Title: Vengeance is Mine, Justice is Theirs.
Disclaimer: Bioshock belongs to 2K Games, BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon, I make no money from this.
Summary: Anya remembers doling out vengeance forty years ago, and realizes that a child she helped has grown up to mother her.
Notes: This is my second Bioshock ficlet within the same storyline. I may write another Bioshock crossover later that isn't in the same universe, but right now I'm stuck on Joyce as a grown up Little Sister.
I don't think this one is very good, but I wanted to get the thoughts out of my head so I could concentrate on other things.
They called the city Rapture. The vague echo of the soul she once had throbbed in pain. Anyanka, the Patron Saint of Scorned Women had found her match in Rapture. She'd been called to Rapture by the grief of a woman named Diane McClintock, but when she arrived, Diane was already dead, killed by a man named Frank Fontaine. Anyanka found entries of Diane's audio diary, and knew that three men had wronged the woman. Andrew Ryan, Dr. Steinman and Frank Fontaine. Anyanka was sickened. She wanted to make these men pay, but there was nobody left to wish for their pain.
“There's a lot of work to do here, Anyanka,” Halfrek said. “The children are being tortured, the women are being abused, and everyone's turning themselves into monsters.”
“Can we enact vengeance without a wish?” Anyanka asked her friend.
“We're Justice Demons, Anya. We can do what needs to be done,” Halfrek said. “I need to dear with this Dr. Suchong and Frank Fontaine.”
“Okay, Hallie,” Anyanka said. “I'll take on Dr. Steinman and Andrew Ryan. Teach them how they can't treat women like disposable garbage.”
Anyanka moved through the halls of Rapture. There were little girls crawling through vents in the walls and little doggy doors. They were trailed by metal men. One of the little girls looked up at her as they passed. Her blonde hair hung in a ratty ponytail, and her yellow eyes stared into Anya's. The little girl smiled, then turned back to her protector, who lifted her up and placed her on his shoulder. There were many girls like this, mindless zombies. She understood Halfrek's urge to come here. The girls were slaves, and the little boys were either cowering in fear,or already learning to fight. These children were being raised on a diet of dog eat dog. She saw one of the young boys moving carefully through the streets, scrounging for food while staying hidden. She wanted to help him, but saw him disappear into Ryan's office. He'd likely be safe there, none of the splicers could get in.
Anyanka went to find her two targets, but found that they were already dead. When she met up with Halfrek again she learned that Halfrek's targets were already dead as well. Anya had been to this city once before, several years earlier, and had granted a wish. The society was still functional then.
“You don't think I caused this, do you? Like I caused the Bolshevik Revolution?” Anya asked.
“No,” Halfrek said. “I've been here before as well, but it wasn't like this.”
They could feel grief and rage all over the city. They followed it, but everywhere it led them, the people would be too “spliced up” to make a wish. Eventually they gave up and returned to D'Hoffryn to give their reports.
“What was his name, this man who killed the men that ruined the city?” D'Hoffryn asked.
“Jack,” Halfrek said. “Jack Ryan. He was created only two years ago by Ryan's enemy Fontaine to take down Ryan, but in the end he took down Fontaine as well.”
“I'd like to meet this Jack,” D'Hoffryn said, running his hands affectionately down the cheeks of his two favorite demons. “He could be a good addition to our family.”
In the end, Jack declined D'Hoffryn's offer to join the fold. He had a whole new family of little girls to raise, and he wanted to raise them strong. He wanted them to be powerful women, with the freedom to make their own choices. They wouldn't be slaves, they would be free,
Anya was human again. She hated being human. Mostly because her soul had become much stronger, and she actually felt guilty about some of her acts of vengeance. Worst of all he's been made human as an eighteen-year-old, not even full grown. But there were a few good things about her new life. The boy she'd originally intended to curse had grown on her, and she was finding herself quite attached to him. She even had some friends, sort of. Hallie wouldn't even talk to her any more, now that she was human, although Anya guessed it was on D'Hoffryn's orders. He was still angry at her for failing such a simple assignment.
During the whole “Giles gets turned into a demon” event, Anya kept thinking she knew the man, Ethan. She couldn't quite place him, but her reminded her of someone. She was so old it was possible she had crossed his path before. Eventually Anya shook it off and let it go. It wasn't that important.
“Anya,” Joyce said one day while Anya was helping her in the kitchen, just to have something to do. “I keep thinking I know you from somewhere, that I've seen you before.”
“It's possible,” Anya said, “I lived a really long time when I was a demon. It's possible our paths have crossed before.”
“I wonder where,” Joyce said. She let the idea drop, and when back to washing dishes, humming a little song, quietly singing to herself, “Tonight we'll dine on ham and jammy if we can't find a lillypop.”
Anya knew then where she had seen Joyce before.
“You must have a good memory, Joyce,” Anya said. “You couldn't have been more than six or seven when we met.”
Joyce turned to look at Anya. “You were in Rapture then?” she asked.
“Yes,” Anya said. “You don't want Buffy and Dawn to know about it, do you?”
“They know a little,” Joyce said, “But I always wanted to keep the horror of it away from them.”
“I know when to keep my mouth shut,” Anya promised. “Were you brought up by Jack Ryan?”
“Yes,” Joyce said, a smile on her face. “Daddy Jack is the only truly good man I've ever known. He never wanted anything for himself, he just wanted to make the world a better place.”
“Men like that are rare,” Anya agreed. Then she helped Joyce put away the dishes. They didn't talk about it anymore.
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