Eleanor's first instinct had been to simply teleport herself and Amir back to the lifeboat, but she discarded it a moment later. As much as it pained her to admit, she hadn't seen Amir in a decade. That much time in Rapture could do anything to anyone. Not to mention, every other risk aside, she'd be taking him directly to more Little Sisters than any Splicers had ever seen. If he should be tempted... No! I'm just paranoid is all. Nothing would happen. But as much as she tried to convince herself of that, only minutes later she was lifting Amir's skinny frame onto her back. All I can see when I look at him is the little boy that I used to play with. I have no idea who he is now, and I can't afford to let who he was influence my decisions. Mother was kind once, too, after all.
Only a short while passed before she was panting for breath and perspiration dotted her forehead, even with the frigid climate that Rapture had fallen into. Even with the advanced strength and stamina that both her suit and her Adam was granting her, carrying an unconscious Amir on her back while looking for an occupied port was draining work. She was getting worried as well, Tenenbaum still hadn't come back to the radio, and while Eleanor didn't have any way to tell how long it had been she guessed it must be nearing the 45 minute mark since their last communication.
Buildings, fires and bodies all blurred into a smear of murky colors as she walked on, waiting for the next port, hoping that she'd be there but coming up with nothing. If only the stupid ports weren't walled off from each other, she thought. I could have just run through here and found her in five minutes. She knew that, as this was the major route used by Frank Fontaine for all of his smuggling operations, they were built like this for privacy. And that's exactly what they were giving. Lots and lots of privacy.
Finally, at yet another empty port, her temper got the better of her. She let out a growl of frustration and struck the concrete divider wall so hard it sent spiderweb cracks racing over its pot marked, mottled surface. Her hand throbbed, but there was no real pain. Already the Adam was working, mending flesh and fractured bone back together. A fine white powder fell from the ceiling, giving her helmet visor a coating of the chalky substance. Casting her gave upwards, she saw nothing of interest, and quickly blasted the material off with a pulse of her telekinetic power.
Powder? she thought idly. I certainly didn't strike the wall hard enough for the ceiling to do that. She gave the innocuous ceiling another once over. She took note of a few seams, discolorations, and even a sagging portion towards a far wall. That's not concrete, she realized. Suddenly, an idea began to form, and as her telekinesis distorted the light around her hands a grin split her hidden face.
Alice was making slow progress through the snaking corridors of the lifeboat, checking every darkened doorway and every silent room. A shiver would run up her spine every now and again, the warm rays of the sun unable to touch the harshly cold steel floors. It was something she'd never had to worry about before, walking around in the cold. Her whole memorable life had been like a dream. A dream where you only realize how strange it truly was once you had woken. She'd always felt warm, safe, everywhere had been bright and always smelled of roses. Mr. Bubbles had always been there to keep her company.
She leaned against the wall of another empty room, fresh tears stinging her eyes. In the last few hours, her whole world had been turned upside-down. No earlier than yesterday morning, Mr. Bubbles had banged on her vent, and she'd come out as quickly as she could. She just knew as soon as she neared the end of her crawl that that day was going to be special. Not that I ever didn't, she reflected. I just... I'd just never noticed, I guess. I never realized I had that thought every day. It was a hard thought to bear. She already knew the truth; Big Sister had explained it the best she could. But Alice didn't want to believe it. Deep down, she wanted to believe it was all a bad dream, and soon she'd wake up and be able to tell Mr. B all about it. But when a realization like that came to her, it was like losing her world all over again, every time.
But I have to be strong! she told herself. Mr. B wouldn't want me to stand here in the dark being sad. He wanted me to be happy. I don't care if he was made to want that, all that matters is that he did. Surprising herself, Alice found that she actually felt a little better after having said all of that, even if it was just in her own head.
With a sniff she took a step away from the wall, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She was just about to continue her search for her Big Sister when there was a sound from a corner of the room, where a yellowed tarp seemed to be glowing a faint pink. It sounded distinctly like a voice with a tune playing in the background, but she couldn't figure out what it was saying. "B... Big Sister?" she called. When her only answer was her own echo, she walked forward again, the cold floor forgotten for the time being. "Lindsey? Elizabeth?"
As she drew nearer, something else began to assault her senses: That smell. It made her stomach cramp up, and so terribly sweet, but that's what made it so irresistible. That, that smell... It smells just like... The music and voice disappeared, but the glow underneath the tarp remained. She reached out a hand, grabbing the folds of stiff, dusty plastic and pulled. At first she just noticed a large head that looked to modeled after herself, or any other Sister for that matter. Then she realized that it was connected to the side of a big pink machine, with another metal Sister standing on the other side as well. Adam.
A pink vial sat in a small, opened slot, just big enough for the vial to fit. She reached up and grabbed the vial, the smooth glass felt warm to the torch. There were words written across the top, but she wasn't sure what it said. She was still only reading at a five year old's level, seeing as how she hadn't exactly attended class during her Sisterhood. It smells so good, she thought. And after that, there weren't many more coherent thoughts left in her head.
She cracked open the top of the bottle, instinct taking hold, and she drunk the entire contents of the container at once. She put the vial back where she found it, a satisfied smile on her face. I wonder why we have cups full of Adam? Normally we- She cried out as a surge of pain gripped her, the plasmid rapidly charging through her veins, and began rewriting her very being on the molecular level. As it charged through her system, it hit her Adam reservoir, and all hell broke loose.
Every drop of every plasmid she'd ever consumed in her quest to find more Adam, normally repressed until adolescence through physical conditioning, came bubbling to the surface. Electro Bolt, Incinerate, Winter Blast, Hypnotize. Those were the plasmids she saw appear before her eyes, out of her own hands, before it became too much for her poorly rested mind and blacked out. Though even in her unconscious state, plasmids continued to write themselves into existence then fade away, as the next plasmid did the same.