Unholy_Student
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[A Lamb in a Cage] 1 – A Bird in a Cage
🕑 Added 2025-01-19 22:08:17 +0000 UTC
Synopsis: Reborn as one Elizabeth Comstock, or Anna DeWitt of Bioshock, Elizabeth, I knew I'd eventually escape my tower and gain my freedom.
[Chapter Begins]
[A/N: Note that as this is Bioshock, many characters are incredibly racist and bigoted. Not only that, this fanfiction will use strong language to make the portrayal of the Game and its characters more realistic. Sorry if it offends anyone.
Also, played through the Trilogy and had an itch I wanted to scratch and the Bioshock universe is quite interesting to me]
The first thing I remember was pain. A pain of the soul, so deep that it felt as though my soul was being torn apart and stitched together in tandem. Broken. Repaired. Broken. Repaired.
The Cycle was endless, causing unending pain until a day came when it stopped, leaving my mind in shambles, a mix of memories and sensations entirely foreign to me. I had two sets of memories swimming in the ocean that was my mind. One of a girl no older than five years old, while the other of a man who died at precisely twenty years old. It took time to organize the two sets of memories after my soul tore apart and rebuilt itself.
Groaning and holding my head, I raised my head from my bed, only to freeze when I opened my eyes to find a giant metal humanoid bird. The lense of one of its eyes silently watching me, flickering between green and yellow.
"Songbird..." I remembered.
Smiling, I reached out with my small hand, resting my palm against its metallic beak.
“I’m sorry for scaring you, Song. I am feeling a bit better,” I smiled at the giant bird that struggled to fit in my room. It cooed under my rubbing, enjoying the attention, though still worried if its posture was any indication.
I had fallen ill for the first time a week ago and was bedridden. Songbird watched over me the whole time, personally feeding me and nursing me while acting as a somewhat quiet guardian.
As I gazed at Songbird, memories flashed across my mind of a Songbird, my Songbird, but also not. A version of Songbird over a decade older than the one before me and depicted through a screen, something called a T.V. by the man.
As more memories came to me, I grew confused.
Bioshock
Bioshock Infinite
Myself
A man named Booker DeWitt. My…father?
The Prophet Comstock? Also, my father…?
The Floating City, Columbia.
Rapture.
Plasmids. Vigors.
Adam, Evem, Little Sisters, Big Daddies, and so much more
Questions began to flood my mind as I delved more and more into the man’s memories. Only to be… disappointed. So much was missing from the memories, but what I could stitch together from the memories was…so very much.
I looked at Songbird and smiled.
‘We’re two birds stuck in a cage, aren’t we, Songbird?’ I thought to myself.
It couldn’t speak, but I knew that Songbird was worried for me, wanting me to get more rest. Songbird acted as both my jailer and my protector. He was controlled by Comstock, and I now knew how Comstock controlled him.
Just downstairs in my library was a statue of George Washington, a statue that emitted a set of notes that allowed Comstock full control of Songbird, but unless I stopped Comstock first, he could control Songbird from the countless statues around the city.
While part of me wanted to try escaping immediately, I didn’t. I knew, eventually, my father, Booker DeWitt, would come and save me, even if he had hidden intentions and did not know I was his daughter.
I sighed.
"At least I have you," I spoke to Songbird before hugging its beak.
...
Another year had passed, and my seventh birthday had come to pass. Ever since I got sick, Songbird has visited me much more often, bringing gifts with him every time, primarily books, clothes, and even furniture every once in a while.
So far, he has brought me classical literature, scientific and mathematic journals, books on geography, and even a chess table to help me pass the time when I get bored from reading. I asked Songbird to bring me some instruments so that I could sing or play music, but I don't think Comstock would allow Songbird to do that, as he never got me any instruments, though he did bring me a record player.
Some other things he has brought me, at my request, are some introductory books on learning different languages. I wished to learn Spanish, French, German, and Mandarin, though it took a long time for him to bring me a book on Mandarin, likely due to Comstock's view on those of Asian and African Descent.
I also got my hands on a few versions of the Bible, the Torah, the Adi Granth, and the Dhammapada, as well as books going over legends, myths, and fairytales. However, when I requested books on religion, I got a lot of clearly edited books on Christianity, Columbia, and the edited history books used by Columbia telling stories of Comstock and his deeds, making him seem like a badass, invincible saint who knows everything and is called a Prophet. Mostly religious dogma that was mostly nonsense with a bit of truth, as I had learned from the man's memories.
