Well, that was quick. It's nice to write a fic that's only one fandom, instead of the crossovers I seem to be so fond of. Once again, please give credit to Scorpiofreak for proofreading this and helping me to make it better beyond just grammar. I hope I'm doing Good!Jack's character justice in writing this.

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Chapter 1: The Songbird

Jack took a breath as he exited the bulkhead from Olympus Heights to Apollo Square, and promptly gagged, just as he had the first time he visited. The stench of burning garbage, human refuge, rotting corpses, and stagnant sea water mixed together to create a smell that could curdle vinegar.

Jack found himself missing the helmet for his Big Daddy suit. He had abandoned the horrendous thing in the elevator to the highest floor of Point Prometheus. It had been horribly hot and the viewport had limited his vision in the proving grounds, but at least it would have provided some protection from the stench.

Shaking his head to clear it, he hefted his shotgun and moved forward. He had endured Apollo Squares' stink before, along with the more lethal facets of the place. At least this time he wouldn't have to worry about his plasmids changing on him every few minutes. The random plasmid thing that had started up with the first dose of Lot 192 had actually been interesting, forcing him to think up ways to use the one plasmid available to him at the given moment, breaking him of that habit of exclusively using just one or two powers. Still, plasmid versatility was one of the best things in his arsenal.

Jack passed by the corpses of the splicers and Big Daddy from his first trip. He didn't encounter any splicers until he came to the actual Square. Once one of Rapture's transportation hubs, the area's proximity to the slums of Artemis Suites had turned the industrious tram stop into a dump. Just like last time, a couple of Nitro splicers were examining the bodies that hung from the gallows in the middle of the square. The "Gene Traitors", evidently the victims of a splicer-witch hunt, dangled on their ropes while the Nitros tried to dislodge them in order to pilfer whatever their pockets had to offer.

Jack opted to hypnotize a passing Rosie Big Daddy, bringing the hulking workman to his side. A few connecting shots with the pistol at the Nitros was all it took to send the Big Daddy at them. Watching it alternate between shooting them with rivets and bashing them with its gun, Jack made a note to thank Tenenbaum for giving him the plasmid. It was a great help, with the exception of that one time when his Static Discharge tonic went off right when he was standing too close to the hypnotized Daddy.

He hadn't been prepared for the plasmid to instantly wear off and for the Rosie to attack him. It had just taken a few rivets to the back and one to his head to send him to the nearest Vita-Chamber. He made sure to never have Hypnotize Big Daddy and Static Discharge active at the same time after that.

Once the splicers were taken care of, Jack and his new companion headed to Artemis Suites, the actual living space for Rapture's working class. The stench was the worst there and at Hestia Chambers. A "Baby Jane" splicer was making fun of the corpse with the camera, likely a partner of the paparazzi man who had enabled him to gain access to Fontaine's penthouse. A flick of the wrist with a polyps of Security Bullseye brought a swarm of Security Bots to take her out, courtesy of the Security Camera in the middle of the Suites.

The Big Daddy's protective instincts for him came to an end moments after the Baby Jane went down, rumbling and turning to walk away. Thinking of the money and inventing items that he could get off the body, Jack flicked his wrist again, siccing the security system on his former ally.

While the camera's alarms blared anew and the Rosie roared at the attacking bots, Jack leaned back against a support pillar and watched the fight. It wasn't that he enjoyed watching the Big Daddies die, quite the opposite. They were easily the most benign of Rapture's inhabitants, only killing to defend themselves and the Little Sisters. In fact, they were the most like himself, altered and conditioned to be tools instead of men. Killing them for inventing parts, money, and research photos was necessary for his survival, plus it was basically mercy killing. They had to be beyond miserable in their current states, and there wasn't a Big Daddy cure plasmid.

A few Security Bullseye polyps later (one of the best strategies for taking them down) the Rosie came crashing down with a defiant growl and high-pitched wheeze. Ducking to avoid the spinning rotor of one of the bots, Jack moved forward to pilfer the spoils of a hollow victory. Pocketing the money and slipping the parts into his bag, Jack then knelt by the Rosie and patted its head.

Tenenbaum hated the Big Daddies, calling them "brutes" and "golems". He would too, if it wasn't for the Little Sister who would usually be crying over this scene. Their presence had never failed to make guilt surge through his heart, like he had murdered their father or something. Mindless slaves they were, they still protected the girls, and that separated them from the splicers.

Sending up a quick prayer for the soul of the unfortunate creature to anyone who was listening, Jack stood and turned up the stairs to the second floor.

