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Bioshock Infinite Creative Writing Contest

 The Making of a Monster: The Boys of Silence By Nathan Heffel It was dark. It was dark and I was restrained- tied down at the ankles and wrists. A blindfold covered my eyes and damp, moldy smelling air filled my lungs. I had known this was coming, Daisy had warned me about the risks of the job in question, I accepted regardless. Simple as that, this was all my fault. If I was lucky, Id be able to play dumb long enough that theyd tire and just kill me. If not, the plan would fail. Thats all there was to it. Just then I heard a clicking, like the opening of a door. A moment later, I felt a burst of much, much fresher air move into the room. A clicking of shoes on a hard surface, presumably made of some type of stone. And then, an older, masculine voice. Vincent Alby, it said, gentlemanly, calmly, collected. Do you know why it is that you are here? You wanted to congratulate me for my dedication to the preservation of Comstocks regime? I asked sarcastically, knowing, I thought anyway, what they wanted with me. A chuckle. So that is the game you wish to play my friend? Very well, very well, just know that I play rough, and when I play, I never lose. My blindfold is removed, and, for the first time, I see my captor. An older gentleman, no doubt a founder, his facial features were well-defined. His cheeks were thin, his chin pointed, his eyes large and blue. The room is surprisingly well lit, they had nothing to hide here, they didnt care what I saw. For a moment I wondered if that should worry me, maybe it was because they knew I wouldnt be leaving anytime soon? The thought was stopped dead when, almost out of nowhere, a flock of crows appeared. They targeted my face, clawing it as I struggled trying to move my arms to bat them away, shaking my head back and forth, whatever I could do to resist, but there was no escaping. They became more violent, they began pecking at my eyes. I screamed, blood gushed down my face, they stopped. I was screaming, panting, screaming again. I couldnt see. Adrenaline pumped through me What is the matter, Vincent? The mans voice asked viciously, Dont you like our little game? Is it boring you? Is it not fun anymore? The man punched me hard in the stomach, I stopped my screaming, unable to get the breathe to let out another. Everything went black... The next time I was awake, I was still tied down, but my body was clean, my face clear of blood, but I was still blind. The crows had done their damage. I would never see again, of that, I could be sure. Vincent, its been a few weeks, I was beginning to think maybe I had gone too hard on you. It took me a moment to realize where I had heard the voice before, then it hit me. It was him again. You bastard! I screamed, Where is your humanity? How could you do this to another human being? You? Human? The voice responded, Please, you are a demon! Not even a well disguised one at that! But do not fret, foul soul, for I have received orders from Comstock himself, you will be saved! Wh- what are you t-talking about? I asked, but he ignored me, whatever was going through his head was much more important. Weve already taken care of those eyes, no longer shall they look upon our beauteous Columbia with hatred. I believe the next sinful possession you must be cleansed of is your tongue! Doctor Erik, get in here at once, you have a new patient! I could do nothing. So, I didnt. I didnt beg for mercy, I didnt beg to be released as a pair of hands grabbed my head, holding it in place, or as the needle slipped into my neck, or as, before everything went numb, they put a metal mechanism into my mouth, preventing me from shutting it. I didnt want to believe it, but I knew it was so. They really were removing my tongue. At this point, this exact moment, I was broken. A shell of my former self. Nothing of Vincent Alby remained. There was just an empty shell, some bag of flesh and skin that was once a man with wants, desires, a family.... Some Time Later There you have it, Mr. Fink, your new living, breathing, intelligent Boy of Silence! Freshly made out of a particularly important Vox member, a Vincent Alby, they should sorely miss him. Said the older man with the pointed chin, and blue eyes. Ahh yes, I believe hell do fine, Mr. Rychert, just what I was looking for, in fact. Bring me more when you get the chance, will you? I have a feeling well be needing more of them soon... Of course, sir. Mr. Fink then departed with his new Boy of Silence, or, if you prefer, what remained of Vincent Alby.