Stories of Rapture: Dallas Byrdsong Part 1

"I'm of the opinion that a person's name defines who they are. Take Andrew Ryan! His real name? Andrei Rianofski! Would anyone have followed a guy named 'Andrei' to the bottom of the goddamn Atlantic? Hell no! But Andrew Ryan? That's a good name! My name is Dallas 'Byrdsong'. With a name like that, I pretty much had no choice but to be a singer... it's a lucky break that I'm damn good at it."

--Dallas Byrdsong

Dallas cursed as stomped on his hat in frustration. His face was burning from embarrassment.

He'd choked.

His one big chance to prove what he was made of and he'd screwed up his audition.

Dallas stared at his face in the mirror; he'd ducked into the bathroom after his failure. He splashed some water on his face and sighed. He took a moment to close his eyes and breathe.

"It's okay... It's okay. You had a bad go, but you can turn it around. You WILL turn it around."

That's what he told himself, but he still felt like a failure.

When he'd regained his composure, he headed for Sinclair Spirits, the old bar in Poseidon Plaza. He needed a drink before he went home. He ordered a bottle of Lacas Scotch and starting drinking, but found he was barely getting a buzz. 'How Much Is That Doggie In The Window' was playing on the jukebox.

He noticed someone sit in the chair next to him, which he found a bit odd, since the bar had barely any people in it so there were plenty of seats. Dallas chose to ignore him.

"That was an unfortunate affair back at the Fleet Hall." The person commented.

Dallas felt his face flush, but he continued to stare into his shot glass. "Who asked you?"

"Oh, no one. I just thought I'd offer you some guidance."

"Oh yeah? Why don't you shove your 'guidance' up your-" Dallas turned to face the man, but froze as soon as he realized who it was sitting next to him. "You- you're Cohen! You're Sander fucking Cohen!!"

Dallas wanted to crawl into a hole as Cohen laughed, seemingly amused. "I'm afraid so."

Sander Cohen was one of the biggest names in Rapture. Art, Music, Cohen had a hand in everything. He'd seen Cohen at the fleet hall when he was about to audition, but he had no idea he had actually watched his performance.

Dallas cursed to himself, he had to turn this around. "I- Uh... I'm sorry Mr. Cohen, sir. That was really rude of me! I just... I didn't realize it was you..."

Cohen waved his hand dismissively. "Not at all... Um.." He paused, glancing at Dallas. Cohen was sizing him up. "What was your name again?"

"Dallas, sir, Dallas Byrdsong!"

Cohen smiled a little, looking away from him. "Dallas Byrdsong..." He muttered to himself, as if he was trying the name out to see how it fit. "Very quaint."

"I'm... I'm sorry about what happened back at the Fleet Hall too..." He added.

Cohen just shrugged. "Everyone makes mistakes... tell me Dallas, have you had any formal training?"

Dallas shook his head. "No sir."

"I thought so. You've got quite a singing voice, with the right mentor... you could go very far."

Dallas caught on to Cohen's drift immediately, but chose to play dumb. He smiled, trying to pour on the charm. "Thank you sir, that's a big compliment coming from you!"

"If you like, I could show you a few pointers."

Jackpot! "That'd be swell Mr. Cohen!" He stopped himself, choosing to add. "I mean- if it's not to much trouble! I'm sure you're a busy guy..."

"I'm never too busy to nurture the talent of aspiring young artists like yourself! I've taken in quite a few  proteges in my time!"

"I'm looking forward to working with you sir!"

Cohen stood from the bar. "Well then, it's late. Don't stay out too late Dallas, we'll start tomorrow."

"That sounds great!"

"I'll meet you in the fleet hall, eight sharp." Cohen waved his hand and leaned slightly forward, in a sort of bow before leaving the bar.

Dallas felt like the luckiest bastard in Rapture. He headed home and tried to get some rest, but found himself far too excited to sleep.

He may be an overrated old coot, but that fop is my meal ticket! He'll have all the connections I need! All I have to do is stay on his good side. How hard could that possibly be?

Dallas reached Fort Frolic early, around 7:30. He always enjoyed being punctual.

