Chapter Text
He didn’t hate water, but right now he could certainly do without it.
Syrus had grown ‘homesick’. He, himself, had never gone or been to Scotland, but that’s where his lineage and heritage came from. Sure, he had a house in the woods a decent ways away from the nearest town, but he knew it wasn’t the same. After ‘finding’ enough money, he decided to take a trip to visit his homeland, connect with the moores or something. Or maybe he’d stay, he didn’t really have much back home anyways.
But the plane he took went down over the ocean, leading to his situation.
Salt was all he tasted, coating his tongue and throat as he surfaced. He coughed out the fluid to clear his airway to breathe in the cold night air, unable to smell anything but the salt water around him. Unsure if anyone else had survived, he looked around to try and see someone but no one was there. Not alive at least. Seeing no one else, he carefully swam around floating pieces of metal and fabric, trying to see if there was anything other than the wreckage around. The heat of the engine fire as he passed the front end of the plane heavily contrasted the cold water he was swimming in and if he was out of the water he would have shuddered due to his body unsure of whether it was overheating or freezing.
Syrus passed what he thought was the tail of the plane and saw something protruding from the waves, thinking it was another part of the plane for a second. But he quickly registered a light at the top and the general shape of it, realizing it was a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean. Urged by instinct and a want to get dry, he swam as fast as he could towards the building, finding the steps that circled the building to reach the water.
He clambered out of the water and spat up more salt water, throat sore from the saltiness and made it difficult to swallow and clear his throat. He had some scrapes and bruises from the crash, a gash on his leg, but his metabolism was already working. A blessing and a curse as it was healing the damage from the crash, but each second depleted his iron and brought him closer to Bloodlust.
Having regained his bearings and as satisfied as he could be considering the situation, he made his way up the steps, finding the door at the top already open. And hoping someone else made it and was inside, a food source if not someone helpful, he hesitated only momentarily before going inside. He expected a dark interior and steps up to possible living quarters where he hoped to find a possible human.
Instead, he was met with a brightly lit cold metal interior with a metal statue of a man hanging from the ceiling and holding a red banner with the words ‘No Gods or Kings. Only Man.’ in gold lettering. Beneath the statue was a hole surrounded by a solid railing giving a small view to a floor below and on the walls were metal panels with designs that looked like a sun with waves beneath it and clouds above. Behind the statue in the wall were two stairwells that led into darkness.
Syrus saw a plaque on a pedestal in front of the statue, but he didn’t care about whatever human affair led to what happened here, only caring to get out of the middle of the ocean.
“Petty,” he muttered as he saw it, knowing that it was either commemorating what looked like a human leader, or memorialized a tragedy. Either way, he wasn’t interested.
He moved around the circle to the two stairwells and, going down one of them, saw they joined on a landing a short way down that had another short stairwell facing the opposite direction of the other two that were on either side of it. And at the bottom of those steps was a small sort of balcony with stairs on both sides that curved along the wall before meeting the floor at the bottom to complete a circle.
Down the steps he took, there was another plaque on the wall but this was was more simple, a design etched in metal involving an amalgamation of art symbols with the word ‘ART’ on its lower center. And at the bottom of the steps in a circular pool of water was a spherical machine.
“Curious,” he said, looking it over. “Never seen this sort of machinery before.”
Aside from thinking that the architect loved circles, Syrus wondered what this place was while he looked at the contraption curiously. He’d never seen anything like it, but it seemed active with lights and steam, and after a minute of inspection it seemed nonthreatening. Still, he stepped closer for a better look, and after a minute decided it was safe enough to at least step inside.
Only for the sound of the door closing behind him catching his attention.
“Hey!”
He quickly whirled around and slammed into the door to try and force it open, stopping when everything jolted and the sphere began to descend into the water, able to be seen from the door window. He wasn’t even sure how deep a fathom was, only that every second the machine carried him deeper into the depths. Statues and architecture could be seen outside, but that was the least of his worries. He tried not to panic a little, unused to such a small space and the restlessness caused by the lack of iron wasn’t helping.
