Rapture: The Big Daddy

by Dustin Brubaker

  “Yeah, never mind.” This was stupid.

  “If you leave without asking, you leave without answers. And if you leave without answers, you’ll never find her,” she said just as I was heading back for the door.

  I froze.

  She smiled up at me.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Winters,” she said, gesturing to the pillow across from her. “And ask me your questions.”

  I kept my expression nonchalant but did as she bid anyway. “How do you know my name?”

  “That’s a rather boring question.”

  “Then how about this: How did you know I’m looking for someone?”

  “News travels fast around Rapture,” she said with a sigh, her voice dropping its sing-song quality. She picked up the crystal ball from its gilded pedestal and pressed a small button on its bottom. It promptly stopped glowing. She tossed it into the sea of pillows. “Let’s just say that I make it my business to know what’s going on down here at all times.”

  “You sure dropped the act quick.”

  She shrugged. “It’s been my experience that parents with missing children don’t like to be toyed with.”

  I didn’t like the sound of this. “How much do you know?”

  “I know that your daughter went missing yesterday,” she said simply, propping her elbow against her knee and resting her chin against her hand. “A cute little thing. Seven, if I remember right. She attends the Ryan the Lion Prep Academy. Disappeared somewhere at Fontaine’s Department Store, correct?”

  I nodded. “I hear it’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened. Other little girls have been kidnapped, too. Is that true? Where are they taken? I have to find -- ”

  “I’m an information broker, not a genie, Mr. Winters,” she said tiredly as her eyes drifted over me. She held out her hand, palm up. “Your end first, of course.”

  Fuck, she wanted money.

  “I don’t have any,” I admitted. The Fighting McDonagh’s had cleaned me out.

  Her brow knit. She sat back, crossing her arms over her bare midriff. “Well, isn’t that lovely.”

  “But I can get you some in a few days,” I said. Or rather, lied. At this rate, it’d be difficult to even pay this month’s rents without cutting a few corners.

  “I don’t work on credit, Mr. Winters.”

  “But this is about my daughter. It’s about a human life.”

  “Maybe to you. But to me, it’s just business. It’s just money,” she said, sighing heavily. She sat back on her pillow and just stared at me, expectant.

  As I reached for my wallet again, to make sure I hadn’t missed any stray bills, something caught my eye. The glint of silver at my wrist. A watch I’d had for over ten years. The only thing the old man back in Cleveland had left me. Solid silver band and sapphires and diamonds in the face. A custom order no one had ever come to pick up. Too expensive to find a buyer for it at the time.

  Without a second thought, I unclasped it from my wrist and handed it to her. She gave me a skeptical look -- perhaps at the blood that crusted my knuckles -- before taking it.

  “Will that cover it?” I asked. “It’s worth at least a grand, easy. Not to mention it’s from the surface.”

  “The surface, you say,” she repeated, one eyebrow quirking as she briefly glanced at me. Her thumb brushed over its face. She checked the back, inspected the links. “I suppose it’ll do.” She dropped it into her shirt, between her breasts, and sat forward, hands on her knees. “There’s somewhere you need to go. Rather, someone you need to go to. I have a feeling he’ll have all the answers to your questions, but it won’t be easy.”

  I frowned. “Why’s that? Who is he?”

  She shook her head quickly, effectively pushing all my questions aside. “How about this? You’ll escort my good friend to the Nyx Room tonight.” She stood up and added, looking down on me, “Without her, you’ll never get in. Once you’re there, it’s up to you to find the answers for yourself.”

  “Wait. Who am I supposed to meet? Why can’t you just tell me? That watch is worth a hell of a lot more than information that vague.”

  “The watch is for renting Kirsi for the evening,” she said simply. “She doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

  ***

  “You must be Arthur Winters,” an unfamiliar voice said.

  My attention slid from the trail of smoke rising from the end of my cigarette to the blonde woman who stood before me. She wore a tight blue dress. A fur coat was folded and draped over her right arm.

  It was about fucking time. I’d been standing here outside Worley Winery, waiting for this Kirsi girl for nearly a half hour.

