Character starting areas

The Medical Pavilion, Hood should of expected the place reeking from medicine from around every corner even in the vents. Being a scrawny fellow had it advantages, Hood had been making highways for himself by just using the air ducts all across from the Medical Pavilion to the Proving Grounds, doing his best to keep away from splicers while searching for his lost lover; Adanndius. After the panic from the New Year's eve riot, Hood lost Adanndius amongst the gun shooting and panicking crowds of people, Hood was forced to escape the gun fire with just the clothes on his back. Refusing the thought she was dead or worst – she became a splicer, to Hood's thoughts that she was hiding just like he was maybe in the vents or some secluded place in Rapture.

Quietly, and silently crawling down the duct above some sort of doctor's office, Hood ate the remainder of what was left of a candy bar. Eating what ever that was edible, or half eaten while searching. Traveling light Hood only carried with him a rusty crowbar, and a pack of smokes – maybe his ever treasured possessions an old photo of Adanndius and a brown cowboy hat resting on top of his head.

After munching the last of the candy bar, Hood hacked. Maybe due to too much bad food lately, Hood had been forced to eat half soaked beans, candy bars to even chips on the floor, it wasn't like there was a warm meal left somewhere, no everything was cold or soaked with sea water. But when Hood covered his mouth from the hacking, he realized there was blood on the palm of his hand. He gasped, before painfully clearing his dry throat. His lung cancer couldn't be possible spreading again now, but it was to be expected...

Hood suffered from lung cancer, and serious anxiety problems. In order to calm his nerves he smoked any cigarette he had on him or that he came across, the same with whiskey. All medical pills or caplets were either stolen or washed away due to the flooding in some areas of Rapture – the Medical Pavilion was whipped clean from anything with medicine.

'See anything useful, money, ADAM – maybe a damsel?' a voice spoke from beyond the vents.

'Damsel? Where are you going to find a damsel on a corpse you lug head!' another voice spatted.

It was splicers. These where one of the major things Hood would of loved to avoid completely – almost everyone here was either splicer or some other sort of admonition. Hood was one of the remaining humans or maybe even the last. Adanndius took the liking of plasmids some sort of ADAM thing, Hood didn't like the thought of using plasmids he denied any sort of offer with the usage of ADAM it was turned you into a Splicer it would seem. Every since he came to Rapture everyone was addicted to something, whether it'd be money, ADAM or plastic surgery – Hood didn't want to become addicted to something awful again, he learned that from smoking all his years on the surface world. But here he was smoking again, and now drinking here in Rapture. He felt pathetic.

Holding his breath, and doing his best to remain still in the cramped vents, Hood awaited for the splicers to leave – the last thing he wanted these things to learn of him traveling threw the air ducts. But he felt hacking coming along in his throat, along with an awful taste of blood building up in the back of his throat.

Then he coughed up blood, with a painful wheezing in his breath.

'Hear that!'

'Coming from inside the ceilings!'

'Damn it!' Hood grunted to himself.

Gun firing could be heard next, puncturing bullet holes into the metal of the vents narrowing missing Hood who began crawling as fast he could. More gun firing, more bullet holes and the smell of black powder. All thoughts were just getting down this duct and around the corner away from above the doctor's office – but then -

'Arhgg...'Hood cried, lifting his arm and looking down he saw two smoky holes in the side of his stomach. There was blood, more blood then what Hood just coughed up. Doing his best not to panic, Hood continued to force himself down and around the vent. Narrowing making his escape into the next two rooms, below both of this rooms were flooded. Pain flashed all across Hood's body, then dizziness and an awful sick feeling in his stomach. 'Just a short rest...' Hood panted to himself. He took out a single cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it with an old lighter. Just to calm down the nerves before resting his head against the cold metal beneath him.

Green

The light sent daggers of pain into his eyes; it was inescapable, and unwanted. He closed his eyes, finding great difficulty in doing so. And when he finally succeeded, it was in vain - the lights continued to assail his eyes mercilessly.

An almost absolute numbness permeated his body; he could barely feel his limbs, and they hardly reacted to his mental commands. He concentrated on his fingers, and even found great difficulty in moving them; he couldn't even be certain if they had actually moved at all. How long had he been like this?

