Rapture: Sanctuary

by Dustin Brubaker

  Rapture:

  Sanctuary

  Chapter 1

  Austin Lowe stuck close to shadows. Going undetected was important. He was an engineer, not a soldier. Actually he wasn't either anymore. Nothing less than a soldier could fight the mutated horrors that roamed the halls of Rapture.

  Pick up the pace. They're almost here. Austin could hear the twisted screams of splicers that echoed through the halls. He was convinced that they somehow knew what he was up to. And they would do anything to stop him from taking their beloved hell away from them.

  Here we go. Austin peeked around the corner of a doorway and saw where he needed to be. Once someone's garden, the room had a window. Out of the way and somewhat hidden, the garden was a perfect place to plant one of his bombs.

  Caution was advisable whenever entering a room. It was a lesson Austin learned the hard way. Hence his limp, caused by a blow from a splicer's heavy wrench. So when he entered the room it was with his pistol drawn.

  The room was dark. The only light came from the large circular window against the far wall. Under it were rows of dead gardens. Much like Rapture itself, the once beautiful planters were filled with beauty lost.

  That smell. I know that smell. There was a rotten aroma in the room. Austin smelled it from outside but it got much stronger once he entered the room. It didn't take long for him to discover the source.

  Leaned up against one wall in the room was the corpse of an older woman. From the state of her decomposition it looked like she had been there for a while. If Austin hadn't seen his fair share of death he wouldn't have recognized the bloated greyish purple remains.

  On the wall behind the dead woman were pieces of her brains and dried blood splatter. In one of her hands there was a pistol, not unlike the one Austin carried. Though not a detective he easily deduced that she killed herself.

  I don't blame you. Austin pulled the collar of his shirt up over his nose and mouth. He knelt down and pried the gun from the dead gardener’s death grip. She didn't need the ammo anymore whilst he most likely would.

  After looting the dead gardener, Austin got back to work. He walked over the gardens to the window. Nostalgia got the better of him as he couldn't help but stare out.

  The window was thick, built to withstand the intense pressures of the deep Mid Atlantic. It'd been awhile since anyone cleaned any of the windows in Rapture, so it was a bit cloudy. But whoever the dead woman was, she must've been rich because she had one hell of a view.

  Austin pressed his hand against the cold glass. From it he could see almost the whole of Rapture. Even in its dusk, the underwater city was breath taking. It had buildings as tall and impressive as Manhattan or Chicago. They reached up towards the surface like a skyscraper to the sun. The architecture was an art deco lover's, like Austin, dream. Andrew Ryan built a new wonder of the world.

  The bold shapes and lush colors of the buildings, while worn down by the unforgiving salty ocean, were exceptional. Austin admired the exquisite symmetry of it all. It was very pleasing to the eye. On top of that they were decorated with enough gold and copper ornamentation to make kings jealous.

  There was more to Rapture's design then just a copy of the cities above the waves. Every inch of the underwater city was laced with the most advanced technology and the most innovative designs known to man. It was meant to be a utopia far away from the strife of the normal world. And it succeeded. For a time.

  From where he looked, Austin could see the neon lit sign of the Kashmir Restaurant. As he stared at it he couldn't help but start stroking the wedding band on his ring finger with his thumb. The life he built for himself in Rapture really started there, the place in which he had his first date with his wife. His Emily.

  What did her voice sound like? What did she smell like? What did that smile I loved so much look like? Why can't I remember? I've been down here too long.

  Austin looked down at his wedding ring. There was an engraving on it that read: “Love is never giving up”. True it didn't make sense to most but to Austin and his Emily, it had very significant meaning. And there in that dead garden, it gave the former engineer the encouragement he needed to continue. Rapture had to be destroyed. Only then will he find his sanctuary, his peace.

  Austin came from the wealthy Lowe family of Omaha, Nebraska. His great-great grandfather was once a farmer. He not only grew the corn but decided he wanted to expand to make more money and provide a better life for his family. Before long he founded Lowe Mills. The company eventually became the biggest provider of corn based products in all of the American Mid-West.

