds to collet yourself before it all becomes chaos. Bedlam. Pure panic. With your knife in your hand, you look around hurriedly. Fontaine's Futuristics is a nightmare of old scrap and ancient battlements, but that might be an advantage - there's some rusty caltrops spread about, as well as what looks like ancient fuel canisters, their bright red paint rusted away to almost nothing. Hanging overhead was a huge chandelier that looked seconds away from dropping - and some Splicers were definitely coming that way.

The main issue though was the airlock - it was only partially cycled.

If you pushed yourself, maybe...

---
I know it's a super short update after a super long wait, but I got unexpectedly busy and, also, making maps is weirdly scary for me!

Here's what we got! Complete with labeled hexes, to make things easier for ya!



Mechanically: The barrels will add +1 Area to your TK attacks, since they explode. The Chandelier counts as +2 mass to any attack if you use it (which can be used as a secondary characteristic for Area or Damage, since it's a big old smashy weight falling down. If anyone steps into the caltrops, spikes, or shorting out sparks, they'll take damage. If someone snuffs out the large window, the whole room will begin to flood. The Eve sparks can be used to buff yourself - either giving you a bonus to attack as it fills you with energy, or by adding extra oomph to your power use.

The sharks are not actually dangerous unless you rile them up, and the cover and kelp sparks provide cover and concealment respectively. Cover reduces incoming attacks, concealmeant means they cannot attack you directly (but if they have an area attack, they still can.)

but the next choice you get to make is: Where do you spawn?

Jackie can begin for free anywhere between the F to L horizontal axis, so long as it's within the docking bay fork. Starting closer to the splicers (near the window/past it) is a Diff 2 Athletics or Resilience check (working up the gumption to charge incoming splicers), while starting in the airlock or near the submarine is a Diff 3 or Diff 5 check respectively. Athletics is a reasonable skill choice, but you can write in whatever you want.

By default, she will start right behind the cover, at I21!

[ ] Start behind cover (I21)
[ ] Write In