Prologue: Stranger

Greg Parker always hated putting on the diving suit.

"Don't worry about it, hoss," Clark laughed at him as he and Davis buckled and zipped Parker into his suit. "Just a quick fix and you're outta that thing."

"The sooner the better," Parker returned.

"Alright, alright," Davis announced in his no nonsense way. "If we don't get this leak patched soon, O'Mally will have us strung up right beside those smugglers."

Clark waved him off complacently. "Please," he scoffed. "O'Mally's all bark and no bite. She told me once if I didn't quit drinking on the job, she'd have my arse at Adonis Resorts, serving lemonade to the snooty trophy wives."

"And?" Greg asked, fitting his helmet on. "Did you quit?"

Clark placed a hand into his jacket and whipped out a flask ceremoniously. "What do you think?"

Greg saw Davis shake is head disapprovingly but chuckle. "Yea, well, Kate don't got a mark on your back like she does mine. So help my skin out a little and let's get this leak fixed." He said it in a casual tone, but Parker could see the flicker in his eyes.

"Fine. Okay, Greg, the leak is on the far corner of McDonagh's Tavern. Try to steer clear of the windows. You know the public hates the idea of Eden leaking." Clark fastened the helmet securely.

"You've got enough air for a good hour, but you know as well as I do oxygen prices are going up. Fix everything up as quickly as possible." Davis passed Greg the welding tool, who grunted a thank you.

"Oh, one more thing," Davis snatched the flask from a guzzling Clark, flicked open Greg's helmet, and gave the diver a swig. Shutting the helmet again, Davis winked and said, "Be careful out there. You need anything, the radio's on and ready in case of any problems."

Greg nodded and Clark snatched the flask back, grumbling. "Get out there, ya bumbling palooka."

Greg hated the diving suit, but loved being out in the ocean, It was so easy to feel trapped in an underwater city. Especially with the escalating problems he read about in the papers. Parker stared out at the kelp and vegetation, glittering against the city lights refracted on the water. The sand encompassed his boots, gathering a cloud behind him. Fish swam with odd complacency beside him. He could name a few. Above, much larger, some even frightening, fish and predators met their city with confused fascination. A whale bellowed above. Somewhere, on the surface, Greg imagined the lighthouse standing tall in the middle of nowhere, a needle in the haystack to the rest of the surface and untouched. Alone and beautiful.

Even while the problems of the Ryan and Fontaine and the smugglers seemed so large, they didn't seem to expand into the sea. Out here, Parker saw that their great city was little more than a blip in the Atlantic.

And wasn't that the beauty of it? Their own little hidey hole from the world.

Greg shook himself and began to stomp through the sandy ocean bottom, hearing nothing but his breathing and muffled stomps.

"Halfway there," Parker announced quietly as he trekked through to the Tavern.

"Well, crap, son!" Clark voice came harshly into his ear. "Pick up the pace!"

Greg didn't reply. His eyes suddenly caught something lying on the sand in the distance.

"Hey, what color are those ADAM slugs?"

"Brownish," Davis answered. "Leave 'em alone. The eggheads don't want any disturbances in their habitat for a while."

"Too late for that," Greg mumbled.

"You ever splice, Davis?" he heard Clark ask.

"Nah. My mom gave me my genes. How insulting would I be if I just rewrote them like that?"

Clark gave a hoarse laugh. "Such a good ol' boy. But I see your point. I once met this seedy little beauty in Siren Alley. Told me she spliced on the job. For enhancement, I guess? Anyway, I saw her just a few days ago coming outta Suchong's clinic. She won't be finding work like she was anymore. Sores, deformities—the whole shebang. Jeez, makes you think twice about splicing."

"But you do it, anyway," Davis added.

"Ya gotta love Booze Hound."

Greg smiled and continued on, squinting at the mass. It was looking far too large to be a slug...

"So, Greg," Clark addressed him over the radio. "You ever splice at all? No judgments here, ya know."

"Oh, my..." Greg fought against the current to speed up toward the object. All of the fish that had been so comfortable around him began to scoot away in fear and confusion. He had to get to whatever that thing was. He had to get their now and find out what exactly it was.

