Delta Catch All

[daddy_topside]

Who: Subject Delta (daddy_topside) and pretty much everyone!
What: Delta v (small) Civilization
When: Varying times of the day!
Where: Varying spots but mostly around the outer edges of Pumpkin Hollow!
Warning(s): Canon typical violence (Bioshock). Will add anything if they come up!


Open - In Town! (Daytime)

Subject Delta was created for the sole purpose of attending to the protection of a singular Little Sister. When he wasn’t doing that, he was hunting for leaks and doing repairs on a megalomaniac’s underwater hell city.

Figuring out mundane things like housing and groceries isn’t… quite in his repertoire. You might as well have thrown a tortoise into a lake and gotten about the same level of drowning incomprehension.

Typically, Delta would commit to the fine art of simply disregarding everything anyone tried to tell him and forge his own path. It’s just this time he’s so far out of his depth, he doesn’t even have the familiar to fall back on.

In the end, stunned by the endless be-clouded skies and the sheer shock of it all, Delta simply parks himself on a rocky hill and contemplates insanity.


For Grace - Downtown (Daytime)

Money, at least, was a familiar concept to Subject Delta. Cash to be traded for goods (and services, but you didn’t exactly get service between the splicers having the run of the place and just plain being a Big Daddy). You didn’t crawl out of a libertarian’s wet dreams without at least learning that.

The question is just what to spend money on. Deprived of his weapons, Delta instead muddles about Downtown, accumulating frightened and wary stares from the sparse populace as he contemplates the window of a woodworking shop.

Comments

In Town

[peoniesanddestinies]

Shino could share the sentiment of being a tortoise thrown into a lake. Everything's going to be a struggle, as far as he's concerned. Seriously, the lady couldn't leave one person to take care of him here? He's not too intent on the idea of cooking, and finding a place to stay. He's so used to nepotism. He's so used to being spoiled.

He's even left defenseless: for some reason, Murasame couldn't come along. All for the boon of having a body that matched his real age. He's... actually frustrated. Look, doesn't he deserve both? To be spoilt and have his real body? He calls bullshit. Especially now that he's sick again. Though, it doesn't seem to be as bad as when he had it as a child, at least.

Even then, his body can only put up with so much. He's feeling that fatigue starting to claw at him. He flops himself down on a hill. And it's a little later that he finds he sat next to someone... or something. That is a Hell of a getup. And Shino can only blink with wide eyes for a moment.

"Uhhh... hello?" Does it breathe? Live? Even talk? He's seen some strange things back home, but he's pretty sure this is a little outside of his expertise.

[daddy_topside]

A glowing yellow porthole turns slowly upon Shino. To an unpracticed eye, it'd seem frightfully unreadable. To anyone looking for traces of personhood however, they'd find it in the easy rest of a massive arm against armored knee, one leg outstretched, hand braced against grass.

Delta doesn't talk. His vocal cords had been modified, as is standard procedure for Big Daddy conversion. He'd been spared the complete descent into the horrific, unearthly snarls of his brethren by virtue of never having his bond severed until the very end — but what he has still isn't suitable for complex human speech.

Not something he'd bother to explain even without the impediment, though. Shino's final answer is a puzzled but patiently expectant silence: not a lot of people greet a Big Daddy.

[peoniesanddestinies]

Oh, boy. That's almost terrifying. And Shino can only cautiously stare for a moment. But... the armoured being doesn't seem to be aggressive. The way Delta's sitting shows enough, too. And that's when Shino lets out a relieved sigh. Delta hasn't said anything back, though. Whether or not that means he can say anything is up for debate.

But, Shino's okay, even if Delta can't talk. He knows how to carry a conversation with things that don't know how to talk.

"Did you just get here, too? It's a lot different than getting lost in places with spirits back home. Or maybe it's a lot like it, actually."

Strange beings in places he was never supposed to go. And meeting that old lady at the beginning, too. Yea, he can draw some similarities, now that he thinks about it.

"It's weird, huh? Almost dying like this and being told to come here to not."

[daddy_topside]

That's not any weirder than the usual line of conversation with Little Sisters, so Delta isn't particularly phased. Death was already odd in Rapture and death being odd here sure didn't buck any trends.

The real weirdness is the utter lack of splicers.

As the kid talks, Delta reaches for the pack of cigs he'd remembered tucking away in a pocket somewhere — only to realize his pockets were utterly empty.

That solves his immediate conundrum at least: he now has a new objective.

Pushing off the grass, Delta pats himself down before looking at Shino. He jerks a thumb in the direction of the shops. Then, without waiting for an answer, he starts trundling off.

[peoniesanddestinies]

Oh, Delta's getting up. And juts a thumb and starts moving that direction. Oh.

Well, he's willing to follow. And it looks enough like an invitation to him. He feels like he just sat down. But, y'know what? Not having Sousuke to help him if he gets lost is a pretty big motivator for keeping up with this big guy. So he's up as quick as he can and starts walking along with him.

