Aah, my first fanfic. I get an interesting feeling from submitting my first work. It could be shot down, or highly praised. What a nervous feeling I have. Before we get started, how many people out their feel sorry for the Big Daddies in the game Bioshock? C'mon, raise your hands (Let's see, 1, 2, 3… I thought so.). Well I always wanted to see other perspectives on the life of a Big Daddy, so I searched online, and came to . With positive outlook, I set out in search of the perfect Big Daddy story. Of around 100 stories, a majority seemed to focus on either Jack, some other survivor, or a random human character. The ones that I did find were mostly one shots, but I did find 3 stories that looked into the mind of a Big Daddy. The first story had a good concept, but was short, had two chapters, and is incomplete. The second one I found was finished, but a good chunk o the story was focused on the Daddy's little Sister, and left me mostly unsatisfied. The final story, A Little Sister's Dream, A Big Daddy's Nightmare,was perfect. I loved the writing style, the length, everything. With two chapters, I pondered when the next chapter would be released, so I checked the person's profile. Much to my disappointment, the person declared he would be no longer writing fan fiction! I was horrified! SO the only thing I could do was wait for someone to write the story I was looking for. That didn't happen. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. Kyouger. This is for you (unless it's bad, then it isn't). And I'm still waiting for the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bioshock, or anything related to it. Heck, I don't own anything. If I did, that wold be amazing. But I don't. Oh well...

"You can't eliminate free will with some magic chemical or brain surgery. The human being cannot be a human being without free will. It against nature. To succeed, you must snap will in two. Make him think Suchong holds all the strings. Once Suchong trick him into thinking he has no freedom, he hands free will right into Suchong's hands."

-Dr. Suchong

It all began with a shot.

Not shot of whiskey or a gun shot. This shot was that of the medical variety. The type that people of all ages cringe to get, always worrying about the pain that comes as soon as the needle pierces their flesh. And yet, even the needle played little role in what was to come. What truly mattered were the contents of the shot, and the importance of how it was not injected. From the sound of this, some in Rapture would speculate how the prevention of this shot saved that individual from a life as a splicer. An addict.

But that is incorrect.

No, the shot wasn't administered to something different. Something very different.

The Big Daddy. It can be defined as an unfortunate individual, grafted into a large diving suit equipped with a drill or a rivet gun. Pheromone's are applied next, a unique concoction that have been specially engineered to attract little sisters. The voice box of the individual is then readjusted so that all a Big Daddy can emit is a sound similar to a hunchback whale. What these diving suits were originally used for has been long forgotten. If the residents of Rapture attempted to think back, they'd remember.
That is no longer possible, considering their current… predicament.

Returning to the Big Daddy, the suit alone is not enough for the full transformation. Many complex procedures are undergone, chemicals undiscovered on the surface used to change the man inside the suit. Into a monster. Pints of Adam are pumped into the bloodstream, practically replacing blood itself as the life of this creature. The Adam provides untold strength and agility, sharpening the blade of an already dangerous weapon.

But what about the man behind the mask? Possibly the most crucial step to the process is the manipulation of the mind. The primary function of the organism is reprogrammed first. While the basic instincts of man whispers, "Survive," the new life purpose introduced takes an entirely different turn. Now, the Big Daddy becomes a father. A rather overprotective parent, rather. The one, true goal he has left is to protect the Little Sister. Period. That is the whole purpose of life. There is nothing else.

Again, one could ponder, what if the Big Daddy wants more? What if the man inside desires a hirer purpose? Step two of manipulation intervenes at this point. In order to prevent a Big Daddy from ignoring his objective and spending time thinking about irrelevant things, such as reasons why they exist, their purpose etc., a large dose of Adam is introduced that, in a sense, waters down emotions. Anything that would make a Big Daddy happy, angry, scared, surprised, lonely, etc., are all basically eliminated from the Big Daddy's being, no longer to take part in his life. The only emotions left unscathed are those that relate to the Little Sister. Anger, if she is attacked, is possibly the only emotion that a Big Daddy possibly ever experiences in its entire existence.

But what about that shot?

It was New Years Eve, December 31st, 1958. The massive decline of Rapture had reached its peak, and that very night would be the one where Fontaine would release his minions onto the local populace, and Rapture would quickly become a shell of its former self. Eventually, a mighty warrior would come down to save Rapture from Fontaine's grasp.

But this is not his story, nor is it Fontaine's.

At the time, just before the attack, Daniel and Elizabeth were finishing up for the night at the late Suchong's research facility. The production of Big Daddies had slowed down immensely from when the project initially started. The amount of splicing that was occurring among the ranks had taken a large toll on quality, and layoffs had been immense. As such, the bouncer lying on the operation table was the only Big Daddy that was in the middle of production at the time.