The window on the door made a sound as though something else was trying to shut, but nothing happened, the only functioning mechanics being light and movement from the sphere. And after a minute of being in the dark, travelling through what looked like a tunnel under the lighthouse, the sphere left the confines of stone. It revealed a city under the water, a glance up showing that the surface was well out of a simple swims reach.
The dark silhouettes of buildings were lit by vibrant signs and massive stage-lights, pathways surrounded by glass connecting each building and section together in an awing sight with the light refracted by the water dancing on the glass and metal outsides of the city. Fish and other ocean life swam around the walkways and buildings as though there was nothing at all surprising about an underwater civilization at the bottom of the ocean.
Syrus was a mix of awed and perturbed at the sight, having never seen or heard of anything like this made by humans before. There was the legend of the Atlantis, but as his oceanic tour of the city came to a close, the city’s name was shown by a tunnels entrance into the side of a building, ‘Rapture Transit’ glittering in the lights around the edge of the tunnels entrance. A rush of relief flooded him as the sphere stopped and began to surface, eventually breaking through the water.
He hadn’t exactly been expecting a warm reception, but as the door opened and he stepped out, it was obvious the place was at least in heavy disarray, if not abandoned. There was a path that led to actual solid floor, flanked by the water holding the sphere, and he could see the ocean outside the wall of glass in front of him, a tiger shark swimming by and reminding him that he was out of his depth and wasn’t the top f the food chain here.
One crack in the glass and he doubted it’d hold.
The furniture on this entrance area was turned over and scattered while papers littered the ground, suggesting a struggle at some point. Whatever the actual state of the place, it was obvious nothing had been maintained for years, and Syrus was surprised the underwater sphere even worked.
Beneath the strong smell of salt water was the scent of mildew and mold, something even a person with regular senses could tell, making him sneeze. But under that he could smell blood. Decay and rot.
Death.
He heard the creaks and groans of the structure settling against the ocean outside, a constant reminder of the threat literally at the windows, and he couldn’t tell if the smell of blood was fresh or old. The cold, somewhat humid air probably keeping blood fresher for longer than if it was at dry room temperature.
Syrus debated going back the way he came, but he didn’t know how to work the machine and all that was back was a wreckage and lonely lighthouse.
So he pushed forward, body aching as it craved more iron, and in turn blood. The smell of salt water faded slightly while the scent of rot got worse the deeper he went in. The halls felt like a maze, finding it difficult to know where to go, even with his eyesight helping to see in dim light. Eventually, he went up a set of stairs, coming out in what looked like a far more open entrance hall. It was well lit and he wondered where the building, or city even, got the power it needed.
There was a feeling of being watched, but glancing around showed no one in the room with him or on the steps behind him.
He took a steadying breath, chalking it up to his iron deficiency taking hold, knowing it made him antsy. As he stepped toward the stairwell to the next floor, something dropped in front of him on all fours.
He gasped and backed away in surprise, the thing lunging at him with claws that glinted in the light. Crying out, startled by their sheer agility and jumped away, claws catching on his turtleneck and making a slash in the abdomen.
“You got some ADAM little fish?!”
Syrus hissed in pain as the slash cut through both fabric and skin, the thing jumping at him again. But rather than try to dodge again, he reacted to intercept, able to grab the wrists of his attacker. The force of the attack knocked him back into a wall, but he stayed standing, growling at whatever had lunged.
It wasn’t a feral creature in the traditional sense. It was a human male, dressed in ripped and stained semi-formal clothing that obviously hadn’t been washed in who knew how long. The claws weren’t claws at all, but hooks the human had fashioned into weapons, rusted over and would probably give another human Tetanus if they survived a strike. The owl-esque mask that had been on the mans face was knocked off a little, revealing a deformed face with a distorted grin, crazed wide eyes staring back at Syrus.
“Ooooh, little fish is feisty,” the man purred, struggling to pull away, even though he was smaller than Syrus.
Syrus grimaced in disgust at the attackers breath, arguably worse than the mans scent itself, almost tempted to believe all the rotting stench was coming from the one human. He pushed the man away and braced himself for more attacks.
