07-08-2015, 01:32 AM
The reality of his situation beginning to set in, it suddenly dawned on Jonas Miyazuki that the last time had been at the mercy of other men, he had been on his way to his death.
Familiar sensations crept up his spine as the ship slid into the lighthouse’s dock. Vivid images raided his mind: each of his friends, his family, one by one being systematically rounded up and escorted out of their prison cells, led to their executions. For weeks, his life transformed into an endless cycle of waiting. Simultaneously hoping that he would be next—rather than one of his friends—and that maybe he might survive one day longer.
He had come so far since then, thanks to Omni. He held few warm feelings for the so-called god that had abducted him and brought him here, but somewhere deep within the young engineer’s heart, he knew that he owed that little white silhouette a debt of gratitude. Whether he liked it or not, Omni had saved his life.
The next few hours would determine whether his efforts had been worth it.
His wrist burned, the bones snapped by the larger of his two captors, but every other inch of him rattled from the cold. Outside, the storm raged on; rain pounded the ship’s front window. Gadge knew it must have been even colder outside.
Once they completed the landing, the navy-suited man gestured for him to follow. The boy’s rebellious impulse told him to stay put, but a violent nudge from the burly man behind him quickly quelled any bravery that swelled up in his gut. The chain squealed along the floor as he dragged it along behind him, out of the ship’s main cabin and toward the furious tempest. With no ramp to bridge the gap between the vessel and the dock, Gadge’s kidnapper leapt rather gracefully from point to point. When it was his turn to leap, the boy genius hesitated.
“Come now, boy,” the slimy man summoned him further, two of his long, spindly fingers motioning his captive to come hither. Biting the bullet, the young man hopped off of the boat, sending up a few prayers to Omni as he did so. His bare feet hit the wood of the dock, but immediately flew out from underneath him, and he landed with a crash on the ground. Involuntarily, the boy released a groan, laying back on the dock.
A chuckle escaped the brown-suited man’s lips behind him; it was the first noise Gadge had heard the man make in the entire time they had spent together. The boy genius scowled crossly, frantically picking himself back up again.
“Oopsie-daisy,” the thinner man chortled, “Someone’s going to have a bruised ass in the morning.” He giggled, spinning away from Gadge with a certain effeminate charm, and then began to bound his way up toward the door to the lighthouse. The white marble structure towered over the trio of travelers, still looking completely out of place in the midst of this raging storm. The boy genius sighed deeply, beginning the long trek up the stony stairs to the lighthouse’s door. As much as he did not want to follow these men to whatever sinister situation they had in store, he seemed to have few other options.
Thunder clapped in the distance, but the rain smacked the boy genius in the face. Violent gusts of wind danced across his bare body; the storm soaked through the little bit of clothing he wore within seconds. Gadge’s teeth chattered. He hesitated to call this day the worst day of his entire life, but it was certainly the most uncomfortable. At the very least, the water washed off some of the vomit that clung still to his skin.
He stalked up the stairs, soaked to the bone. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the brown-suited man had remained back; up near the lighthouse’s door, the boy would be alone with the snakier of the two men. A lump formed in his throat.
The stairs seemed to go on forever; it was not a long trek, but between the forces of nature beating him back and the general aura of pain and exhaustion that washed over him, Gadge had trouble making the journey. Eventually, he made it to the top, joining the man next to the lighthouse’s wooden door. The boy slumped against the lighthouse’s marble wall, taking a moment to let his breathing regulate again—he remembered a few breathing exercises he’d read about that worked like a charm—but the incessant pounding of the rain erased all hope of true relaxation.
Crusty fingers traced the bottom of his chin, gently lifting his face up until he was eye to eye with the snake of a man standing before him. The man’s long fingernails traced the skin of his cheek, and then his neck, and down to his chest before finally pausing where the boy’s heart was. The navy-suited man flattened his palm against Gadge’s skin. “You’re afraid,” he nodded, “That’s natural.” The boy averted his eyes back to the ground.
The man’s fingers returned to his cheek, softly caressing the youthful skin of the boy’s face. His touch frightened the young engineer, but not because he felt any danger—rather, the whole encounter seemed almost sensual. This man caressed his face the way he might a lover’s. Gadge wriggled away, breaking away from his captor’s touch.