  Affluence had degraded some of Austin's families' character. Or so he thought. So as his brothers and cousins bought their way out of the draft during the Second World War, he volunteered for duty. It was a decision he'd come to regret.

  When he came back from the Pacific, Austin had no patience for his family and what he saw as their “frivolous and shallow lives”. After seeing the horrors of war, the life of luxury made him feel guilty, especially as the ghosts of his friends and fellow soldiers haunted him. He wanted something better. He wanted to be a part of something special. Only then would specters of war leave him be.

  Austin figured that the first thing to do was get a proper college education. Eager to get as far from his family as possible, he applied and got accepted into Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) engineering program. Once he graduated, the young man, armed with a prestigious degree and surname, could work pretty much wherever he pleased. The problem was that none of them provided him with an opportunity to work towards change he sought. None of the positions would allow him to contribute to a better world.

  Depressed and haunted, Austin drowned his sorrows in a bar on the Boston waterfront called The Salty Crab. There he could be found from afternoon to midnight. It got so bad that he got a reputation for being a drunk. So if he ever wanted to take advantage of his degree, no one would hire him. Then one night a man walked into the bar and changed Austin's life.

  “Another,” said Austin as he sat at The Salty Crab's bar. The bartender gave him a sideways look.

  “Wha? C'mon, fill it up Bernie.” Austin reached in his pocket then slapped down a crumpled wad of cash.

  “Maybe you had enough?” Bernie the bartender knew where his night was headed if he indulged Austin's alcoholism.

  “I'll tell y-” Austin was interrupted by his own dry heaving.

  “That's it. You're done for the night Mr. Lowe.” Bernie had enough.

  “Bar keep. A water for my friend here. It looks like he needs it,” Austin heard a voice next to him. His accent was proper and clearly came from academia.

  Austin wiped the tears from his eyes and turned to see who just sat down on the stool next to him. There sat a man in a sharp suit. His hair was slick and styled. He had a well groomed mustache.

  “I don't want any damn water.”

  “I know you don't Mr. Lowe.”

  “Yeah, well how the hell do you know what I want?”

  The mustachioed man smiled as if he was waiting for that specific question. “Because Mr. Lowe. I recognize you. Once upon a time I was like you.”

  “A drunk?”

  The mustachioed man laughed. “No. I was lost. I looked at the world and didn't like what I saw.”

  “So? There's nothing to do about it.” Austin swallowed what was sure to be some vomit after finishing his sentence. Perhaps he had six too many glasses of whiskey. “The world is hopeless. That's just the way it is. Learn to accept it buddy.”

  Bernie the bartender set a glass of water down in front of Austin.

  “Thank you kind sir. Now, Mr. Lowe where were we. Oh yes. What if I told you that I know of a place away from this world where a m
an prospers not from being a social parasite but by the sweat of his brow? What if I told you of a world free of corrupt politicians and crooked justice? What if I told you of a place free of war? What if I told you of a utopia that you could help mold? Would that be of any interest to you?”

  Austin didn't answer. He just stared at the glass of water in front of him.

  “We all make choices Mr. Lowe,” the mustachioed man got up. He placed a business card on the bar in front of Austin. On it was the outline of a skyline he didn't recognize. “Rapture” was written in big gold letters across them. Under it was a name: “Andrew Ryan”.

  “But in the end, our choices make us. Have a good night. I hope to hear from you soon.” The mustachioed man, Andrew Ryan, left The Salty Crab.

  Austin watched Andrew Ryan leave. Then he flipped over the card and saw contact information. At the time he didn't know it, but that short conversation would change the course of his life.

  CHAPTER 2

  MIT didn't teach Austin how to build bombs. But what he learned there certainly helped. In fact from what meager supplies he had at his disposal, he managed to construct explosives powerful enough to blow through any wall, window or even bulkhead in Rapture. He got the idea to put some together from the endless array of improvised weapons that the splicers utilized.

