1

Transit Hub, Medical Foyer Bulkhead Airlock

The familiar smell of mold, salt water, and rot hit Jack's nose as soon as he had stepped out of the Bathysphere. Though it was jarring, it didn't take long for him to become used to the sights and smells of Rapture again. It was like returning to a bustling city after a vacation in the country. The empty, creaking Welcome Center had seemed, in a strange way, almost enticing – again, leading Jack to believe that the doctors who conditioned him had somehow made Rapture a part of him.

Moving on from the Welcome Center, Jack had found that the tunnels leading from the building had been repaired. Albeit, it wasn't a perfect restoration. But it was now safe for use again. Jack was aptly able to assume that this was done for him: The Welcome Center should not have been used by anyone, as no one else was allowed down in Rapture, should they even find it. He was curious as to who would make these repairs to the city, though. They must have had a large assemblage of resources to be used at their whim. That was something he would have to figure out later.

But now, because of this person, Jack stood in the airlock that leads from the Transit Hub to the Medical Foyer. The bulkhead door behind him was left open. He had momentarily stopped in a mixture of caution and curiosity.

Beside the closed bulkhead door, leading to the Medical Foyer, there was an open suitcase with an Accu-Vox and a 'gift' sitting inside. Both were neatly nestled in delicate, silky papers that seemed completely out of place with their light, pastel colors. Intrigued, Jack closed the bulkhead behind him, walking over to the suitcase that sat in the corner, and crouched in front of it curiously. The 'gift' was a wrench – a red monkey wrench with a silky blue bow tied around the handle. Whoever it was who put this together for him, he didn't appreciate their sense of humor. Nonetheless, he took the wrench. A weapon is a weapon. As he pulled the bow off, letting it drop to the cold floor, he flicked on the audio diary.

"Hello, Mister Ryan…" The recording was of a woman. It sounded like she was smiling, though it didn't seem like she was smiling out of joy. "I suppose it was obvious that you would return. It's simply a shame that it had to be so soon. But what is it, I wonder, that made you return? An insatiable urge for adrenaline? A song bird who sang you a tune? Or, perhaps, an ignorant metacognitive train of thought brought you here? Whatever the case, I do believe that you should deliberate over the idea of leaving. I can't guarantee you will be able to leave once you move on from this point. As I cannot force you to leave, given your tendency to disobey, you have two options: Return to the surface… or continue forward and risk testing me. It's your choice. Take this as a warning… would you kindly?" There was a click, marking the end of the message.

Jack stared down at the device, feeling the acidic burn of anger flashing through him already. Who was that? How do they know Jack's history? And, more importantly, what the hell are they doing down here that they don't want Jack to stop? He ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair, accepting now why he was here. Tightly gripping the wrench, Jack stood. Stopping that woman was now his priority and he would make sure she fell before he left Rapture again. This wasn't just a choice to him.

This was now an obligation.

Medical Pavilion

Jack walked into the Medical Wing, kicking aside a pair of bloodied scissors that skid across the floor with a light, metallic sound. In the middle of the room, there was a counter that faced a wall, a destroyed sentry bot lying between. On the far side of the room, next to a closed off, caved-in hallway, a Big Daddy lay motionless, the Bouncer's many lights gray and lifeless. It wasn't getting up anytime soon, but it still slightly unnerved Jack. They weren't fun to fight. He knew how to fight them, but he didn't enjoy it.

Because of his rather unfortunate experience prior, Jack had a fairly large, working knowledge of Rapture. Often, he was able to find items that Splicers had hidden for safekeeping. He knew how to properly use Plasmids, how to hack simple machines and safes... He knew enough to get him through Rapture and back. Whether that is something to be proud of or not is a different debate.

While he was there, Jack figured he might as well use what he knew to find anything that might be useful. It's been five years since he was last in Rapture, and he had no idea how much had changed. He didn't like not knowing -it could be just as dangerous as actually knowing. Knowledge, and lack of, could be a dangerous thing… especially in Rapture.