Enough. Letting out a reverberating howl of anger and frustration, the Bouncer ordered his four limbs to crunch. Something cracked, and the Bouncer found himself upright on his feet.

He took a moment to survey his surroundings; the room was impossibly white, glaringly so, as his eyes struggled to adapt. He glanced upwards, through his upper portholes, and cursed with all his heart at the creator of those ceiling lights. If there were any figures in the room, he could not see.

He moved forwards, only to find himself sinking into the ground; he couldn't feel that his own legs needed adjusting too. Grunting, he concentrated on setting himself upright, a task he found most difficult, when controlling his limbs felt like grasping at clouds. He glanced at his lower body via his lower portholes, and mentally clenched his jaw.

It took every ounce of his concentration to move one leg forward, planting it firmly onto the ground, and repeating with the other leg methodically; each step booming with resounding echoes, disturbing the settled dust that had found their way into the cracks of the ceilings and walls. He moaned long and deep each time he took a step; the concentration was rather taxing.

Soon however, he got a feel for it; more practice, he knew he needed. He fumbled around a table as he practised maintaining his balance, and unwittingly hit the switch of an Accu-Vox audio diary.

:: click! Whirrrrrrrrr....... ::

[A deep monstrous howl greets the beginning of the diary.]

(Male voice 1, sounding unnervingly... casual) So, Lee... enjoyin' our hospitality? [Another howl.]

Yea, yea I know. 'Tis grand, innit? [A power drill starts, and it digs into something metallic. Another howl, louder than before, follows.]

(Male voice 2, alarmed) Boss, them straps ain't gonna hold!!

(Male voice 1, still casual) Sure it will. Whoop! Nearly forgot th' next dose.
[The sound of a syringe is picked up, and the sickly sound of it penetrating flesh could be heard. The suckling sound of liquids follows. The howls quieten, and one could hear intense struggling against straps.]

There, there... I bet tha' hurt more, ey? [He cackles.]
Y'know what else interestin'? [The clink of a glass jar can be heard.]
Yer plasmid. Y'know, I dunno what th' hell went through tha' head o'yers. A plasmid jus' fer Big Daddies? HA!

Figure ya should have th' honours. I remember how it felt when I got my first plasmid. 'Twas a bitch.
[He sniffs.] So I bet ya jus' itchin' ta know how it'd feel... right now.

[He raises his voice.] Don't stop yer work now, boys! [Another power drill starts up.] Hold 'im tight. I'ma givin' him a 'lil more juice... [Various clinking sounds could be heard.]

[Another suckling sound of liquids through tubes can be heard. The struggling never ceased, and soft monstrous growls could be heard, before they end in a howl. The drills spin faster...]

:: static ::

A pulse ran through his blood, but the Bouncer felt no connection to the event. He simply turned, and lumbered his way out, the surgical table still strapped to his right drill arm...

Bang. A single resounding noise that dominated the man’s memory, Warmth was also a feeling the man felt long ago, or was it not so long ago? These memories noises and feelings were all that was left of what he used to be.

Micheal, the name sounded familiar. It sounded right, it fit him, and the man pondered on this and concluded that this was his name. Micheal opened his eyes to reveal a very dim, and dusty room. Micheal couldn’t recall anything but his name so far.

Perplexed Micheal realized he couldn’t make a noise. Struggling to get a hold on the words he shook with the effort. The language he once knew continued to escape him. To avoid panic Micheal stood with ease and observed his surroundings.
He was in what looked like a small apartment that suffered from a tornado that came and went. To Micheal’s dismay he finally realized what felt so alien. It was he. He was the most alien thing about the room. He was in a Big daddy suit, giving a low groan Micheal spun around to see a Big daddy drill resting against the wall. He strode over and examined it. While examining the drill Micheal pondered on why he couldn’t remember anything. Surely he would’ve been able to remember the horrible experience of becoming a big daddy...

Micheal picked the drill up and attached it to his right arm. Perfect fit he thought. Micheal tested it and saw the fuel gauge was ¾’s of the way full. He shuffled about the room until he found the doorway. Kicking it open Micheal observed that the once beautiful rapture was now a morbid hellhole.

