Metal Moth

[forcedmirror]

The radio had cut out suddenly en route to Siren Alley, just before the train gave a shuddering, almost unwilling lurch onto a side rail running perpendicular to the main one. Sinclair had had just enough time to get in a “Say, what’s-?” before the signal fell silent on his end. This wouldn’t have been a problem if he’d only agreed to stay in the

Comments

Never done dis afore...

[ladiesman1959]

The splicer had come to the station as soon as he'd heard the familiar but nearly forgotten sound of the Atlantic Express pulling into the station. He had no person he expected to meet, and surely should be more wary than curious, but it had been so, so long since he'd heard that tell-tale screech. He was tempted to walk right up, see if he could get on board, and maybe it'd take him somewhere nice, somewhere he didn't have to always be hurting.

But when the door slid open, he broke from his wishful thinking and ducked into the shadows, watching with the one good eye he had. A big daddy stepped out, and he jumped as two plastered splicers lost their heads to the drill.

He didn't know how dark the shadow was, if he could be seen or not, and he tightly clenched his fists to stop the shaking. His wide eye followed Delta carefully, analyzing his armor (an old big daddy suit...) and weapons (that drill looks sharp...). He shrunk back more as the big daddy passed, and for a split second he was sure he saw him... but he looked like

[najayjay]

A small figure skittered from plastered body to plastered body, the soft steps pitter-pattering over the floor. A pause. Pitter-patter. A pause. Pitter-patter. A pause. A tiny head peeked out from behind a human statue, glaring at the Big Daddy. Naggy clutched her gun to her chest.

It wasn't that there was a chance that it would hurt her. At all. She just didn't like them following her around thinking she was a Little Sister, when her perfectly normal eyes were proof enough that she was not one. That, and they'd call the attention of splicers way more than a little girl hiding in a dumpster.

Assured (most probably, erroneously) that she was nowhere close to being detected by the gigantic thing, she set off towards the next plaster figure. She stepped on a puddle, enjoyed for half a second the splash it made, and met the ground face-first. Her groan of pain was muted by the metallic clattering of her weapon, not to say anything about the gunshot that followed.

[forcedmirror]

Delta tapped the point of his drill against the wall as he made his way down the hallway, his fingers drumming anxiously against the inside grip. The dim hall was lined with framed posters, most of them water-damaged beyond readability or hidden behind a spiderweb of cracks. Those he could still make out advertised mainly plays, along with a few warnings that plasmid use was forbidden inside the theater

[ladiesman1959]

The splicer was relieved that the big daddy hadn't tapped him like he had the statues- otherwise he'd surely be dead by now.

And for a moment he almost thought he had been found out when the sharp crack of a gun going off slammed his eardrums. Was it me? Did he just shoot me? He thought to reach up and feel for blood when he noticed a small girl sprawled out on the floor.

He started, his mind impulsively telling him that where there's a little girl, there's ADAM. But as Delta grasped her shirt and pulled her up, he saw that she didn't have the tell-tale golden eyes the little sisters had.

He didn't have time for disappointment though. Already, security bots where flying into the room, and the next thing he knew the two were gone.

Now he was left alone outside a broken glass door, and the real culprits were nowhere to be found. Not bothering to hide in the shadows from the lighted turrets, he ran through the shattered door, not even bothering to look as he did so.

MAYBE THIS COULDN'T REALLY HAPPEN, BUT HEY, WE'RE A CIRCUS OF HORS

[1st_protagonist]

Crouching in the filth, his forehead pressed up against a safe and a needly hack tool in his shaking hand, the sudden shriek of "VANDALISM! VANDALISM!" was enough to send Jack suddenly reeling; he clapped his hands to his mouth to silence a yelp and slapped himself up against the wall, tools clattering to the floor around him. He inhaled until it hurt and swallowed, holding deathly still (while his eyes flickered wildly) until he could see his dear camouflaging cocktail of tonics beginning to take effect. His foot vanished, the his leg, and the shadows quickly swallowed up the rest of him, but it was another heart-pounding minute before he registered that he, for once, hadn't set off any alarm. The sounds, though they were ear-splittingly loud, were blaring through the door that had just shattered open. The sound of raining glass was too soft initially, but he saw big chunks of it now, glittering on the floor were nothing had been when he'd entered. The alarm wasn't in the same room as him, but now, something else was