Bioshock

[Mikey]

High in the sky, over the Atlantic Ocean, a commercial plane made its way to London, England. For some, it was their destination. For others, it was the waypoint to their real destination. But for everyone, it was a place that would never be reached.

The plane started to shutter in the sky, its wings rocking back and forth. To anyone looking, the engines looked to be smoking. The pilot, who went unheard in the cockpit, was muttering to the plane to hold up, and to God to please help the plane make it to land. Both pleas went unheard. The engines finally started to shoot flames, and the plane went into a dive. It crashed into the water, and was ripped apart as if it had flown into concrete. Many died on impact, some were trapped and drowned, and some made it to the surface. The ones who lived saw what looked like a light tower in the distance.

-------------------------

Atlas sat at a table in the safehouse, looking down at a checker board. Sitting accross from him were nine little girls, wispering and looking at him cautiously. After what seemed like an hour, they moved a peice. Atlas, happy to get on with it, moved one quickly. He quickly noticed his mistake when one of the girls grabbed a black disk, jumped three of his own peices, and landed in one of his last spaces.

"King me!" All of them said at once.

Atlas gave them a look of exaustion and said "You could have done that two hours ago! Why didnt ya?"

"We wanted to fool you." One of them said in a squeaky voice.

"Well, it didnt work. I was lettin ya win." Atlas said.

Erwin Jager, a veteran of the German army as of over a decade, a former Sturmtrooper who was on the spearhead leading through the famed and claimed impenetrable French Maginot line defensive position, veteran of the failed and brutal Operation Barbarossa, then Stalingrad a freezing hell as cold as the heart as the man it was named after, veteran of the battle of Monte Cassino in Italy claimed to be the finest feats of arms carried out by any soldiers during the course of WW2, and then veteran of the desperate and reckless gamble referred to as the battle of the bulge, and the now "strong arm" of the resistance against Andrew Ryan at the same time as he was one of Rapture and thus Andrew Ryan's head of securities right hand man, sat quietly within the safe house of his current employer, known as Atlas, sipping quietly on a cup of coffee while reading a newspaper that was nearly a year out of date.

The sports section was particularly disappointing... the tonics the athletes were using that season were absolutely horrendous, they weren't geared out at all for their sports. The sound of music echoed within the safe house--- Dr.Tannenbaum and the "little sisters" safe house, actually---and put a soothing tone to the bunker-like, ghetto-poor, run down interior of the chamber located within a city that had plunged into unspeakable evil. Anywhere below the lords-green-earth would be a fitting place for the things that went on down within this city.

Jager's reputation had earned him the place of a well known figurehead amongst Rapture, less by rank, but more by visibility and popularity-- or infamy. As one of the higher higher's of security, he was feared and respected, and at the same time, had a "thriving" social life somehow. He had friends and aquantices and personal watering holes, but no family nor spouse. He liked it that way, he wouldn't have lived life as he had if he had not been single and "expendable".

Jager turned the page on the newspaper slowly as a barrage of dice smacked into the newspaper, followed by a burst of giggles aimed right at him growing more distant as the 10 year old gurilla force fell back amused. Jager, for all of his years of combat duty and front line leadership, could only manage to lower the newspaper and glare at the little girls walking away, barely holding in his sputtering, his glare hopefully compensating for his speechlessness. His mind was blank. His slightly hanging jaw was concealed behind the newspaper. If his service record was running through his mind at the moment, his face would have turned red. Instead, Jager turned his glare over towards the checker game the girls were heading over to. Jager picked his jaw up and stood, tucking the newspapers underneath his arm as he regained his composure, walking over to the checker game to watch and sipping on his coffee. After watching Atlas get wiped the floor with in a blitzkrieg launched by a squad of ten-year olds, Jager casually, and quietly, sipped on his coffee a final time before whispering in Atlas's ear

"I forget... what unit where you in again? French army or American?"

"Ya, ya, sod off..." Atlas said, and just as the words left his mouth, the safehouse shook. The little girls ran for cover, and both Jager and Atlas stood, grabbing weapons. When the tremor was over, a woman exited a labratory looking room.

"A plane just crashed near the tower!" She said in a thick German accent. Behind her, a man with a revolver ran out of the lab, up a set of stairs, and into the city of Rapture.

"Come on, we have to get up there!" Atlas said, hoping that someone was alive. He and Jager left the safehouse, and Tenenbam stayed behind to hold down the fort. They made their way to a Bathosphere, and puched the button for the Entrance Plaza.

[thegunny]

Edited: Thank you Jeryen, reminded me to mention Swift losing his camera...