  When he finished building them, Austin put all five of his bombs in his duffel bag and slung it around his shoulder. He took one of them out his bag and held it against the window in the room with the dead garden. With his other hand he ripped off pieces of duct tape and used them to adhere it to the glass.

  Three down, two to go. Keep quiet, stick to the shadows and it shouldn't be a pro- If Austin's ears could've perked up, they would of. He heard the voices of splicers. And they were close.

  “Where da liddle fishy go?” from the sound of one of the splicers, he or she mustn't of had many teeth left. Tooth decay and rot was one of the many adverse effects of an ADAM addiction.

  “He's in here. I can smell em'.” There was a second more feminine voice.

  They've got you cornered. So, what are you going to do genius? Austin opened the cylinder of his revolver to check how many bullets were left. He hadn't fired a shot in weeks so he honestly had no clue how many he'd find. There were four left. Two more from the dead gardner's pistol were in his pocket. Should be plenty to take care of two ADAM crazed junkies.

  After making sure to wedge himself into the furthest corner from the doorway, he raised and aimed his pistol. He slowed his breathing and steadied the sights. Wasting even a single bullet wasn't an option. Whoever stepped into the room was going to get a single shot to their head.

  The first splicer entered the room. Her dress was dirty and ripped. ADAM had butchered her face causing growths and unhealed open sores. All of her exposed limps had numerous tumors. She barely resembled a human being. In one of her hands she had what looked like a table leg with a table saw blade nailed into the end.

  Austin didn't hesitate. He fired off a round that nearly took the deformed splicer's head off. She immediately fell face first into the garden dirt. There was no time for relief. The other splicer couldn't have been far behind.

  Where is he? Austin waited and waited for the second splicer to enter the room. But he didn't come. The former engineer prepared to go out looking for him when a hulking figure appeared in the doorway.

  At about six and a half feet of pure muscle, the giant splicer was so big he had to duck in order to fit in the room. The top half of his head was covered with a blood splattered pillow case. The bottom half revealed skin that looked severely burned and a mouth full of no more than three teeth. In his hands he carried a fire axe. Pieces of his last victim were still stuck to the pick side.

  Austin fired his last three bullets into the giant splicer. They just made the gigantic freak smile. That was all Lowe had.

  This is it. This is how I die. In a dead garden leagues under the North Atlantic at the hands of mutated freak. Unless… Austin didn't have many options. What little he did have were whittled down to one when the giant splicer rushed towards him wildly swinging his axe.

  The splicer was too big and the room too small to just run around him. No, Austin needed a distraction. It just so happened he had a bag full of explosives with one already planted. Would it be dangerous? Absolute, but nowhere near as dangerous as trying to dodge an axe blade.

  Each of Austin's bombs was rigged with radio remote detonators. They were all set to a single frequency. When armed, they exploded once they received the signal.

  Austin took out the detonator. Another swing from the giant splicer's axe nearly took his arm off. Instead it cut a good inch into his shoulder as it passed by. He didn't feel the pain. Adrenaline had completely taken over his body.

  A big meaty hand that smelled of hot garbage grabbed Austin by his throat. With strength he'd never encountered before, he was lifted up off the ground. As he choked a foot above the floor, one of his fingers searched for the correct button, the correct frequency, on his detonator. He had to hurry. The world slowly started to fade to black.

  Everything that happened next was a bit of a blur to Austin. His finger found the button and he set off the explosive. The force and surprise from the blast loosened the giant splicer's grip. No sooner did the former engineer hit the ground then he got carried away by a tidal wave of cold salty ocean water.

  The water dragged Austin out of the room into the hallway. He slammed into a Circus of Values vending machine. Horrible recorded laughter mocked him as he tried to get up to his feet. More and more water was coming. In front of him was a bulkhead door that needed to be closed. It was too soon to drown. First he needed to finish his work.