A deep longing filled his gut, Micheal couldn’t put his finger on it but he had an urge to protect, but what was he supposed to protect? Micheal strolled down the hallways of the Sinclair hotel lumbering in the direction of the trams in hopes to find a way out of the Sinclair hotel.

The Ryan Retreat

A ritx hotel where everyone was rich and happy....but now nothing more than a whore house. The spliceers usually just stayed away from her but then again, some were very stupid and Yena was was one for solitude. Yena, the Big Sister just kept walking around the hotel until she found what she was sniffing for.....a body with ADAM On the ground. She sighed and looked at the bottles on her ADAM needle, the long one on her arm, only one was half full.

Now Yena was a Big Sister with a little sister, somthing very uncommon since the Little Sisters had the Big Daddys to protect them. She found Hope wandering around by herself and she felt lonely at the time. There was something different about her that intrigued her and so she took her in

Yena snapped back into reality and took the small child out of the cage on her shoulder and put her down next to the body and knelt down "Hope.......lets drain this body. Then we can head home....i think he have had our fill for tonight right? Plus i could go for a shower....." She chuckled and looked around for any splicers, and finally slid her needle into the corpse, beginning her work and waited for Hope to dig in too....literally

Thump.
Thump.
Thump.


Thump.
Thump.
Thump.

The sound was metallic and repititous. It sent what few rats that lived scurrying off, and the crazed Splicer who heard it started to shake violently. He had known this was to easy. The Little Sister had been standing in a large area, no Big Daddy around, and he'd been lucky enough to find her before she saw him. He had watched her from the balcony overlooking in the room, and he fully thought it was his lucky day.


In a heartbeat he'd jumped down, and ran at her. His wrench was heavy in his hands, but he brought it up quickly. As it swung down towards the back of her head, he felt something rip at his hand, and he was blown back.

A rivet. his mind barely registered it, but the 4 inch rivet had travelled through his hand, fusing it to the wrench. It took him possibly 3 seconds before the full implications of what the rivet meant rose to his frontal lobe. He. Had looked up to see a Big Daddy, rivet gun held aloft like it wasn't even there. He'd been so scared, he'd simply run. The Big Daddy hadn't liked that, and another rivet had ripped through his right shoulder, but he didn't stop. His survival depended on it.


Seeking a place to hide, he'd been the luckiest Splicer alive when he found a door open, leading to a small storage room. What made him lucky was the heavy metal of the door. He was sure it'd hold up. He'd slammed it, bolted it and he stood in the dark waiting for the danger to pass.

Thump.
Thump.
Thump.

Thump.
Thump.
Thump.

The sound abruptly stopped, and the Splicer put his head to the door. Suddenly, the door was ripped away, and the Splicer screamed. The Big Daddy bent low, stick his face in to peer at the one who Sarah wanted dead. She'd planned to have the door hinge bolts removed, and she had made sure he'd been ready to stop the foolish Splicer.

The Splicer dropped to his knees, tears and snot trailing his dirty face and Mr. Ducky didn't like the sound he was making. Mr. Ducky leveled his Rivet gun and punched a hole through the wailing Splicers face. The body thumped to the ground, and Sarah cackled as she slid down his back. "Good work Mr. Ducky. This angel has lots of ADAM." She inserted her needle and she went to work.

Epsilon

It had been along time. Almost a life time it seemed, though hardly qualified a life time when compared to how long Epsilon might live. The city though wrought in death, chaos, and anarchy was still lit up as though nothing had happened over the past decade. It was still the city that Epsilon was privileged to protect, still the city that needed his help.

From his perch on the coral reef that surrounded the city of Rapture Epsilon could see everything. The buildings, the connecting tunnels, and even foundation. It all laid before him, sprawling on the see floor. The coral cliff plummeted nearly a hundred feet before it leveled off. The distance really was nothing when in the water but with Epsilon's weight it might be.

With a quick push, Epsilon hop off the cliff and slowly plummeted to the bottom of the coral face. A few seconds later and the weighty metal body impacted the sea floor, sending silt and debris outwards. The silt veil lingered in the water as the behemoth of a man, or what is left of a man, walked towards the city of Rapture.