He entered the Fleet Hall, and could hear music... someone was playing the piano. He followed the sound until he found Cohen, sitting at a piano onstage. Dallas was drawn in by the sound. He was surprised by this, as he had never liked anything that Sander Cohen had produced before...

Cohen stopped and stood from the bench. Dallas chose this opportunity to clap, Cohen seemed surprised. "Dallas, you're early!"

"Only a little." He dismissed. "What was that you were playing sir?"

Cohen shrugged. "Just a little something I've been working on, but since you're here we should get started! Come!" Cohen ushered him to the piano. "Now, I know you haven't had formal lessons, so you have a lot to learn. For your sake, I hope you're a quick study." He took a seat.

Cohen ran him through some drills. He showed him how to properly warm up prior to a performance, he corrected Dallas on his posture and breathing.

"That's what you got wrong back at your audition." He said. "You're breathing was off, without the proper breath support your performance suffered."

Dallas nodded. Cohen really knows his stuff, I guess his fame isn't all for nothing.

The two continued to practice, for how long Dallas couldn't be sure. It could have been hours before Cohen finally stood from the piano bench. "I think it's time for a short reprieve, wouldn't you say?"

Dallas nodded. "Sure." He was glad for the break, his throat was a little sore. Despite himself, he actually found himself enjoying this.

Cohen led Dallas to the projection booth. "Wait here."

Cohen left, leaving Dallas alone in the booth. From the booth Dallas could see the stage below where the two of them had been practicing.

"Who are you suppose t' be?"

Dallas looked over to the door, standing there was a tall young man with wavy brown hair.

"What?" He asked.

The man rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Cohen told me to wait here."

"Cohen? ...Oh, I see." He took a step forward. "The name's Cobb."

Cobb took a step towards Dallas, examining him. "What's your name kid?"

"Dallas." He replied, feeling a little uncomfortable. "So, you know Cohen?" He asked.

Cobb nodded. "In a matter of speakin'. I own the record store over in the Plaza, and Cohen, he's... an investor."

"I see."

"There's actually a few of us." Cobb added, looking around, as if he was looking for someone.

"Us?" Dallas asked.

"Guys Cohen's taken an interest in..." He looked back at the doorway once more, before looking at Dallas again. "Let me give you a little advice sugar; if you're gonna get involved with Cohen, you better be ready for all the crap that goes along with it."

Dallas frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When Cohen gets his eyes set on you, you better just do what he says. Before long he's gonna own yer ass." There was a hint of resentment in his voice.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He was about to continue when the door opened again, Cohen standing in it. "Silas, I'm surprised to see you here."

"Just stoppin' by." He muttered. "Didn't mean to interrupt." He pushed passed Cohen and was gone.

Cohen stared at where Cobb had left, before shaking it off and handing Dallas a cup of something.

"What's this?" He asked.

"It's tea. It's good for the throat"

"Oh." Dallas took a swig, he'd never tried tea before. "Not bad."

Cohen walked over to the other side of the room, he seemed to be inspecting the films.

"Can you read music Dallas?"

Dallas shrugged. "My mom taught me a little..."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah, she used to teach piano lessons, stuff like that."

Cohen seemed satisfied with his answer. "You're a fast learner, I'm sure you'll catch on."

"Do you really think so?"

Cohen turned to him. "Certainly, but you'll have to work hard for it."

Dallas took another sip of the tea. "I'll do my best sir."

"That's good! That's very good." Cohen turned to Dallas, a little smile on his face. "You've got talent Dallas, there's no mistake about that, but that can only take you so far! To become a successful artist takes effort. It's a unending struggle! You must be able to dedicate yourself to it."

"I'm ready for anything Mr. Cohen."

Cohen laughed. "We'll see how ready you are in the weeks to come."

Dallas couldn't help but smile. He was going to take Rapture by storm, and Sander Cohen was going to take him straight to the top.



Almost two weeks Dallas spent training his voice with Cohen. He'd go see him two or three times a week. Today was a little bit special, however. Today Cohen invited Dallas to have his usual lessons at his home in Mercury Suites. Dallas had never been there before, due to the fact he was he could never have afforded it. He could barely scrape together the money for his flat.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

Dallas stopped when he noticed a large group of people standing around a young man, behind him was a sign: PLASMIDS EVOLVE TODAY!