"Ah, don't worry about it. Ain't like it's a shame down here, any—"

"We've got a man down out here!"

"What? What are you—"

"Just what I said, Clark! I've got a diver down out here!"

"That's not possible. There shouldn't be anyone but you out there. Who—"

"I don't know! But we've got to get him inside now. I think he's running out of air!"

"Get out of my way, Clark." Davis's voice was calm but firm. "Are you absolutely sure, Parker?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"Okay, calm down. I'm coming out there. See if you can budge him at all."

Davis shut off the radio. "Let's go, Clark! Get me a suit now."

Clark looked bewildered. "How...?"

"Right now, I could care less. Get me that suit now or that man dies."

Outside, Greg tugged on the fallen diver's arm. He knew it was futile. With all the weight he already had on him, it would take at least two of them to move the diver more than a few inches. Removing the man from the suit was impossible at the amount of pressure even if he had the oxygen to give him. His suit didn't allow a way to share air.

Greg Parker had never felt so helpless.

"Davis, stop it!" Clark struggled with the buckles as Davis stomped toward the doors to the outside. Always has to be the man of action, Clark thought irritably.

"Finish up now, Clark." Davis's voice was a demanding one. He placed the helmet on.

"I'm not done. Wait a minute."

"No."

"Davis! I don't know if everything's secure!"

"I don't care. Get that door open now."

"But I'm not even sure you have enough air for the trip!"

"NOW, Clark!"

Clark hurried over and got the door open. "Yer gonna get yourself killed."

Davis replied, "Better than to have a dead man's blood on my hands."

Clark started to argue, but instead stopped and took another gulp from his flask. "Gotta love Booze Hound..." he said to no one in particular.

Parker saw Davis approaching and sighed in relief. Over the two way radio, he said, "The guy has barely oxygen left. He'll suffocate if—"

"No, he won't." Davis crouched by the unconscious man. He pulled one of his tanks off of himself. Greg watched a few precious bubbles of air flutter up to the surface so far from his reach on the ocean floor. Davis fed the oxygen into the diver's suit. "Should last 'til we get him in," he said.

Davis and Parker used all of their strength to lift the diver to the air lock inside Rapture's halls. The first few steps were easy. After that it was near torchure. Greg's sweat ran cold down his suit, his breathing hard and fogging his helmet, his heart pounding. His arms began to quiver halfway there. He wished silently he had spliced with Sports Boost.

"Almost... there, Greg. Just a bit more," Davis sounded even more exhausted than he.

Greg saw a glittering rock to his left and perked up. It was his own little landmark. Just thirty-four more steps and they would be there.

Rapture.

"Where the artists would not fear the censor. Where the scientists would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And through the sweat of your brow, Rapture can be your city as well."

Every time the city loomed over him like this as he returned from a repair, Parker would be overwhelmed with it's significance. Greg saw real freedom in that city. Not the word politicians threw out at him to get him to fight in a war, but the kind that was real and authentic. Greg would always feel a little ashamed for thinking of Rapture as a trap. It truly was the only bit of liberty he felt he had ever seen in his life.

Clark opened the air lock and the ocean shut behind the men. The water drained from the room and the two men collapsed along with the unidentified diver in their arms.

Clark swore as he came over to them. "Get up, you idiots. And get those helmets off now."

Clark helped them out of their helmets, Davis sucking in the air as soon as it was off.

"He...he needs a doctor..." Davis gasped.

"Sure. Just let me get you out of that—"

"No. He needs a doctor now. And a bed. And anything to give him more oxygen into those lungs. Is he even breathing?" Davis was already moving over to the diver.

"Now, hold on, here..."

"We don't have time for this. Go get that doctor now."

"There's already one on the way. You need to sit up. I'll take of him."

Davis reluctantly obeyed, still breathing hard. Greg pulled himself up toward him. "Who is this guy?" Greg asked, gesturing to the diver Clark was now doing CPR on.

"I don't know." Davis said simply.

"You do know what this could mean, don't you?"

"Yes," Davis slumped against the wall. They were silent for a moment.

"He's breathing," Clark announced. "Barely."

"It means this guy would probably be better off dead."