The Lamb Of Columbia (Songbird) - BioShock Fan Fiction

Chapter 2 - {Prologue Part 2} Meeting The Lamb

A few weeks after my first test flight, and after many other test flights which went a lot better. However, my life still felt like it lacked purpose. How I may become the new saviour of Columbia's skies, the protector, I still wasn't sure how to accomplish such a feat.

The citizens were still quite afraid of me. Women would hear the swoop of my wings and look up to see my horrific form, and upon it, they would drop their washing baskets and clutch their mouths in horror. Little boys playing on the street would screech our and point at me wildly. If their lives weren't interesting enough living in a floating city that represents America's ideals, then a flying mechanically bird was the final candle on the cake. It would take some time, I realised, that they will soon become accustomed to my presence there. So be it.

I remembered what Fink had said; something about a girl that needed protecting. He had not told me of my job in this world, just more testing, more flights, more photo recognitions. We were getting nowhere. And that was worrying. What would happen to me if I was no use to Columbia? Would they scrap me and give me a new purpose, or maybe kill me? I needed to work, and work fast.

However, soon, my purpose came. And when it did, it came with a crash.

Another failed test flight. Fink wanted to test the speed of my reactions to the magic whistle in which he used to summon me at will. It seemed like such an easy task when I heard him explain to some of his trusted workers, but that wasn't the case.

Among hearing the whistle with the sound I recognised as CAGE, my head lifted up with a mechanically clank, pulling wildly on my breathing tube. My eye lenses clicked into place, making my eyes a menacing shade of crimson. The whistle - as good as it's intentions were - always brought out the worst in me. Nevertheless, I set off, taking to the skies as gracefully as usual.

After all of this analysis, I should have maybe stopped flying so close.

I crashed straight into the tower, shards of the golden metal and my leather and steel body colliding and made a horrific clanging. I was actually unhurt as I fell to the bottom of the tower's internal structure and hit the floor. Oh goodness me. What will Fink do now? Will he give up on me completely? This is the fourth failed flight this week!

I couldn't move or breathe. My breathing tube had come undone, and my lungs - if I had lungs, I wasn't too sure - were burning with lack of oxygen. I was to die soon. What a pitiful life experience mine has been. I think I was a human for a while, but for some reason, it's a blank memory, as if nothing is there but I remember it still.

THE MIND OF THE SUBJECT WILL DESPERATELY CREATE MEMORIES WHERE NONE EXIST.

Out of nowhere, I heard a wail. It was quiet, bearing in mind everything in my life was loud; the flap of my wings, my squawk, the sound of CAGE. Nothing was quiet, silent, whispered. When I heard this wail, it was like the sweetest, innocent little wail that was ever to exist in this world.

I managed to lift my head slightly to see where the wail had come from. A small girl was staring back at me. Her features were soft, showing youth and innocence; however, her face was stretched out as her mouth hung open in despair.

The girl was small; maybe about five foot in height; couldn't weight more than six stone. Her age was most likely about nine or ten, no more. Her hair was a natural brown, tied back neatly in a white bow, but she had small parts of fringe that were tucked behind her ears. As clothing, she was wearing a white pinafore which covered her tiny form.

I breathed out again deeply. It was such a shame that she'd watch me die. Children shouldn't see something horrible like that; they should be out playing with their peers, singing their songs, like I saw the children on Columbia's streets doing. This little girl wasn't doing any of that. She was just... there.

I wish I could speak. Then maybe I could ask her what she was doing. Did she live here? Where are her parents? What is this tower? My mind buzzed with questions.

One last breath... My life was slipping away. I could almost hear Fink cursing my machinated form for not working as he wanted. I was nothing more than a failed experiment, a pathetic waste of investment. I wanted to protect Columbia's skies, the horizon to be my oyster. But that opportunity started to die away with me.

CLICK. My breathing restored. I choked as I got a new flow of oxygen, spluttering in my clanking way. What was happening? I had survived? I could feel death's cold clutches, they had been more powerful and deadly than my own claws!

I moved my head to see the little girl. She was smiling, happy with her handy work, looking more relieved. She had connected my breathing tube back, saving me!

I wanted to thank her, but I couldn't. Instead, I cooed slightly in response, scooping her up in my palms (away from my claws, I don't want to hurt her) and holding her close. I want to protect this little girl. I would see Columbia burn for her.

That is my calling in this life. I must protect the Lamb.