Greetings and Salutations dear readers!
This was a plotbunny that struck without warning while i was busy looking through Bioshock crossovers, and when i gave it some thought, i realized it works very well. Think about it for a sec: Alex Mercer is, in a nutshell, a sentient virus, one that can change his DNA at will. Now, take that, and throw it into the underwater hell known as Rapture with access to plenty of fresh DNA, not to mention all of the ADAM and various genetic tools and tweaks available. If one ignores the fact its underneath several hundred meters of the one thing Blacklight does not like at all, Rapture is Mercer's ultimate playground.
Now, having only really played Bioshock 1, this story will be centered around it, and i shall use this opportunity to lay down some rules i will have to follow when writing:
-Mercer cannot get plasmids by consuming a splicer due to the corrupting effects of ADAM on DNA. Once DNA has been altered in a target, as far as blacklight is concerned, its junk DNA.
-Mercer CAN splice up, but he has the same limits as the Jack in terms of what can be active (6 of everything). The Difference between them though is that Mercer can switch out plasmids and tonics on the fly VS having to go to a Gene bank. It takes him a few moments to switch though.
-Mercer CAN get EVE when consuming a splicer, however the amount is small compared to what an EVE hypo delivers.
-Mercer cannot consume Big Daddies, but he can curbstomp them (Hunters have more sheer power, not to mention are much faster)
-No Jack Ryan, as Mercer will literally be taking his place, with a few twists
-He can combine Blacklight's abilities with Plasmids to create terrifyingly powerful attacks, at the cost of Biomass and an increased drain on EVE reserves (Example: Hammerfist + Incinerate! = Firehammers. Devastating against large numbers of splicers. An example involving a Devastator: Electrobolt + Tendril Barrage = Thunder Barrage. Stuns everything in range before shredding them with razor sharp tendrils; burns through ALL of Mercer's EVE as consequence. I'll cook up more later)
-He cannot generate EVE or ADAM
Anyways, with that out of the way, I present unto you:
Flight Deck of the USS Reagan
It was done.
The Ultimate Hunter, the bastard child of Greene, the Parasite, and his own DNA, was dead, what's left of its corpse cooling on the non-skid of the deck. Turns out, the Ultimate Hunter was a bit more palatable to the walking virus compared to a normal Hunter.
Of course, had he known who he'd get to tag along inside his wonderful little world of insanity after the consumption, he would have never done it.
-Oh Great, first I get chomped on by that big pink bastard, and now I get to spend the rest of my days stuck inside your head.-
"Oh christ you have got to be kidding," Mercer groaned.
-Im not happy about it either, but right now we have bigger problems,- Cross said.
"Yeah, its got a yield of three hundred kilotons and," Mercer leaned down to look at the side of the nuclear bomb. "Has about ten minutes left on the clock."
-Well get a move on then. As much as I would enjoy seeing you get vaporized, I would prefer it if it didn't include several million casualties as collateral.-
Mercer rolled his eyes before chaining the nuke to the bottom of a nearby Blackhawk helicopter, while at the same time diverting a cluster of tendrils to get the engines started. Within two minutes the rotors of the helicopter were spinning, and Mercer wasted no time in getting in and turning the vehicle seaward.
As the Blackhawk sped out to sea, Cross chose that moment to speak with Mercer inside his own head.
-You know, i never did get a chance to apologize to you after the attack in the Hive.-
Mercer simply snorted. -Save the apologies for later. I still have a nuke to drop in the Atlantic, a city to purge of Redlight, and a few more asshole Blackwatch commanders to curbstomp.-
It didnt take long for Mercer to pilot the Blackhawk to minimum safe distance, the line in the Atlantic Ocean where he'd be able to safely drop the nuke and still have a snowball's chance in hell of making it out alive while minimizing casualties.
-Move your ass Mercer you only have 3 minutes left on the clock!- Cross roared inside his head.
Mercer replied by slamming his Blade through the chain loop passing through the troop bay, cutting it and the nuke free to plummet into the chilly waters below.
Almost as soon as the bomb was in freefall Mercer tilted the aircraft forward, speeding away from the impending atomic fireball.