Matthew Swift smiled as he laid back, his head on the seat-head rest, eyes closed, half asleep as his mind wandered endlessly. He was utterly content, a combination of happy thoughts and of apathetic-partial-sleep-induced grogginess filling his mind. The sound of the plane, although for some it might annoy them or might scare them, was actually one of the reasons he was so content. It had been a long time since he had talked to his father, he hadn't been to London in a long time. A few years after Matthew's service in Korea, his father and step-mother had moved from Boston to London, for his step-mothers sake. His father, an P-51D mustang pilot of WW2 and an air service colonel for thereafter until he was now, retired, would great him with a bear hug, a rapid fire exchange as quick as the machine guns Swift faced in Korea, before his father with his former-pilot-induced curiosity asked him about what kind of plane he flew in, how rough it was, how foggy it was, how stormy... and at the same time when they got home and Matthew was sitting at the table eating some Queen Victoria soup his step-mother made so well, his mother would shower him in questions about how he was eating, his health, how he was feeling(More in depth then just "How are you feeling", as you would expect from a nurse...), other inquiries typical of a mother--- even step-mothers--- with a nice relaxing evening after the hellish cold of Greenland, a wasteland that he had been sent to by his boss because the "real" reporters were too lazy a** to do it themselves... making a photographer go there because it was a dead end story to make him earn his keep for his sponsorship, thinking that the 25% he paid out of all of the deals he made excluding the ones where he sold directly to the sponsor wasn't enough.... the thoughts of visiting London and his family again after so long continued to bounce around in his mind even as there were hurried and panicked whispers, and some exclamations about the engines. The stewards started ushering everyone to fasten their seat belts and put up their trays. Swift was left alone because his already was, and his chair wasn't leaned back. But he got up on his own and, still groggily, looked all around in the cabin as the hushed whispering continued. Swift was half asleep still, despite his eyes being opened. A sudden wave of sensations washed over him, the lurching of the plane going down and then the feeling of the plane coming apart all around, beneath, and above him. The plane split, falling apart into pieces, Matthew's section of the plane breaking off from the rest and starting to plunge down into the ocean at an angle. The angle was perfect, a life saving angle, a matter of fact... Matthew was stunned and a little slow to react, but his survival instincts honed by all of his time trolling through s**t holes as a marine and then battlefield photographer in the s**t's kicking in just enough to unbuckle his seat belt and start to float up and out towards the open, broken off front of the section of the plane, which faced up towards the surface of the ocean. Matthew was jolted wide awake as the freezing cold water of the Atlantic surrounded him and he was growing short on breath right from the start. He kicked and started to swim to the top, switching immediately in his interior atmosphere from "Matthew" to "Swift", from Civilian to military-precision survival reaction.

Swift burst through the surface of the water, freezing cold water surrounding him still and dripping down his face, in his hair, over his neck, drenching his clothes... the fire all around him was alarming at the same time it was relaxing as the warmth from it all washed over his freezing-Atlantic-ocean-water drenched face. His eyes stung and burned from the salt water in his eyes...Swift, never the less, looked all around as he swam to stay afloat, thanking Parris Island for making maritime actions such a pivotal part in their program. Swift, not seeing anyone yet burst to the surface like him, looked away and up at the spire-like light house looking spot on a rock in the middle of friggin no where looming over the tips of the walls of fire. He knew immediately that if he did not get there, he would be dead. Minutes compared to possibly hours. He needed to get out of these clothes. He needed to get warm. He needed to get dry. D**n f***ing newspaper tycoons to lazy to go to f***ing Greenland on their own forcing him into a bulls**t scenario like this in the ocean home to the f***ing ship wrecked Titanic! Colder then f***ing Korea... Greenland... hell, colder then f***ing Iceland! And just lost the expensive brand new specialized photography camera!

All thoughts of London and a relaxing after noon amongst family was ripped and forgotten from Swifts mind.........

[Jeryen]

Jake held his breath as he avoided the large chunks of steel sinked into the depths below. Luckily holding his small backpack, which was all that was left from the luggage he had on the plane. He swam up to the surface as fast as he could, praying that there would be land nearby.

Once he reached the surface, he franticly looked around to see any land nearby, swimming to get a better view from the large piles of fire burning any flammable objects around him. He cheered in relief as he saw a lighthouse in the distance. Swimming franticly, he used a piece of floating wood to keep him afloat.

Reaching the stairs where the lighthouse was, he lay down and attempted to catch his breath, looking to the plane crash, he wondered if anyone else was able to make it.

