Rapture oh Rapture

Chapter 12

The Point of No Return

I opened my eyes, yet there was nothing but an empty metal room and a single door at the end. It was cold, dark and ominously silent. I felt isolated and panicked. I walked to the door to leave this morbid place, but I noticed something on it, a metal nametag of sort, I went closer to get a better look at it. It had the name ‘Will Sullivan’ imprinted on it. I opened the door and a significant amount of light radiated out. My eyes slowly adjusted; I was able to hear the chirping of birds and gusts of wind hitting nearby trees. I felt soft ground filled with grass touching my feet, I was back in the park. I looked behind me to see what sort of complex I was just in. Too my surprise there was nothing but a door that contained a label that read ‘Home to John Buchanan’.

I did not have much time to ponder what it meant, for someone grabbed my hand suddenly, I looked to see who it was and too my surprise it was a small girl, no more than 6 years old.

“Come on daddy, come! Mommy is waiting,” she said running forward and tagging me along. Her hands were small; she wore a glowing white dress and had brown hair. We ran through the sunlit park, passing trees, birds, and other exuberant children playing in the park. It was all accompanied by soft jazz music that echoed throughout the entire park. It all gave me a sense of glee. The setting was far less gloomy than Rapture, seeing a multitude of children laughing and playing with each other in such a beautiful place made me cherish the splendor of childhood. I followed her but looked back to the door with my name imprinted on it, trying to understand what it meant. I then looked forward, only to realize that she was gone, no longer holding my hand. The jazz stopped, I could no longer see a trace of life. Dark clouds began to engulf the blue sky, covering the sun of all its former glory. The wind began to whistle as its speed increased. The color of the trees began to fade. There was no speck of light to be found, darkness enveloped the land. Suddenly I heard a laugh, a laugh from the little girl I was holding. It was subtle but very hearable.

“Come on, this way” she said in the distance, colorless trees and darkness blocked my eyes from seeing that which was in front of me, strong gusts of whistling wind slowed my approach.

“Elena, dear, where are you?” I screamed out in the dark forest.


Thunder soon emanated from the clouds accompanied by heavy rainfall. I began to sprint across the muddy ground in search of her. I screamed out her name multiple times but she did not answer back, all I heard was her laughter from a distance. Soon though there was no laughter and I stopped running. I looked in all directions to find her, but she was nowhere to be found. My clothes and face were wet and muddied from the liquidated ground.

“STAY AWAY! DON”T YOU TOUCH HER!” Said a voice ringing across the forest, it was the woman from one of my previous dreams in the park. She sounded like she was struggling. “GIVE ME BACK MY BABY! PLEASE, PLEEASSSEEE!!!”

After that I could hear her crying excessively, and then I hear a door shut and . . . silence insinuated once more. I stood firmly where I was, the thunder increased in frequency, the rain drops began to feel like hail, my legs were completely engulfed in water.

“Little girl well sedated, only viable host for procedure, once complete, symbiosis between two subjects begins.” Said another voice that resonated all across the area, it was the doctor who performed the surgery on the girl, Dr. Suchong. “Now we implant slug into little girl’s lower stomach.”

Silence proliferated as I heard another door close. I was once again alone in the cold darkness, wondering what to expect next in this nightmarish world.


It was her, the girl, only she was not laughing, but this time screaming. She was in pain, something was happening. I ran to that direction as fast as I possibly could, water covered my legs and the wind only grew worse.

“ELENA! WHERE ARE YOU?” I screamed as loud as I possibly could, the screaming grew worse and I continued running. The wind and rain blinded my eyes, the thunder deafened my ears. I lost all sense of direction and yet the screams only grew louder.

“ELENA!” I shouted with all my heart. Suddenly the rain and wind lightened, I opened my eyes and standing a few feet in front of me was the girl, Elena. I gave a sigh of relief, I was no longer running aimlessly in the cruel weather. I walked towards her and was looking at her back; she was just standing there motionlessly.

“Elena what happened,” I said touching her shoulder, she began to turn around. “Are you all-

“I see angels Mr. Bubbles”

I gasped and fell to the ground. The wind blew harder than ever, the rain increased in frequency once more. Elena, my dear Elena, what in God’s name happened to you? She did not have pupils in her eyes; they were just a blank glowing green. She was as pale as a ghost, her veins were pronounced, there were streaks of purple all over her face. And her voice, it was piercing. I was crawling away from her, trying to get away. She then started walking towards me slowly, with a large metal syringe. Crows began to circle her, 5 crows, 10 crows, 20 crows, hovering all over her. Through the crow I could only see her empty glowing eyes staring at me, piercing my soul.