“You are…” the man started, but he seemed to lose his words suddenly. Gadge’s eyes flickered up to meet the thin man’s, and there they lingered for a second. Behind the intimidating façade he had been keeping up, the boy genius spotted something that looked almost like sorrow hiding deep within his gaze. The slimy-looking man regained his words. “…you are a fascinating specimen, Mr. Miyazuki. I cannot wait to see the things you accomplish for us, and I wish I could spend more time with you, see it with my own eyes.” Gadge’s face contorted, puzzled.
“Alas,” his captor sighed, “that is not my purpose.” He shrugged, stepping past the boy and wrapping his fingers around the handle of one of the double doors. Carved onto the entryway was some kind of image, but Gadge could not place it. The door swung open, revealing nothing but darkness; across the threshold, nothing could be seen through all the blackness. Fear bubbled up inside the boy, but a firm grip on his shoulder ushered him inside.
As the pair entered the structure, lights came on seemingly automatically. Gadge’s eyes immediately lifted to see a large, blood-red banner hanging beneath a gargantuan bust of a man he did not recognize. In golden letters, the banner read: “No Gods or Kings. Only Man.”
The boy genius swallowed nervously as the navy-suited man shoved him down a staircase on the far side of the room, beneath the large bust of the unfamiliar man. Jonas thought for a second that he should ask who this man was—he seemed important enough, anyway—but he thought better of it, choosing instead to keep silent.
In the background, a little tune hummed through unseen speakers. Brass instruments.
Sailing.
“The bathysphere should be here shortly,” the thin man informed him, peering down into a dark void as they finally reached the lowest level of the lighthouse. Sure enough, seconds later, a large golden sphere—shaped like a diver’s helmet—rose up from the abyss. His captor gave him a gentle push, and he clambered through the doorway into the large sphere, decorated with plush seating and a couple of rather dirty windows. “This is where I must leave you,” the navy-suited man said, a twinge of regret coloring his voice, “I am truly sorry that I cannot follow you into the city. I would… absolutely love to be there.” Crusty fingers once again returned to his cheek. Gadge’s muscles tensed. The man smiled a sad smile.
“Ah, yes, time to go, I think,” he nodded, sifting through the boy’s blue hair with his spindly fingers. He latched on to the back of the boy genius’ skull and slowly pulled their faces closer, until he could place a delicate kiss on Gadge’s forehead. A going-away present, though it sent more shivers up the boy’s spine than his cold, soaking-wet briefs did.
Without another word, the navy-suited man swept out of the bathysphere and jerked the door shut behind him. As the locks clicked, Gadge instinctively stepped toward the entrance, but despite the huge, circular window that let him see outside into the large, rather empty chamber, the thin man’s silhouette disappeared up the stairs and back toward the lighthouse’s entrance and the boat home before he could even try to beg for escape. It seemed he was stuck here with no way out.
Near the back of the vessel, a large, golden lever stood against the wall. Seeing no other option, Gadge pulled it. The bathysphere lurched, and then suddenly began to move downward. The young boy felt his nausea bubbling up inside of his stomach once again. He plopped down on the plush seating, leaning back against the cold, metal wall of the transport as it sank further and further into the lighthouse. After several seconds traveling downward, sea water began to rise outside the large window on the door. Eventually, the entire bathysphere submerged itself into the ocean, leaving behind the surface world of the Vasty Deep and its various islands. The sea grew calmer the deeper the vessel sank, distancing itself from the storm that surely still raged above.
As the sphere continued its downward path, markers began to appear in the window, designating how many fathoms deep the boy had been taken. Just past eighteen fathoms, a screen slid down in front of the window, obscuring his view of the rest of his descent. Images flashed on screen, of things that Gadge did not recognize—an advertisement, perhaps? Eventually, a sort of mural of a man wiping his forehead appeared, projected there, and a pre-recorded voice began playing.
“I am Andrew Ryan,” the voice began, “and I have a question: is a man not entitled to the sweat from his brow?”
Gadge blinked. The picture changed again.
“No, says the man in Coruscant—it belongs to the Empire. No, says the man in Camelot—it belongs to the King. No, says the man in the Oververse—it belongs to Omni. I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose…”
The screen slid out of the way. The bathysphere traversed a section of rocky undersea terrain, and when it crossed to the other side, the now open window revealed a beautiful sight.
“…Rapture.”
A massive underwater city sprawled out across the ocean floor. Gorgeous, intricately designed structures weaved in and out of each other like nothing the boy had ever seen before, and floating in between two of the closest buildings, another large, blood-red banner hung, hovering in the strange physics of the ocean’s deepest places. In magnificent, glittering golden letters, it read:
Welcome to Rapture.
