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ADAMSuch glorious praise,
for such twisted science.
ADAM, the way of the future,
the way of Rapture.
But, should such things be praised?
As we augment our selves further,
we plunge deeper and deeper,
into dark and sadistic addiction.
As if the Devil himself slips,
quietly and grinning,
into your blackened veins.
The needle his gate. His path way.
Your eyes become his eyes.
Your strength belongs to him.
How much longer,
can you resist his seduction?
The vial is empty,
the needle slightly moist.
Look at your arms, friend.
What have you done?
HephaestusRapture's like any one of us.
We all got the brains, the brawn's,
and of course, da' organs.
Now, if you're tellin' me,
that Hephaestus don't matter to Rapture,
try rippin' yer bloody heart out!
Rapture ain't and would never be,
with out some good 'ol fashioned geo-thermal
I hate to say it,
but whatever man waltzes in and takes it,
holds the whole bloody city in his palms.
If anyone's gonna' do it,
Hell, already got my money
on the guy.
DripDrip, drip, drip...
The wretched tune of this city.
A low beat, echoing,
down every hall.
Through every door.
It seems, with every bit of water,
the city consumes in its broken state,
a drop of sanity leaks out.
Leaks back into the Atlantic,
lost in the dark and cold.
We were such a proud monument,
a testament to top-side society.
A precious thing, Rapture was.
A sunken treasure, of sorts.
Now, we count the time,
days, hours, minutes,
by every drop.
And with every drop of time,
a bit of sanity escapes.
Rapture needs saving,
a day where it's not a drip.
Rather, a torrent of the Atlantic.
To wash away the living, the dead,
and the innocent blood on our hands.
O' dearest Atlantic,
dark and true,
please, would you kindly,
wash this wreck away?
A Splendid CatastropheOh-ho, Mr. Andrew Ryan...
...I suppose I should commend you on your most recent...
Such said you, "I shall build a city, far above the rest, but so much deeper below...",
and alas, you did my friend.
Rapture was quite a marvelous undertaking, wasn't it? You've done the impossible, Ryan. You've taken your ignorant and pathetic moral stand points and thrown them into a heavy steel entombment, miles underneath the frigid ocean.
This has been, bar none, the greatest accomplishment of them all, Ryan. You've taken a perverted view of a 'dream society', made your sick perception a reality, and dragged thousands of innocents down to the drink. You've really done it, Mr. Ryan. As flawed as Rapture is and always was, a toast to your efforts.
May this drink be quenching and tasteful, Ryan...
...I hope and pray it should be your last.
Infinite"It's weird," Booker said, taking out a box of cigarettes he found on the ground. "Sometimes I feel like I was meant to be here."
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth wiped some blood from her nose. They had just gotten finished with a pretty rough battle with some inhabitants. Booker hated it when Elizabeth had to use her powers but she really saved his ass.
"This. It's a different world up here. The people. The brutality. Something a man like me could deal with." The words he wanted to say were 'some place a man like me could thrive in' but he didn't want to scare Elizabeth away. She had finally gotten past their last bad encounter with... Him. He didn't even tell her why he had to leave the Pinkertons and that wasn't a story he was going to bring up anytime soon.
"Oh," she replied, not knowing what to say to that. Booker looked up to see yet another enemy riding along the Sky-Line.
Children of Two WorldsChildren of Two Worlds.
----Eden, Africa, 100,000 B.C----
Eros cannot sleep. He does not feel the need to either. His kind does not need much sleep. They are strong creatures, with great power of mind and body, able to do with little rest of either.
They are of an extraordinary kind, known under many names by those around them. He is no different. Cupid, Amor, Eleutherios, Kamadeva, Freyr. All these names he has gone by at some point in his life, as his kind outlives many generations of the other creatures inhabiting their world.
So, instead of surrendering to the peaceful realm of dreams, he looks at the sleeping person with whom he shares his bed. He smiles, his golden eyes lighting up, as he uses his gift and senses a calm aura around her, indicating she is indeed comfortable and at ease.
Her name is Nepesh. A very befitting name, he thinks. One that stands for a valuable inner strength, rather than a shallow outer presentation. The female is more than just a ph
ColumbiaOur fair city,
arise from your ignorant slumber!
Today, we fight,
for the sake of tomorrow!
Take up your arms,
the rigid stocks our foothold,
the hot lead,
They say Columbia is at its worst.
What do I say?
Columbia's only getting started,
so witness our glorious battle!
Look to the skies, friends,
there's a burning sun above the ground.
We'll torch the opposition,
burn them to ashes!
Grab your hats, Columbia
this will be one for the books.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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