“Back off or things will get ugly,” he warned. He wasn’t against taking away a humans life, especially to keep him from going into Bloodlust, but he saw himself as fair and to at least give the man warning to back down from his stupidity.
“Not unless you give me YOUR ADAM!!!”
The mans voice grew in both anger and desperation as he leapt forward to attack again, yelling as he did so. But Syrus was ready for another lunge and, while one of the hooks scratched his cheekbone, he knocked them out of the humans hands. The man continued to try and punch him, but Syrus dodged, hitting the man in the back and knocking him against the wall he himself had just been pressed against, stunning the human.
As the mask fell off entirely, Syrus restrained the man as his tongue extended, splitting into three at the end and latching onto the crook of the humans neck. As his teeth followed suit, bile rose in his throat while he kept the human from struggling too much. Both the man and his blood tasted abhorrent, the blood even tasting chemical, but the lack of iron in his system urged him to drink fervently.
Within a minute, the human had been depleted, struggles and warmth fading with each gulp.
Syrus let the body go and wiped away the excess blood from the corner of his mouth, shuddering at the disgusting taste left over in his mouth and throat. But, blood was blood, and already his body was making use of the iron supplied to heal the cuts, scrapes, and probable bruising from the last hour or so. Blood Sac somewhat full, he began to search for an exit once more.
-----
Someone new was here.
It’d been days, weeks, maybe even months since the last victims. One could never really tell after a while, each day blurring to the next. It certainly didn’t help that each hour was spent in a constant state of anxiety and exhaustion, although that wasn’t the point.
Rabbit didn’t expect this one to last any longer than any other. A day or two usually.
If they got past the first hour.
They never understood how some of the Splicers knew when someone else arrived, growing more restless than usual and it helped them track down victims. They traveled by vent and rafter to the Entrance Hall, able to follow the scramblings and mutterings of a couple harried Splicers, each hoping for fresh ADAM from a new victim. Usually, they didn’t find it, newcomers preferring and not even given the chance to stab their arms with questionable needles that littered the ground.
In the end, lives were lost to to a greed so consuming it affected almost everyone that stepped into Rapture and survived a few days, Victims turning into their own Splicers.
Rabbit paused as they heard a death-scream echoing from the Entrance Hall, tilting their head as they thought. Another day, another victim dead. They were tempted to go back to their Nest, but decided to see if the body had anything useful like a lighter or pocket knife. They may be common on the surface, but down here most were broken or made useless by rust and used by Splicers.
Their steps weren’t completely silent, but they were close, black dress shoes outfitted with a gripping foam on the soles. It helped with traction and soundproofed their steps somewhat. Soon, they came to an opening in the vents and looked out, keeping themselves in the shadows as they peered out.
Rabbit was surprised.
They saw the Victim drop the body of a Splicer and wipe some blood from their mouth. Maybe a headbutt or a punch from the Splicer. But it obviously didn’t win the fight, body crumpling lifelessly to the floor. They felt curious but not very hopeful. Some victims killed their first Splicer but still never lasted the day. As the Newcomer looked around, they retreated further into the vents.
The Newcomer moved to the steps and as they began to wander around Rapture, Rabbit quietly followed suit. They liked following the Victims, up until their last breath. Some of it was due to the fact that there was someone else that wasn’t crazed by ADAM, wasn’t experimented on by the Doctor, or manipulated by… Atlas. They were fascinated by someone that didn’t attack on sight and were just as helpless as they had been when they first arrived.
It also gave them a moment of reprieve. While Victims were alive, most Splicers nearby would prioritize them over Rabbit and almost entirely ignored them. They knew Rabbit would fight, and it wouldn’t be easy. A Victim was easier prey, an easy stepping stone to get up the Spliced food chain.
Down here, strength mattered.
ADAM mattered.
The Newcomer obviously didn't know their way around, stopping and looking around frequently at each turn as though to get their bearings. They murmured to themselves occasionally after a bit, although too quiet for Rabbit to hear. Surprisingly, no other Splicers had attacked.
But Rabbit knew not to rejoice.
