43 years. I can’t believe it’s only been 43 years. Most people would agree I’ve lived a full life, but I’m not most people.
In fact, I doubt I could be considered “people” at all. After all the splicing i’ve gone through, I’m definitely far from human, but what counts as a person? Andrew Ryan would say that what makes a man is the ability to make choices, and that our choices make us who we are. But what about life? If you live a life shorter than anyone else’s, does that make you less important? The girls don’t think so.
And by girls I mean Mary, Nancy, Carol, Lisa, and Betty. The former Little Sisters who I saved, and who kept in touch with me ever since the day I showed them the sky. They loved me like the family I never had. I watched them grow up, and unfortunately, they watched me grow up too. Stupid Lot 111.
I guess I should probably explain myself before I continue. My name is Jack, Jack Ryan I guess. Never really did have a last name, but Andrew Ryan is technically my dad. Unlike most kids, I was born and raised in a lab. I was the backup plan of Frank Fontaine, should things go sour between him and Ryan. At infancy, I was given a regular dose of Lot 111, a plasmid that sped up my aging process. How fast did I age? I had the physique of a 19 year old man at age 1.
The affects wore off of course, since I would need a regular dosage of it to keep aging at the same rate. If I kept aging that fast without the stuff, I’d be dead long before now. Not that it matters, I look about age 80 now, so my aging only slowed down so much. But I could care less about my “age”. The only reason I know any of this confusing crap is because the girls insist on celebrating my “birth day”, or as I like to call it, the “I saved your lives, so you’re looking for an excuse to throw me a party” anniversary. It’s been 39 years since I saved them from Rapture, and they still think I deserve praise. I would object to this on the spot, if it weren’t for the fact I love them so much.
Well, that, and I’m bored as hell in this damn hospital bed. Apparently I had a heart attack a few days ago, and the doctors said I had about a month to live. The girls, or course, want to be there for me in my last hours. Sadly, visiting hours were already over, Betty and Nancy had already visited, and I was left here to be bored.
I bet you’re wondering why I’m writing about this boring bull crap when I could be writing about Rapture, and how I saved the girls. But, the media has had me tell and re-tell that story so many times, I just can’t stand talking about it. Besides, you could just look up some documentaries about it if you really gave a crap.
I’m writing about the story that nobody will ever hear about, and that the girls will think was the fantasy of a senile old man. This is the story of how I ended up in a world filled with ponies.
…
OK, so you’re still reading. That means you either want to see if I’m just screwing with you, or you want to know just how crazy I’ve become. Either way, you’re listening. Now then, the story starts 3 days before my 44th birth day.
The time was 10 pm. The lights were out, since I had to sleep earlier now. Not that I cared, things were boring at the hospital.
That is, they were until now.
I felt a shift in the air, like a breeze from the ocean. It even smelt like sea water. That made no sense, the ocean was miles away from the hospital.
Next I noticed some flashing lights. I grunted. “Hey, shut off that damn light.” No response. You’d think whoever turned on that light would shut it off the moment they heard my voice. I mean, I did have that surgery to give me a Big Daddy voice. I turned around to see were the light was coming from.
My heart nearly stopped.
There, right in front of me, was a Plasmid. The same kind of genetic enhancing miracle drug I used all those years ago in Rapture. Albeit it was changing colors rapidly, unlike normal Plasmids, but it was a Plasmid none the less.
“But… I… That’s… How?” I turned on the lamp at my bed side, to get a better look.
No doubt about it… This was a Plasmid. I checked the label on it. Unstable Teleport Plasmid. Well, that explained why it was changing colors, and probably how it got here. “Ok, ok… Just don’t touch it and everything will be fine.”
Me and my big mouth.
A thin layer of red mist filled the room. Slowly but surely, the mist gathered at the foot of my bed, making a cloud of red smoke thick enough to cut with a knife. When it dissipated, I saw what could only be described as one of my worst nightmares.
There, at the foot of my bed stood a man in a blood stained dress suit. His face was blocked by a blood stained bunny mask, and he carried a hook in each hand. He was gasping for breath. “Oh for the love of Ryan’s Son, would you stop warping me all over the place!?” He looked at me. “Oh, hey there. Don’t mind me, in about a minute I’ll vanish. Whatever you do, don’t touch that glowing bottle.”