  “Yeah, that’s me.” I took a last puff and then put out my cig on the bottom of my shoe. “Fiona said you could help me.”

  “Mm. Maybe. But think of it more like you can help yourself,” she said, her voice thick with a Scandinavian accent. She pulled on her jacket and fluffed her hair. “Let us be going now,” she said as she began to walk down the street, her high heels clicking. “Otherwise, you might miss your opportunity.”

  I caught up with her, my irritation growing. Why wouldn’t anyone just tell me what the hell was going on? All I wanted was to find Maddie. It was almost like folks were getting shits and giggles out of yanking me around.

  “Why do I need to meet this guy?” I asked as we walked. I didn’t know where the Nyx Room was, though I’d heard of it. I counted on her to lead the way. “Is he going to tell me where my daughter is, or is he just going to send me to someone else?”

  “Oh, Clifford will not be telling you anything,” Kirsi said with a short laugh. “He will be telling me, and you will be along for ride.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It simple, really,” she said, sliding her hands into the pockets of her coat. “He is assistant to Dr. Suchong. You know his name, yes?” She glanced at me for confirmation. I nodded, though I’d only heard the man’s name in passing once or twice. He was a scientist of some sort. “My dear friend Fiona says he will have answers for you, so I’m sure answers he will have. Though what they are, I do not know either. She told me very little this time.”

  Well, that answered my question. But it made a little more sense. Kirsi was an escort, and she made rich, high-ranking drunk men spill their secrets. Then she provided Fiona with the info.

  “Your eyes say you have more question,” Kirsi said, frowning up at me.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m just worried.”

  “You need not,” she replied quickly. “No one will find you out of place if you stay at my side.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I mean my daughter. I just want to find her.” Every minute that had passed since she’d disappeared felt like wasted time. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if it turned out I was too late.

  “Well, you will need patience,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing.

  “You clearly don’t have any kids.”

  She merely scoffed in response.

  After leading me on a fifteen-minute walk that seemingly spanned the entire length of Rapture, we arrived at Fort Frolic. A place I’d only ever visited for the casino, and Clara, for the clothing store. Occasionally we hit the restaurants or theatre, but I’d never actually explored the whole area.

  It was late evening, and the atrium was packed. Kirsi pointed with one heavily-lacquered fingernail up at the second floor of stores. There it was. A black and purple neon sign that read: The Nyx Room.

  As we went up the stairs leading to it, Kirsi linked her arm around mine. My instinct was to escape her grip, but her hand tightened on my arm.

  “And try to smile,” she told me. “You have pretty girl on arm. People will wonder if you’re not enjoying yourself.”

  I didn’t smile, but I didn’t try removing my arm again, either. I’d apologize to Clara later.

  At the door, we were greeted by a large man who stood guard, a cigar hanging off his lip.


  “Good to see you again, Chester,” Kirsi purred as he turned to open the door.

  His eye twitched as he looked at me. “Eh. Who’s the stiff?”

  “My new best friend, of course,” she said with a giggle, leading me past him and into the club.

  Chester merely grunted in return.

  The room was large and dark. The walls and ceiling were a deep violet. The carpet was black. The lights were few and far between, and most were concentrated on a stage where a woman was dancing in nothing but her undergarments. Kirsi yanked me through the crowd, unafraid to elbow people of obstruction out of the way.

  A slow, heavy beat accompanied with brass and strings filled the room. It was so loud it felt like the very ground was beating along with it.

  Kirsi brought us to the bar, which was mostly empty. She let go of my arm long enough to lean over the counter and give the bartender a peck on the cheek.

  “Hello, Donald. Is Clifford here yet?” she asked with a sweet smile.

  The balding man nodded. “Same room as always, baby doll.”

  “Thank you very much.” Kirsi snagged her arm around mine again and made a beeline for a hallway at the back of the room that had been hidden from afar. It was narrow, with only floor lights to guide the way. “He always drink in private room, because even he has a little brain,” Kirsi explained as we walked. “He know he may leak secret.”