The Splicers were putting up an ambush somewhere. It was something they'd learned recently, after the last Victim. They pulled it on Rabbit once, and if there hadn't been a Big Daddy around, they may have died.
They didn't know where it was or would be set up, but they felt like it would be soon and was surprised they hadn't jumped yet, patience not really a Splicers strong suit. But they continued to follow the Newcomer, slowly learning some of their behaviors, like the way they slightly tilted their head left then right before choosing a direction at multiple paths, or how they sometimes tapped the wall with a finger two times before rounding a corner.
At the next turn, there was a decent sized room, big compared to the mildly claustrophobic halls, and as the Newcomer pressed the threshold it was obvious that this was where the Splicers set up.
Rabbit watched as seven Splicers popped up, three dropping from the ceiling, two coming out from behind some pillars and two more pulling away from the wall on either side of the room entrance, having hidden from sight there. Three of them were equipped with hooks, for the ones that had fallen from the ceiling, one had a rolling pin, another a wrench, one with a bonesaw, and the last one had a shotgun. They surrounded the Newcomer.
“OI! Fish,” the largest, the one with the bonesaw bellowed, the 'Alpha' of the group. “Give us your ADAM and we won't tear you apart!”
The Newcomer sighed, intriguing Rabbit.
“What even is ADAM? I doubt it's a person since ADAM isn't my name,” the Newcomer said, male in voice.
Oooh, a backtalker. Those were interesting.
“ADAM is inside of you, inside all of us,” Alpha replied simply, every Splicer forgetting that outsiders didn't know or understand. “And we want more of it.”
“So, if I don't comply, you'll kill me. If I do… you'll kill me? I must say, you need to work on your logic, because I doubt anyone would take that kind of deal.
Rabbit would have chuckled if they could, but they settled for smiling in amusement.
It was a shame, this one was interesting.
The Splicers didn't like the Newcomers response, the Alpha growling at being met with some pretty solid logic before shouting and leaping to attack. The others hung back, ready to attack as well but knew the pecking order to allow Alpha the first shot.
The Newcomer narrowed their eyes, dodging the brutes attack fairly easily, bringing their elbow up and pushing the Alphas nose straight into their skull and killing them. The body fell to the ground and everything was quiet for a few seconds, Rabbit impressed.
But at the sight of their haphazard leader dead on the floor, it was a frenzy.
The five with melee weapons rushed forward, swinging at different intervals, the one with the shotgun hanging off the side. As they slashed and hacked to kill the Newcomer, agility in their side, Rabbit could see them duck and dodge the best that they could. They weren't used to the fast-paced survival environment, although they were a lot better at maneuvering than most other Victims.
Rabbit watched them block the rolling pin with interest, the Newcomer pulling the Splicer closer surprisingly. Something happened and the Splicer clutched their neck as they were pushed away, writhing before slowly going rigid and falling to the ground.
Rabbit straightened in surprise as a chill went down their spine at the sight.
Distracted by the unexpected reaction, they didn't see but heard the shotgun go off, looking back as it hit the Newcomer in the side. But rather than entirely falling down, the Newcomer hissed and turned their attention to it. They narrowly avoided another shotgun blast, a bullet grazing their arm, and rushed the Splicer with the gun. They pulled it from the Splicers hand and threw it to the ground, leaping at the Splicer.
Something came out of the Newcomers mouth and latched onto the Splicer, striking flesh right above their clavicle. This time the Newcomer didn't discard the body as soon, holding it as still as possible for a few seconds before whatever the thing was let go and they let the Splicer go, still alive but paralyzed.
Rabbit was shocked at the turn of events, watching with wide eyes hidden behind their mask as the Newcomer slowly dodged and weaved the Splicers attacks, disarming them before that thing came out of their mouth to paralyze them.
After a while, the Splicers were on the ground except for the one in the Newcomers hands, latched onto the last one for far longer.
Rabbit could only assume they were feeding.
As the Newcomer went back to the other bodies from the one they had been feeding from, Rabbit slowly calmed down, having frozen. This was obviously another one of the Doctor's experiments, though they had no idea how it made it to the entrance hall without knowing about it. Just the thought of the Doctor was enough to make them freeze, paralyzed by flashbacks of a table and bright lights. A scalpel and a paralytic that kept them from fighting but didn't stop the pain enough.