I did not know the man's name from the memories I inherited, nor did I know most of his life. What I did gain seemed to be primarily random memories of events, games, stories, movies, literature, and other forms of media—a lot of music as well, which was appreciated.
Soon, I'd come up with a name for the man, but for now, I continued to learn and play with Songbird.
...
[Three Years Later, Age: 10]
The sound of welding and hammering stopped as the welder I held turned off. I placed it down before brushing off the sweat from my brow with my welding gloves.
I had fashioned a corner of my tower into a workshop, and I wanted to spend some of my time learning trade skills, such as Metalworking, Tailoring, Blacksmithing, and whatever else I could find. It took time and a lot of begging, but I did get the books I needed eventually, though it was a bummer to find out Electric Welders didn't exist yet, though that did change in a matter of weeks after I asked Songbird for welding tools and explained how they worked and their uses.
Whether they invented it themselves or it already existed, I did know, though I did get to work on using the gear they gave me to assemble my first project.
I had opened a tear in my tower a few weeks ago, and to my curiosity, I saw another version of me with mechanical pets, an automata dog and cat, and with a bit of jealousy, I realized I wanted one too, so...I started making a mechanical cat. Though examining my creation now, I sighed in sadness. It was a failure. For one, I had no idea how I'd give the machine a 'mind' to function, but its body, which was made from metal plates, cables, and more, would be unable to properly move without a lot of difficulty and scrapping its joints and some of the metal plates.
I had asked for Songbird's help, and with a bit of careful explanation of an 'Artificial Intelligence,' Songbird flew off. I knew that I didn't really have to tell Songbird, as I had a lot of people watching and listening to my every move, but it helped get me what I wanted. Plus...it was nice being able to talk to Songbird about my problems. He just listened to me ramble on. I knew that Songbird was both machine and man, like the Big Daddies of Rapture, but I was worried for him. He was my friend...and he needed help.
...
[One Year Later, 11 Years Old]
I noticed my tears were becoming more challenging to control, and I couldn't make as many doorways as I used to, so I was guessing that they had already built the quantum machine at the base of the tower to drain my powers.
On the other hand, there is a good thing that happened; Songbird brought me a strange circuit board, one that housed a simple Artificial Intelligence, something that I had asked for a year ago when I made my first Companion model.
Companions, what I call the mechanical animals I had been building, multipurpose machines that could act as guards, friends, and, most importantly, companions. My first model was a failure; its limbs were too stiff, and it left an uncomfortably loud screeching sound when I first started it up.
Now, with the improvements I had made with Snowball, it was almost like she was a real cat, though one made of metal rather than flesh and blood. I'd also...further modified its body, giving it serrated retractable claws and powerful servos in its legs, allowing it to run far faster than most cats and leap much higher; and as an added bonus, I may or may not have given Snowballs a flamethrower-icethrower module.
You see, its mouth contained razor-sharp teeth and a spark that would allow it to ignite any of the fuel or combustible liquids it consumed and transfer into one of the liquid 'tanks' in its stomach that could be filled through a series of tubes in its esophagus. I might have made Snowball more complicated than necessary, but in my crazy, I did not care at the time.
I also may or may not have added a hidden note player in its mouth, which would allow me to take control of Songbird at any time. Maybe. And I did it in secret, too, disguising it as a voice box to let the cat meow and purr.
I could try to use and escape, but I didn't, not now. I knew eventually I'd escape, or my father would rescue me, so I was not in a rush for time. Instead, I used the time I had to practice with Tears and learn new skills that would help me in the future, but I was...limited by my time and place. The memories of Adam, the man whose memories fused with my own, showed off a world very different from the one I knew, one in the 2020s, more than a century from now.
If the time came and Booker did not show, I had a backup plan with Songbird, and he was strong; he'd free me and take down Comstock. After all, he was the boogeyman of Columbia, a story parents would tell their children to scare them into submission, but most importantly, Songbird saw me as its charge, such as a Big Daddy with their Little Sisters.
And if it came to it? I knew Songbird could bring this beautiful flying city down.
