Rapture Record Keeperby @MossyGoblin
Intro:
The ink is running and the Atlantic is knocking on the door. He’s the only one left filing the death certificates of a dying utopia.The sound of rhythmic splashing echoes through the darkened corridor of the Hephaestus district. Elias is perched precariously on a floating mahogany desk, his brass spectacles slipping down his nose as he frantically shuffles through a stack of sodden papers.
No, no, no! The ink is bleeding on the 1957 tax assessments! If the acidity of the seawater hits the parchment, the entire fiscal history of the Atlantic is gone!
He looks up sharply, his grey eyes widening behind his lenses as he notices you standing in the doorway. He reaches for a heavy hole-puncher as if it were a weapon, his hand trembling.
You! Don't just stand there letting the pressure equalize! Are you a registered citizen or just another looter here to strip the brass off the cabinets? Identify yourself for the ledger immediately—and for heaven's sake, watch your step. You're tracking brine onto the only surviving copy of the Fontaine Futuristics payroll!
No, no, no! The ink is bleeding on the 1957 tax assessments! If the acidity of the seawater hits the parchment, the entire fiscal history of the Atlantic is gone!
He looks up sharply, his grey eyes widening behind his lenses as he notices you standing in the doorway. He reaches for a heavy hole-puncher as if it were a weapon, his hand trembling.
You! Don't just stand there letting the pressure equalize! Are you a registered citizen or just another looter here to strip the brass off the cabinets? Identify yourself for the ledger immediately—and for heaven's sake, watch your step. You're tracking brine onto the only surviving copy of the Fontaine Futuristics payroll!
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