-Fly faster damnit! I am not in the mood to be vaporized today!- Cross said.
Mercer uttered a curse under his breath. The helicopter was flying at its maximum airspeed and they still weren't outside the blast zone.
-How much time?- The virus asked.
-Not enough- was the response.
The last thought to pass through Mercer's head before the overpressure wave crushed the helicopter was that he never got the chance to see Dana one more time.
When Mercer came to, it was under several meters of very cold seawater. Blacklight, being a virus that had a very strong dislike of water, immediately protested, causing what remaining biomass that constituted his form to squirm.
Mercer immediately made for the surface, noting that there was an awful lot of burning debris up there. What that burning debris was made itself clear as an entire airplane fuselage minus the tail came thundering by him, the internals still cracking with electricity.
A turbine disk violently whizzed by underwater, nearly turning him into mincemeat. Mercer let loose a strangled curse before pushing for the surface.
Towering sheets of flame greeted him there, along with more debris and the slowly sinking tail of the airplane he apparenly found himself near. -Wait, where's the damn helicopter?- He thought to himself.
A shriek of twisting metal immediately followed by a fireball in the distance answered his question.
Ignoring the fact that his previous ride is now rapidly sinking towards the bottom of the Atlantic in favor of getting out of the blasted water, Mercer began swimming forward between the flames. Ahead of him was a rather tall tower, nothing on par with what New York had, but still respectably high nonetheless. This monolith was relatively unadorned except for the steady white light at the top. Odd that a lighthouse didn't have a regular pulsing pattern to it.
He pushed that thought aside when he saw the stairs next to the tower's base, leading up and out of the water onto dry land, what little there was.
With a shudder Zeus pulled himself out of the ocean, the Blacklight virus causing his biomass to ripple in an effort to shed the water that still clung to him. After taking a moment to get his bearings, he saw that the steps made a left, presumably to some sort of door on the tower. What really got his attention though was the body, still alive if his sense of smell had anything to say. Not wanting to waste a meal and not particularly caring about who this man was, Mercer formed his trusty blade and slammed it into the man's gut, feeling a warm wave of contentment ripple through him as Blacklight feasted on fresh biomass.
-You know you could have spared him.- Cross commented.
-I was hungry, and unfortunately for him, Jack i think his name was, he was a convenient meal, if a bit soggy.-
-You are one fucked up individual do you know that?-
Mercer smirked slightly, an expression that would have sent lesser men running in terror from him. Blacklight finished consuming the meal, and he felt strength flood his limbs as much needed biomass was burned repairing the damage the bomb wrought. All things considered, he was in good shape after getting hit by a supersonic thirty thousand degree wall of burning air. Just like a thermobaric tank, only bigger. Much bigger.
Mercer took the opportunity to go through the memories of his latest meal and almost instantly knew something was off. Almost like the memories were-
-Fabricated.- Cross muttered. -Someone's been fucking around with this poor bastard's head.-
-Not just his head. His DNA has been altered as well.- Mercer added, more to himself rather than the disembodied Cross.
-What kind of alterations are we talking about? Light gene therapy? Or creating another psychotic shapeshifting bastard like you?- Cross asked.
-Vastly accelerated pre-pubescent aging, some strength and reflex enhancers... its almost as if someone needed a quick n dirty soldier without having to run him through training or for that matter waiting for him to grow up. Not even Blackwatch would go this far, and both of us know just how far they went, both with you and the D-Codes.-
Mercer felt Cross start thinking and thinking hard. -Alright, if Blackwatch didn't do this... then who did?-
-I'm not sure. Gentek might have been able to pull it off but it would have required more resources than what they dumped into Redlight. And these memories... wait that cant be right.- Mercer frowned at the tidbit of info that cropped up.
-Well, it seems we have been blasted back into the '60s, if that's even possible.-
Mercer merely growled under his breath. This complicated things.
A faint roll of thunder drew his attention, and he turned to see a rapidly approaching squall line a hundred miles out and closing fast. Already the wind was picking up, and there were faint but massive forks of lightning flashing amongst the clouds. Alex had already gotten soaked once in the crash, and we wasn't looking forward to it again.