Plasmid? What's a Plasmid?

The young man revealed a glowing concoction from his bag. "Plasmids are the way of the future, designed to make your lives easier!" The man drank from the vile, then shivered a little. "Need to clean the house?" He continued. "No problem! With the Telekinesis Plasmid, you don't have to lift a finger!" He outstretched his hand and another man's hat flew off his head and into his hands.

Dallas blinked, barely able to believe what he'd seen.

The crowd gasped as the man launched the hat into the air, high above their heads, then pulled it back. Then, with the flick of the wrist, he plopped it back onto the man's head.

He crowd was mystified as the young man took out another vile and drank it. "Anybody got a cigarette?" He asked with a coy smile. A woman reached into her bag and offered him it to him, he took it and smirked. "Got a lighter?"

"Oh, yes, of course, I-"

Before the woman could grab her lighter, the man raised his hand then snapped his fingers. A small shot of flame shot out of them and lit his cigarette!! "With Incinerate, you can have fire at your fingertips!"

Dallas was amazed. "Holy smokes!"

The crowd whispered to each other. "Can you believe it?"

"I've never seen anything like it!"

The man pulled out one final vile from his bag and drank deep. "How many of you folks have ever had a rough night, so in the morning you decide to catch a few extra z's. But then you sleep in too long and now you're late for work! No problem!"

The man took off into a run. There was this weird fizzing sound and he vanished into a cloud of red smoke. Everyone gasped and looked around for him.

"WITH TELEPORT YOU'LL NEVER BE LATE AGAIN!!"

One of the people in the crowd gasped and pointed up to the man, who was now several floors above them! "Grab your own Plasmids at Fontaine Futuristics! Coming soon!"

The man teleported away once more and was gone, leaving every one awestruck.

Dallas took one of the fliers. Superpowers? Real life superpowers!?

He tucked the flier in his jacket then ran off.

Dallas' mind was still racing when he reached Cohen's flat. The door opened for him and inside he was a little startled to see a group of men and woman!

No... wait, they're just statues...

Dallas stepped forward, examining them. They were posed dramatically, in some sort of battle, Dallas thought. As he took a another step forward he realized; they were breathing!

"What the hell!?" He backed away, but the people never moved. They were covered from head to toe in some sort of white paint or grease, and stood perfectly still, like statues.

"It's called tableau vivant." Cohen stood beside him, examining the group.

"T-tablo...?"

"It means 'living picture'. It's a little something I saw once in France, I found it to be fascinating. Models pose to represent scenes from drama or history, almost like living statues."

"That's..." Dallas looked at the people around the room. "Very interesting..."

"Anyway, come! We'll get started!"

Dallas followed Cohen away from the people and up  a flight of stairs and into a spacious bedroom.

"I have something I want to show you..."

Cohen walked over to a canvas, covered with a white sheet. He took hold of it and revealed a poster...

SANDER COHEN PRESENTS

DALLAS BYRDSONG

Dallas was speechless for a moment. "Cohen... what is..?"

"For your show." Cohen replied.

"...show? MY show?" Dallas burst out laughing, grinning from ear to ear. "I can't believe you did this!"

"Call it a gift for all your hard work, although there's much more work to do before you're ready."

Dallas nodded. "Anything you say sir!"

The show was scheduled to be at the end of the month, so Dallas had a few weeks still to prepare himself.

But as the day approached, he found Cohen to be more and more... controlling..

"We must find you something more... suitable to wear during your performance."

Dallas glanced down at his clothes. Right now, he was wearing a simple striped suit, it was the only one he had. Dallas had never really been able to afford very fancy clothes.

Cohen took Dallas to the Sophia Salon were he has Dallas' measurements taken and ordered him a suit. Dallas tried to tell Cohen he couldn't possibly afford something like that, but Cohen merely shrugged it off and replied that he would be paying for it. As well as some new shoes, a new tie... Cohen also insisted Dallas have his hair cut.

