(Author's Note: Forgive me for my hiatus. Anybody who follows me knows that I get horrible bouts of writers' block for LONG periods of time. I've found new time to write stories, so I'm seeing what I can salvage from old writings, and I came across this. It suddenly hit me how I want the character to turn out, so I just started writing and now... well, here it is: Big Daddy Diary, Entries 15-19)

Chapter 4

A sudden chill crawled up the Protagonist's spine. What if... No, he had not encountered anything that powerful in Rapture. There's no way that this… creature could still be alive!

Entry 15, August the Fourth, 1957: It has been some time since I have last entered into this journal, this record of my thoughts. For the past weeks, I have studied and blended into the pathetic worms' existence. What little these bums call lives are the most terribly droll and boring time-spans I have seen. It's as if every man were programmed at birth to follow droll tasks, to perform droll functions, and to blend into the droll society. Droll...droll...droll.

I have heard of a very interesting place, though. Up-Above, it is called. I have very little idea what it means but it seems that everybody in Rapture, except the youngest of children, it seems, have come from Up-Above. I must make it a goal of mine to find out more of its location.

To blend in with the Scum-Of-Rapture, I have chosen a new name that I find deplorable: Doctor Marcus Ransom. It was a simple matter of forging a few documents and hacking a few systems to make quite the history for Doctor Marcus Ransom. It seems that Old Richard is an award-winning scientist from Up-Above. Thirty-five years old, and still no wife in sight. Quite a pity, when you think of it, but I'm not interested in petty relationships. Not anymore. I will not attempt to make "friends", (I scoff at the word) but for the hope of advancement. I need to learn more if I am to make my way to the top. "The Top of What?" I ask myself. This, sadly is one of the few things that I don't know.

Nevertheless, it can be said that I will find employment at the earliest opportunity and continue my studies.

Post Script: It seems that the people of the city have not heard the explosions, did not hear the gunfire, and were oblivious to the failed revolution. The authority of Rapture is either incredibly scared, or… or they merely do not wish the same thoughts to perforate the psyche of the citizens. I can already see that they have failed. I have heard things that the dock workers have said…

Entry 16, August the Twelfth, 1957: I have found employment in a butchery. A deplorable and menial task of chopping at large chunks of flesh, sometimes blood clinging, coagulated, to the skin. The stench is unbearable and the worthless bottom feeders that work in this establishment are even less intelligent than any I had already seen, if it were possible. It is rather easy work, though, with my strength remaining, thought he surgeries removed most of the cybernetic enhancements and extra muscles that made me, truly, a monster.

Moving on, there was an arrest in the foyer of Arcadia, today, which is the reason I chose today to write into the diary (I'm deciding to write in this less, as I am not doing much besides working and reading the literature of Up-Above. More on this, after I have memorized a few more works). A man, by the name of Gibbons, I heard, was arrested for smuggling in religious documents. I set up a security camera to explode violently, giving me enough time to steal as many of the documents as I could. It turned out, that the police is less distractible than I thought, and I could only get away with three books and one of the officers' badges when he chased after me. I'm sorry to say that he won't be found for a goodly amount of time. It is not good for me to draw any attention to myself as I did. I'm glad that the security camera was completely demolished in the explosion, because it had a tape of me hooking up the devices. Apparently, they don't constantly watch the people of Rapture, as previously thought. I must look more into this.

After reading all three books, I have to say that none of them are relevant at all to modern man. The Holy Bible, The Torah, and the Qur'an are all completely worthless documents! I cannot see why these parasites find these so invigorating. They do all seem to stem from the same basic story and they all contain stories that they all share. From reading these, though, I have learned the three languages that were printed side-by-side with the text in English: Latin, Hebrew, and Arabic. It does help one to feel more for a culture, no matter how deplorable, when one appreciates the subtle nuances of the language.

Entry 17, August the Twentieth, 1957: I went back to check on the police officer that I had captured. He is reasonably dead and I'm sure that he won't be returning from the dead, as this Jesus figure from the Bible did. It is good, indeed, to know that nobody checks the meat freeze-drier too often, as I have convinced the back wall of the room to slide out of position, giving me a hiding place for anything that I choose. Then, I can simply butcher the body and add it to the sausage grinder. Nobody will be able to tell the difference between the taste human flesh and ham; both being salty, and semi-tough. I do not feel remorse for feeding Rapture this man, as I have read in many manuscripts and books of the Parasites that the partaking of Human flesh or blood is strictly forbidden. I laugh at this. Why waste the meat of the dead by burying it within the earth, as the dwellers of Up-Above, do? Why send the meat into the sea, only to have it ripped apart by the sharks that dwell in these waters?