After he had crept up the stairs, he took up position by the Little Sister vent across from Suchong's Free Clinic and scanned for splicers. After a few minutes of hard looking and listening, satisfied that there were no splicers in the immediate area, Jack took out his wrench and gave the vent two hard whacks. A moment later, the blonde girl poked her head out from the vent.

"Hello, Sir Bubbles!" she greeted him, holding out her arms. Jack gently took her underneath the arms and lifted her out of the vent and onto the ground. As she began to cautiously walk to the clinic door, clutching the pieces of a doll to her chest, Jack trailed behind her, hoping that this wouldn't turn into another escort through the proving grounds. Frankly, the fight against Fontaine with his overly-strong powers, security bots, and splicer allies had actually been easier than protecting the little normal girl from wave upon wave of splicers. Honestly, he should have gotten an ADAM reward from her at the end, even if the only thing he would have gotten from that last Gatherer's Garden were Health and EVE Upgrades.

At the door to the Clinic, the girl peered through as it automatically slid to the side. Jack joined her. The hacked camera and turret in the main room and the one outside would have kept splicers out, but it wasn't bad to be too careful. As unlikely as it was for an uncoordinated, idiotic splicer to disable and hack the security measures to be in their favor, especially with the outside one remaining unhacked, it wasn't impossible.

When neither of them saw anything that could be a threat, they entered. A couple of new bodies had added themselves to the mix. Jack picked up the little girl and shielded her eyes until they were past them. Just because she had been draining and drinking blood from corpses for about a year, that didn't mean she needed to see a dead body. She pouted at him when she was set down before moving to the other wall.

"She's behind here!" she announced, pointing to a section just beside the entrance to the hall to Suchong's office. He hadn't really noticed it last, just a section of the wall that had been repaired with boards, some pipes poking through them vertically.

Jack examined the boards, frowning at their strength and the quality of their placement within the wall. Whoever had done this had taken great care to make sure their work was top-notch. Down here, there were only extremes to the quality of products created and services rendered: They were either shoddy, as no one could really go anywhere else for better, or they were incredibly well-made or well-done, following Ryan's ideology of excellence-only to the T.

Seeing that it would take a Big Daddy to rip out the boards and its drill to get through the surrounding repairs, Jack opted to use explosives. Something he had learned early on in Rapture was that proximity mines were best used when they were grouped closely together. The first time he had tried to use them, he had set them up in a line, intending for the Big Daddy he was targeting to run through them. Unfortunately, he had spaced them too close together. When the first one had gone off, the rest had exploded one after the other in a chain reaction, ending with the next to last one exploding right in front of him. He had been blown backwards like a rag doll, only for the very last one to go off as he was flying over it, throwing him straight up. Amazingly, he had still been alive and in agony when he hit the ground, only for the Rosie to rush forward and shoot him repeatedly. That had been a dumb way to die.

Since then, Jack would group several proximity mines together so they would create a far larger blast when they went off. One of his favorite tactics was to put mines on an object, preferably an oil barrel or an oxygen tank, and then telekinetically throw it. Telekinesis was easily one of his favorite plasmids.

Setting up three of his mines on the boards, Jack picked up the little girl and hurriedly put her in the restrooms after thoroughly checking them. Back when the girls had been Little Sisters, he hadn't needed to worry about hurting them while fighting their Big Daddy. Any damage they sustained during the fight was almost instantly healed, something he had been a little jealous about. Now, they were little girls, and susceptible to injury and death, especially in Rapture's ultra-violent environment.

Once the girl was a safe distance away, Jack loaded a frag grenade into his launcher. From what he knew about explosives, and it wasn't much, the frag grenades were misnamed. Instead of throwing out a cloud of shrapnel, they simply exploded. "Concussion Grenades" would have been a better term, but it didn't quite roll off the tongue. Concuss grenades? Nah. Frag grenades it was.

Putting himself diagonally across the room from the mines, Jack aimed down the launcher's sights as best as he could. Whoever had made this thing hadn't made aiming it very comfortable. He was able to approximate where the grenades would land pretty well, so he hadn't really worried much about accuracy with the launcher. This time was pretty different though. Usually when he wanted to set off an explosive at a distance, he simply shot it with one of his guns. He would have done this now, but considering how well the repairs had been put into the wall, another explosive to the mix wouldn't hurt.