  Austin pried himself off the vending machine. It kept laughing at him as he pushed on the bulkhead door with all his strength and weight. He made the mistake of looking up and saw the giant splicer coming his way. Apparently the freak was stronger than the current.

  With the proper motivation, more specifically not wanting an axe buried in his skull, Austin found the strength to close the bulkhead door. As he spun the wheel he heard and felt a loud thump. The splicer hit the thick steel hard. Though he would never admit it, even to himself, Austin took some pleasure in watching the monster drown through the porthole.

  Soaking wet, tired and very sore, Austin backed away from the bulkhead door. He dropped his bag full of bombs and took a minute to catch his breath. The pain from his shoulder wound kicked in.

  When Austin looked around he found himself in a large atrium. The ceiling was thick windows giving a view of looming buildings and fishes swimming above. The floor had a black and white checkerboard pattern. In the middle of the room was a pile of ash and burned tables and chairs.

  I remember eating here. Austin looked around and recognized he was in one of the cafeterias. Against one wall was a neon sign with only half the words lit up: “Saul's Hotdogs.” Under it was a counter covered in trash. Saul's was only one of four different food stalls.

  I need to do something about this before I bleed out. Across the cafeteria, Austin spotted a health station. The brightly lit circular white sign with a red cross on it was hard to miss. He hated using them but had little choice.

  Austin limped across the cafeteria. His wet footsteps echoed through the large room. He hoped that there weren't any nearby splicers to hear.

  When he reached the health station, he looked at the poster next to it. Whatever adhesive was used to keep the poster on the wall was losing its stickiness. One of the corners was peeled off. There was a picture of a health station. Above it the poster read: “Need a boost? Try our new and improved Prime Health Station!”. There was nothing on the poster to warn users about the syringe that would puncture their skin. Nor was there any mention of how painful the quick healing of a wound was.

  Austin opened the health station up. If he was going to use it, he needed to hack into it. Everything still ran on money in the ultra-capitalist Rapture. T
he former engineer didn't have any and didn't want to go looking for some. No, hacking it would be easier and quicker. He just needed to be careful. All Prime Health Station were rigged with poisonous gas fail safes in order to deter people from doing exactly what he was doing. Luckily he was very familiar with how the electronics and machinations inside worked.

  Done with hacking the health station, Austin placed his inured arm into the provided cradle. No fan of needles, he closed his eyes as the automated delivery system injected him with a stem-cell based chemical that quickly healed the cut on his shoulder. It hurt as the wound closed but that was a small price to pay for almost instantaneous healing. The miraculous station was another depressing reminder of the amazing technology and innovation that Rapture once championed.

  CHAPTER 3

  “You up Mr. Lowe?” Austin heard a voice in his cabin with him. It was a nice change of pace from the hum of the ship's engines. But he was tired and didn't want to even open his eyes.

  “Mr. Lowe?” The owner of the voice poked Austin, waking him all the way up. When the engineer opened his eyes he saw a young man with a shirt covered in engine grease looking at him.

  “What time is it?” groggily asked Austin as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

  “I dunno. Half past seven I think. Mr. Ryan asked me to fetch you. So you need to get up.”

  Oh, Mr. Ryan told you to huh? Guess I better come running. “Okay, just, give me a second will ya? Let me at least put on some pants.”

  The engine grease covered young man waited outside for Austin to get dressed. Not one for being summoned, the engineer took his sweet time putting on his trousers, shoes, and button up shirt. He checked himself in the mirror before exiting his cramped cabin.

  Escorted by the engine grease covered young man, Austin made his way through the bowels of the ship. As he made his way through the cramped, wet, humid corridors; Austin wondered why a man as rich and successful as Andrew Ryan didn't travel in a luxury liner. Perhaps Rapture cost him his fortune. That made the engineer feel better. The man in charge risked everything, just like himself, just like everyone else involved in the project.