Little Sister has a minion!

ADAM the Glowing Slime

The world is so dark and scary these days, but there is so much light to be found. You just have to know where to look!
"Mr. B, look! An angel!"
From atop a great, hulking man climbs a small girl. In looks, she's no more than 5 years old, but this little sister has been collecting ADAM for years with her big daddy.
In her left hand she clutches an empty syringe which, combined with the great needle attached to the end, is nearly two thirds her height. Her right hand grabs hold of a small notch in Mr. B's diving helmet. She lowers herself fluidly, her weight shifting just enough to the right to place one bare foot on his shoulder. From there she takes a small drop down to his gloved hand, and a short leap to the floor.
Mr. B maintains his kneeled position, watching his little sister, one hand on his pistol. He remains still, listening for any movement - anyone approaching.
Even though this is something they have done many times, he never relaxes.
"He's perfect, Mr. B!" The little girl giggles and runs towards the motionless man ahead of her. The quiet slapping of her bare feet are the only sounds in the room.
The man lies in a small, shallow pool of brackish water deepening in color as his blood slowly pools under his head. This man died very recently.
The little sister waves her large syringe about, twisting and weaving it as if it were dancing, smiles and whispers to the man, "I saw you dancing! Such a pretty angel."
A rock skids across the floor behind Mr. B. and he straightens up quickly, drawing his pistol. He flicks his eyes towards his little sister to see if she reacted to the noise. She hasn't reacted, only leaned down to remove the man's mask, then even further down to kiss his forehead.
Mr. B watches her raise the syringe and look into the man's eyes.
"I see the ADAM, Mr. B!"She lowers the syringe into his chest, her entire body moving with the effort to pull the plunger back. "We hit the jackpot, Mr. B!" She shouts, spinning around. The syringe is full now, and the girl is glowing with excitement.
The smile fades and the light leaves her eyes as she sees the intruder Mr. B heard.
"Mr. B, look out!"
Behind the big daddy stands a man wearing a rabbit mask. In his hands is a grenade launcher. Mr. B spun around and aimed his gun at the man. His finger was just faster than the intruder's; he shot the man in the heart. The intruder drops his gun and crumbles to the ground like a sackcloth.
"Get 'em Mr. B, get 'em!" The little sister was just behind him now, the glow of the ADAM painting Mr B's boots bright green.
Mr. B holsters his weapon and crouches back down, attempting to pick his little sister up, but she pushes right past him.
"Time to sleep, sweet angel," the little sister whispered quietly to the dead man. He was glowing; all fallen men glow in the eyes of a little sister. She reaches down and closes his eyes.
Moments later, she stands up and begins humming a quiet tune to herself as she skips over to her protector. "Clear as rainbows, Mr. B! I'm ready for dream Land."
He extends a hand and helps her up to his shoulder, standing slowly.
Rapture is in ruins now; rubble and bodies cover the ground like a war zone.
"It's too bad about that angel, Mr. B. I don't think he will be there when we come back."
The little sister yawns, cradling her syringe.
The man navigates the terrain expertly. These halls are usually empty, with the occasional crazed splicer wandering sporadically looking for a new victim. Mr. Bubbles stepped very lightly for someone his size, his massive shoes always seeming to avoid rubble and water.
"It's so pretty, Mr. B! So bright and warm. Why isn't there anyone around? There's a party!"
Mr. Bubbles sighed quietly. The little sister, like all the others, sees Rapture through different eyes. The conditioning they undergo changes their surroundings from a barren, abandoned wasteland to Utopia. The tables, which are upturned and full of bullet holes are upright, perfect place settings evenly spaced in front of beautiful buffet chairs, napkins folded into triangles on the spotless white plates. The curtains, shredded and piled on the floor are cascading off of golden curtain rods, letting in just a sliver of light from the massive windows. The chandeliers, broken into millions of pieces and scattered along the floor, crystals pilfered or crushed to dust under the feet of looters and murderers are back on the ceiling and glistening in the warm light, throwing iridescent daggers across the room. They dance slightly, as if the ocean around them causes small waves in the air.
The little sister yawns, tears pooling at the very bottom reaches of her vision. As if on cue, Mr. Bubbles begins walking at a brisk pace, his long strides causing the girl's head to bob up and down. Her head feels heavy; drowsiness has begun settling in like a thick blanket across her body.
As he rounds a corner, she sees it: a golden panel shining bright against the white walls. At the top is a vent just large enough for a small child to crawl through. Her eyes snap open and she feels the drowsiness fall back momentarily, excitedly bouncing atop her guardian.
"Yay, Mr. B! We're almost there!" She stands up, much to Mr. Bubbles' dislike. He raises a large, gloved hand up to her side in an effort to keep her from falling.
Once he reaches the golden door, the little sister grabs hold of her syringe in one hand and hurriedly leaps from atop The helmet to his open hand. Slowly, the little girl is transferred to the opening.
She looks back at Mr. B. and yawns sleepily. "time for beddy-bye, Mr B."
The guardian watches as his little sister vanishes into the dark depths of the vent, unsure of what lies beyond for her, only that when the time comes again, she will emerge refreshed, a large syringe in hand ready to harvest more ADAM.
The little sister crawls through the vent, lights only visible to her eyes lighting the way. The only sounds in the small crawlspace are the clicking of the syringe as she brings her right hand down, and her shallow breaths. When she reaches the end, she stands and half-runs past all the teddy bears and other toys scattered about the floor tonher only mother, Brigid Tenenbaum.
"Mama!"
The little girl runs towards her mother's embrace, syringe waving in the air with each step. This sight does not cause Brigid to waver; she's used to the little sister's childish ways.
She will always regret the decisions she made to alter these children in such a horrific way, and in some ways feels that she will never atone for what she has done; what she allowed to happen.
So Brigid keeps them as safe as she can, showing them all of the love she has inside of her.
She embraces the little sister until she begins to breathe slowly, slipping further into sleep.
"Let's get you to bed, my little Lamb."
Brigid removes the syringe from the little girl's hand and slides it into her belt loop. The little sister finds her nook against Brigid's neck and nestles in, Brigid securing her in a tight but soft embrace. She glides silently across the floor towards the bunks, sure not to wake the sleeping child.
Her bunk is just around the corner, blanket askew since she sprung out of bed this morning and pillow thrown against the wall. Brigid sighs and places the little girl on her bed, holding her head with one hand and covering her body with the other. She slides the pillow underneath the little girl's head and leans down to kiss her forehead.
"Good night, sweet angel."
She stands up and smooths out creases that have arisen only in her imagination and fingers the edges of the syringe, setting her mind to the task at hand. The whole way to her office, Brigid has one thing on her mind, and one thing only. She whispers in a voice that no one but herself can hear.
"One day you will see that what I am doing may some day make up for what I have done, my little angels."

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