Who knows? Maybe he'll get something helpful out of this. Maybe a place to stay, a hot meal? He was always in for some sort of accommodation back home. Maybe that luck transferred with him here.

"Are you familiar with the area, then? I don't know my way around. But then, I don't really know how I get where I'm going, anyway. I always got lost back home. My friend would always come to get me before it got too late."

Look, he misses Sousuke. And Murasame, and Hajime. He wishes they could be back together again. And wonders what's going on back home without him. There's a lot. Maybe too much, if he's being honest. But he's not going to be.

"How big is this place, anyway?"

Downtown (Daytime)

[deepbluerevue]

There’s a brief scuffling noise as a woman wearing white linen rounds the corner and nearly trips over her own cane.

Grace Holloway stares at the metal man and blurts, “Tin Daddy?”

[Internal thoughts]

And she’d just started feeling a little less out to sea, too.

suuuup

[daddy_topside]

Delta stops dead, deader than a fish tossed into a barrel of concrete. The slow turn he does to face Grace might be interpreted as the pure astonishment it is.

:3c

[deepbluerevue]

“I mean —” Grace flounders for a moment, wincing at her own words, visibly hunting for any other term of address. “… Sir.”

[Internal thoughts]

A Big Daddy — here? This Big Daddy? Then again, she was here. Here after getting hit on the head like a cartoon character —

Oh, God. Delta had been working his way down to rescue Eleanor — if Delta’s here —

Her eyes widen in realization and horror, knee wobbling. “Eleanor,” Grace demands, politesse forgotten. “What happened? Is she alright? Why are you here, did she —” She chokes to a halt, biting her lip without a hand free to cover her mouth.

[Internal thoughts]

Oh, God. Not Eleanor. Please.

[daddy_topside]

Some strange reflex makes Delta reach for her before he really thinks it through, broad hand stopping midway through the motion of trying to steady her. He doesn't know what he intends it to mean and he knows what it might mean when he'd broken Grace's jaw in thoughtless protection before.

So there the hand hangs between them, along with the weight of the words he can't speak.

The last thing he'd seen — the very last thing he'd seen was Eleanor vanishing in purple smoke as the flames tore apart the hallway to the escape pod and flash fried him in his armor.

[deepbluerevue]

Grace shakes her head. Hell. “Hah. What’m I doing,” she mutters to herself.

[Internal thoughts]

Of course he can’t answer her. Ryan’s monsters ripped his throat right out. She hadn’t had any time to think about it, hadn’t had time for all these realizations to sink in — but he hadn’t had any more choice in the matter than Eleanor’d had, had he?

She can’t take this right now. She’s been shucked like a crab peeled from its shell, standing in a market full of strangers in ugly linen underthings and plain boots and a cane that isn’t hers, looking up every five minutes in startlement at a sky she hasn’t seen in nigh on twenty years, and here’s Subject Delta, whom she tried to get killed, reaching out to her as if to — what? Steady her?

No. No, if he can act mannerly, so can she.

She clears her throat. “Thank you, I’m — I’m just fine, sir. Excuse me.” Collecting herself with a deep breath, Grace nods at the Big Daddy. “I don’t have any writing implements as of yet. I was planning on finding a stationery vendor, but it might be faster to go back to town hall to borrow some, sir.” An unsure pause. “… Or Delta. Whichever suits your preference.”

At the outskirts of town! And apologies beforehand...

[preacher_in_reticence]

There had been a few new faces in town. Well, more recently than the first batch. That news is heartening to Degas. His beleaguered flock of Temple worshipers had met the first batch with some trepidation. After all it could be the herald of another curse, some trick sent by who-knows-what lurking in the forest.

Regardless, the preacher sets out on his usual walk with these thoughts in mind. Perhaps there would be more newcomers to welcome. He saunters at a leisurely pace, the stifling heat of the air makes it necessary to roll up his usually long sleeves and forgo a jacket. He still has a prim and proper vest, unwilling to part with that bit of his attire no matter how much he sweats for it.

It's there on the outskirts of town that he notices...well. Degas isn't sure what he notices quite honestly. Some sort of metal thing. The man freezes, brows knit in concern.

This is going to end either hilariously or poorly or both

[daddy_topside]

The creature doesn't seem the least bit concerned about the man initially. Not beyond the slightest flicker of that glowing, porthole face in what might be interpreted as a glance.

No stink of Adam, no molten flesh, no glimmer of plasmids or twitching trigger fingers. It doesn't mean the man wasn't dangerous, but it's not the immediate danger of a splicer and big daddies didn't tend to start fights.

They just ended them.

A fight wasn't what the priest radiated, but something about the way he held himself snagged at a familiar note at the back of Delta's mind. The brief glance turns into a full, wary, silent stare.

Probably both and I'm here for it haha

[preacher_in_reticence]

Surely this must be a test from the Goddesses.