  The closed door she brought us to had no marker on it. She knocked four times and called out to Clifford in a breathy voice.

  A moment later, the door opened. It was a woman -- one almost as beautiful as Kirsi. She immediately stepped aside, and Kirsi strode in, dragging me with her.

  The room was small. Only big enough for two couches and a coffee table sandwiched between them. One was a two-seater, but the other was a large u-shape that could’ve seated seven or eight.

  On that couch was a pudgy man with a head of wild, frizzy blond hair. He slouched with his arms hooked over the back of the couch as he twisted his neck to see Kirsi.

  “Kirsi! Well I’ll be damned. You said you didn’t work Thursdays.” A grin spread across his face as the other woman sat down next to him. He promptly shooed her away and then looked to me. “You mind a trade? Kirsi’s kind of my girl.”

  “That will be fine,” Kirsi said quickly, taking the spot the other woman had left when she stood. “This fellow does not much like me anyway.” She snuggled into him as she spoke, and glanced up at me through thick lashes. “Don’t be shy. Have your fun with Lydia.”

  “No thanks,” I said, offering an apologetic smile to Lydia. That’s not what I came here for. I came for answers.

  “What’s this?” Kirsi said, raising the only open wine bottle on the table. She sloshed it around. “The bottle still half-full. This isn’t like you, Clifford. Let us fix that.” She sat forward and started pouring two glasses of wine.

  Lydia grabbed my hand and pulled me down onto the sofa with her. She was brunette and green-eyed, with her hair in a long bob Clara had recently contemplated getting.

  “And what is your name?” she asked, her voice air thin. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

  “My name is Arthur.”

  “Hm?” She raised one thin eyebrow expectantly as she traced her finger along my sleeve. “Is that it? You won’t tell me your last name?”

  “Not tonight.” Not ever.

  She giggled. “Well, that’s okay.”

  We made small talk for about ten minutes. My patience was wearing thin. Kirsi was still on the couch with this Clifford fellow, pouring drinks into him as he babbled. Lydia kept crowding close as I pretended to listen to whatever she was saying.

  When she started to knead my thigh with her fingers, I moved her hand away. That’s when I noticed a series of small red dots clustered near the inside of her elbow. Half a dozen tiny scabs, a few edged with yellowish purple bruises.

  “What happened there?” I asked.

  She glanced where I was looking and laughed. “Nothing happened, silly,” she said, tucking her arm away at her side. “It’s just from my ADAM shots.”

  I felt like I’d heard the phrase used before, but I couldn’t place it. “ADAM shots?”

  “Our lovely Lydia here has Plasmid, you see,” Kirsi spoke up from where she sat on Clifford’s lap. “Go ahead,” she urged. “Show Arthur.”

  Lydia smiled and raised her hand. She spread it wide, fingers tensing. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  And then a wine bottle from the table shot right into her palm. She closed her hand over it and grinned at me. “This one’s Telekinesis. Isn’t that amazing? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen it before.”

  “Can’t say I have,” I said, giving a nervous laugh. ADAM. The life-force behind Plasmids -- the superhuman abilities scientists in Rapture alone had managed to create. “I’ve seen the ads, but…”

  “Not everyone can afford it. And those who can like to keep their Plasmids hidden, usually. Even this far under the ocean, people will still find reasons to hate.”

  I watched as she sent the bottle back to the table using Telekinesis. “Isn’t it a drug?”

  “Yes, but it is not like those street drugs you find on surface,” Kirsi said as she traced circles on Clifford’s chest with her long fingernails. “Isn’t that right, Clifford? You would know better than I or Lydia.” Her eyes drifted to me, a smirk twisting her lips.

  “Well, we really don’t know enough about ADAM or Plasmids yet, to be perfectly honest,” Clifford replied, slurring his words, but perfectly coherent. “We’ve only been down here ten years. It won’t be another twenty, thirty years before we know the real risks and long-term effects of either…”

  This was all interesting, but I didn’t care.