"Uh sir, isn't this a little... too much?"

Cohen stopped and stared at Dallas for a moment, glaring at him. "I'm offering you my expertise, and you think it's 'a little too much' ?"

Dallas immediately knew he'd said something wrong. "N-no sir, that's not what I meant at all! I mean..." Think of something, fast! "I'm just feeling guilty that you're having to go through so much trouble, buying all this for me."

Cohen stared at him for a moment... and went back to his usual demeanor. "Not at all my boy. Just consider it a gift."

Dallas didn't argue with Cohen anymore that day. He tried to relax and just go along with it, but he remembered something that man Cobb had said a few weeks ago...

When Cohen gets his eyes set on you, you better just do what he says...

As Dallas left Fort Frolic and headed for home.

Before long he's gonna own yer ass



Despite Dallas' growing concerns he pushed them aside and focused in his show. It was hard work. Dallas spent all his time thinking about the songs Cohen taught him the drills. He went to bed at night and woke up in the morning with the songs in his head.

Finally, the day arrived and Dallas stood in front of a mirror staring at his reflection. He could hardly recognize himself. He had just tried on his new blue, three piece suit and his hair, which was naturally curly and usually let to run wild, was slicked back.

"Well now, you clean up nicely." Cohen took a step forward, stood beside Dallas and placed a hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"I think I'm gonna hurl." Dallas admitted.

Cohen laughed. "You're just nervous, you'll do fine if you just remember what I taught you."

"Yes sir." Dallas straightened his tie, taking a deep breath. This is it.

Dallas took his position and waited for his cue. From backstage he could see people taking their seats. There were so many of them.

Cohen may have lured them here, but it's me they're hear to see.

He took another deep breath as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. The spotlight was on him now, as were the eyes of everyone in the audience. For a moment his heart wavered, then Dallas smiled.

Here goes nothing.

As the music played, Dallas began to sing.



The applause was incredible, as Dallas walked off the stage he was trembling and lightheaded. But he felt good. Dallas went to sit in the dressing room, feeling overwhelmed.

"What are you doing?" Cohen stood in the doorway. "Hiding backstage! You're public awaits you!"

"I-I'm not sure I'm ready just yet-"

Cohen grabbed his arm, pulling him from his seat. "Come now! This is your moment of triumph! Besides, I have some colleges I want to introduce you to."

Dallas let Cohen lead him back to the Fleet Hall, where many men and woman stopped them to shake Dallas' hand and compliment him on his performance.

"Ah, Andrew, you made it after all."

Dallas froze as he saw Andrew Ryan approaching the two of them. "You were quite insistent. After the praise you showered this young man with, I'm glad to see it wasn't undeserved." Andrew Ryan smiled and offered Dallas his hand. Dallas took it and the shook hands. "A splendid performance, but then that should be no surprise, Sander has always had an eye for talent."

"Thank you Mr. Ryan!"

Ryan turned from Dallas to Cohen. "I'm also here to ask you a favor. I have a business venture in mind, necessary to the secrecy of Rapture and I'd like you to consult on it."

Cohen rubbed his chin. "Really? Sounds intriguing." Cohen turned to Dallas. "Please excuse us Dallas. By all means, go! Enjoy yourself!"

Cohen and Ryan walked off together, and Dallas continued through the crowd.

A woman wearing a red dress and choker. She brushed her dark hair from her face as she approached him. "I must say, I'm genuinely surprised."

"Excuse me?"

"What I mean is; Why would a talented young man like yourself would be riding on the coat tails of  Sander Cohen."

Dallas was surprised by this. "You... don't like his work?"

The woman shook her head. "Hardly."

Dallas frowned. "Who are you?"

The woman stopped in front of him. "Anna Culpepper, pleased to meet you."

Dallas couldn't help but smirk. "You too."

Culpepper walked by. "Anyway, I've got to be going."

Dallas followed her into the Atrium. "Already?"

She chuckled at him. "I just wanted to congratulate you before I left." She continued past him and down the staircase.

"See you around?" He asked.

