BioShock Rapture

“Maybe just to a passing ship … and if Rapture is invaded—you’ll lose all your assets. You know they’ll find some excuse to seize everything.”

“Now there you’ve got a point, Ryan.” Fontaine lowered his voice and looked at Ryan earnestly. “I’m not risking Rapture—just know that much. I’m not letting anyone know we’re here. I’m making a living. So I don’t have to lean on plasmids too much…”

He said it like he was making an offer. Ryan figured Fontaine was indirectly telling him: I’m smuggling but I’m not putting us at risk—stop worrying about my smuggling, and I’ll go easy on marketing forbidden plasmids …

That was a deal Ryan wasn’t making. Ryan wondered if this was the moment to deal with Fontaine another way entirely—maybe it wasn’t in line with Rapture philosophy to simply have Karlosky shoot him dead. But it’d save a damn lot of trouble. He was tempted. Still—there was the risk of what Reggie might do if Fontaine went down. And Fontaine’s other men. He settled for an implied ultimatum. “No smuggling, Fontaine—and no Teleport.”

Fontaine’s smile went crooked on his face. “I’m finding Teleport problematic too. People who use it get extra crazy—they’re giving me problems. I’ve got my own security issues…”

“Security issues? You act as if you have your own little fiefdom here in Rapture.”

“If I do—you gave it to me, Ryan. By deceiving people about what they’d find in your pretty undersea ‘utopia.’ By not providing for them once they got here.”

“Everyone has a chance to earn their way,” Ryan snapped back. “Only parasites and slaves remain in their little dilemmas.”

“Is that right?”

Their gazes locked.

“What exactly are you up to, in that Little Sisters Orphanage, Fontaine?” Ryan asked. “You barely take care of the boys in the other wing of the orphanage. It all seems to be about the girls. If you’re using them for your personal little playthings…”

Fontaine’s eyes flashed. “What do you take me for? I’m like you. I like full-grown women. As for the orphanage,” Fontaine went on blandly, “we’re just trying to give back to the community.”

He managed to say it with a straight face.

Ryan snorted. “I’ll figure it out eventually. One thing I’m sure of—you’re using that ‘food for the poor’ charity to recruit people into your little syndicate. I’ve known mobsters to do the same thing.”

“Mobsters?” Fontaine took a step toward the desk. “I don’t have to stand for that.”

Ryan moved near the security-alert button on the edge of his desk. Maybe this was the moment after all …

“What I’m here for really,” Fontaine said sharply, “is to tell you that if you leave me alone—I’ll leave you alone. All that recruiting you’re guessing about won’t come and bite you in the ass. If. You back. The fuck. Off! You respect strength, Ryan. Well, respect mine. I’ve got six more armed men out in the corridor. And I’m leaving here now, so don’t interfere with me. I won’t distribute any new Teleport. But there just might be some other new plasmids. And you people are going to live with them. Because I’m changing everything, Ryan. I’m changing it from the inside out. And no one can stop me. We can do this easy—or the hard way…”

Fontaine beckoned to Reggie and they stalked out of the room.

Rapture Detention

1956

They walked under the dimming-glowing-dimming lights of the cellblock, Sullivan following Redgrave and Cavendish, their footsteps reverberating. Constable Redgrave was a medium-sized, wiry black man with a Southern accent. He was vain of his white linen suit. Cavendish spun a police truncheon on a thong as he walked along.

The overhead lights spat a few sparks and guttered again. Water dripped down. There were shallow puddles in the metal hallway.

“We’re gonna get fucking electrocuted in here,” Sullivan said.

“Always a possibility,” Cavendish said. “Tell your friend McDonagh. Got a lot of leaks now. Can’t afford to lose any more men.”

Sullivan grunted to himself. “Lot of our best men transferred over to keep order in Persephone. I hear that Lamb woman is still up to some rabble-rousing … how she does it from jail, we don’t know.”

“Subversion’s easier to deal with than getting electrocuted…”

A splicer just ahead of Cavendish reached out from the barred windows of his cell, screeching, “Electrocuted? Did I hear ya say you want to be electrocuted? To be punished for your crimes? Here you are, you bastards!”

Electricity flickered along the splicer’s arm—and sputtered out.

“Don’t worry about that one,” Cavendish said. “He’s got no EVE left in him. Can’t do anything with his ADAM…” And Cavendish cracked the splicer’s elbow hard with his truncheon. The impact made an ugly crunching sound, and the man jerked his arm back in, shrieking in pain.

“You broke it!”

“You deserved it,” Cavendish said, yawning, as they passed onward. “Ah, there it is. Number twenty-nine.”