He just stood there, breathing heavily. “Man, I’ve gotta sit down. You mind if I sit on that bed old man?”
I had no idea how to respond. This was a Spider Splicer, one of the most dangerous foes I faced back in Rapture. I mean, on the one hand he seemed harmless, but on the other he was a fucking Splicer.
“Hm?” He looked at the hooks he was carrying. “Oh, sorry.” He set them on the ground. “Force of habit. I guess I just have a habit of killing things. I don’t kill old people though. If they can’t fight back, it’s just no fun. Unless you happen to be full of ADAM I have no reason to use those hooks.”
I chuckled, trying not to speak. The last thing I wanted him to know was that I did have ADAM in my system. I also didn’t want him to know I had a Big Daddy voice, that would bring up a lot of questions. I gestured him to sit down.
“Thanks.” He said, as he sat down on the edge of my bed. “I’d ask if you had anything catchy, but by now I don’t care. Stupid Plasmid has had me jumping one place to the next. Think I might’ve time traveled a couple of times too.” He looked at his blood stained hooks with a somber gaze. “Tell me, have you heard of an underwater city called Rapture?”
Looking at him, I didn’t see some mad junkie looking for his next fix, I saw a man who’d seen too much. I decided, fuck it I’ll say something. “Yeah.”
He was surprised by my voice, and jumped onto his feet, grabbing his hooks and holding them up in defense. “Who said that!?”
“Me.” I said. He looked at me, eyes wide. “You?” He asked.
I laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been to Rapture. Had to convince the Little Sisters I was a Big Daddy to escape. Now here I am, lying down in what might later be my death bed. I’m just a poor old man with a Big Daddy’s voice now.”
He marveled at me. “Wow! You escaped? Man, must’ve injected a lot of Plasmids while you were there. Survival’s no easy feat.”
I chuckled. “Just don’t kill me, ok?”
He tapped his chin in thought. “Tempting but, like I said, killing old people isn’t any fun. Besides, the ADAM in your system is probably tainted by now.” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “You heard the stories of Ryan’s Son?”
Me? Am I famous in Rapture now or something? “I don’t think so.”
He laughed. “Then you must be from early in Rapture’s history. He’s the one who killed Andrew Ryan. The god who saved Rapture from his tyranny. He was amazing. So willing to inject himself with whatever Plasmid it took to stay alive, and still managing not to become a Splicer. They say he had mastered genetics, that he was beyond his sense of self, and free will. He killed Ryan because he knew it was what Rapture needed.” He gestured to the Unstable Plasmid. “That’s why I tried to use that stupid Plasmid. I thought, maybe I’d get lucky with it or something. I thought, maybe if I took a chance, I could become as great as him. And maybe Doctor Lamb would respect me.”
What the hell was this guy talking about? So now I’m worshipped as a god in Rapture? What, do they have paintings of me hanging on the walls or something? Do they pray to me for my blessing? How stupid were these people.
The Splicer cringed, feeling himself being pulled apart. “Damn. Stupid Plasmid. I don’t have much time before I warp again.” He looked through the cabinets, and found some hypodermic needles. “Perfect.” He said. “Hey listen, could I have some ADAM? I need to get a good dose of it every now and then to stay sane, and the stuff you have might still be good.”
I felt really nervous now. “Oh, uh, I don’t know.”
“No no, it won’t hurt much. I’ll just put it into your wrist.”
“I really don’t want to.” I pleaded.
“Oh?” He said, showing me the hook he had in his other hand, making it glow red with heat from his Incinerate Plasmid. “Because I could always end your misery and take the ADAM after…”
Well, lesser of two evils I guess. “In that case, go ahead and take some ADAM.” I said, showing him my wrist.
He smiled. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you.” He picked up my right arm to get a good look at the wrist. “Now let me just find the vein and…” He stopped.
I waited for him to finish, watching him stare at my wrist. “Um, something wrong?”
He pointed at my wrist. “That tattoo.”
Oh no. No. All kinds of no. He recognized my tattoo.
He looked me in the eye, his eyes filled with horror. “You’re Andrew Ryan’s Son?”