She stopped and looked back at him, smiling a little. "We'll see. So long Dallas Byrdsong."

Culpepper left and Dallas leaned against the railing watching her go. Not bad...

"Well lookie what we got here!"

Dallas turned around, behind him stood three men. They stood out from everyone else because of their matching clothes; red plaid vests with yellow tie and crimson colored pants. Dallas recognized one of them as Cobb.

"Oh, it's you..."

Cobb lulled his head to one side. "Where's Cohen?"

"He left with Andrew Ryan."

Cobb motioned for Dallas to follow. "Come on, let's get a drink."

Dallas paused for a moment, but followed the three to Eve's Garden, the strip club back in Poseidon's Plaza. A woman danced onstage, with men whistled and hollered at her.

Two of the men sat at the bar and ordered a drink, while Cobb sat down on a couch and a waitress brought him a drink. "Don't just stand there, sit down!"

Dallas did, and Cobb took a swig of his drink. "Saw your show newbie. You're not half bad!"

Dallas waved down the waitress and ordered a drink. "Uh... thanks."

"That's a pretty fancy suit too, the old man buy it for you?"

Dallas nodded, feeling uncomfortable. "Yeah... he did."

One of the guys at the bar sniggered and Cobb just smirked.

"What's so funny?" Dallas asked.

Cobb waved his hand dismissively. "Nothin' at all kid! We just wanted to welcome you to our little social circle, now that you're Cohen's new favorite."

Dallas blinked. His 'new' Favorite? He glanced at Cobb, then the other two men at the bar. Are they angry at me because of Cohen? But looking at them, they didn't look angry. Two of them were smiling and snickering, like Dallas didn't get the joke. Or perhaps that Dallas WAS the joke. "Who are you guys?" He asked, slightly annoyed.

Cobb shrugged, still smiling. "You know me. The guy over there with the bottle of vodka is Hector Rodriguez, and the cheerful bastard next to him is Martin Finnegan."

"So, you all know Cohen?" He asked.

"Ooh yes, we know him. Cohen took a 'special interest' in all of us, just like you. He calls us his 'disciples'." Cobb pointed at one of the others. "Martin there, he's been with Cohen almost twenty years, isn't it?"

Martin looked over from the bar. "Yeah... met him back in 1937, topside. Cohen bought me my ticket down here."

"And Hector... he was a stage hand, I think, isn't that right? Then Cohen picked him up, let him star in a couple of his shows."

Hector just waved his hand as he finished off his vodka and ordered another bottle.

Cobb leaned over to Dallas, muttering. "Hector couldn't afford to get drunk every night if Cohen didn't pay his tab."

Dallas fidgeted. "Okay..." Where's he going with this? "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Relax boy, just gettin' antiquated! We're all friends here."

Dallas frowned, but decided to take advantage of this opportunity. "So... about Cohen... uh..."

"What about him?" Martin asked from the bar, the waitress offered to refill his glass but he shook his head and she continued with the other customers.

"Well... the other day he got a little... crazy. That is- I don't mean he's crazy I just meant... he got really angry, real quick you know? And then just like that, back to normal, like nothing happened."

"That's sounds about right." Cobb mused. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Hector spun around on the bar stool. "You juss gotta go along wif what he sayss you know?"

"If he's really that hard to get along with, why do you guys stick around?"

Cobb laughed out loud. "You kiddin' me? You should know, right? Your own show, a fancy suit! Personally, Cohen's been payin' my rent for a nice apartment."

So he turned to Martin. "What about you?"

Martin shrugged. "I wanted to be a painter, like him. He's been funding my work... so I keep him happy, you know? If he's happy, you're taken care of…" Dallas may have imagined it, but he could have sworn there was a little bit of resentment in his voice.

I guess that does makes sense... Dallas caught himself feeling sorry for Cohen, all these guys using him for his wealth and connections… not that he had any room to judge.

He spent a little longer with the others. Mostly they just talked about Cohen, most of it not very good.

As the night went on, he felt more and more unsure about his show... He'd thought it was a huge success... but was it because of his talent or Cohen's connections...?

That empty feeling only grew when he eventually went home and tried to get some sleep.