Taking a breath and letting out it like he would with the crossbow, Jack squeezed the trigger and let the grenade fly. He ducked behind the dividing wall in the middle of the clinic just before the blast rang out. A smaller explosion followed, adding to the smoke and dust that billowed through the air. The cause was revealed by the remains of the turret landing right next to his cover, sparking and smoking. His ears ringing from the explosion in the small space and his coughs sounding like his larynx were made of corroded metal, Jack peeked out and smiled when he saw that a hole large enough for him to squeeze through was now available. It was smoking around the edges and the pipes were now ragged bits of metal to cut himself on, but it was passable.

"Mr. Bubbles?" He looked over to the restroom door to find the girl peeking out at him. "Can we go to the pretty lady now?"

He nodded and she fully emerged from the restroom, walking over to the new makeshift door. Jack followed her, pausing by the turret. The turrets had been well-made, but when they finally did go down, they were really broken. He was able to scrounge some bullets from the remains before following her.

He made sure that she didn't hurt herself going through the hole in the wall and took care himself, though it didn't stop him from ripping a hole in his suit on one of the jagged pipes. Inside there was a short passage with another hole in the opposite wall, this one much larger and cleaner around the edges. The first had likely been like this one before it had been repaired. Once the blond girl had stepped through, she began running and disappeared into the dark.

Uttering a loud moan that should have been a loud "stop", Jack began to hurry after her, cursing in his head. Why did kids have to do stupid stuff like this, running off in the middle of a dangerous city? Had he been like this when he was a…oh. Never mind.

Squeezing through the second opening (his Big Daddy suit was bulky), Jack began to hurry after her. He stopped short when his eyes, quick to adjust to Rapture's darkened halls, caught sight of something. Right in front of him was a Gatherer's Garden machine.

Despite their wares, the plasmid and tonic vending machines always creeped him out a little. The two girls by their sides were parodies of the real Little Sisters, their oversized heads and contented expressions mocking the fact that the Little Sisters were ADAM slaves. For all his talk about freedom, his father had no qualms about turning others into slaves; the Big Daddies, the Little Sisters, and the splicers themselves.

Shaking away thoughts of his massive hypocrite of a father, Jack turned down the hall and began to hurry after the girl. More Gatherer's Garden machines lined the hall, broken and looted, their wares long gone. This place had apparently been a dump for the machines. As if one of them hadn't been unnerving enough. At least they weren't spewing out their annoying little jingles.

"My daddy's SMARTER than Einstein, STRONGER than Hercules and lights a fire with a SNAP of his fingers. Are you as good as my daddy, Mister? Not if you don't visit the Gatherer's Garden, you aren't! Smart daddies get spliced, at the Gardens!"

He snorted as the advertisement played though his head. Thank God the Big Daddies didn't splice. That would be the stuff of nightmares, and so many more trips to the Vita-Chambers.

He spotted the girl at the end of the ruined hall, kneeling besides a body propped against a large window looking out over Rapture. From outside, the city didn't look so bad, beautiful even. If only it wasn't for the sad pair at the window to dispel the awful truth. He hurried towards the girl and the corpse.

As he approached, his vision grew hazy and gray, a stray memory from his ADAM appearing as ghosts to him and him alone.

Five men stood around in a half-circle, waiting for something. Two of them stood off to the sides, the remaining three facing the hall. One of the three was restraining a struggling little girl, a Little Sister.

"Hey sister, over here," the man in the middle said. Jack started as he realized that he knew that voice. Atlas, Fontaine's Irish alter ego.

A ghostly young woman walked through Jack, making him jump. That was a first. Apparently, the ADAM that gave him this memory was from one of the five men present.

The ghostly Little Sister tried to run forward, the man restraining her going to one knee to better hold her still. She continued to struggle against him.

"Do you have it?" Atlas asked as the young woman came up in front of him.

"I have it," she affirmed, a note of finality in her voice.

"Give it over, then," Atlas ordered. "I'm keen to get this brat off me hands."

The young woman removed a slip of paper from a pocket, handling it like she'd rather not be touching it.

"You know what?" She began, "Andrew Ryan said I was a rube. But he was wrong." She held out the paper to Atlas. He started for it, staring like it was the keys to Heaven. "I'm not the rube, Atlas" she continued, flipping the paper up and out of his reach. "You are."

The other two men closed in, like they were expecting her to run or something. One of them, the one on the left, seemed to be wearing an odd mask. She glanced at them both and there was a scoff in her voice as she looked back to Atlas.

"Now, we both know what happens next." She held the paper out again, allowing Atlas to take it this time. "Just get it over with," she finished. Atlas turned back to his men and held his hand out to the remaining one.

