acatwhowrites: (C.A.P♡relaxed)
A Cat Who Writes ([personal profile] acatwhowrites) wrote2014-04-10 09:45 pm

Dream Time

title: Dream Time
players: Big Daddy, Little Sister
rating: PG
summary: Dreams can seem very real.

a/n: I began playing BioBhock a couple days ago. It's so freaky; I love it. The plot's kind of been spoiled, because I watch my brother play the others, but I'm still having fun. Dying a lot. Big Daddies are my favourite characters.


The dying echoes of a heavy fist on metal drew the little girl like a spider with a fly caught in its web. She peered out of the hole, high up on the wall, face-to-face with a porthole-like glass face set in a large helmet made of rusty metal. She saw a knight in shining, gold armour.

"Is it time again, already?"

He held out a hand--almost as big as the girl herself--and helped her to the ground.

She held a hypodermic gun in a tiny fist and took the knight's hand her free hand. "Thank you, Mr Bubbles!"

Tiny Mary Janes made no sound on the rosy marble floors, and flowering vines as well as long, pink drapes covered the walls but allowed images of grand sea creatures and shimmering schools of tiny fish to be seen.

Big Daddy was the noble golden knight to the Little Sisters, and Big Sisters were brides or princesses with elegant ball gowns and serene smiles. Heroic Big Daddies stood proudly in the grand rooms, chips and blemishes invisible to pink-hazed minds.

"I can see the angels dancing. Time for more ADAM."

Angels sprawled among sofas and desks, haloes surrounding their once lively, but still elegant, forms and angel wings laid out from their shoulders. Carpets of rose petals gave the Little Sister a soft path to the ADAM.

"Oh Mr. B, we hit the jackpot."

This Little Sister never peered beneath the festive masks the angels wore, but sometimes she'd touch it after gathering ADAM. No one ever invited her to dance, probably because the lady always tells them not do.

Approaching a Little Sister is a criminal offense. Do not approach the Little Sisters. The Big Daddies have no interest in you. Treat them as they do you; DO NOT interfere with their work, especially if they are with a Little Sister.

She didn't linger, more angels were getting ready to fly, so she took Mr Bubbles' hand and left the sleeping angel beside the fireplace. "It was a pretty angel, Mr. B."

"What's that? Mr B, look! Look look look!" Something unusual, not an angel and not a princess or a knight, ducked behind a fireplace. It flashed, and the Little Sister flinched as something stung her arm. Tiny petals blossomed up her flesh, sticking to her arm. Mr Bubbles grunted, pushing her behind him as another flash sparked across his armoured chest. She ducked behind a drape beside an angel and covered her ears. "Keep it out from me! Keep it out from me!"

Her knight wailed in anger and drew his sword. The strange not-angel leapt from his hiding spot, a sword of his own in-hand and other hand outstretched. It sparked, and Mr bubbles jolted as he was covered in jagged blue.

The golden armour turned tarnished and rusted, a bulbous exoskeleton with an alien mask protruding from the front, eight angry red eyes glaring at the not-angel backlit by flames.

"Hurt 'im, Mr. B! Hurt 'im! Tear 'im into little bits!"

"I think the bad man is gone, Mr. B. . ." She touched his arm. "Is it safe to go walking, now?"

He grunted and took her hand, friendly green eyes blinking slowly. The floors were rosy again, and the flames had returned to their homes of grates and brick.

Thoomp. . .

"Mr B, what's that? Did you h--"

The walls exploded. Drapes caught fire and smouldered on the dirty wood floor. Mr Bubbles bellowed and drew his sword again, charging at the not-angel who had appeared high above them, even without wings. He fell to his knees as blue snakes jumped across his body.

Tears poured down her face, dripping to the marble flooring. "Mr. Bubbles? Get up, Mr. Bubbles! Get up! Get up, Mr. Bubbles! Please get up, Mr. Bubbles! Please!"

He didn't stir. All life had left his eyes, and his armour was a dirty brown.

A door slid open. The bad man ran across the floor, snakes slithering up his arm and sword raised.

"Why won't you move, Mr. Bubbles?" Sniffling, she tried pulling him to his feet, but he was too heavy.

What could she do? Mr Bubbles was an angel, now, but what about her? Was she going to be an angel, too? But Momma Tenenbaum wouldn't like that!

The bad man grabbed her shoulder, yanking her away from Mr Bubbles. She thrashed and writhed, slapping away his hand, but he held her fast.


She woke up in bed, squealing and waving her arms. Familiar green eyes creased at the corners with worry. "Daddy?"

It was impossible to be scared when Big Daddy was around. He was a shining knight, brave and strong. He rocked her gently, cradling her to his chest. "I had a bad dream. . ."

He held her until she hiccuped from crying and brushed her hair from her face to kiss her forehead.

"I'm okay, now."

She untangled her tiny fingers from behind his neck and let him tuck her back into bed. Her stuffed teddy bear hip-hopped up the paisley comforter into welcoming arms.

"Thank you, Big Daddy. Okay, Mr Bubbles. Ready for dream time?"

Big Daddy closed the bedroom door to her gentle lullaby. "Mis-ter Buh-bbles, Mis-ter Buh-bbles, are you there? Are you there? Come and give me lollies, come and bring me toffees. Teh-dee bears. . . teh-dee bears."