There's Something in the Sea

[nuwisha]

"I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question: Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? No, says the man in Washington. It belongs to the poor. No, says the man in the Vatican. It belongs to God. No, says the man in Moscow. It belongs to everyone. I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."
―Andrew Ryan, founder of the city of Rapture

31st December 1958 - The bottom of the Atlantic, New Year's Eve

As the ball music played from the Kashmir Restaurant there was another sound then the music and laugher from the upper-class members of Rapture, the sound was of small naked feet running though the metal corridors. A small girl no older then seven years were being chased by three men, in each of their hands were a tool ranging from lead pipes to wrenches. The little girl were standing trapped in a corner surrounded by the three, clinching tight in her arms as the tears were flowing down her cheeks she held a small doll made from scrap and bits. By the stroke of twelve something happened a series of small explosions quaked the foundation of the very building, hundreds of new foot steeps were heard as more and more persons came it to view of the three and the little girl all of them looked similar to the three armed with improvised weapons only a few actually had guns. “Quick grab the ADAM!” yelled one of the three and another one of them stepped forward a grabbed the girls arm with great force.

Rain, there was raining in Rapture constant dripping of sea water from the broken joints in the selling. Years have passed since that New Year's Eve that became know to the people of Rapture as the 1959 New Year's Eve Riots, well at least to the few sane people of Rapture. The once magnificent city had succumbed to decay and the hope of a Utopia had been grinded away. A shadow moved quickly and silently through out the Kashmir Restaurant, the empty restaurant had something strangely beautiful about it with the pools of water that gathered and the few remains of the masquerade guests with foods and other items scattered around. Strange was a not the best word for it morbid would be more appropriate to what was left of a once happy party and a glorious city. Not far from the once beautiful restaurant laid the Bathysphere Station once the only way to the surface world, this gateway had been ruined by the years but it was still operating with weak lights barely illuminated the area. On a bench in the lobby where one strange oddity among all the old suitcases and old clothes the small doll of scrap and bits just sitting there waiting.