"When I think of how things used to be... what the city used to be. It's a crime. I came to Rapture to find a better life for myself, my wife, and my son. But damn. Who would have known? People are losing their minds. The people of Rapture are gettin' pissed, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

-Alan Bentley

Alan sat at his desk, staring blankly at the ceiling. He ran his hand threw his hair and sighed looking out the window. Outside things were buzzing, people living their lives uninterested in the truth. Most people really didn't have any idea of how fragile Rapture really was. But for Alan, the signs were everywhere. They were inescapable.

Fucking ADAM, plasmids, that's where everything went wrong... anyone can see it, just by looking at someone's face. Just by that look in their eyes. The eyes of an addict; a splicer. And it ain't no coincidence that people who splice go happen to go crazy. I cant believe no one guessed that altering your DNA repeatedly would be a horrible idea. For the average John and Mary livin' in the more peaceful places of Rapture you might not notice. But all the signs were there. So many people are dying. Suicides, murder...

"Alan." He turned to see his wife standing in the door way. "Dinners ready."

Looking at her now, Alan could barely believe she was the same person. Her hair was tangled, and turning grey, her face was so thin, and pale with bags under her eyes. "I'll be there in a minute Lynn, just gonna finish this."

She smiled, and nodded turning for the kitchen.

God he could see the changes in her. It didn't matter how much makeup she used to hide it, she was splicing again.

But what could he do? What should he say? Last time he tried talking to her about it she went berserk, it took him hours to calm her down. And if that weren't enough Alan had no idea how it would affect the baby that was on the way. And where the hell was she getting the ADAM?

He took a swig of whiskey and started to scribble down his report, then when he finished he headed for the dining room. There wasn't much, not a surprise, but it was enough for the three of them. For now. Chris was moving around his food with a frown on his face. Lynn was quietly eating, not looking at Alan.

"Hey dad can we go to Arcadia?" Alan glanced at Chris and shook his head. "Sorry Chris, not today."

Alan tried not to look at his son's disappointed face. "When can we go?"

"Maybe next week..." What a lie, same one he told last week. "Now finish your food."

When Alan finished his dinner Lynn grabbed his coat and camera case.

"Alan, while you're out could you try to go to the Farmers Market?"

He nodded. "Alright." He kissed Lynn on the cheek then headed out the door.

"I'll be back in a few hours, Chris keep this door locked."

"Okay." Groaned Chris.

"I mean it Chris."

"Okay!"

As soon as he'd left the house and locked the door he felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He could finally breathe again. He walked away to the nearest bench and started to smoke. Lately he was spending more time here, and less at home, he knew he was just running away from his problems, but he was just a man, how can he stop what's already in motion. After about thirty minutes he went to the nearest telephone and called in.

"What!" Great the boss was irritated.

"Hey it's me."

"And where the hell have you been? You should be here ten minutes ago! Whatever, there's a party happenin' at Fort Frolic, now get your ass over there!"

"Right, right."

Despite the never ending crap that this city is constantly spewing people still went to Fort Frolic, mainly people who still had an extra buck to spend. Mainly the filthy rich or the art freaks.

And oh what a freak I get to meet. It ain't no big secret that Mr. Sander Cohen is a crazy bastard. Suspicious as hell and prone to wild outbursts. Talk to him in formal settin's he may be a normal, stuffed shirt artist, but I know Cohen's one crazed son-of-a-bitch. Back when that dame Culpepper wrote that song 'Ryan's Songbird' Cohen went ballistic sendin' us messages about how we were crazy for devotin' columns to her and how she was... well, never mind...

As soon as Alan reached the Atrium he wished he was somewhere else. "Mr. Cohen?"

"Yes what is it?"

"I'm with Rapture Standard, I'm here to ..."

"Yes, yes, where WERE you I've been waiting here for almost an hour!"

You couldn't of been waiting more than thirty- two minutes you ass.

"Sorry 'bout that sir, now would you mind tellin' me 'bout your new gallery?"

Cohen took the subject better then Alan would have wanted, the man wouldn't shut up.

And while Alan did like a few of Cohen works, he didn't understand why anyone gave a shit or why he was still interviewing creeps like this, maybe just to help the citizens of Rapture believe things are still holding together.

Ignorance is bliss... too bad you'd have to be livin' under a rock not to notice...

After what seemed like an eternity Cohen finally finished.

"Well thank you for your time Mr. Cohen." He murmured as he scribbled down the last bit of information, and grabbed his camera. "Would you mind if I get a picture?"

He nodded and Alan took a few pictures of Cohen and the gallery.

"So what was your name again?" Cohen asked as Alan snapped another photo.

"Alan Bentley."

"So Alan, tell me what do you think of my art?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about art sir." His tone was less interested then he'd wanted.

Alan may have just imagined it but he could have sworn there was a twitch... a sort of visible crack that flashed across Cohen's face. And a moment later, it was gone. Now extremely uncomfortable, he collected his tools and nodded to Cohen. "Thank you for your time sir." Alan quickly made his way from the artist, but felt his eyes burning into his back.

