Bioshock Sisterhood (Futas, syringes, transformation)

CHAPTER ONE

Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?

"No" says the man in Washington, it belongs to the poor.

"No" says the man in the Vatican, it belongs to God.

"No" says the man in Moscow, it belongs to everyone.

I rejected these answers. Instead, I chose something different.

I chose the impossible.

I chose Rapture.

A city where the artist would not fear the censor.

Where the scientist wouldn't be bound by petty morality.

Where the great would not be constrained by the small.

And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture could become your city as well.

Raptures introduction spun around in my head as I gripped my pistol in my hand, my eyes narrowly focused on my prisoners. The two male splicers who had intruded upon my fortress stared back with shifting eyes. Their bodies were heavily bruised and cut, covered in scraps of threadbare clothing, stained with blood from their injuries. Their hands and legs were bound with rough rope and they constantly shifted uncomfortably. I frowned as I leaned against the cool metal wall opposite, rubbing the sweat off my face. The sweat of my brow... I mused, flicking the droplets at my two prisoners. They visibly jumped. Ryan wouldn't know the first thing about work. I closed my eyes and crossed my arms over my breasts, flattening them against my body. I began to think back upon the chain of events that led me to this grim reality.

Rapture shone like a jewel in the inky night of the deep ocean. Whales, giant squid, even large sharks patrolled the area, illuminated by the glowing skyscrapers and transparent tubes that formed the city's infrastructure. My bathysphere propelled itself through the murky depths, carrying me to my new life. I was Olivia Lembar, an actress from the surface world. The glittering, pristine city was no intellectual paradise for me. It was my freedom. I found myself attracted far more to the mistresses and concubines of the men I was expected to entertain. Filthy, drunken men who surrounded themselves with beauty. If anyone were to ever find out, my life and carreer would be in ruins, and my family shamed into the poorhouse. The surface world was cruel to anyone who broke the taboos of society. When I recieved an invitation to live in a underwater utopia, a place with no rules, no constraints, I immediately accepted. My life was ended, and I was reborn in the ocean.

Rapture didn't disappoint. Upon my arrival, I began working on the stage, singing and dancing to crowds of the working class. I carved a name for myself against the other great thespians of Rapture quickly. It was at the after party of an award ceremony that I finally made up my mind to persue the reason I had come to Rapture. I sat down next to the most beautiful woman in the bar. I could feel everyone's eyes burning into my skin as I tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to face me, her blue eyes wide with shock. Her skin w