Taking the only other path available to him, Mercer walked up the steps at the base of the tower to what appeared to be an elaborate bronze door. Said door opened at his touch, swinging wide to admit him into the tower's black depths.
Almost as soon as he crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut, prompting him to shift his right arm into a blade while at the same time turning on thermal vision so he could see better. This turned out to be unnecessary, as the lights began to snap on, lighting up the room, and a massive statue of a man inside it.
-Look familiar?- Mercer asked.
-Nope. Looks rich though, and full of himself.- came the response.
The statue held a bright red banner in its hands, with the words "No gods or kings, only Man." printed on it. A plaque embedded in the stone banister read: "In what country is there a place for people like me? -Andrew Ryan"
-Yep, definitely full of himself. Now the question is: Why is there a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean with the statue of a self important rich fuck on the inside?- Cross wondered.
-Hell if I know. Looks like there's another set of steps going down further. Maybe there's some useful information further down.-
Mercer cautiously walked down the stairs underneath the massive statue of what he assumed was Andrew Ryan, claws still out. As he proceeded more lights snapped on, as well as some music as a hidden phonograph began playing. Yet more lights snapped on, revealing a small bathysphere floating in a pool of water. Said bathysphere was relatively unadorned outside, while the inside had a pair of plush velvet benches, wood floors, and a small activation lever on a pedestal.
As he reached out to grab the lever, Cross voiced his concern.
-Are you sure you want to pull that lever? Who knows here the hell this thing is going to take us, or what we'll find when we get there.-
Mercer merely rolled his eyes. -Come now, there's precious little that will be a threat to me. If worst comes to worst I can slaughter my way back out.-
Cross remained unconvinced, but didn't voice his concerns any further, so without further ado Mercer gave the lever a hearty tug.
Immediately the door to the bathysphere slammed shut, and the vessel began a swift descent into the ocean beneath it. Within seconds the pod had passed 20 fathoms and showed no signs of slowing down.
Mercer took the opportunity to sit down and just rest for a moment, only to have his thoughts interrupted by a screen and projector that had popped up through the deck of the sub.
The first thing that the screen showed was a black and white ad for something called Incinerate, depicting a man lighting a woman's cigarette with a flame springing from his fingertip. -Damn. Might have to pay 'Ryan Industries' a visit to get this so called plasmid.-
The ad faded away to reveal the visage of Andrew Ryan, who began speaking.
"I am Andrew Ryan, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?"
"No says the man in Washington, it belongs to the poor.
"No says the man in the Vatican it belongs to God."
"No says the man in Moscow it belongs to everyone."
"I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose: the impossible. I chose..."
The screen fell away, and for the first time in his life, Alex Mercer was struck dumb in awe. "Holy shit." He managed to croak out.
A vast underwater city spread out before him, a metropolis that would put New York city to shame in sheer size and grandeur, and that was saying something. Skyscrapers thousands of feet tall speared forth from the sea floor, with glass tubes connecting them to each other and to smaller buildings scattered around the area. Many of the buildings had neon signs outside them, advertising hundreds of different things. Sea life, from squid to fish to a massive blue whale swam between the gaps of the buildings.
"A city, where the artist would not fear the censor, the scientist not bound by petty morality, where the great would not be constrained by the small. And by the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."
"Okay," Merer breathed. "I am legitimately impressed." If Cross still had his body, he would have nodded. Something like this, while not outright impossible, would be horrendously expensive. And yet here it was.
Their contemplation of the city surrounding him was cut short as the emergency radio went active.
"...Looks like some sort of plane crash."
"We're in the middle of the ocean, how the hell could it come down out here?"
"I dunno, but you'd better get over there, and be quick about it. The sploicers are comin'."
"Oh you gotta be kidding me."
"There's a bathysphere on the way down. That means we got company. So get a move on and greet the new arrivals before the sploicers get to them."
Mercer grinned. This might end up being oh so much fun.
A/N: Well? What do ya think? Leave a review, and you can expect the next chapter shortly. And yes, I know I mis-spelled splicers, but spelling it like that while Atlas is talking helps bring out the accent a bit.