While heading out Alan spotted a few dollars on the ground. Picking it up, he looked over to the slot machines. He cursed himself for being weak willed. He slipped it into one of the slot machines and halfheartedly pulled the lever.

Apple... apple... damn!

Tired and now annoyed, Alan headed to the Farmers Market. He could still remember when he took Chris to Arcadia for the first time... it was about four years ago. It was his birthday and they were heading for the Farmers Market. And for a present Alan took Chris to Arcadia. Alan could hardly believe how shocked the boy looked when he saw the trees. They spend hours just walking around. It almost seemed like a dream now. Lynn was pissed at first but she changed her tune when she saw how happy Chris was.

Isn't Chris's birthday comin' up? Shit.

Alan found Robert, a friend of his since he came to Rapture. He owned a store in the Farmers Market.

"Well well hey there Alan."

"Hey Robert... l-listen, I hate to ask you but..."

Robert shook his head. "Sorry man, no handouts."

"You know I'm good for it!"

Robert sighed, "I know you are Alan, but things are tough."

Alan. "Look," He pulled out all the money he had on him "This is all I got, please."

Robert scratched his head, then nodded, "Alright, but I NEED you to pay me back by Monday."

Alan nodded and shook his friend's hand. "I will, I will!"

Robert handed the food over to Alan, and as Alan turned to leave Robert grabbed his arm.

"Hey, uh..."

"What's wrong?"

Robert looked a bit uncomfortable. "Hey you an yer wife got a kid on the way, so I think you should consider it."

Alan stared thoughtfully at his friend. "Consider what?"

"You know, gettin' some ADAM, n' some plasmids."

Alan shook his friend off. "Forget it."

Robert stepped in front of him. "Listen, I know you've never been into the whole deal, but they might be the only way you can defend yourself."

"Defend myself?"

Robert nervously looked around, "You know against Fontaine and Ryan's splicers. They both keep splicin' up there men, gettin' them stronger, and an addict... you never know what a man would do for a bit o' ADAM."

Alan looked away and started to go. "Look just THINK about it."

"Thanks again Robert."

Before heading home Alan turned in the interview, and pictures from Fort Frolic to his boss.

Then took the long way home…

What he found there changed everything.

Alan returned to find the front door open, and inside the house had been ripped apart, all their possessions broken and scattered all over the house, but that wasn't what he was thinking of. He ran into his home, searching for his family. He found Chris first. Someone had beaten him down leaving his crumpled body in his room. Alan picked up the body unable to accept the reality.

For months Alan lived in a state of total devastation. Blaming himself, cursing his existence. How did it happen? How? Why? Alan began to dig into the events before the murder of his family...

It was Lynn, trying to feed her addiction she'd messed with the wrong people, done something to piss someone off... that someone, was Frank Fontaine.

Fontaine... it always came back to Fontaine. The Little Sisters, ADAM, Plasmids... Raptures downfall, his family... it was all because of HIM. He wouldn't let him get away with what he'd done.

Three years Alan spent learning all he could about Fontaine. Three years Alan spent bribing and struggling in hopes to get back at Fontaine. Luckily Alan had made a few connections with a man working in the fisheries.

Robert would get some of his produce the smugglers working in the fisheries, and if they were lucky a man may spare some information for ADAM. But ADAM was getting harder and harder to get... But he wouldn't stop, he couldn't...

Alan spent the next few nights looking for the right houses. He found a young couple followed them around for a few nights, then when they left the house Alan broke in, searched the house, and scored fifty ADAM. He was able raid their house and get out in under five minutes.

Alan ran from the house as fast as he could, as far as he could. When he finally got to a secluded area he pulled off his mask, and collapsed on the ground in shock. For a moment he was filled with adrenaline, his heart pounding his hands shaking, he felt amazing! Then for a moment he was the man he was three years ago and was appalled, disgusted with himself. But he had the ADAM, this was it, he had him!

Alan reached Fort Frolic, if he could have seen himself he might not have recognized himself, his pale blond hair that was once short and untamed is now almost to his shoulders and was a tangled mess, his face that used to be clean shaven, now with a beard, and his eyes that once had held a sense of innocence and honesty, were now hollow and full of anger.

He headed over to where his Robert had said he would be, his heart was pounding, and his palms were sweating, taking long swigs of whiskey. This was it, what he had worked for. This was it!

He slid his hand into his pocket and felt the guns cold steel against his fingers. He felt more alive in this moment then he had in years.

Just as he entered Eves Garden he felt like he hit a wall, he fell to the ground bloody and disoriented, Alan heard some girls give a startled cry, he looked up and saw a huge man, who grabbed him by the hair, and over to the bar where sat the man who hadn't left his thoughts for three years Frank Fontaine.