Familiar sensations crept up his spine as the ship slid into the lighthouse’s dock. Vivid images raided his mind: each of his friends, his family, one by one being systematically rounded up and escorted out of their prison cells, led to their executions. For weeks, his life transformed into an endless cycle of waiting. Simultaneously hoping that he would be next—rather than one of his friends—and that maybe he might survive one day longer.
He had come so far since then, thanks to Omni. He held few warm feelings for the so-called god that had abducted him and brought him here, but somewhere deep within the young engineer’s heart, he knew that he owed that little white silhouette a debt of gratitude. Whether he liked it or not, Omni had saved his life.
The next few hours would determine whether his efforts had been worth it.
His wrist burned, the bones snapped by the larger of his two captors, but every other inch of him rattled from the cold. Outside, the storm raged on; rain pounded the ship’s front window. Gadge knew it must have been even colder outside.
Once they completed the landing, the navy-suited man gestured for him to follow. The boy’s rebellious impulse told him to stay put, but a violent nudge from the burly man behind him quickly quelled any bravery that swelled up in his gut. The chain squealed along the floor as he dragged it along behind him, out of the ship’s main cabin and toward the furious tempest. With no ramp to bridge the gap between the vessel and the dock, Gadge’s kidnapper leapt rather gracefully from point to point. When it was his turn to leap, the boy genius hesitated.
“Come now, boy,” the slimy man summoned him further, two of his long, spindly fingers motioning his captive to come hither. Biting the bullet, the young man hopped off of the boat, sending up a few prayers to Omni as he did so. His bare feet hit the wood of the dock, but immediately flew out from underneath him, and he landed with a crash on the ground. Involuntarily, the boy released a groan, laying back on the dock.
A chuckle escaped the brown-suited man’s lips behind him; it was the first noise Gadge had heard the man make in the entire time they had spent together. The boy genius scowled crossly, frantically picking himself back up again.
“Oopsie-daisy,” the thinner man chortled, “Someone’s going to have a bruised ass in the morning.” He giggled, spinning away from Gadge with a certain effeminate charm, and then began to bound his way up toward the door to the lighthouse. The white marble structure towered over the trio of travelers, still looking completely out of place in the midst of this raging storm. The boy genius sighed deeply, beginning the long trek up the stony stairs to the lighthouse’s door. As much as he did not want to follow these men to whatever sinister situation they had in store, he seemed to have few other options.
Thunder clapped in the distance, but the rain smacked the boy genius in the face. Violent gusts of wind danced across his bare body; the storm soaked through the little bit of clothing he wore within seconds. Gadge’s teeth chattered. He hesitated to call this day the worst day of his entire life, but it was certainly the most uncomfortable. At the very least, the water washed off some of the vomit that clung still to his skin.
He stalked up the stairs, soaked to the bone. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the brown-suited man had remained back; up near the lighthouse’s door, the boy would be alone with the snakier of the two men. A lump formed in his throat.
The stairs seemed to go on forever; it was not a long trek, but between the forces of nature beating him back and the general aura of pain and exhaustion that washed over him, Gadge had trouble making the journey. Eventually, he made it to the top, joining the man next to the lighthouse’s wooden door. The boy slumped against the lighthouse’s marble wall, taking a moment to let his breathing regulate again—he remembered a few breathing exercises he’d read about that worked like a charm—but the incessant pounding of the rain erased all hope of true relaxation.
Crusty fingers traced the bottom of his chin, gently lifting his face up until he was eye to eye with the snake of a man standing before him. The man’s long fingernails traced the skin of his cheek, and then his neck, and down to his chest before finally pausing where the boy’s heart was. The navy-suited man flattened his palm against Gadge’s skin. “You’re afraid,” he nodded, “That’s natural.” The boy averted his eyes back to the ground.
The man’s fingers returned to his cheek, softly caressing the youthful skin of the boy’s face. His touch frightened the young engineer, but not because he felt any danger—rather, the whole encounter seemed almost sensual. This man caressed his face the way he might a lover’s. Gadge wriggled away, breaking away from his captor’s touch.
“You are…” the man started, but he seemed to lose his words suddenly. Gadge’s eyes flickered up to meet the thin man’s, and there they lingered for a second. Behind the intimidating façade he had been keeping up, the boy genius spotted something that looked almost like sorrow hiding deep within his gaze. The slimy-looking man regained his words. “…you are a fascinating specimen, Mr. Miyazuki. I cannot wait to see the things you accomplish for us, and I wish I could spend more time with you, see it with my own eyes.” Gadge’s face contorted, puzzled.