While reading, I came across a certain philosopher of the name of Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche, I have discovered, is centuries ahead of his time. His concept of the Man and the Superman… intrigues me. I am being led to believe, more and more, that I, Discord, am this Superman. I may look human, but I have been complimented as looking extraordinarily handsome, I have the strength of at least 3 men, I have the intelligence of all the combined minds of Rapture, I, alone, understand the world and all that occurs within it. I see it, now, as my social - nay! - My biological duty to rule this city!

Anyway, as I, Discord, see it, it is imperative for me to remove those in power; systematically, I will destroy the structure of power in Rapture until it all falls into my hands.

Entry 18, August the Thirty-First, 1957: Being a butcher has its advantages. Like that police officer a few weeks ago, my adversaries have "disappeared" at around the same time we've gotten more meat than estimated. I must watch out for this…

I've decided that I hate my body. I do not need to eat, I need very little sleep, and my mind is always racing. People have noticed that I sleep very little, sometimes none at all, and still come to work and I have more energy than those who had NOT passed out in the gutters the previous night. In order to make a more effective disguise, I decided on a slightly risky procedure: I dissected myself. It may seem insane and even impossible to do this, but my body is incredibly efficient, almost as incredible as my mind, if I dare speak such blasphemy. I merely wished to see if it was possible for me to digest food without having a rotting apple stuck in my esophagus (which it turns out I have) with nowhere to go. When that Damned Doctor created the Big Daddy clutch, he didn't take out our digestive systems (a waste, the knuckle-dragging parasite that he was. Was… I laugh at that.) when he created us. I've also noticed that I have a few organs that aren't in the human physiology. I have not given them names, as of yet, but I do understand the function of at least one. The blue-gray one works by taking oxygen absorbed through my enormous lungs (as not all oxygen is absorbed into the blood stream, as occurs in humans) and creating an essential nutrient that only my body truly needs: EVE. I am amazed. My current theory is that the deplorable Doctor grew us from human embryos with specific genes added/modified… and EVE. I have learned through my studies that EVE is the serum that allows a person to use plasmids. At the very first moment I can get my hands on some ADAM, I will buy as many plasmids as will fit in my veins.

Entry 19, September the 26th, 1957: I did it! I DID IT! I "acquired" some ADAM from a medical facility. By acquired, I mean I put on a quick disguise, walked in, killed the receptionist (the walls were reddish, hiding the blood that, now, splattered them. Pity), and robbed the place. Shortly thereafter, I heard the sirens and bells of the Rapture police. Now, I implemented Step 2 of my plan. I activated my remote proximity grenades at the door, hidden by flashy pottery with wilting plants. Shortly thereafter, I heard the explosions that marked where step 3 would begin: The simultaneous explosion at the First Bank of Rapture. Most of the police were redirected there while I sneaked away through the smoke, disguise burned in the flames.

Later, I hid most of the ADAM that I found in my secret chamber. I decided to put on another disguise (a young Jewish fellow, today) and had to hold myself back from sprinting to the Gatherer's Garden. I examined the choices thoroughly, as this was probably the most momentous occasion of my life, after my freedom. The choices were as follows: Electrobolt, Inferno, and Telekinesis. There were several tonics available, but I was not interested, as I could already do much better than a normal man on one of these tonics. I finally decided that Telekinesis would be the most helpful, while not seeming violent, though it could certainly be used as a weapon, as I quickly learned.

It was quite difficult attempting to find a good place besides my Hidden Chamber (a Freeze-Drier is not comfortable after a few hours) to practice my new plasmid in. After cleansing an alley of the Garbage that filled it and cleaning up the blood that leaked from them, I practiced with picking up cans and bringing them closer to me, then throwing them away as hard as I can. I had to leave when the can that I decided to crush into a discus pierced the building that I was throwing the can against and embedded itself into the inside wall.

It is truly a joyous occasion to wash the blood from one's clothes after a hard day of work. The cow blood does not bring as much satisfaction as the human blood, though. When I, Discord, scrub the stains of scarlet from my hands, I see the lives of the Parasites washing down the drain, as they would inevitably do to themselves. All in all, I'd say that it was a wonderful day.