[Thread] Fractured

[would_u_kindly]

Characters: Atlas/Frank Fontaine (AU), Gaz Membrane (OU)
Where: somewhere out of sight/any usual place to be (behind the buildings?)
When: way backdated; sometime after this post, later that night
Summary: Gaz finds Fontaine. Confrontation. (of a different sort.) Time to say "nighty nighty" Frankie...
Warnings: Probably, something... violent? Curse

Comments

[would_u_kindly]

At first there was nothing but a deep, black darkness that enveloped all the senses. Then a slow redness began to flood in like seeping blood. Images began to flash in front of her "floating" psyche as she moved deeper within his consciousness. They were scenes from Rapture mostly, unfamiliar and confusing scenes for anyone not native to the underwater city, and a few from the Bronx of his time as a tough teenager trying to rise in the ranks of the gangs there. The general consensus of the memories were bloody battles, screams and death throes, and the elated feeling of victory. It was all brief and quick, distorting to the watcher as they made little to no sense, and none of it was in order. A hazy image of water through a thick window, the sound of a large man dressed in metal stomping around, the end of a gun battle in an alleyway of the Bronx, a strike of lightning from a person's hand, a floating wine bottle moving towards a lounging man, a stream of blood flowing into a gutter, the smell of an expensive cigar being smoked, men and women laughing at a party, the sound of a whale passing by very closely, an old convertible car passing on a dirty street in the Bronx, a meeting of two gang leaders taking place in a gentleman's club, a man standing unharmed in the middle of a raging fire, an ugly little girl screaming for a "Mr. Bubbles" to save her from the lady advancing with a knife in her hand, a group of thugs surrounding an unarmed man, a dark tunnel made of thick glass leaking in water from the outside, a young boy who aged much too quickly, the phrase "would you kindly" floating through the air visually in blood and verbally with an Irish accent, dying fish flopping haplessly on a dock, a scalpel flashing in the bright overhead light, a group of bloody bodies being piled on top of each other, a gunshot going off in the dark, a bloody knife, a menacing laugh.

It could be noted, if she was truly paying attention to all of this, that the men and women who appeared in the memory flashes were wearing old fashioned clothing of mostly suits or button shirts with vests and proper dresses or skirts and blouses for most of the women and the old time show girl dresses for the less reputable. The buildings and vehicles and other noticeable objects were all obviously old. Basic knowledge from watching TV would probably be enough for her to guess the era was the 1950s or so.

The final image was very distinctive and would stick in her mind far longer than any of the others. It was a man looking into the mirror. His face was large and meaty, but ruggedly handsome with full cheeks and a strong chin. He had dark hair combed straight back. His eyes were dark and squinty and screamed deviousness to the outside world. If his features said anything about his ancestry it was an obvious mix of the large, nomadic Europeans that mostly took over the Bronx when the new world was first discovered. After a few seconds the image began to change but it was different from before; instead of a quick flash into another scene the image simply blurred slowly as the features of the face changed in the mirror. When the morphing was finished a completely different face stared back through the reflected eyes. The skin was slightly whiter and the hair was a lighter brown color though still slicked back in an almost similar fashion. There was the hint of a smile on the lips and laughter in the bright eyes. He also had a strong chin but it was less meaty and his cheekbones were prominent and high instead of thick and full. He was handsome in a more friendly manner. He would look familiar; it was the Irishman.

In the end the mirror would break, spreading a spiderweb of cracks through the glass until the separate pieces finally grew large enough to begin breaking off and falling away. Then there was nothing again. A void of black--but there seemed to be light coming from somewhere, an indeterminable direction.