They couldn't just let the Newcomer live. They were obviously too dangerous to leave roaming.
-----
God, the stench of rotting had gotten worse the deeper into the place he'd gone, smoke mixing in from a fire he had seen along the way. He was pretty sure the only way to get rid of it was literally destroying the city.
Syrus had felt like he'd been watched the entire time, from the Entrance Hall to the room he was in now, fully expecting another attack at some point. So he wasn't surprised when he was ambushed. Surprised at the time and place yes, but the fact that it happened no. What else surprised him was how many there had been, seven with varying weapons. He was glad he had drank the first attackers blood to help balance out the damage he got from this attack, otherwise it would have been far harder to fight.
As he drank the last assailants blood, he grimaced once more at the taste, each one's blood just as nasty tasting as the lasts. He felt his bullet wounds sting as his body prioritized them over some other wounds, slowly healing and regenerating the flesh and pushing out bullets that didn't pass through.
He knew he'd be tired once the adrenaline left his system, so he drank as much blood as he could, gorging himself to heal once he found a safer place to rest. Dropping the last body, his tongue retracted back into his mouth, the length of it coiled behind ribs.
As he straightened a shot rang out and he cried out at feeling a bullet pass through his shoulder, hand instinctively going to the new wound as he quickly looked toward the source of the bullet.
Syrus saw a person in black dress pants and dress shoes, a white button up shirt tucked underneath and a white rabbit mask covering up most of their face. The clothes were a lot less stressed than the other attackers he'd seen, something to note if they weren't currently pointing a gun at him. He jumped away as they shot again, almost getting clipped again, picking up the body of the brute from the ground easily despite the dead weight.
He rushed forward with the body as a shield and saw the person hesitate, obviously debating whether or not to shoot. Thinking he'd be able to bowl them over in their conflict, he cried out when instead they shot at his legs, bullet going through the side of his shin.
Luckily it avoided bone, but it still hurt.
He growled and tossed the body forward, the person forced to move away to avoid getting pinned by the corpse. As they clicked the hammer back on the pistol, he lunged at them, grabbing their wrist and, as they reached to pry him off, he grabbed their other one as well. Squeezing their hand, he forced them to let go of their gun and opened his mouth to paralyze them. He wouldn’t feed since he was full from the others blood, but it would at least prevent them from attacking further.
A crackle of electricity was the only warning Syrus had before his body jolted with an indeterminate amount of voltage, making him scream and let go, quickly backing away. He stared the person down, a mix of surprise and irritation at having been caught off guard. But it’s not like one would just expect a human to wield electricity.
They stood in a defensive pose, as though he would attack first, blue electricity crackling and moving around their body.
“What, you want my ADAM too,” he asked sarcastically. He still wasn’t quite sure what that was exactly, but everyone here seemed to want it for some reason.
Instead of heatedly answering like the rest, they remained silent, surprising him. He couldn’t see their eyes, but the slight tilt of their head showed that they were glancing at the pistol that had been tossed aside. He tensed, bracing himself for them to move, lunging when they ran for the gun. They obviously didn’t want to get within arms reach, and he didn’t want to get shot again. As they grabbed it, he was already too close and before they were able to fire properly, he pushed their arms up, a bullet firing toward the ceiling rather than at him.
They struggled in his grasp but Syrus kept a firm hold, demanding, “Why do you all insist on fighting me?!”
Electricity jumped from them to him, and his body screamed at him to let go, but he forced himself to hold on. Maybe he’d drink the blood of this one too.
They remained silent, something that frustrated him since he wanted answers, and he could feel them shaking a little under his restraint. He was caught off guard when they actually shifted closer, momentarily putting all their weight in his hands. Thinking they were trying to slip free by dead weighting, he held their arms in place and tightened his grip, but found himself both kicked in the face and the stomach. They had used his arms to keep them from falling to the ground as they curled to kick, forcing him to let go in a bit of shock.