The Ryan Retreat read all over the building in red neon lights with the logo of a picture of Andrew Ryan on the main sign. Like all of Raptures swanky hotels it was very opulent. The rich came to the place for rest and relaxation or a secret rendezvous with secret lover, but now no one came here for those things. The only reason would be to loot, pillage, or hunt for Little Sisters. This though was the best place for Epsilon to get back into Rapture directly. With the large window it would be simple as smashing it in to enter the building.

Raising his arms over his head, Epsilon slammed his massive arms against the glass. Again and again he swung his great mass against the thick glass. With one last slam with his overly armored right arm he broke through. The water pushed against him but pointlessly so. His mass moved deliberately through the opening just big enough for him to get through. The whole display was still intact due to the divided panes of glass but the room was still filling rather quickly with water as it filled in behind Epsilon. He didn’t care though if the Pink Pearl filled with water or if he even had to destroy the entire building. Nothing was more important the fact…

…Epsilon had returned

"I... I've got a pistol in the back... I-" I slammed my fist down on the end recording button before I could finish. 'Suicide... that's the only thing left' I told myself. With a great ache in my head and my bones, I struggled to my feet. I took one last fleeting look at the leaking halls of the Farmers market before retreating into the remains of my broken corner store. The sign above had always had a shine due to the oh so attentive owner, me. But now the sign was in small bits in a large radius from the first grenade that hit it so long ago. I stepped on the cracked bits of candy strewn about. I recounted the names as my shoes crushed them. 'Malt's malt ball, the slamme bar, two-ton toffee, and of course the Malt bar' I smiled to myself, reliving the making of candy, and all the little details. I walked heavily into the storeroom door, and shook my head, before remembering my dark errand. I lay my hand on the doorknob and lightly caressed the cured gold. "My livelihood, gone." I sobbed. I pressed on inside, and almost jogged to my ancient rusty safe, clicking in the combination and throwing it open. I was almost afraid to look at the ebony handled revolver, but I forced myself. I was surprised to find, not my pistol, but an audio recording. I roughly pulled it out and examed the bright silver finish, as though it was put in yesterday. After warily considering this oddity, I pushed play.

An unknown womans voice rushed through the speakers, and began. "To Janus, I want you to know, that what happened to the people here was not your fault. You were being used by Andrew Ryan, and his sick lackies. I want you to go to Apollo square, and find the body of your dearest friend, and he will tell you what to do next. Your gun is under the safe, in the floorboards, along with a present from me." With that final note, the recording clicked off.

I stared at the fancy recording box, trying to sort out its riddle. How could the dead speak? I shook it off and pushed the heavy safe onto its side, and sure enough, a missing floorboard hole held my gun, a jar of red liquid, and a syringe. I picked them up immediately and looked at the gun, polished. 'Who was this person' I asked myself. I read the label on the jar of red liquid, which read Winter blast, then extra writing said, 'take me, you can't go it alone'. I finally looked at the syringe, looking neww as the day it was manufactured. I weighed my options, and figured there was no way to Apollo square without a plasmid. With great shakiness, I withdrew a draw of winter blast with the syringe to it's fullest. I stuck the rim of my hat into my mouth, and clenched my eyes shut tight. With a shuddering breath, I pushed the needle into my arm, and pushed the stopper down.

Clank

Malcolm spun the wheel on the heavy steel hatch and hauled on the heavy door. Wincing a bit at the bright light that flooded the room on the other side, he shaded his eyes.

"Green? You still, you know, you?" He edged cautiously into the room, watching what used to be one of his coworkers fumbling clumsily at one of the work tables. God, let that little cocktail we added to the mix have worked. This could get ugly if it hadn't. "Green? How much of the plan do you remember? Lamb told them to slap you into a suit and juice you into a Daddy, and we slipped your project into the chemicals. Remember? It's me, Green. Malcolm Darrow? Remember? Come on, Green. Talk to me. Or, you know, rumble less menacingly. The color controls are in the helmet, wired to you. Just think happy thoughts if you remember what's going on, and it'll light up. Come on, don't squish me. I helped you out, remember?"