Put to sleep by nearly five tanks of diethyl ether, the man lying on the table had been unconscious for several hours, and would continue to be for several more. The room the Big Daddy was lying in was a dingy, barely lit room. A variety of tools such as scalpels and other hospital equipment were lining the shelves and stain steel counters. The scene would have seemed normal if it weren't for the variety of engineering tools lying around, with blow torches and screwdrivers mixed in with tweezers and bandages.

Sitting in a corner, paying little attention to what he was supposed to be doing, was Daniel. When Daniel spliced for the first time, little did he know how susceptible he was to the drug. He quickly became a light addict, always having the feeling someone was right behind him, about to perform some horrible deed that only he can imagine. Glancing nervously to the left and right, Daniel's jutted chin seemed to swing back and forth, causing everyone he encountered to retreat a few steps due to the speed with which he swung it. The only thing that seemed to slow him down was the fire he created with his fingers, constantly snapping his fingers and creating a small spark which gave some light to the room, even more than the overhanging fluorescent lights.

Next to the operation table hunched Elizabeth. Once a beautiful girl, Elizabeth's face was now contorted with a constant anger, with a small portion of it mutated, looking almost as if it had been hideously burned. Perhaps one of Suchong's brightest researchers, the consistent splicing, coupled with heavy drinking had ruined her career. However, anyone looking at the rest of Rapture may still say that she's still one of the brightest. Although that isn't saying much.

"What do you think you're doing, just sitting over there!? Freakin moron… splicer addict…" Elizabeth cussed quietly to herself, fuming over the day's events, wishing to get home as soon as possible. In reality, nothing bad had actually occurred that day, but that didn't deter Elizabeth from her awful mood.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry Liz." Stammered Daniel, rising cautiously from his chair. Glancing behind him just in case, Daniel proceeded forward to the large operating table. "The flame… I-I-It just relaxes me, you kn…"

"Freakin… that's what you say every time." Elizabeth cut him off. Walking up to Daniel, who was trembling rapidly, she leaned forward and spat, "Every time!" Walking back to the table, Elizabeth proceeded with the operation, double checking the steps they had already completed. "Daniel, get the check board."

Grabbing the check board and accompanying pencil off the counter, Daniel attempted to check off the accomplished steps. "L-l-l-l-let's see… um… automated suit installation… ch-ch-ch…" Attempting to check off the first objective on the list, Daniel had come to a complete stop. His hand was shaking extremely hard, unable to hold the pencil still.

Her patience finally run out, Elizabeth stormed over to Daniel and practically tore the check board and pencil out of his hands, almost taking his fingers with it. In a rush of fury, Elizabeth proceeded to check off all the completed steps, snapping the pencil in two after checking off the latest step completed. Slamming the check board on the operating table, she whirled to face Daniel, who had tears streaming down his face, and screamed, "Huh!?! Was that too hard for you, you freakin pussy!?! Too scared off your own freakin shadow!?! Can't even do a freakin check list!!! Why don't you go suck it you Son of a…" The wall behind Elizabeth, quite randomly at that point, blew up.

Only ten minutes ago, Fontaine, under the alias of Atlas, had ordered the attack on Rapture, his minions eagerly obeying. In those ten minutes, a full squadron, specially deployed for the purpose of stopping all Big Daddy construction, had reached the operation room and had decided to take a more abrupt entrance than using the door. Shrapnel from the blast embedded itself into Elizabeth's body, a mixture of steel and iron bits, slicing through her internal organs. The last thing she thought was, "What exactly does it take for a man to realize that a girl's flirting with him? Dan is so freakin clueless…" She died before she hit the ground.

Daniel was not so lucky. Because of his position prior to the explosion, Elizabeth's body shielded him, and he managed to survive, though he still received heavy burns. Using the other plasmid he had injected besides incinerate, Daniel managed to teleportfrom the scene, and continued to live, which proved most unfortunate, as Rapture was going to prove to be a living hell hole, surpassed in misery by only hell itself.

The team that had just entered the room consisted of eight splicers. Of all of them, seven were unimportant. If they hadn't spliced so readily, they would have actually made an impact on the world, with one of them eventually creating an immunization shot for cancer and another creating a revolutionary school of thought that would have been known as Emotionalism. But now, the seven were virtually identical, all obeying Fontaine with little insight of their actions.

