"I once was lost but never was found, I think I'm losing what's left of my mind, to the twentieth century deadline..." 21st Century Breakdown, Green Day
"Come on in, come on in, Little Moth!" the telecom sang out, speaking in a strange rhythm. He was so excited, he missed out breaths. I shuddered at the strange new nickname he gave me. I have no idea why he called me Little Moth, but I don't think it was a one off either. He seemed to love the new name. "Little Moth, Little Moth, Little Moth..."
"Why are you calling me a little moth?" I called out, wanting to know why he had almost adopted me like a puppy from a kennel. Or maybe a splicer from a kennel. It wouldn't even surprise me if that wasn't a thing here; splicer adoption. He made a evil sounding laugh.
"Don't you understand? Moths are drawn to light, just like you were drawn to me. Maybe not subconsciously, but still, this is no coincidence. You, Little Moth, are just what I need to help me get what I want. Come closer, Little Moth, and I shall give you my very important job. I realise now that you want to get to Ryan, don't you? Most likely to take his life, well that's not business of mine. Do what ever leads you, Little Moth."
"My name isn't Little Moth! My name is Jack, I don't mind you calling me that!!" I yelled, hoping that he would stop this bizarre nickname. Yet again, another yelp of laughter. Clearly my real name was no use to him.
"Jack? I do like that name, but then, I like Little Moth better. I apologise, but that is what it is staying at. Now, I need you to come through to my auditorium. It is named Fleet Hall, it would surprise me if you have never heard of it. Ah, the performances we have had here are legendary, I must say. I have prepared a little performance for you. It was going to be Kyle Fitzpatrick, a pianist that works under me, but he was being most... disobedient. So I let him die at the piano, how most musicians only wish to go, with their instruments. It was a rather explosive in its own way."
"What do you mean? Explosive in its own way? Die at the piano? What are you talking about, Cohen?" I demanded. What on this wretched earth was he going on about? This guy is getting more and more frightening to me. I don't know what he wants from me, or how far he will go to get it. He giggled a chilling and most disturbing laugh.
"You would like to know how he died most gracefully? It is a true shame that you missed it, but there is no way that I am telling you now. Get walking to Fleet Hall, would you kindly." he whispered, giggling to himself. I complied with his demands, heading through the Atrium to the infamous Fleet Hall. It was not as Sander told it. The Atrium was full of the memories that still lingered with every breath of dust. I could tell that this madman thought of it no different than it's opening. It was like he was still living in his past, before the freakish, sadistic fall of the underwater metropolis.
"Right, I'm walking there."
I turned the corner, and saw the huge glittering sign, covered in green neon. Underneath it read of an old performance from before the Fall of Rapture. It said Andrew Ryan Presents - The Kickettes - 2 Weeks Only. This must be it. Clearly the Kickettes must have been a longer production that two weeks, as Sander hasn't had it taken down by his pet splicers. The moment I could see it, Sander's voice became more impatient, and his breathing increased in excitement. He must be in here, and the closer I get, the more impatient he got.
"Hurry, hurry! Your replacement act awaits." the glass slid up, opening my way to the auditorium. His giggles were becoming more evil and irritating. I tutted, cocking my shotgun. I need to be prepared for this 'replacement act'. If it wasn't as good as Kyle in Cohen's eyes, then I have no idea what I am in store for.
"Miss Tabor, he is here, he has arrived! YOU MUST SING FOR HIM!" Sander screeched through the intercom, not my radio. This was aloud. Oh darn. I saw the sight before me, and for a second, it made me want to crawl into a hole and never leave.
YOU ARE READING
Little Moth (Sander Cohen) - BioShock Fan Fiction
Fanfic"Cohen's an artist, says some. He's a Section Eight, says I. I've seen all types of cutthroats, freaks, and hard cases in my life, but Cohen, he's a real lunatic, a dyed-in-the-wool psychopath." This old fruit is not to be messed with... Sander Cohe...