"Well, love…" the man handed Atlas something. A wrench. "If you insist." With a grunt, Atlas brought the wrench up and struck the woman on the head, hard. Jack gasped loudly as he watched the ghost crumble to the ground, dead or not, he couldn't tell.

The Little Sister decided to bite the man holding her back. She ran off into the shadows as he howled, holding his hand. The others began to run after her.

"Don't bother with the brat," Atlas ordered. He was eyeing the paper greedily. "We'll catch up with that little one sooner or later."

Atlas turned to the window, unfolding the paper while smiling the whole time. As his eyes swept over it, they turned from satisfaction and joy to confusion and then panic. On the ground, the girl groaned and tried to get up.

"What is this?" Atlas rushed over to her and shoved the paper in her face. "It's just a buncha gibberish!"

The girl went down again, the blow winning out over consciousness.

Atlas got angry. "What does this say, you little whore?", he roared, his accent slipping at last. "Hey…hey, hey, hey!"

The woman looked up again, her cranial injuries obvious in her movements.

"What does this say?" Fontaine insisted.

It took a moment for the woman to focus on it. When she spoke, she was breathless from pain. "It says…" Her eyes finally seemed to focus. "…'Would you kindly'."

Jack's breath left him, the familiar words bringing a chill up and down his spine as his hair all stood on end. This was where his part in this sad story had truly begun.

Fontaine brought the paper back up and smiled down at it before standing back up and turning towards his men.

"We've got the activation phrase," Atlas' accent slipped back into place better than a genetic key into its slot. "Now all we've got to do is get that genetic freak of nature on an airplane, and Rapture's ours."

He glanced back down at the woman, and with another loud grunt, brought the wrench back down on her head. She collapsed and laid still.

Colors came back into Jack's vision as the ADAM memory ended. He just stood there, processing the information, before walking over to the little girl and the corpse by the window. He kneeled down before and studied the young woman responsible for his return to Rapture.

Despite the decomposition that time had wrought upon her, he could still recognize the young woman from his dream and the poster. Unlike most of the bodies he had come across in Rapture, there were no ADAM growths or tumors on her, not that he could see anyway. The killing wound was apparent by the trail of dried blood down her forehead. She must have had enough strength to pull herself over to the window and sit against it after Atlas left before she died.

This…this was all her fault. The deaths of all those people on the airplane, his fear when he arrived in Rapture, the physical pain of being shot, slashed, and attacked, the emotional pain of Atlas' betrayal and manipulations, and the mental pain of learning his true origins, she was responsible for all of it. If she had just left well enough alone, he would still be topside, blissfully unaware that his home and parents were all a well-constructed lie.

Glaring down at her, Jack got to his feet and turned around. He had seen the woman responsible for the blond girl's escape from Atlas, now he was going to wait at the exit for the girl to get tired and want to go back to Tenenbaum's. Tomorrow, he was going to get to work on escaping from this damned city, leave it and every corpse and splicer in the place to rot on the bottom of the sea.

Just before he was about to enter the hall, he noticed something on the floor to his right, leaning up against the wall. It was an audio diary. Summoning it with telekinesis, he grabbed the thing out of midair. Judging from the thick layer of dust, it had been sitting there for a very long time. The diary had originally belonged to "Lonnie Lobley", an older man with white sideburns and moustache and two of the coldest eyes Jack had ever seen. The diary was titled "Don't Piss Atlas Off". Jack clicked it on with a clacking whirr as he headed to the exit.

Atlas' voice came through: "Two weeks."

A moan followed. "Uhn…what?" It was the woman. Elizabeth, he remembered. Her name was apparently Elizabeth.

"You've been down two weeks, love." Atlas replied as Elizabeth coughed. "Feckin' doctors. Better off hirin' a million monkeys." Jack couldn't help but snort at that. It came out as the strangest sound he had ever heard from a Big Daddy.

Elizabeth finished coughing. "Our deal was to break you out of prison. What, did you expect me to win your war for you too?"

"I'd tend to your own knitting if I were you," Atlas replied. "Now darlin', being that you were Suchong's lab assistant and all, why not tell me where me Ace in the Hole went to?"

Jack stopped short at that. Elizabeth had been Suchong's lab assistant? Ace in the Hole, that had been what Fontaine had called him in Ryan's Office. Had she been involved directly in his creation? And she had apparently let Atlas out of some prison? Man, she really got around down here.

"I don't know what the Ace-" Elizabeth started.