Crying out, he covered his nose with his hand a little, feeling the lingering pain and glad it hadn’t gone into his skull. He snarled at them, no longer feeling merciful after enduring multiple fights with these rabid humans and jumped forward, pinning them to the ground as hard as he could. Their rabbit mask finally fell off, revealing the face beneath. Electricity attacked his senses again as he grabbed their throat, their hands reaching up to try and pry him off.
Syrus was done. He was tired and just wanted to leave this murderous maze that had humans coming out of nowhere to go after him. Opening his mouth, his tongue slipped out, tip splitting and ready to inject yet another victim with a paralyzer. They tried getting up and he slammed their head back against the ground.
And registered that they still hadn’t made a noise.
He paused, seeing their mouth open in pain, but heard nothing but a rushed exhale. Frowning in confused curiosity, his tongue stopped its advance and he let go of their throat, thinking for a moment. Keeping them pinned, he grabbed one of their arms and rolled the sleeve up despite their confused squirms, biting them. Not enough to break skin, but enough to hurt.
They reacted once more, but still no noise.
“Can… Can you not speak,” he asked, brow furrowing in surprise.
Letting go of their arm, they immediately pulled it away and pushed him off in his confusion, scooting away a bit. They stared back and even a moron could tell that they were conflicted in their thoughts, eventually nodding a little.
Now Syrus felt like a dick, saying, “I-I’m sorry, I had no idea… That’s why you weren’t answering.” He stood up and offered a hand.
They flinched and bared their teeth, electricity still crackling along their skin but it was dimmer than before, a warning. But this was the first one that had seemed to have more intelligence, or at least less aggression despite having attacked first. So he pressed, moving closer slowly while trying to reassure them.
“Look, I won’t hurt you anymore… Even though you shot me first,” he pointed out, something they weren’t happy with.
They bristled before looking around, glancing at him warily every few seconds. Eventually they carefully got up, staring at him as though to make sure he stayed in place, which he did so as to not destroy what little trust they had for him. They walked up to one of the shelves against the walls and picked up a paper on the floor, grabbing something else before walking over. They wrote on it with a broken pencil, handing it to him before backing from arms reach.
‘Doctor’s experiment. Too dangerous to keep alive.’
Confused he looked up, seeing them glare at him in both determination and fear. They pointed at the note, then at him. Then at the bodies scattered on the floor. Oh.
“I don’t know who the Doctor is, but I swear I mean you no harm,” he tried, “I’m no experiment, I just came from the surface. My plane crashed, and with nowhere else to go, I went into the lighthouse. Look, I didn’t even want to come here, I stepped into one of those spherical machines and it brought me here.”
They continued glaring and he knew it would be difficult to prove he wasn’t someone’s experiment, especially since they saw his tongue.
“How can I prove it to you?”
They faltered a little, startled by the response, before tilting their head a little in thought. They gestured for the paper back and wrote on it once more when he did so, handing it to him.
‘Identification’
Syrus frowned. He didn’t have much for identification since he didn’t really care for human laws that much, but he at least had a passport, forced to get one before he could go to the airport and buy a ticket for Scotland. Reaching into his backpocket, the book was incredibly soggy and they tried shaking off as much water as they could. Surprisingly, the thick cover had mostly protected the image, though the name wasn’t so lucky, a soggy ‘Syr’ underneath the picture. Narrowing their eyes at it, they looked at the authenticity before showing it to him and pointing at the name, and then him.
“My name is Syrus,” he filled it in, taking the book back when it was offered. “What’s yours?”
Instead of gesturing for the paper again, they just pointed to the rabbit mask they had been wearing, walking over to it and putting it on.
“Rabbit?”
They nodded, walking over to their gun, something that made him tense. But as they picked it up and looked at him, they simply pocketed it. He watched as they hesitated before turning away and starting to walk off.
“Wait!”
Syrus watched in disappointment as they ignored him, dashing out of sight and when he went to follow they were gone. He sighed, the only other person having just run off. He just hoped they’d be able to recuperate after their fight and that they’d be able to meet again. After all, they were all stuck under the ocean.