Degas can't seem to get his limbs to move. Even his fingers feel as if they had turned to solid lead, too heavy to twitch or curl. The thing looks at him. Degas feels certain of that. It was as if someone is behind the strange glowing glass because it turns its attention wholly upon him moments later.

He forces himself to draw breath. Some bit of feeling returns to his hands. If this contraption wished him dead then surely he would have been struck down long before now.

"...G-good afternoon?" The normally well-spoken preacher's voice trembles with fear.

[daddy_topside]

... Delta can't entirely begrudge some attempt at civility, even if it were awful feeble.

The beast draws out of the distrustful hunch, fists loosening against his sides. Still wary, of course, the clean cut look of a preacher shaded a little to close to a poor history with Sofia's more religious Family members.

Whatever comes out of your mouth next is going to determine whether this big daddy leaves or listens, Degas.

[preacher_in_reticence]

Still no word from the metal creature. Degas can feel sweat pouring down his brow but he's too timid to reach up and brush it away.

"Can you, ah," he pauses a moment. Obviously the thing can hear him. "Understand me?"

near the trolley station, outskirts of town

[woocas]

At first Lucas walks right past the hunk of metal staring up at the sky. His focus was in his notebook, feet taking him on the now familiar route to the trolley and back into town proper. But the message does get through, stopping the young man dead in his track.

"What the...?"

Backpedaling a few steps Lucas still manages to jump at sight of the big metal guy, clutching his notebook to his chest "Woah nelly! Uh...hi??"

[daddy_topside]

The glowing porthole turns onto Lucas. There's a brief moment of what can almost be interpreted as contemplation, heavily tinted with something awfully unimpressed.

Still, Lucas gets a half-assed two-fingered salute in answer for his troubles. Honestly, it's like no one's seen a big daddy before around here.

[woocas]

Okay, so this is new. Lucas has definitely never seen anything like a Big Daddy, not even in this strange little town.

"Cool," He says mostly to himself, almost like a kid whispering in awe at a giant gundam statue.

"What're you doing way out here, big guy?"

[daddy_topside]

The surprisingly positive reaction makes Delta somewhat less irritated. He gives Lucas a curious look and offers an honest shrug in answer, palm upturned.

The better question is what he should be doing out here, really. There's some kind of labor gig he's going to start soon, but for now, it's mostly just dawdling around until they figure out what to do with him.

[woocas]

Alright, so it seems big guy can't talk. He can work with that!

"That's fair," Lucas takes a few easy steps closer, shrugging in kind. "Half the time I'm like twiddling my thumbs and wondering what to do..."

He pauses just a moment, voicing the thought immediately after, "I'm guessin' you're not one of the villagers or I think I would have heard about you before now. Right?"

The Bluffs?

[skeletonkeay]

It's on this same rocky hill that Gerard decides to stop for a smoke break.

He'd arrived on the island earlier that day, and had spent most of it milling blankly around the town and its outskirts with the intention of getting a sense of the layout. That, and looking for good places to stare into the distance and take contemplative drags from the cigarettes he made a point of buying. This cliffside, sheer and grey as it overlooks the dark blue-green of the sea, scents of saltwater and pine sap intermingling, seemed a fine place to do just that.

But apparently it's occupied. By someone in the biggest goddamn old-fashioned diving suit he has literally ever seen. He hesitates to assume the person is a man due to the lack of visible features outside the suit. It's kind of cool, though. Aesthetic.

Well, whatever. He won't bother them if they don't bother him. He produces a cigarette and goes for his lighter, groaning to find that it's still wet from its brush with sea life. "Oh, goddammit. Fucking crabs," he grumbled, trying to light it anyway. Spoiler alert: it doesn't work.

[daddy_topside]

Old fashioned diving suits weren't typically haunted with a sickly yellow light, but perhaps Gerard was coming in from an angle that obscured it.

He will definitely see that unearthly glow now, catching on the mist rising from the waves below as sparks of neon as the heavy mantle turns towards him in the mid afternoon gloom.

[skeletonkeay]

"Wicked," he mutters under his breath, giving a light nod of acknowledgement to the imposing figure.

After a moment's pause, he clears his throat and pockets his lighter. "Afternoon," Gerard says awkwardly. "Don't suppose you got a light?"

[daddy_topside]

You'd get the impression of a curious head tilt here. The mantle obscures the movement but there's a shift in the light from the porthole.

After a moment of consideration the creature in the dive suit extends his left arm and snaps his armored fingers together, sparking a flame between them. The light is held up to Gerard in offering, flickering in the salt laden breeze.

[skeletonkeay]

Gerard raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. He didn't seem particularly startled though, and held out his cigarette to the little flame. Once it was lit, he raised his hand in a gesture of appreciation paired with a nod of the head.

"Thanks, mate," he said before taking a drag. He exhaled with a sigh. "Been here long?"