"As I said," Atlas interrupted, "I'm no doctor. But that doesn't mean I don't find the field fascinatin'. I keep up on all the medical journals and the like."

"I hope you have someone to help you with all the big words," Elizabeth retorted. Jack let out a Big Daddy's version of a guffaw. It sounded like a whale gagging on an anchor. Elizabeth may have been Suchong's lab assistant, but she had a sassy streak.

"You know what part a' the brain free will comes from, stubbornness?" Atlas continued. "The pre-frontal lobe. Now, I think it's fair to say, you're a bit of a stubborn one, are ya not? Man named Steinman taught me this. He's a bit of a lunatic, but a fine surgeon."

Jack rolled his eyes. Only in Rapture would it be ok for a lunatic to also be a surgeon. Now that he thought of it, Steinman was likely responsible for Atlas' facial differences from Fontaine's.

"He calls this little trick a 'transorbital lobotomy'." Elizabeth's breathing picked up at that, like she was suddenly scared. What was a lobotomy? "Take a hold of her lads."

"You're wasting your time," Elizabeth protested.

"Now, if you can't remain still, I can't be held responsible for what comes next," Atlas said, the mockery in his voice twisting Jack's guts. Elizabeth sounded like she was tied down and attempting to escape. Her fear was audible in her rapid and panicked breathing.

"Here we go," Atlas said. Grunts of pain had come into Elizabeth's breathing. "You feel that? I'm moving…the pick…across your eyeball-ah!"

…What the hell?

"Still now, and restin' it on your skull," he finished. Holy freaking crap.

"There's about a bit over a quarter of an inch of bone between the pick and your pre-frontal lobe." Damn it, the man sounded like he was teaching an anatomy class. Hearing this madman talking in Atlas' voice was making chills going up and down his spine. How had he once considered the possessor of that voice to be a friend and ally?

"And that's where this little fellow comes in."

"I don't-" Elizabeth began to protest. She was interrupted by a resounding ping and her cry of pain.

Atlas shushed her like he was comforting a child. "It was just a wee tap, but I don't expect it'll take more than a few of those to reach the meat. And then we might find you a bit less the mule. Where's me Ace in the Hole?"

"I don't know. All right?"

Atlas didn't even wait for her to get done. "You know what else rests in the lobe? Creativity."

"Wha-" Ping! "Ah!"

"Individuality."

Ping!

"Ah!"

"Personality"

Ping!

"Ah!"

"In short, everything that makes you, you," Atlas finished.

Jack had jumped at each ping, imagining a sharp pain behind his eyeball boring into his skull and towards his brain. He had known that Fontaine/Atlas was a manipulative, heartless son of a bitch, but this was a whole new level of evil. Elizabeth's pain was obvious, her breathes labored and fast.

"Ah, I'm just about through now," Atlas crooned. "Last chance, pet. Where…is…the Ace…in the Hole?"

Elizabeth did the one thing that Jack wasn't expecting: she laughed.

"Or what?" Jack could almost feel Atlas' surprise through the audio diary's speaker.

"What? You'll put a hole in my head and take away my memories? You want me to forget all this? You want to make me not care anymore?" A sardonic, mocking edge had come into Elizabeth's voice, something that somehow chilled him more than Atlas' sadistic mockery.

"Go ahead. You'll be doing me a favor."

What…what on Earth had she been through to make her sound like that, to make her wish she could just forget or not care about anything? Didn't she have something worth fighting for, living for?

Then again, did he?

With a roar of frustration, Atlas…did something, it sounded painful, like bones were being broken. "Bring in the monster!" There was a sound of him hitting something, likely Elizabeth.

"You're a regular hero, ain't cha?" There was the accent slipping away again, Fontaine's disguise disappearing with his temper. "Can't risk rippin' the only part a' you that's worth a damn. Well, there more than one way to fry an egg."

Atlas' Irish lilt came back as a familiar sound came in. The double-toned crying of a Little Sister.

"Now, little one…are you familiar with the term 'trans-orbital lobotomy'?"

Jack found himself clenching the audio diary. If that son of a bitch had tortured a little girl, he was going to burn his corpse. Even if a Little Sister could heal the damage instantly, they could still feel pain.

"No…please, let her go," Elizabeth pleaded.

"It's a simple matter," Atlas ignored her pleas. "All I need do is insert this pick into your eye…."

"No…please….Please." Elizabeth was frantic now, begging for the girl. "I don't know anything. I-"

"…and give it a few taps with me hammer." Atlas was not messing around, Jack could hear it in his voice.