Taleth walked through the wet, damp, and slimy halls of Rapture looking for Malcom. It had been a long day of attempting to survive in the forsaken dream. His combat boots made a loud echo in the ghostly halls, but no splicer dared come, most having connected the sound from the boots and death. He let some live to go warn his druggy friends, but missing an eye, a finger, maybe a year or both of their hands. Very few he let go unscathed. The ones he saw unfit to continue living, he purged, one less splicer that competed for the scarce resources left in Rapture. Then he heard a sound, a radio from the Big Daddy production facillty and then Malcom's voice. A desperate splicer attempted to stop him by waving around her revolver and yelling random things. Taleth had no time for the garbage and let loose a cloud of gas from his hand and left the once pretty lady writhing on the ground, clutching her throat in the fleetin moments of her life. When he reached Malcom, he saw a Bouncer and Malcom talking to it. " Malcom, are you sure you want to get close to him? As far as I am aware, they can't understand you... perhaps I'm wrong but..." Flipping off the saftey to his FAMAS, he aimed at the Big Daddy caustiously, a gun could set it off and before he knew it, he could be squished under the boot or have a large drill through his chest.

On the other side, cacklings of splicers could be heard and they seemed to be coming their way. " By the way, just how much Adam did you leave in there? Seems like your druggy friends can't wait to get some." It appeared that Malcom knew the Bouncer and was trying to calm him down or something, but Taleth doubted the Big Daddy understood what they were saying, but it would be possible he was wrong. Malcom was one of the few people in Rapture he didn't purge or torture and then send off, and that took a lot of respect, even more so that he was travelign with him.

Belinda calmly picks her way to through the trash, away from what remained of old Steinman's plastic factory. His workshop of horrors, but there was nothing wrong with a little facelift now and then. Not as if she ever needed it. The gene pool had been kind to her, though not in love with her. But a couple of her friends, before they went and joined up with some gang or the other, running around Rapture as if they owned the place, had went to Steinman. She walks past a corpse, and it vaguely reminds her of an old friend, but with no nose and one eye sewn shut, their mouth expanded up their cheeks, splitting their face in half and twisted into a silent, eternal shriek of horror.

She had looked to see what the hell was in there, but it seemed that there was nothing worth her time, only the ruined bodies of old Splicers. ADAM... she thinks to herself. No, I must not do that, not when we must suceed, we must leave...there is nothing but the plan. She grabs a vial of EVE, glowing blue in a corner and keeping it in one her many pockets. The plan is all. A rustling is heard, and she puts up her hand, burning to light her way. One of the only plasmids she retained when she cut herself off from ADAM, too horrified by what it did to all of her companions in her underwater haven, her paradise. Mmm...not so much of a paradise now... she thinks, continuing to walk, her ruined, water-stained heels making almost no noise in the security hallway, glowing a wicked red from her hand.

Making no noise, she approaches the foyer. Suddenly, gunshots echo. Splicers! she thinks. She extinquishes her hand, turning to her trusty shotgun. Don't let me down, she thinks to it, before sneaking into the room, seeing a gang of Leadheads in the center of the foyer. Not pausing to consider if there were any friends in that particular group, she reminds herself that she only had one friend, and he was not of Rapture, and opens fire, picking off two before the other four realize what she's doing. Ah, well, she thinks. Just another glorious day in Rapture.

Green: Malcolm and Taleth present, possibly Hood.

The Bouncer breathed steadily; slowly inhaling and exhaling. He did not respond to Malcolm's initial hail; taking another sure step in front of him, as if oblivious to the technician - devoted to simply... walking. Another thudding step took the Bouncer forward, before he realised that Malcolm was not only hailing him, but in actual fact, talking to him. The Bouncer was still puzzled however, though it may not be apparent to the outsider. There was nothing green nearby.

He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned to regard the technician coolly; he had only heard the second half of the tech's chatter - he understood the words, but they... held no meaning for him... surely? It was... difficult to think. He simply stood there in silence, his portlights glowing a neutral yellow directly at Malcolm.

