Re: Quicklog, Bioshock: Elena M & Cris M
[If she'd listened, instead of posting that nasty message to Sam, Cris would have told her all about this place. The internet was a trove of information, from game mechanics, to plot points, to editorials and meta-analysis, to forums degenerating into arguments between fans about interpretation. It was mostly the fact stuff he got his hands on—what happened in the game, where, when, who did you fight, how did it end, that kinda thing. He coulda told her where to go and how to get out the quickest. But, no, she had to pull that public victim thing and he'd lost his temper and next thing he knew, he was here and she was telling him she was doubling back.
Well, Cris had never waited before. He wasn't a bystander kinda guy. He sure as hell wasn't gonna start being one today, stark silver filigree over his head split in stunning symmetry and ocean-murk leveling light into subfusc'd blues and a deep algae bloom of green, hundreds of thousands of feet of water between him and the surface—the way home. Nah. Waiting wasn't his thing.—From his perch, he went over the maps again, before folding the paper and shoving it into the pocket of his suit jacket, the images of printer ink burned against the insides of his eyelids. He just needed to find Elena.
He heard a salvo, bullets hitting something enamel-hard, and he moved toward the sound, ducked down. It ended abruptly, quiet, and not thirty seconds later, his ex-wife was stumbling toward him, tears down her cheeks, and blood dotting thin gauze on her shoulder.
Cris' eyes caught the crossbow and registered the prior quiet. He reached out as Elena almost went by, feet falling blind beneath her. He knew he'd scare her, so he said her name, quiet, but sharp.] Elena. [He held a finger to his lips, tugging her down near him and the cover of the half-wall. Immediately, he was unloading her of the crossbow, setting it easy does it on the floor, so he could look at the wound in her shoulder—gunshot, clean.
The gauze replaced, he pulled painkillers out of a zippered pocket of his pack, forced them into her palm, waited for her to push them past teeth, and then stood in a half-stoop to keep going.] Vámonos.