What a Leadhead!

The name's Johnny. No, not Johnny Topside. It's Johnny Cogan. I've been down in Rapture for awhile now, but the new drug craze hasn't gotten me. Not yet.

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, How You Can Love...

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

A man whistling could be heard from the end of the corridor. The squeaking of aging boots gave him away easy as he turned the corner and kept forward. He only toured the area because he never got to come up here. It was always the rich who were allowed access.

But the scuttling was unmistakeable.

“Hello?”

[spinningaspidersweb-blog]

Damn, he’d heard her. Well, perhaps he couldn’t be too much of a threat.

The splicer dropped down from the ceiling, though she did not make her whereabouts know to the stranger. “Who are you, vhat do you vant?”

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

The shotgun was ready and aimed with a single click. He had learned to be fast.

"I'm jus' walkin', lady. What are you doin'?"

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, How You Can Love...

[spinningaspidersweb-blog]

Somehow, Olympus Heights always had the best supplies. EVE, food, bandages, everything-It was always somewhere, if one cared to look hard enough.

Elif scrambled about on the ceiling, unwilling to go down to the ground yet unable to search for the supplies she so needed.

“Vhere are dey, vhere are dey…” she hissed to herself. She silenced herself, however, upon hearing footsteps.

If she were to move, she’d be heard. All she could do was stay still, and hope for the best.

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

A man whistling could be heard from the end of the corridor. The squeaking of aging boots gave him away easy as he turned the corner and kept forward. He only toured the area because he never got to come up here. It was always the rich who were allowed access.

But the scuttling was unmistakeable.

"Hello?"

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

kyle-fitzpatrick started following you!

"You're one of Cohen's kids, aren't ya?"

The barrel of the shotgun was placed against the tile as the older gentleman leaned against it. His booted feet crossed one another as he looked the young whelp over- how had he come this way was a mystery to him, but it didn't matter.

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, How You Can Love...

It was 1960, now.

He had counted the years over and over again, making sure he was right. He came here back when Rapture was first built. Not a special man, but a citizen all the same. He wanted to help Ryan's Great Chain of Industry. He wanted to be a hard worker so idolized by the ideal man. But no.

No, that was an impossible dream. Ryan only made a utopia with no rules and hoped that it could run itself. The workers soon began to smuggle in what the Creator didn't want. Bible. Alcohol. Atlas rose from the ashes and challenged the Great Man with his own people.

He won.

Now he was just a man with shotgun and a slight drug addiction.

Black boots squeaked against the wood of Olympus Height's apartments. He was still in the outfit he wore when he started splicing. Pants, suspenders. They were now hanging loose around his waist. The weapon was always ready.

And he was alone.

Easy target.

[oh-johnnyboy-blog]

WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?

The bettah question is, what haven't I visited?