“Get him Mr. Bubbles!”

The crows then came at me in all their blackness. I covered myself and prepared for the worst. I opened my eyes and saw nothing, I was blinded, I saw nothing. Nothing at all.

“Agh” I screamed returning to my conscious state, soon after a metal object hit the back of my head, giving me no time to contemplate what I just dreamed.

“Hey quiet damn it”, said a man, I could not see him, my head was covered in some sort of bag. I could not see anything in front of me.

“Hey watch it, will ya’?” said another man. “Don’t you know who you’re smacking?”

“From where I’m looking at, he’s just another guy who got black bagged, end of story.”

I was in a wheelchair, my hands and legs were cuffed. We were moving somewhere, I was not sure where and I did not pay much attention to that either. I was panicked, scared of what I got myself into, but worst of all I was blind, not able to see anything but occasional glimmers of light.

I imagined myself dying in a million different ways; car crash, house fire, suicide. But never did I think I would go down with a black bag on my head and me getting smacked around by two mysterious men. I always imagined it to be quick and painless, not confining and painful. The wheelchair stopped moving and one of the men opened a metal door, the wheelchair then began to move and I assumed I went through the door. The chair stopped once more.


The black bag was taken off my head; a bright light was shining on my face. My eyes slowly adjusted after going through hours of darkness. There was one lamp in the room, standing on a side of a metal table. Everything else was shrouded in the dark, as black as a moonless night. The door opened once more, I was not able to look back because of my confinements. I heard footsteps move across the room yet I was not able to see anyone, this area had zero visibility. Soon I heard him take a seat on the other side of the table. He stretched out his hands on it, making them visible to me, but that was all I would get from him, every other aspect of him I was not able to perceive through my eyes.

“What is your field of work?” says the shadowy man on the other side of the table.

“What?” I said dazed and confused. “What is all this? Why are you doing this?”

“Answer the question and things will go by much smoother. What is your field of work?”

“I’m a pianist and a composer.”

“How did you come to Rapture?”

“Out of mere chance, through conversing to a former resident I guess, then I took a boat here.”

“Who do you currently work for?”

“Sander Cohen”

“Do you have a family?”


“Any children?”

“No, what the hell is the point of this?”

“What’s your name?”


“What’s your name?”

“John Buchanan”

After that he did not ask any more questions, he tucked his hands away and all that was visible was a portion of the table. I was waiting for the light to start flickering, for this to all be a dream. I wanted to find myself waking up in my apartment, head to work, admire the sites, and be in good company. I wanted to have another steak dinner with William and his family. But the light did not flicker; my field of vision did not crack. This was real, and I had no way out.

“Hello?” I said anxiously “You still there?”

“Process him”

“What?” I said confused “What do you mean b-“

Suddenly someone grabbed my arm and put a needle into it. I could feel liquid gushing out of the needle and going into my bloodstream. I began to lose consciousness once more, about to enter another one of my never ending nightmares. I fell into a deep sleep; there were no dreams, no metal rooms, not even echoing voices, nothing but an endless void of darkness. I regained partial consciousness and was facing a ceiling fan and some sort of lamp. I was lying down on something. There were two figures standing side by side of me. One was just looking at me while the other was . . . tampering with me. I could feel different parts of my head move every time that figure stirred his hand. I was not able to see their faces, my eyes did not regain full sight, everything was a blur. I tried to move parts of my body, but they did not respond, I was not even able to speak. All I could do was helplessly watch these men tinker with me. I was able to hear sounds but was not able to make it out, my hearing improved and I realized the two figures were talking to one another.

“What’s the hold up?”

“Too much trimetil in his system, very effective beta blockers; too little, all it could do is tampering with neurochemical pathways, too much and . . . well let’s just say it will be difficult to bring back what was originally there.”

“Good for nothing . . . I’ll let headquarters know about their overdose. What about the chip, any progress? The boss wants him up and going ASAP.”

“I prefer the term microprocessor, and it’s deeply imbedded in between two pieces of the hippocampus, for now I will remove the surface trimetil, then comes the ‘chip’.

“Let me know when you’re done, I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

“Before you go, I have a question to ask you.”

