MasonMason leaned against the surprisingly spacious elevator shaft, whistling the tune to
Will the Circle be Unbroken, a song his daughter adored. He smiled at the thought of her, glad of her innocence and that she was safe from the dangers his lifestyle may bring. His attention was brought back to his companions in the elevator when a broken ping sounded. Mason lifted his head and saw Valentin leaving the elevator. Mason pushed himself off from the wall and reached out. “Wait, Val!” he called out just as the sliding doors closed in front of him. He sighed, falling back and catching himself against the wall once more. He wasn’t sure how great of an idea splitting up would turn out to be, especially under the circumstances. They didn’t know where they were, or what was going on. He was sure Valentin could manage on his own against a few guards but he didn’t know what would lie in wait for him on that abandoned-looking floor. It was out of his hands for now though. Mason looked over to the new stranger, and opened his mouth to speak. Kennedy’s voice broke through and he shut his mouth. As the stranger named the unfamiliar threats that they may find once they reach the top Mason rolled his shoulders, reaching his holster and hovering his hand over his heater.
Once the elevator opened up for the last time, Kennedy stepped out into the unknown. Mason followed behind Samuel and cleared his throat, looking around the dark room. There weren’t really any windows in this area either and he was beginning to feel confined. “So, um, these ‘Splicers’ and ‘Little Sisters’, what are they?” Before he could get an answer, Samuel had buckled over. Kennedy was quick to re-position him as Mason grew alert. Without a thought the nodded at Kennedy, scanning the room for anything that could be of use, He spotted a machine of sorts and lightly ran over to it. It had an odd picture on its front, depicting a very pale man with odd markings. “The fuck?” he thought out loud.
Circus of Values, it read across the top. He noticed a lock sticking out the side of the machine and grabbed his heater, smashing the butt of the gun against the lock. With a quick hit, the lock was forced opened and dangled in its hole. Mason tossed it down and pried open the machine with mild force. Inside, it was filled with various items. There were syringes filled with a glowing blue liquid, similar to salts back in Columbia. He grabbed a few without thought and stuffed them in his jacked pockets. They were larger than ordinary syringes but still small enough to fit about two in each pocket. The majority of the machine was stocked with snacks and drinks but it also seemed to contain pistol and shotgun ammo as well. In one of its compartments, mason caught sight of a small white rectangular container. It had the words First Aid Kit written in red. “Perfect,” he murmured, grabbing the kit. He turned to the others before something in the machine caught his eye again. There was a single bottle of vodka in the machine. He reached for it before stopping himself. “No, no Mason,” he told himself, refraining from grabbing the bottle. As much as I could use one right now, it’s really not the time. He let out a disappointed sigh and left the machine open as he walked back.
Upon his return, Samuel had already awoken, an empty syringe lying beside him. He heard him mention a medical kit and looked down at the small container in his hands. Mason walked crouched beside Samuel and smirked. “You mean like this one?” he asked, showing the weak Sam the First Aid Kit.
