Eleanor Lamb Bioshock Novels & Stories

She was wearing full black tactical gear, her silver hair pulled back tightly, a cruel, cold smile on her lips. "You always were a loose end, Mark," Eleanor said, her eyes shifting to look at me, then down at Leo. "Dr. Lin, my daughter is dead because of your little family drama. The Astorian council doesn't care about Nathaniel's clones anymore. They want the bloodline eliminated." She raised the rifle, aiming it straight at Leo's chest. From the dark river behind her, a massive, white luxury yacht roared to life, its searchlights blinding us instantly as the side gate dropped.

"This is your grandson." The silence that followed was absolute. Eleanor’s gaze dropped to Liam. I watched her face go through a terrifying transformation—from hatred to shock, and finally, to a chilling, predatory greed. "He looks exactly like my Arthur," she whispered, her voice losing its edge. She reached out a claw-like hand toward Liam’s cheek. "The Ardent eyes. The Ardent brow. It truly is a miracle." "Don't touch him," I snapped, pulling Liam back. "He’s not a miracle for you to gawk at. He’s my son."

She was the woman from last night. Fear coloured my face, and I was scared. She stretched out her hands towards me, her face getting revealed through the light. “I am Eleanor.” Her nails were polished red. No, no, no. My insides screamed. Eleanor was my pimp back at the club. I can’t be left with her. She’s the definition of pure evil, and I didn’t know what sort of connection she and my mate had, but I wasn’t going to let her babysit me or heal me.

My stomach turned. I hadn't even noticed the other human girl until now. I looked up to see her pale face, recognition immediately slammed into me - it was Eleanor, Lena’s human slave girl from the night of the exchange. My mind raced. The last time I saw her, she was on her way to Alden's castle with the antidote. What was she doing here? With Lena? “Eleanor?” I called out, disbelief evident in my voice. She flinched at the sound of my voice. “Cathy,” She whispered back, her eyes settling on me.

Frozen in place, my eyes widened in shock and horror at the scene that unfolded before me. There was Eleanor, sprawled on the floor, her claws extended as she ruthlessly scratched at her own body, consumed by delirium. Each strike tore through her skin, leaving deep lacerations that mingled with the pool of blood and strips of peeled flesh that surrounded her. The water cascading down the drain seemed more like a crimson stream, heavily tainted by her blood. Oblivious to my presence, her eyes remained shut, while her body convulsed and bled onto the floor. A chilling shiver coursed through me, contemplating how she managed to stay alive despite the scalding water and the immense loss of bloo

Her eyes were already tearing up. Victor hesitated, phone still pressed to his ear. Eleanor’s eyes flicked to Salima’s shake, then to Victor’s pause. She stepped forward and snatched the phone from Victor’s hand in one smooth motion. The operator repeated, “Sir? Are you able to identify the shooter?” Eleanor pressed the phone to her ear, voice thick with anger. “Yes.” She said firmly. “The person who shot my son is Roman Blackwood.” She didn’t look away from Roman as she said it.

The lights flickered back on—and Eleanor was standing in the doorway. Not on a screen. Not a projection. In person. She looked exactly the same as she had in the recordings—ageless, graceful, terrifyingly calm. Her silver hair gleamed in the dim light. Her eyes, a sharp gray-blue, swept across the room until they landed on Adrian. Maya froze. “You’re… alive?” Eleanor smiled faintly. “Alive enough.” Adrian’s voice was low and venomous. “You did this.” “I created you,” she said simply. “And now, I’ve come to finish what I started.”

“I'm Isla. Isla Hamilton.” The brunette smiled, “British huh? The accent sold you out. I am Eleanor Campbell.” “British? You didn't strike me as one.” Isla teased. “Damn. Guess I need to try hard.” They both shared a laugh before Eleanor spoke. “I was born and raised in America but of British descent.” “Cool,” Isla replied before glancing at her watch impatiently. “How long has it been?” she looked back at Eleanor. Eleanor shrugged her shoulders, “I don't know. I came in 5 minutes before you.”

Hunter screams at me, and his eyes have this murderous look that makes my blood run cold. I’m actually thinking about running, but my feet feel too stiff to move. I can’t even make myself move when he’s holding me down with a glare like that. “Ten months ago, Hunter, you told me you found the solution to your little problem,” Eleanor says. Her voice is all clean and quiet, like she has perfect etiquette, but she’s still pinning me down with her gaze. “You said you’ve got the perfect woman. She’s resilient, building a tech empire from nothing, and she’s emotionally stranded. Therefore she’ll be the perfect candidate.”

I remember how she attacked Rayne at court; I remember too many details that make me dream about skinning her alive. Eleanor has exceeded all the limits of evil. She has exceeded all the evil I’ve read about in Greek mythology; I haven’t read about them by chance, but a beauty who is currently waiting for me to come back home is in love with Greek mythology. Eleanor is Lucifer’s daughter. Even Lucifer himself does not have this amount of evil and hatred within him. She is a beast who has gone above and beyond.