“Go ahead, I’m all ears”

“Looking at what our fellow agency did to this fellow astonishes me. So much ingenuity behind it all, combining the synthetic with the organic. So I must ask why does humanity have such a knack for creating deceit and destruction, yet lacks any propensity and insight when it comes to honesty and life.”

“I’m not following.”

“We’ve created microscopic devices that can change the very nature of the human brain, yet it is used to create lies and stir deceit. And now the atomic bomb, a device so destructive, it has the ability to wipe out entire countries. The Cold War, what a subtle name for the Armageddon to come, when did humans become so self-destructive. We have the ability to take away millions of lives in an instance, yet we lack the capacity to save others from their afflictions. Still no cure to cancer, polio, even asthma. One must ask themselves, where does humanities priorities really lay?”

“. . . Just let me know when you’re done, I’ll be next door.”

The figure that observed me left the room, now it was just me and my unwanted surgeon, touching parts of what felt like my naked, uncovered head. He then stopped, although his figure was a blur, I could tell he was looking into my eyes.

“Ah, you’re awake, no cause for alarm, I am simply putting you back together to your normal state of mind. Go back to your slumber; this will take quite some time.”

I wanted to stay awake, how much I wanted to stay awake to see what transpired. But I was too weak, too weak to stay conscious. My eyelids closed and I gradually went back to my deep slumber.


I opened my eyes. I was in that damn room again. It was completely empty, the only object it contained was me. There was no door this time, nothing but a metal box that has me in holding. I panicked, tried to seek a way out by punching the walls, but it was no use, the walls were composed of metal. I looked the other way but then stopped looking for a way out. There was something on one of the walls, words smothered in blood. It said ‘Home of Jol lBuclavan.’ Was that my name? Why was it misspelled and written in blood? I sat down on a corner looking at this, thinking about what it meant. Hours soon passed and I was still in here, I began crying excessively. The emptiness of this place was too much to bear, I could no longer remember what was beautiful in this world, and only that which was plain and imprisoning. Was this to be my asylum? Is this retribution for me profiting off blood money?I do not know, no one was here to answer this. I started trying to rip off my own skin, desperately attempting to kill myself so I could end this nightmare, but it was no good. After all, this was a dream. I soon stopped crying and instead I was filled with resentment and hatred to those who put me here. I now only stared at the name imprinted in blood, not out of curiosity, but out of bitter emptiness.


I look at the direction of the sound and too my astonishment a door appeared out of thin air. I walked towards it. The door contained the same name tag as last time, ‘Will Sullivan.’ I walked out and just as before white light blinded me. I heard the swaying of trees and the chirping birds once more, I was back in the park, only this time I was sitting in a bench.

“Will” said a voice that sounded familiar, I turned around, it was the woman from my previous dream. She was crying like last time, but I did not remember it like last time, my memory was . . . changing. I knew this woman intimately.

“Jessica what happened, where is Elena?” I said adamantly

“They took her, took her right out my arms, I tried to bring her back, tried to tell people what just happened to me. But no one would listen, they just stared at me as if I was insane.” Jessica said

“Damn it, damn it!” I said furiously “I told you not to go there, told you it was no good and now you lost our daughter?”

“You don’t think I tried? What can I do against three men while they dragged her out of my room? Please Will, please, I need you now more than ever, please bring me back our daughter. I don’t know what I could do without her.” She said, this time she was gasping for air, I hugged her and tried to calm her.

“It’s okay, It’s okay. I’ll bring her back, and maybe . . . we could be a family again. Does that sound good?” I said

She stopped crying and then said “Yes, I would like that.”

Bright white light enveloped the land; this was my cue to wake up.

I opened my eyes; once again my head was covered in a black bag and I was cuffed in a moving wheelchair. It all felt like déjà vu, events repeating, yet somehow different, somehow with new insight on what’s transpiring. The wheelchair stopped and the bag over my head was removed. I was in the same interrogation room with the man shrouded in darkness, except for his arms.

“What is your field of work?” says the man.

“I already told you I’m a pianist and a composer.”

“How did you come to Rapture?”

“By chance damn it.”

“Who do you currently work for?”

“Sander Cohen”

“Do you have a family?”

I paused at this one. I do not know how to answer it for some reason; my memory was clouded and unavailing. What was going on?

“I remember, what I remember.” I said

“What was that?”

“Yes . . . yes I have a family.”

“Any children?”