Jack found a corpse sitting slumped in one of the seats in the waiting room. She had scissors rammed into her eyes, her jaw dislocated. Ignoring the sour, musky smell, Jack walked up to her, instinctively rummaging through her pockets and the small coin purse that lay next to her. Underneath the seat, a revolver sat, missing all but one bullet. She was probably going to try and save it for herself. Jack couldn't blame her.

Above Jack, the light from the windows were suddenly blocked out as two massive sheets of metal snapped shut like large eyes. In the main room, the hanging lights flickered and danced until they all simultaneously turned off with a loud kerchunking noise. Jack was plunged into darkness, and the resounding sound of the lights being turned off faded, leaving the Medical Wing in a deafening silence.

Cautiously, keeping his back to the walls, Jack re-entered the main room, tucking the revolver in the waistband of his pants, and tightly gripping the monkey wrench. As far as he could tell, there was nothing but darkness in the room. He shuffled forward a little more, not exactly comfortable with the idea that someone could be standing a foot in front of his face and he wouldn't even see them until it's too late.

A tinkling of something small, rounded, and glass echoed through the room. A slightly glowing hypodermic needle full of blue liquid rolled up to him, bouncing gently off his foot and slowing to a stop. It was an EVE Hypo. Tensing his muscles and preparing to fight, Jack called out: "Who's there?" When he got no answer, he snatched up the Hypo, not looking down in case it was a set up for an ambush.

Though he stared at the bottle reluctantly for a brief moment, as Rapture's popular drug isn't exactly a safe thing to use, Jack injected the contents of the hypo into a vein. He would have liked to get through Rapture again without actually using Plasmids, but he knew that it was impossible. ADAM, EVE… it's what keeps you on your feet. Without it, it would be very hard to survive.

The EVE released, boiling Jack's blood for several painstaking seconds, and then filling him with newfound energy. He clenched and unclenched his hand a few times before he was satisfied. It had been a long time since he'd had to use Plasmids. When he'd returned to the surface, he'd used them for day-to-day things, like lifting a heavy object with Telekinesis, or lighting a cigarette with Incinerate! – It stands to say that he ran out of EVE almost immediately. Not that he cared much. Better to get it all out of one's system early, and quit cold turkey. He made sure to never use it around the girls, though...

The large TV that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room flickered to life. At first, all that was presented was the standard Ryan Industries logo. Then the live, black-and-white feed of a woman replaced it. She had staring eyes and rounded lips. She reminded Jack of someone, but he couldn't figure out whom. As soon as she started speaking, however, Jack did recognize her voice.

"Hello, Mister Ryan." She purred in the same tone that Jack heard on the Accu-Vox that was left for him. She lifted her chin, raising an eyebrow fluidly. "You've already helped yourself to Rapture tradition, I see. Did you long for it that much?"

Jack tilted his head to the side, staring up at the screen. After briefly glancing down at his hand, which crackled with bright blue electricity, he let out a dry laugh, as if what she said was funny. Electrobolt was the last Plasmid he'd used before running out of EVE on the surface. His car had needed a quick jump, and nobody was looking. With a shrug, tossing the empty needle to the ground, Jack looked up at the woman. She was still smiling. It almost seemed like she enjoyed watching Jack think.

The black and white image broke for a moment, distorting the video, and then returned to normal. It still flicked about in the screen eerily. "Why are you here, Mister Ryan?" She asked baldly. She was smiling, but it was cold; a smile put on for looks. "Not for sightseeing, I assume?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Jack called out gruffly. She didn't really strike him as the 'Mustache Twirling Villain' that Andrew Ryan and Frank Fontaine came off as. In fact, she almost seemed a little harmless. "You another politician gone wrong?"