Seven were unimportant, but what about number eight? A former electrical engineer, Zachary Stanford was a proud father. Was. At the age of seven, his daughter was taken from him to "save Rapture" and his wife soon died after due to an unfortunate plastic surgery accident. "I love you just the way you are," he had always told his wife, but she went anyway, despite Dr. Steinman's reputation. Resorting to splicing as a form of anti-depressant, Zach had gone insane. Being that his daughter was taken from him, Zach now sees himself as everyone's parents, always trying to make everyone "happy" no matter what. No matter what.

"Search the room," one of the splicers frantically ordered. "Atlas said there'd be Adam here, so there better be some DAMN freakin Adam!"
The drawers were pulled out of their slots and cabinet doors were ripped off their hinges in a desperate search for the only thing that could bring joy to the motley crew. Being that Daniel and Elizabeth were addicts themselves, a huge stash of Eve hypos and bottles of Adam were found right near the door. There was a short scramble in which they all lunged for the stash. All except Zach. Under normal circumstances, Zach would have behaved like a parent, breaking up the fight and distributing the Adam and Eve equally to the group, a rare trait for a splicer since most kept it all to themselves. Instead Zach was zoned out, staring at the unconscious figure on the operating table.

"Come on, Zach." A splicer growled, in a bad mood because of the little Adam he managed to obtain compared to the rest of the group. "Atlas wants us to help the others at the Kashmir. If you don't come, he'll be mad. And," The splicer gulped, fear showing on his face, "You know what happens when he finds out you disobeyed! Have you heard what freaking happened to Charles!?"

Snapping back to reality (or close enough to it), Zach turned towards his fellow splicers and, with a smile, joyously remarked with a slight Brooklyn accent, "O, you kids! Always in a rush! You boys just go ahead; I'll come along in a sec." The splicer shrugged and dashed out the recently made hole, in an attempt to catch up with the others who had already left.

Turning back to the Big Daddy, Zach grabbed a chair and sat down, releasing a long sigh. After a few seconds of silence, Zach began to speak. "You know, its tough being a father. I mean, look at all these kids I have." Leaning forward, he continued. "I realize that you're going to be a daddy too, soon. It's funny; you have got to be the first dad I've seen in a while." Zach gave a small chuckle, while his companion continued to lay motionless. Zach turned more serious. "I used to have a daughter named Katie. A beautiful girl. Best damn girl under the sea. But then… I lost her." A big grin suddenly formed on Zach's face. "But now, I have hundreds of kids! They're all around me! I don't even know how I got'em! But…" The smile faded, replaced by an expression of despair. "They'll never replace Katie. I try to be happy around them, but it's so hard. You know what I mean, right?" Zach stared at the Big Daddy, waiting for a reply. Laughing, Zach said, "That is so true! I never thought of that. Look, the reason I wanted to talk to you was to give you a hand. Heck, I didn't know what I was doing when I became a dad. So I thought I could lend you a hand!" Picking up the check board. Zach glanced at the list, like the professional engineer he was, and mentally went through the steps. All procedures had been checked off except for one.

Laughing, Zach remarked, "Honestly, how in the world are you gonna be a Daddy with all of thatrestricting you!" Zach went to work. Because being a Big Daddy was a one-way street, as the late Suchong described it, the only thing Zach could accomplish was re-modifying the work done on the voice box. "Communication is important to raising a child…" Zach muttered, blowtorch in hand and mask protecting his face. Though the damage done to the voice box had been permanent, Zach, in a stroke of genius, installed a new device that worked in an identical way. The Big Daddy, the only one ever in existence, would be able to speak. To talk. To communicate.

But that was not the most important thing to happen- or not happen- to that Big Daddy.

Finished with the voice box, Zach set his tools on the counter, neatly arranging them in the proper spots. Turning towards his silent companion, he declared, "There! All done! I did leave one item on the list unchecked, but you don't need it! I think you'll be better off without it…" Trailing off into thought for a moment, Zach continued. "Sorry I can't stick around, but perhaps you and I can have coffee sometime, share some baby pictures… the works." Business done, Zach began to leave the room. Passing the huge hole in the wall, he chuckled to himself and muttered "Kids." Opening the door, he paused. Turning one last time to the Big Daddy, the last thing he said was, "Could you do me a favor? Say hello to Katie for me." Closing the door slowly behind him, as not to be a bad example for his "children" by slamming it, the Big Daddy was left, still out from the gas, alone.

Sitting on the operation table with the patient, was the check board. Going down the list, it read: automated suit installation…check. Liquid tank containing necessary chemicals… check. Voice modifications… check. Adam injections… check. Pheromone applications… check. Emotional suppressant injection.

The white, square box beside the final step had been left empty.

Well. That's it. I plan to do the next chapter depending on the reviews I get. It's not like I'm going to spend my time writing a story noone likes. So, please review! If you don't like the story, I encourage you even more. I'll take any constructive criticism I can get.