"I don't know anything!" Elizabeth screamed.

"Better to show by example." Atlas was going to torture a little girl to get his Ace in the Hole.

Elizabeth was full-out screaming and begging now. "Oh, please! Please don't. I—I don't know anything. I—I don't know! Please!"

With a loud crack, the audio diary broke in Jack's hands, he had been clutching it so hard. The pieces of the diary and its tape slipping through his fingers, Jack collapsed to his knees and just shook.

He jumped when a small hand gently patted him on the back. He looked up at the blond girl, who was smiling at him even as tears slid down her face.

"She saved me," she said quietly. "The pretty lady kept them from hurting me."

Jack felt his anger for Elizabeth melt away, and he hugged the little girl, tears pouring from his own eyes. Whatever Elizabeth was, whatever she had done or seen to make her the woman who told Fontaine to go ahead and stick a pick into her brain, she had enough humanity to care for and save an innocent little girl. And for that, she had been bludgeoned to death.

Since he had arrived in Rapture, all he had seen was a ruthless selfishness, with little to no concern for the innocent, other than to protect them for how much they were worth to one's own interests.

With a start, he realized that the splicers had once been people. People, yes, with all their flaws and crookedness, but people all the same, most of which had come down to Rapture just because they had wanted a better life. Thanks to the evil devices of two men, they had been brought down to the same level as a rabid animal, to kill or be killed. And he had forgotten that simple fact, forgotten that they had once been people, and had begun to see them as animals to be put down. They were victims, all of them, victims that had been caught in the uncaring jaws of this horrible metropolis. And he had forgotten that, and had nearly lost himself in slaughtering them, in making little games for taking them down and killing them.

After letting out his sorrow for Elizabeth, for the little girl in his arms, and for the city, Jack leaned back and smiled at the girl, his nose desperately needing a tissue. He desperately wished that he could thank her without sounding like a freak.

"It's alright, Mr. Bubbles," she said brightly. "The bad man who hurt the pretty lady is dead now, and he won't hurt anyone ever again."

Jack nodded fervently. Glancing down, he noticed that the girl's doll was still in one piece. After he had saved her, he had used a touch of his Incinerate plasmid to reattach the doll's head to its body. No, he hadn't completely lost himself to the slaughter. If he had, if all he wanted was more ADAM to get more plasmids and tonics to kill splicers more easily, he would have straight up harvested the slug from the Sisters. His father was right in one regard: He had made his choices, but his choices had made him.

And he was a savior, first and foremost.

Standing to his feet, hand in hand with the little girl, he walked back to Elizabeth's body. Reaching down, he very gently closed her eyes. If she wasn't in the advanced stages of decomposition, she would have appeared to be merely sleeping.

"Thank you, Elizabeth, for helping me to come here and save them," he thought. With the little girl still at his side, he turned back to the entrance and began walking away.

It was between the two walls that he found another audio diary, which he had missed the first time going through the passage. It was by Deacon Krueger and titled "What a Stink". Jack flicked it on.

"God, what a stench! I'm in here, repairin' this damn hole in the wall, and they haven't even moved Suchong's corpse from his office! Yes, he's been drilled to his desk, good riddance, but is it really that hard to rid of his body? Just send in Steinman or someone to cut him up and take him out. If it's this bad out here, I can only imagine what it'll be like when I fix up the false wall in his office, hide away that big, secret lab he's got in the back. I peeked back there earlier and there's a lot of weird stuff, like this big glass tube called a Vita-Chamber or somethin'. Ryan's payin' me to keep my trap shut and my hands to myself though. Hopefully, the smell of money will get Suchong's stink out."

As the audio diary whirred down, Jack's mind was whirring to life as did hope in his chest.

If Suchong had a secret lab behind his clinic (Mad scientist much?) with a Vita-Chamber, it was likely that it was the prototype, the first. It would therefore be easier to modify, to gain access to whatever part stored the information for the genetic frequencies of the individuals it would bring back to life.

Jack looked back towards Elizabeth's corpse and smiled. He was great at taking life; it was time to see if he had just as much talent at saving it.

In case you're wondering, the stories and tactics that Jack uses in this story are based off my own playthroughs in BioShock. The one with the proximity mines is exaggerated for the story. I'm pretty sure that Jack can't fly period, even if a big explosion caught him on his last leg. I'd definitely be willing to hear your stories and/or tactics from BioShock, have Jack really show off his tactical genius, along with his bloopers.

I hope you all enjoyed this. Have a good one, and happy writing!