"Well well, I was wonderin' when you'd show up." He had a thick Bronx accent. Through the blood dripping over his right eye he could see him pour himself a drink, smirking. It made Alan blood boil. "Alan Bentley ain't it? What's that look? You didn't exactly cover your tracks." He took a sip of his drink. "Now I'm gonna make this as clear as I can. You are a punk, and you can't touch me. And the only reason your still breathin' is 'cause I've been usin' you to... heh... flush out some rats." at this point he pulled out a folder and from it produced two pictures one was Robert this face bruised and bloody, and a rope around his neck, hanging from the ceiling in a freezer, the other was who Alan could only assume was their contact, shot several times. "Listen up kid, you're here for whatever reason, thinkin' you got nothin' to loose, well I got news for you kid, you got more than you think."

Then he pulled out another picture, and tossed it to the ground. In it was a little girl, she looked about four years old, her hair was a dark red mop, she was filthy, but her eyes it what made Alan understand, the blue-green eyes… not only that, but the shape of her eyes, the color of her hair her face. She looked just like her mother.

"There now you get it. Now Alan, I could tell that guy behind you to break your neck, and I wouldn't lose any sleep over it, and you can bet that no one here would say a word. Now I'm only gonna say this once, if I ever catch you sneakin' 'round where you don't belong you and your girl are dead." And with that he dumped the last of the drink he had in Alan's face, the cut on his forehead now in searing pain. "Take him out and make sure he gets the message." Fontaine told his goons, as they began to drag him off he reached out and gripped the picture of the girl, HIS girl.

When Alan regained consciousness he was jammed in a stall in the men's bathroom, they had dragged him there and beaten him down, then left him there. He stumbled to the sink and started to clean himself up. His nose, forehead, and lower lip had been bleeding.

When he had wiped away all the blood he realized he couldn't see out of his left eye, which has black, and horribly swelled, brown, purple and black bruising littered his face and threw examination his arms and stomach as well. After cleaning himself up and taking care of the cut on his forehead, he fell back into the stall and puked.

When he had cleaned up the blood on the floor, he pulled out from his pocket the picture of his daughter.

God he had no idea, he had always thought that the baby had died with Lynn. And now...

What could he do? If he went after Fontaine... his girl would be... if he let it go now she would live, but she would be a monster...

Fontaine thinks it's over; he thinks I'll just roll over and let him get his way? He's got another thing coming. If I can't get close to him in person, I'll find another way.

After his failed attempt to kill Fontaine he realized he would need firepower. It was no real secret that Fontaine and Ryan were at odds, the first thing he did was get close to Ryan's little army. Sullivan and his little security force. He got in by giving any information he had on Fontaine, it was long before he was able to 'join in' early in 1957 they were getting ready to 'apprehend' Fontaine. Alan could hardly breathe as he and the others headed for Fontaine.

But things didn't go as planned. When they reached Fontaine, they were met by heavy fire. Two men by Alan fell, he shot wildly, in the chaos of screams and gun fire Alan saw him: Fontaine. The bastard stood there, shooting a machine gun at Sullivan's men. Alan worked his way over to him, keeping under cover. Then he walked out.

And he shot

...

Fontaine was dead. Alan was alone, he felt at peace for the first time in ages. But he also felt ... empty. But Raptures problems weren't over, barely a few months after Fontaine was killed some rebel called Atlas showed up. Rapture was already one step into the grave. What would he do now? With the civil war is tearing the city apart. With Atlas vs Andrew Ryan turning the city inside out. In truth Alan didn't care anymore... not about them anyway...

Alan leaned back and sighed. He heard the footsteps coming up behind him, he thought nothing of them. He hadn't had a chance to defend himself when they attacked him, and dragged him away.

Someone had decided that Alan was a loose end. And decided he needed to be taken care of. However Alan didn't die, he was taken to a lab, he struggled and cursed them, he screamed and pleaded. But in the end it was all no use.

He was transformed into something he could no longer comprehend.

His mind seemed to be in an eternal fog, the only thing clear was to take orders.

He was big now, everything about him felt big, he wasn't sure how long he'd been in this state but he felt so... tired.

He spent a long time in a sort of fog; he'd forgotten who he was.

He was waiting in a lab, waiting for orders, for commands.

"Papa Suchong?"

"Get- get away!"

For a moment he could see her, he focused on her, her hair a mop of dark red, her eyes...

"Papa Suchong! Papa Suchong, Papa Suchong!"

"GET AWAY YOU FILTHY LITTLE SHIT!"

The man Alan vaguely recognized slapped her and she fell back her eyes swelled with tears, and he understood.

In a flash of anger and another emotion he could no longer recognize he charged. And with his right 'hand' he dug into the doctor's flesh, blood sprayed out as he slammed him into the desk. Pulling back, his 'hand' was stuck and with a bit of persuasion pulled it off.

The little girl, who had been crying looked up at him with uncertainty, he reached out his hand and cradled her face in his hand rubbed her head, for the first time. She smiled and took his hand. And as they walked off into the uncertain world that was Rapture he could hear something from the back of his mind.

As long as I have my girl...