Before he could respond, he caught sight of the well armed and armoured person, and watched him speak to the tech. As Taleth pointed his gun at the Bouncer, he felt his mind focusing on the well armed man. His entire body tensed; particularly his right arm, causing the drill to rotate slowly. The strap, still attached to the now loose surgical table, formed a loop around his right shoulder, holding fast. It was a funny sight to see that the Bouncer was still unaware he was dragging a table with him.

His portlights slowly changed into a gloomy orange - there was no need to act... or did he find himself unable to act? The haze that permeated his thoughts seemed to guide his instinct - telling him to be aware of this man, but take no action. It was... so hard to think, and he found himself unwilling to resist. Instinct will guide him.

ENCOUNTER:
6 splicers: 2 Thuggish, 3 Leadheads, 1 Spider. The area would just be a room filled with vats of liquid, machinery, surgical tables and various equipment. The room is connected waiting-room like area, which is then connected to other hallways. I have no idea how to upload an attachment in this post, so I can't wiggle some lines to depict what the room might look like. Oh, by the way... if there's any discontinuity of how the areas look... I apologize. I'm winging it as I go along!

But the armed man seemed to be aware of another presence... and the Bouncer could now feel it too. The sounds of insane laughter, incoherent chattering... and weapons being armed. Hostility literally oozed from these newcomers, as their weapons were already trained on the trio even before coming into sight.

A new instinct overrode the old; he felt his blood expand, as he shot out his left hand at Malcolm and Taleth. He then instinctively contracted his blood, as he tensed his left arm. The wave of bullets from the hostile splicers met with a transparent, faintly blue barrier, causing water-like ripples to propagate from where the bullets struck. It was a strange sensation; the Bouncer could feel mild to moderate stinging with each bullet.

But the shield would not last; the final bullet struck, causing the barrier to shatter like glass - the pieces simply vanishing into thin air. Fortunately, the splicers ran to take cover, needing to reload. The Thuggishs now acted on cue - charging in like savages.

Unfortunately for the Bouncer, as the barrier shattered, his was suddenly seized by a paralysing pain, in both body and mind. He fell to his knees; the various gauges and gears on his suit began to turn wildly, and even puffs of steam escape his suit. The Big Daddy could not see the gauges and gadgetry that was embedded to the exterior of his suit - it appears that they are not meant for him, but perhaps one with technical expertise.

Realising that he was now incapacitated, he quickly scanned the area through his portholes. In the corner of the 'waiting-room', he swore he saw something falling out of the vents.
[Inserting Hood here, if it seems a good place to.]

But the Bouncer did not notice the clicking of metallic hooks from the ceiling...

(Alright guys I messed up on my first Roleplay messege so I'm going to try not to mess up this time so uh here it goes)

James woke up in a clinic with a headache thinking "what just happend, where am I." He looked around noticing this wasn't the clinic in Apollo Square. He saw the blood on the wall and the corpses on the floor he knew this was the Medical Pavilion
He lay on the desk in Steimans office, he could of swore he was in Fort Frolic looking for supplies and trying not to think of his dad or ADAM.

James thought of his dad the only person who could stop his ADAM addiction he thought of his dad's death in 1964. James dad was a scientist he was trying to find a way to destroy ADAM as ADAM was the reason why people have died in Rapture and he had all this ADAM in his lab and the splicers came and killed him. James knew he was a splicer but he didn't kill his dad. James wasn't crazy for ADAM nor was he driven mad by the Plasmids.He checked his supplies Tommy gun 10 rounds,potato chips, and distilled water. James also remembered he had two plasmids as he noticed the fire coming out of his hand,He grabbed his supplies and set out for the dystopian hell.

Malcolm: Green and Taleth present

"Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap!" Malcolm's left hand made a clawing gesture as he arced lightning at the Spider Splicer closing in from the ceiling. Not stopping to see if he hit or not, he hurried to get behind Green, ducking low in a mix of fear and survival instinct. His movements were like those of a rodent, scurrying and cringing. Standing with the ironclad behemoth between himself and the maniacs made him feel a little better.

