BioShock: The Fall of Rapture

Chapter 3 Escape from Despair

Rapture, Persephone, December 1958

Drip... drip... drip.
The splashes reverberated around the cellblock as a steady stream of water droplets fell into a long overflowing bucket. Prisoners got used to the sound of leaks after a few weeks, and after a few months, they did not even notice them. That was the nature of the Persephone Correctional Facility, a prison suspended over a vast sea trench, far below the rest of the city of Rapture. All a person really had once their cell door closed was their thoughts and the sound of leaks.

In a darkened cell, Michael lay on his hard bunk, trying not to think about the celebrations that were taking place in the city above. It was New Year's Eve, and almost all of Rapture's citizens were busy celebrating with music, drink and food. Meanwhile, all the prisoners of Persephone had gotten was the same meal they were given every other day, a thin tasteless soup and stale bread.

It had been six months since he had been imprisoned for his union membership. There were many more like him down here, arrested for their labour militancy, along with smugglers, common criminals, and even the followers of cults that had cropped up over the years.
It had not been too bad at first, but after Johnny Topside and a number of other prisoners had disappeared, the place had become just that bit more unbearable.

All of a sudden, the lights flickered on and there was the sound of grinding metal as the door to the cellblock opened. Two guards stepped in and took up positions by the entrance, shotguns at the ready. Three people entered after them, two wearing white doctor's coats, while the other was Augustus Sinclair, Persephone's owner, wearing his usual attire of a white shirt, braces and neatly pressed trousers.

"I'll leave you to look over the merchandise," Sinclair said in his characteristic southern drawl, "If you need me, just yell."
Watching through the bars of his cell, Michael felt a stab of anger. It was bad enough being locked up in this place of despair, but to be called 'merchandise' felt as if they were not even seen as human anymore.
"You'll get what's coming to you Sinclair," he thought savagely.
"Thank you Mr. Sinclair," said one of the scientists in faintly accented English.

"Suchong," thought Michael as the doctor began to make his way around the cells on the far side of the room. Fear gripped his insides. Whenever Suchong and his assistants came to the cells, they always had a few prisoners taken away for 'tests' in Fontaine Futuristics, never to return.
"Hannah," Suchong ordered his assistant, "Could you look over those two?"
He gestured to the cells on the other side of the room where Michael and another prisoner waited.

'Yes Doctor," Hannah replied.
She made her way over to the cell next to Michael and took the name, age and gender of the neighbouring prisoner before asking him to hold out his arm. The prisoner answered and acted without question. Most knew it was better to comply with the scientist's demands, since people who fought back were far more likely to get dragged off to the laboratories.

Leaning against the cell bars, Michael watched as Hannah took out a vial of odd-looking liquid, placed a few drops on the prisoner's arm, then rubbed it in like sun cream.
The prisoner coughed violently, and even from his cell Michael smelt the fowl, wet dog like stench the liquid gave off. Hannah wrote something down on her clipboard and muttered something that sounded like, "No adverse reaction."

She told the prisoner to return to his bunk and moved on to Michael's cell
"Name," she said, eyes still on her clipboard.
"Come on, you remember that don't you?" he replied.
Hannah looked up and her eyes went wide with shock.
"Michael!"
"Is something wrong Hannah?" Suchong asked, looking over at her.
"No Doctor Suchong," she quickly replied, "Everything's fine."
She turned back to Michael.
"Thank god you're alright, I was sure something terrible had happened to you."

"Yeah, glad I've avoided a terrible fate," he said dryly.
"Yes, sorry, that was stupid of me to say, I just meant..."
"You'd better do that chemical test," Michael said, rolling up his sleeve, "Suchong's looking this way."
"Okay," she replied, taking his arm and placing a few drops of the liquid on his skin before rubbing it in.
"God, what is this stuff?" he said as the smell reached his nose.
"I can't say, they're keeping most of the assistants in the dark," whispered Hannah, noting the lack of reaction. "All I know is that it's something Ryan has Suchong working on, and it's big."