Don't Use The Plasmid

I stared at the vial of red liquid in my hand. I couldn’t lie—I was tempted. How could I _not _be? I’d spent months wishing I’d gotten a cooler, flashier, power. Something like flight, super strength, or lasers. And Lightning Bolt sounded really close to at least one of those. All I had to do was inject myself with this massive needle filled with a mystery liquid that would—somehow—give me new powers.

Like the Splicers. The terrifying, deranged Splicers.

It was such a bad idea, I couldn’t believe I was even considering it. But I was. The possibility of being something more, of having the kind of strength that didn’t need a swarm to protect it, was intoxicating. My fingers tightened around the vial.

No. Not now. Not like this. I couldn’t afford to lose my mind. It was one of the few things I had left. And really, I was already surrounded by people who proved how bad of an idea this was. It still took longer than I was willing to admit, but I **** myself to put the vial away. In my bag. Just in case I needed it later.

The vending machine’s cheerful jingle followed me as I descended the staircase. There was nothing else up there, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was mocking me.

At the bottom, the only path I could find was blocked by a heavy door with the word "Securis" on it. Above the door it read "Welcome to Rapture. Opportunity awaits." The control panel beside it was a wreck, its exposed wires sparking intermittently. Through the glass wall, I could see the underwater tunnel it led to, connecting this building to the rest of the city. I inspected the panel, hoping for an obvious solution, but of course, nothing in this hellhole was going to be easy.

I sighed, letting my bugs spread out further, searching for anything that might help me open it. That’s when I felt them—two figures moving in my direction.

Splicers.

I froze, gripping my baton. My swarm shifted, buzzing as they got ready to strike. The two figures came into view, illuminated by the flickering light of bulbs. One wore a cracked rabbit mask, the other a fox. Their movements were unsettlingly fluid, unnatural, but not as erratic as the first splicer I’d encountered. Their laughter, however, set my teeth on edge. They spotted me almost immediately.

“Well, lookie here, a little fish out of water!” the rabbit-masked one crooned, his voice mockingly cheerful. He twirled a bloodied blade in his hand like it was a toy.

“Fresh meat,” the fox-masked splicer hissed, their head tilting at an unnatural angle. “Think she’ll scream like the others?”

I didn’t respond. There was no point. Let them talk. The more time they spent gloating, the more time I had to call in reinforcements. My bugs poured into the area, crawling through cracks and vents, gathering, waiting. I already had enough to drown them twice over, but more is always better.

The rabbit-masked splicer leaned closer, his tone dropping into something almost conspiratorial. “What’s the matter, little fish? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re just—”

A noise cut him off. A low, metallic groan echoed through the tunnel behind them, reverberating through the walls like the growl of some ancient beast. The sound made my chest tighten, my grip on the baton tightening instinctively.

The rabbit froze mid-sentence, his head snapping toward the sound. “You hear that?”

The fox-masked splicer took a step back, their bravado evaporating. “Let’s bug.”

The rabbit turned on them, sneering. “Coward. Weak! You’re a weak chopper!”

“That’s a Big Daddy, you idiot!” the fox hissed, already retreating into the shadows. “This little fish ain’t worth toeing it with no Big Daddy!”

They growled, pointing their rusted weapon at their running companion. “Yellow, always have been,” turning towards me, they sneered. “You’ll be no better off with the metal daddy, little fish. See you floating in the briney.”

With that, he turned and followed his companion into the darkness, their retreating footsteps fading quickly.

I barely had time to process their departure before I felt it. Through my bugs first—then, moments later, I saw it. The source of that groan.

The Big Daddy.

It was massive, its armored bulk looming in the flickering light. Its footsteps were slow but deliberate, each one sending a faint tremor through the floor. My swarm swirled around it, cautious but curious, as I tried to gauge its movements.

And then I noticed her.

A little girl, walking alongside the hulking figure, her small hand resting lightly on its arm. She skipped as though this was just another casual stroll, humming a tune that was far too cheerful for this nightmarish place.

I swallowed hard, retreating a step. The splicers had been scared of this thing. Terrified. And that's what I had to save these little girls from.

Looking around I...