"This would be a great time to come to your senses, Green. And this will probably sting like crazy. Sorry." Pulling a pair of needle-nosed pliers from his tool belt, Malcolm found the specific bit of tubing he was looking for, his eyes tracing it down to a connector valve on a small tank strapped to Green's back. The spring-mounted valve control on the Supplementary Adreneline Supply was only supposed to trigger when a Little Sister was threatened, and then release the adreneline extracted over time from the Big Daddy's body. Malcolm carefully reached into the intentionally miniscule space around the sensitive control with his pliers and tweaked it into the "open" position. He heard the click of the timing switch telling him that it had acknowledged a threat, even though the suit control hadn't triggered the adreneline supply. Maybe a minute before it sends the Continue Inquiry signal back to suit control. When the control doesn't tell it that a Sister is in trouble, it'll shut off. If the splicers aren't dead by then, we're boned.

Micheal shook off his confusion, he had to focus on the task at hand. Micheal lumbered about the Sinclair hotel until he found a few flight of stairs. Afraid that he would be discovered by splicers Micheal started jogging. Once Micheal reached the junction connecting the Hotel and Paupers drop, he dared to turn around.

To Micheal's dismay he saw multiple groups of spider splicers scurrying on the walls. With renewed vigor Micheal dashed through the junction and began to hammer on the locking mechanism of the door connecting the junction to the Hotel. Realizing it was a futile effort Micheal felt something building inside of himself. Was it fear? Regret? or was it just his frustration finally breaking through the surface of his being? Micheal instinctively drew his left hand back and unleashed a torrent of lightning on the door's mechanism. Good atleast they did something to me that was actually useful. Still not satisfied that the door wasn't going to hold Micheal took off. Stopping once he reached Paupers drop Micheal breathed a sigh of relief.

He then caught himself realizing he wasn't in the clear, atleast not yet. As long as Micheal was in rapture he would never find solace. Brushing some grime off of his port hole Micheal began to walk towards the tram stations when crippling pain tore through him. Micheal fell to his hands and knees, his vision dimmed. Suddenly afraid Micheal pondered on everything he knew on big daddies. Thankful for most of his common memories coming back, Micheal got on his knees, and began thinking. What did big daddies need? Adam? No they weren’t Adam gatherers, they guarded the gatherers.... Then Micheal was gripped by a chilling thought that raced up his spine. Big daddies needed little sisters, more specifically the Alpha series needed them more than anything. Micheal shuddered again.

His body was shutting down.

I awoke on the floor of my pantry with bits of smashed sweets stuck to my overcoat. I groggily sat up with the aftereffects of the plasmid still affecting me, much like a hangover. As I shook myself, bits of snow fell from my skin and clothes, probably an overload from the plasmid. I got to my feet and picked up my pistol and a few clips of ammo. I walked out of my pantry, trying to place my gun and ammo in my pockets, only to find I didn't have any. I looked at my pants... no pockets, jacket... nope, undershirt... nope, nowhere on my person did I have a pocket. I scratched underneath my hat making it fall off. "Damn" I remarked picking it back up. I noticed the many loops inside my hat I used to pull out random lollipops for entertainment purposes. Curious, I slipped the pistol in my hand into these loops; A perfect fit. After considering this, I slotted the ammo inside the loops as well, then replaced my headwear, which was noticeably heavier then before. I set off in pursuit of the woman's directions.

I turned a corner and tipped my head forward in exasperation "of course" I muttered.

Conflict:
Two thuggish splicers, one leadhead splicer, a security camera, and an undisturbed big daddy W/O Little sister.
There is a stand to my left, and two larger stands that the splices are next too. One stand withholds a shotgun -4 Shells-, while the other has a Tommy gun -no ammo-. The big daddy is at the far edge of the room. One splicer has the electrobolt plasmid, and the "Hypnotize Big Daddy" Plasmid.

(Whoever wants to act this out, have at it. But please make it quick, I hate acting out my own enemies fight sequences.)

