The Ocean On His Shoulders

"I am Andrew Reign and I would like to ask you a question... Is a Colt not entitled to the sweat of his brow? No says the Celestia, it belongs to the Solar Empire! No says Princess Luna it belongs to the night! No says all of Canterlot, it belongs to all! I rejected these answers and chose the impossible... I chose... Rapture... Where the artist could express himself without limits... Where the Scientist could experiment to his heart's content... And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture could be your city as well..."

That's what we were promised... True freedom... That's why I came to Rapture in the first place... To get away... To live freely in an underwater Utopia with our 'glorious leader' Andrew Reign in control... Guy was as mad as a room of fuckin hatters...That didn't stop me however... I'd had it with Celestia's limitations and censorship on artwork... My name is Skychaser and I'm an artist... I moved to Rapture about... Five years ago and from there I have been amongst the elite of Rapture, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Lamb and Cohoof. It was a life that I enjoyed thouroughly. Sure I spliced up a bit, so did everypony... It was the latest fashion to have a hand full of hellfire with Incinerate or a shocking handshake with Electro Bolt. Everypony did it...

All was perfect until New Year's Eve, 1958 and the bombing of Kashmir...