[Gunman543]

Don swam around several hunks of metal as the plane drifted down into the depths of the ocean.As he swam towards the surface,he saw a box that was similiar to his small tool kit he had brought with him.As it drited by,he grabbed it and got to the surface,gasping for breath and checking what he had grabbed.It was his tool kit,and he was glad it had survived,but wasnt so happy that not much else survived.

Searching for land,he saw a lighthouse and began swimming towards it,bobbing on a piece of floating debris,and made it to the stairs of the lighthouse,and spotted another person gasping on the steps,and pulled himself on the land,dragging his tool kit behind him,and laid on the ground.Looking at the sky,he didnt look at the wreck again.He managed to sit up long enough to look over at the guy and ask one of the stupidest questions availble."Are you alright?"

[Kan]

Below the ruins of the engines a lone figure is struggling to surface, if one were to look down at him they would swear they were seeing a ghost from the war, especially those from the 101st airborne. The wartime jacket and dog tag float in the weightlessness of the water as the figure is suddenly slammed away from the wreck as if he was hit with a sledgehammer.

In reality it was the explosion under the water. The figure has air bubbles come from his mouth as the explosion sends him upwards, knocking him out of the down pull. The figure surfaces with gasps and shouts, his lungs screaming for precious air. Above the figure, which can now be seen as a young man of 19, a part of the wing crashes, apparently it had broken off in the crash.

The wing hits the water with a boom, creating a wave that sends the young man away, tumbling and turning in the water as he tries to keep form drowning, not even focusing on the fact he was being dragged down by his wet clothes, nor on the burning sensation of his eyes, his only thought on surviving, the most basic human instinct.

He suddenly comes to a stop as the mini wave slams into a rocky outcropping, the young man hitting it as well, knocking some so called sense into him, he yells out in pain, unable to keep it in, his body too tired. He does not stop though, he manages to grab an outcropping, stopping him from falling back into the sea. He struggles, with all his strength, climbing his way up, ending up the entrance, at the top of a long staircase.


The young man struggles to climb up over the railing, before plopping onto the wet concrete, he then blacks out, never seeing the true devastation of the crash, nor seeing where he had managed to survive to, his body face down and unmoving.

OOC: He is alive, just out cold, he had to CLIMB up unlike you guys, who took the easy way out. Y'all will find him at the top of the stairs, out cold.

[thegunny]

Swift kicked his feet and started to swim at a hurried but leisurely pace, his mind running through the list of things to do. The motions were stiff and awkward, his clothes restricting mobility, downgrading buoyancy, weighing him down, and providing resistance to his movement forwards as the massive ocean waves ebb and flow, causing the swim to be most unpleasant and exhausting. He zig zagged along the clear path and past debris/fire, making his way towards the big lighthouse. It was his only hope of survival, and hopefully, a place where he can dry his clothes off.... the soaked clothes would kill him just as much as the Atlantic ocean could. He hoped his bombers jacket survived too. He loved his bombers jacket his father had given to him as a gift. If anything, that was one thing that the former mud-marine Matthew Swift and his former fly-boy pilot Father agreed on was--- bomber jackets are nice. Swift was mildly panting by the time he got to the steps, pulling himself up onto the lighthouse structure and taking a break at the base of the steps a moment, remaining on all fours as he spat out water, emptied his nose, and caught his breath. Swift looked around and noticed several others up on the steps too... he must have been father back, that would explain how they got here first. Swift continued to pant and regain composure before he croaked

We need to get inside... Like, now... we'll die of hypothermia out here and if we stay in these clothes... soaking, freezing wet clothes... need dry.. need warmth....

Swift willed himself strongly to push up, getting to his knees and then a hunched over stand as he shivered strongly. The strong salty ocean breeze was freezing. Swift says again with a stronger, more cleared voice and conviction, his Boston harbor accent mixed with the commanding disciplinarian tone of a military combat N.C.O mixed with the cold harshness picked up from the equally cold battles of Korea

Need to get inside and out of these clothes...

[Kan]

OOC: BTW you guys should see the guy climbing up over the rails as you ascend the staircase, and see him up over the rail just as you get into the sight of it and see him collapse.

[Jeryen]

Jake Looked to the man as he said to him if he was alright, with a sigh, he said to the man as he lifted himself up to he was sitting and said to him in a sarcastic sort of tone as he attempted to dry himself with the small towel that survived being drenched in water because of the bag.

"Yeh, I'm good... Although I'm cold from the water, tired from swimming through ocean water while avoiding falling chunks of metal..."

Jake didn't mean to be as mean as he was, in fact, he was quite happy to even be alive and finding the lighthouse nearby. Although he was angry that he had lost just about everything he had on the plane.