“Alas,” his captor sighed, “that is not my purpose.” He shrugged, stepping past the boy and wrapping his fingers around the handle of one of the double doors. Carved onto the entryway was some kind of image, but Gadge could not place it. The door swung open, revealing nothing but darkness; across the threshold, nothing could be seen through all the blackness. Fear bubbled up inside the boy, but a firm grip on his shoulder ushered him inside.
As the pair entered the structure, lights came on seemingly automatically. Gadge’s eyes immediately lifted to see a large, blood-red banner hanging beneath a gargantuan bust of a man he did not recognize. In golden letters, the banner read: “No Gods or Kings. Only Man.”
The boy genius swallowed nervously as the navy-suited man shoved him down a staircase on the far side of the room, beneath the large bust of the unfamiliar man. Jonas thought for a second that he should ask who this man was—he seemed important enough, anyway—but he thought better of it, choosing instead to keep silent.
In the background, a little tune hummed through unseen speakers. Brass instruments.
Sailing.
“The bathysphere should be here shortly,” the thin man informed him, peering down into a dark void as they finally reached the lowest level of the lighthouse. Sure enough, seconds later, a large golden sphere—shaped like a diver’s helmet—rose up from the abyss. His captor gave him a gentle push, and he clambered through the doorway into the large sphere, decorated with plush seating and a couple of rather dirty windows. “This is where I must leave you,” the navy-suited man said, a twinge of regret coloring his voice, “I am truly sorry that I cannot follow you into the city. I would… absolutely love to be there.” Crusty fingers once again returned to his cheek. Gadge’s muscles tensed. The man smiled a sad smile.
“Ah, yes, time to go, I think,” he nodded, sifting through the boy’s blue hair with his spindly fingers. He latched on to the back of the boy genius’ skull and slowly pulled their faces closer, until he could place a delicate kiss on Gadge’s forehead. A going-away present, though it sent more shivers up the boy’s spine than his cold, soaking-wet briefs did.
Without another word, the navy-suited man swept out of the bathysphere and jerked the door shut behind him. As the locks clicked, Gadge instinctively stepped toward the entrance, but despite the huge, circular window that let him see outside into the large, rather empty chamber, the thin man’s silhouette disappeared up the stairs and back toward the lighthouse’s entrance and the boat home before he could even try to beg for escape. It seemed he was stuck here with no way out.
Near the back of the vessel, a large, golden lever stood against the wall. Seeing no other option, Gadge pulled it. The bathysphere lurched, and then suddenly began to move downward. The young boy felt his nausea bubbling up inside of his stomach once again. He plopped down on the plush seating, leaning back against the cold, metal wall of the transport as it sank further and further into the lighthouse. After several seconds traveling downward, sea water began to rise outside the large window on the door. Eventually, the entire bathysphere submerged itself into the ocean, leaving behind the surface world of the Vasty Deep and its various islands. The sea grew calmer the deeper the vessel sank, distancing itself from the storm that surely still raged above.
As the sphere continued its downward path, markers began to appear in the window, designating how many fathoms deep the boy had been taken. Just past eighteen fathoms, a screen slid down in front of the window, obscuring his view of the rest of his descent. Images flashed on screen, of things that Gadge did not recognize—an advertisement, perhaps? Eventually, a sort of mural of a man wiping his forehead appeared, projected there, and a pre-recorded voice began playing.
“I am Andrew Ryan,” the voice began, “and I have a question: is a man not entitled to the sweat from his brow?”
Gadge blinked. The picture changed again.
“No, says the man in Coruscant—it belongs to the Empire. No, says the man in Camelot—it belongs to the King. No, says the man in the Oververse—it belongs to Omni. I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose…”
The screen slid out of the way. The bathysphere traversed a section of rocky undersea terrain, and when it crossed to the other side, the now open window revealed a beautiful sight.
“…Rapture.”
A massive underwater city sprawled out across the ocean floor. Gorgeous, intricately designed structures weaved in and out of each other like nothing the boy had ever seen before, and floating in between two of the closest buildings, another large, blood-red banner hung, hovering in the strange physics of the ocean’s deepest places. In magnificent, glittering golden letters, it read:
Welcome to Rapture.