“ . . . yes, a girl.”

“What’s her name?”


“And what’s your name?”

“. . . John Buchanan”

He stopped at this question once again. His arms moved away from the light and no longer could I see where he was.

“Again.” He said

“What? No what the hell do you wa-“

Another needle enters my arm and I fall into a state of unconsciousness. Soon I partially wake up and find myself lying down with two blurry figures standing beside me.

“What the hell happened? I thought you took care of this?”

“The procedure was complete, but the human mind is a resilient subject. He’s refusing to let go of the fabricated memories and is not letting his original ones take flight. But soon the reality of things will kick in, his mental chamber will make sure of that. He just needs a little bit more time, let him process his former self then the man you saw in the interrogation room will be no more.”

I then closed my eyes, too weak to stay conscious. My fear turned to anger, my longing for life turned into a desire for death, but only if others followed.

I opened my eyes; back in my purgatory, my asylum. There was no more recollecting, no more pondering in confusion. There was just the cell and the name etched to the wall, it changed once more, a different name entirely, ‘Home to Will Sullivan’. I did not care, everything was lost and dangling in my head. I no longer remember the touch of a woman; or the taste of bread. It all was so distant; all I truly know now is blood, the blood of others. Hours went by and I was still as stone, expressionless and emotionless, cursing God and anyone else who believes in divine revelation. In the end it’s all one big amusement, God created creatures that manifest the qualities of his greatest adversary. He watches over us with a keen eye and sees the misery that has befallen us, as a species. He gets entertained by this prospect, and eats a hardy meal while watching countless innocent falls into their grave. God, as much as any of us, is a sadist.

My façade has broken, the time has come where I take matters into my own hands and save the life of an innocent from the heinous nature of those we call divine. This world, this Rapture, will fall into a chaos matching that of Armageddon itself, there will be no reconciliation for those who committed the unspeakable, there is only their blood that will be plastered on a wall, like an abstract piece of art.


The door appeared once more; I stood up and went through it. Though this time there was no bright light, I simply came from one metal room to another. The man who speaks the phrase sat on the other side of a table. No longer was he a blur, but an older looking white man.

“We are at war Sullivan, it won’t be long now before deterrence ceases to exist.” Said the man, “Bomb after bomb will hit our nation and the fallout will wipe out the human race. Too stay ahead of the curb we have to look at all possibilities, this is one of them.”

He hands me a file, I opened it, and it contained pictures of a bottle of glowing liquid, a grotesque slug and then a man shooting fire out of his hand. Along that there were pages of information giving an in-depth analysis of what it was I was looking at.

“We’ve lost contact with our team inside Rapture and have assumed their either incarcerated or have been terminated. Your mission is simple; retrieve the Bottle in the Winery and rendezvous in Neptune’s Bounty. If any agents are still active and have been getting our messages, they will provide you with an exfil plan which will lead you to a ship harboring nearby. If all of them are deceased, then deliver it by any other means. You’ll have a limited time frame, I cannot emphasis enough the importance of this mission, the fate of the human race rides on it.”

“I understand sir, failure is not an option.” I said

“Good, now go. You’re being prepped for surgery in the next room. Hopefully I’ll see you in a year or so.”

I got up from my chair and left the room. Bright white lights began to spread throughout the room and soon I was not able to see a thing.

My eyes opened, I’ve done this before; the black bag, the wheelchair, the cuffs. It was a series of events that were repeating themselves in a circular fashion, though different each time. This was the last time that would occur. No more dark, bleak rooms, no more questions, we will move on from this and move on to more pressing issues at hand. The wheelchair stopped, the bag was removed, though I did not react to the movement, it was nothing that I was not used to anymore. I was back in the metallic room, with the man sitting right in front of me, and so the process repeated itself.

“What is your field of work?” says the man.

“I’m a field agent for the CIA.”

“How did you come to Rapture?”

“By convincing Ryan’s outside man, Ivan Petrov, that I am a man of Rapture.”

“Who do you currently work for?”

“Alexander Smith, director of the CIA”

“Do you have a family?”


“Are you married?”


“Any children?”


“What’s her name?”


“And what’s your name?”

“Will Sullivan”

He stopped asking questions and his arms slid away from the table. Suddenly lights all across the room came on. No longer was the room shrouded in darkness, I could fully see the man interrogating me. He smiled, came to me and said something to me I wanted to hear for a long time.

“Sir, welcome back.”

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