Soon more people survived the plane and made it to the lighthouse, one of them being another man from the crash, who had tolled them to head inside before they died from the cold. Then they met another survivor, who had taken the harder way on climbing the rocks, running towards him, Jake did his best to find out if he was still alive, he then said to the two other men who were with him.

"Looks like he's still alive, although he will not be going anywhere in this condition... Ill take him inside"

Grabbing the man by his arms, he did his best to carry him on his back, he then started making his way inside the lighthouse, hoping to warm up from the cold outside.

[Mikey]

(Your guy's post will be short for a bit, but it will get longer when there is more to do.)

As everyone sat at the top of the lighthouse, a large set of double doors that had been locked and closed before swung open. Inside, it was comepletly dark, but it offered the promise of shelter and warmth. Two things that the survivors of the crash needed badly.

-------------------------

Atlas stood underneath a security camera, fiddling with the circuts inside. When he was done, he tucked the board and wires back into the shell, and closed the camera up. It perked back up, and began scanning its area again. Atlas stepped into its beam of light to test it, and it didnt linger on him for so much as a second. He had set the DNA scanners in the camera to look for a massive ammount of ADAM. That meant it would target Splicers and Big Daddies. And even the Big Daddie couldnt withstand the huge string of security bots the turrent would sick on intruders.

"Come on! Were almost to the station!" Atlas said, speaking to Jager. Jager had stayed around the corner to avoid the camera while Atlas slinked up to it's blind spot and hacked it. It was what he did, and he was good at it. He went off down a hallway, leading with his Webly and checking for camera, turrents, or Splicers. They were the only things they could handle. He only hoped the survivors of the crash knew something useful. They continued the trek to the entrance bathosphere station, the one that the survivors would end up in when they took the main sphere from the entrance tower. He only hoped Nicholas, the one who had run ahead, was ok.

[Kan]

While the young man is out cold, his body responds to the change in the temp, a shiver running through his body. As he is carried into the lighthouse a old looking photograph falls out, a wartime photo of his father in full uniform, taken a month before his death.

This shiver also causes the dog tag around his neck to come loose from underneath the jacket and shirt.

OOC: no fun

[Mikey]

(Kan, please dont effect the enviorment. Yes, the lights come on eventually, but I'd like to decide when they do.)

[Kan]

OOC: *grumble grumble*

Fine, no fun at all

^ Sarcasm

[Gunman543]

Don sighed in relief as he entered the lighthouse, the warmth and shelter bringing up his spirits as he carried his tool kit into the structure. Looking around the building, he asked a question that seemed important as well as intruiging. "Why is there a light house in the middle of the ocean, and does it have a radio?"

[thegunny]

Swift looked around within the darkness of the lighthouse, taking off his drenched bomber jacket, setting it down on the floor to dry. He looks around, grumbling about how dark it was. They weren't going to find any new clothes if there were any in here in this state. Swift grumbled

Hell if I know. Lighthouses are meant as a warning sign for land... maybe it was built for this rock out cropping, but then, why would they devote the resources to fixing something this far out... how did it get here? And why would they put so much effort as to build the stairs out of the rock...and how would someone live out here and maintain the lights anyway?

Swift continued to look around inside the building in vain, it still being too dark. He hands the young knocked out mans photograph to one of the others to hold. The photograph that the young man had had was ruined from the salty waters of the ocean. Swift's jacket might be ruined too. His camera was certainly ruined, being at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. This was too weird having this lighthouse here...Swift stood up and stepped away from the unconscious man, suddenly wishing he had brought a self defense firearm for the story in Greenland like he did when he was doing battlefield photography

I'm going to search the inside... we need new clothes. Watch this guy and see if you can help him, and the door, and the outside for rescuers... but this shouldn't take too long...

Swift took off his soaked shoes and dropped one after pouring the water out, holding onto the other like a club. His formal shoes wouldn't amount to much, but it was better then nothing as a weapon. Surely, at the least it would defend him from a spider, provided it wasn't the size of a dinner plate. With that optimistic and humored thought in mind, Swift walked forward and into the darkness towards the other side of the Light house before anyone could stop him. The silent, ghost like quick movements as he disappeared into the dark made his nickname "Boogie" even more apparent if anyone who had known of the nickname was present to point it out.

[Mikey]

As everyone walked into the lighthouse, the doors closed by themselves. Not a slamming, like typical horror movies would imply, but more like they were spring loaded to drift shut when opened. Everyone sat in the dark for a moment, and then the lights came on. In the center of the room was a large statue of a man. It looked as if he was leaning over a railing and staring at the survivors. On either side of him, a set of stairs went down and to a strange looking sphereical structure.