I awoke on the floor of my pantry with bits of smashed sweets stuck to my overcoat. I groggily sat up with the aftereffects of the plasmid still affecting me, much like a hangover. As I shook myself, bits of snow fell from my skin and clothes, probably an overload from the plasmid. I got to my feet and picked up my pistol and a few clips of ammo. I walked out of my pantry, trying to place my gun and ammo in my pockets, only to find I didn't have any. I looked at my pants... no pockets, jacket... nope, undershirt... nope, nowhere on my person did I have a pocket. I scratched underneath my hat making it fall off. "Damn" I remarked picking it back up. I noticed the many loops inside my hat I used to pull out random lollipops for entertainment purposes. Curious, I slipped the pistol in my hand into these loops; A perfect fit. After considering this, I slotted the ammo inside the loops as well, then replaced my headwear, which was noticeably heavier then before. I set off in pursuit of the woman's directions.

I turned a corner and tipped my head forward in exasperation "of course" I muttered.

Conflict:
Two thuggish splicers, one leadhead splicer, a security camera, and an undisturbed big daddy W/O Little sister.
There is a stand to my left, and two larger stands that the splices are next too. One stand withholds a shotgun -4 Shells-, while the other has a Tommy gun -no ammo-. The big daddy is at the far edge of the room. One splicer has the electrobolt plasmid, and the "Hypnotize Big Daddy" Plasmid.

(Whoever wants to act this out, have at it. But please make it quick, I hate acting out my own enemies fight sequences.)

Conflict:
Two thuggish splicers, one leadhead splicer, a security camera, and an undisturbed big daddy W/O Little sister. 
There is a stand to my left, and two larger stands that the splices are next too. One stand withholds a shotgun -4 Shells-, while the other has a Tommy gun -no ammo-. The big daddy is at the far edge of the room. One splicer has the electrobolt plasmid, and the "Hypnotize Big Daddy" Plasmid.

“Of course.”

The splicers didn't seem to have heard Janus' muttering; in fact, they were arguing over themselves. The three splicers knew each other, and looked to be planning some silly game with the Rosie Big Daddy, who appeared to be... simply staring into space. The Leadhead occasionally flicked his left hand, swapping between lightning in his veins, and a curious green-balled plasmid. If Janus crept near enough, he would have heard:

“I'ma tellin' ya – we snag that Daddy over there with yer Hypno, and we're gonna strike gold. No one's gonna stand in our way, and we're gettin' all the ADAM we want!”

“Ya fool! We need a Sister, a'right?!” cried the Leadhead, his arm shaking from withdrawal. Having more plasmids than others, mean that he needs more ADAM compared to other splicers.

“Fuck ya – there ain't no Sisters 'round no more, okay?! Ya wanna survive? Ya gotta take initiative, and that mean snaggin' that Daddy over there,” the Thuggish replied coolly. He seemed more calm and collected among the three, clasping his lead pipe in a 'gangster' manner.

“Tch, fine. I'll get the shotty – never know when ya might... HEY! YOU THERE!” hollered the second Thuggish, spotting Janus.
The Leadhead cackled madly, “Boys, I know what I'd like Metal Daddy to do...” He fired a bolt of lightning towards Janus, which missed completely – instead hitting the stand withholding the shotgun, conveniently flinging the shotgun towards the Candy Man. Flicking his wrist, he formed a strange green ball in his hand, and dashed towards the Rosie.

“Fuck!” cried the leading Thuggish, “Ya jus' gave him our weapon, ya ninny!” He yelled back at the Leadhead, as he began to charge Janus, scraping his pipe along the metallic ground, creating sparks. The second Thuggish followed in a similar fashion, except he wielded a wrench.

((Work's been brutal lately, so I'll post Green's response tomorrow – hopefully Hood and Taleth would be able to chime in before I do ^_^))

(Internets back!)

I clumsily juggled the shotgun in my hands before catching it... backwards. I dropped the gun, unintentionally flipping it and conveniently firing a shot into the kneecap of the wrench wielding splicer. My spirits raised a split second before a pipe descended onto my shoulder, causing a severe jet of pain to course through my arm. I cried aloud and thrust my palm at the offending brute, letting loose a great freezing ball into his chest. As the splicer was encased in a heavy ice tomb, I panicked as I saw the another splicer readying a familiar green ball at a Rosie. I hurriedly picked up the shotgun and took aim, when the wrench-wielding splicer took a shot at the back of my knee, "I'll kill you, ya damned freak!" It yelled. I collapsed forward and rolled onto my back. I aimed at the thuggish splicers head, and fired the other shell...