  “But that doesn’t stop people from getting hooked right quick,” he continued, pushing Kirsi aside as he leaned forward for another bottle of wine. His clumsy hands fumbled with the corkscrew and Kirsi rolled her eyes as she grabbed both from him. “At the rate we were going for a while, an ADAM shortage was a sure thing. We’ve looked all over the goddamn ocean, but the only organism that can produce the stuff is a sea slug. Can you believe that? An entire drug industry reliant on a fat slimy worm. And even the slug’s output is abysmal. Thank God for Little Sisters, or I’d be out a job…”

  “Little Sisters?” I asked, frowning. The only time I’d heard the term was in relation to Frank Fontaine’s Little Sister’s Orphanage.

  “Ugh…” The man belched and grimaced. “I shouldn’t really be talking about this, you know.”

  Kirsi rested her head against his shoulder. “Go on, Clifford. I am also curious about these Little Sisters.”

  “Well, it’s pretty simple, really,” he continued, easily convinced. “We at Dr. Suchong’s lab spent a hell of a lot of time trying to figure out ways to produce ADAM faster and more efficiently. But humans are a veritable goldmine -- little girls to be specific.” Kirsi poured him a glass and he took a sip. “We implanted the sea slug in an array of subjects, but it was only in the stomach of little girls that we found real results. ADAM production was increased twenty, thirty percent. It was nothing short of amazing.”

  Lydia settled against my shoulder. “Why only girls, I wonder?”

  Clifford shrugged. “We’ve never been able to figure that out, either. But we’ve run all sorts of tests. Little boys are no good. Even adolescent girls are too old. It’s a very specific window of time, and a peculiar one at that.”

  I didn’t like what I was hearing. “Where do they get the little girls for this?”

  “From The Little Sister’s Orphanage, of course,” he said, as if I was stupid for not knowing. “Hence the name. Oh, don’t me give that look. If it wasn’t for the demand for ADAM, those girls would’ve just been cast off into the street and died like dogs. The orphanage takes good care of them, I’ll have you know.

  “Although, the recent ADAM boom, facilitated by our creation of the Little Sisters
, has brought us a rather ironic problem. We’re running short on ADAM again. Apparently there aren’t enough unwanted little girls in the world. Or Rapture, at least. So lately we’ve been resorting to other methods to procure more hosts.”

  Suddenly, it all made sense. Why Fiona had sent me here, and why Kirsi wanted me to meet Clifford. I stood up slowly, my fists clenching. “And by hosts, you mean little girls.”

  He scowled at me. “Of course. Haven’t you been listening?”

  “How many of these orphanages are there?”

  “Two. One in Hestia Chambers, and one in Plaza Hedone,” Lydia spoke up, looking perturbed. “But Arthur -- ”

  The rest of her sentence fell of deaf ears as I dashed out of the room and down the hall. I bowled my way through the crowd in the dark and quickly found the door.

  Plaza Hedone was an apartment complex in Siren Alley -- essentially the red light district of Rapture. It was located somewhere between Dionysus Park and Pauper’s Drop. Hestia Chambers, I was more familiar with. It was in Apollo Square, after all. Where we’d lived for three years before making the move to Olympus Heights.

  I headed for Hestia first, my heart leaping into my throat all the while. The train took me there quickly, and I pushed through the mob of people waiting to board at the station like a madman. Some shoved back, others yelled. I ignored them altogether and raced towards Apollo Square.

  The place was just as humble and unfortunate as when I’d left it. Perhaps even more so, now. I ran past Artemis Suites and the bathysphere port before finally arriving at Hestia Chambers’ doorstep. It was a large building of half a dozen floors.

  The lobby doors opened easily. Inside, there were various double doors and signs that hung over them. One advertised Fontaine’s Center for the Poor. Another was Fontaine’s Little Sister’s Orphanage.

  I entered the orphanage, slowing my pace. If Maddie was here, if I could catch her alone, I could just grab her and run. The front desk I passed was empty, but there were sounds coming from further down the hallway. The voices of young girls as they laughed and sang and played.