"Politician? Why, of course not. I hate politics… Never did bother with them. A trifle, droll subject. Now, the sciences, on the other hand…" She trailed off and paused, as if thinking about her next words. "I have remained in this city to do something that many have tried to do before - I am changing Rapture for the better. Some people, like Andrew Ryan, tried to change it to make it a sabbatical… and failed. Rapture is a society. It must be molded, cultivated, and made diverse. That's what I plan to do to it, with the only intention of making it every bit of what Andrew Ryan wanted – a place better than the surface. A true rapture. But you? Well, last I checked, you were just some half portion. A petri dish experiment that someone forgot to dispose of."

"Sounds like all you're doing is making a mistake, lady. You can't change a place that doesn't want to be changed."

"On the contrary: You can feel it in the air, can't you? The sense of awareness that blossoms every day? Rapture is being resurrected, Mister Ryan. It's old, dusty heart is starting to get used to beating again. Slowly, tunnel by tunnel, building by building, it is being rejuvinated. Why, you got here through a series of tunnels that were recently reconstructed. And the citizens are already regaining control of the shreds that they call their minds. It's only a matter of time until they are fully cognitive and active members of society again... It's all in the product, you see."

"You're producing more Plasmids?"

"Not just 'Plasmids.' Believe me, if it were that easy, Rapture would already be up and on its feet. No… They're Plasmids that squander the effects of addiction and drug-use by giving a longer lasting effect every time it's used, eliminating the need for more. The effects wane off slowly, so the user is less likely to be in a frenzied state when they need their 'fix.' All this, and more, is manufactured by Sapphire Productions – I'm still working on the name... But the product is what matters. It's all very affordable, in the interest of the economy's current state and the average amount of money each citizen may have. Besides, I'm not worried about being paid."

Jack flexed his hand as a wave of blue electricity buzzed through it, lighting up his veins. "Didn't you learn anything from Andrew Ryan, or even Frank Fontaine? This city was meant to fall. There's nothing left to save. It's where it belongs – rock bottom. Thousands of people will die if you try to reconstruct the city. It's the exact same mistake, just with some Dumb Dora in Andrew Ryan's place."

"Dumb Dora…" She sputtered angrily, her smooth features suddenly furious. Apparently, insulting her intelligence was the way to go. "Have you any idea of who you're dealing with, you fool?"

"Do you?"

"An assiduous idiot. Rapture was once truly a paradise that lived up to its name. I want to return that former beauty and grace to this arid city; I only wish to let it rise out of the diluted ashes. If you want to come back to my city and romp around with deleterious behavior, then you're no better than that yuck, Fontaine. That's what's going to get you killed, down here, Mister Ryan – whether it is by my hands… or a Splicer's." With that, the screen delved into darkness the same time as the Pavilion's lights snapped back on, the metal plates slowly parting.

Jack blinked against the bright lights, feeling his heart start to pound quickly with the rush of an upcoming fight. Outside the Medical Pavilion, the calls of angry Splicers could be heard as they pounded on doors and came running down the hall. Jack tightened his fist around the wrench in his right hand, flexing the other hand to let the electricity flow quicker. He hasn't been here a day and already someone is trying to get him killed.

That's when you know you're doing something right.

A large woman in overalls wielding a pistol thundered down the hallway in an attempt to get to Jack first. Her beady, bloodshot eyes were trained on Jack as she let out a gurgling screech and charged at him gun-first. Waiting until she was close enough to see the spittle running down her chin, Jack ducked to the side, whacking the wrench across the hand that held her gun, forcing her to drop it. She stumbled and turned to face him, both furious and shocked. After the sound of a gun going off, she was on the floor, a bullet-sized hole between her eyes. Jack tossed his now-empty revolver to the floor and picked up the woman's pistol, checking the amount of ammunition. Satisfied that it was full up, he hurriedly checked her pockets for more useful things.

When he stood, he found himself facing a Splicer that practically offed his head the moment he turned.

The Spider Splicer lashed out with its razor-sharp hook at Jack again, this time missing completely when Jack jumped back, alarmed. Jack pressed a palm against its chest and let out a shock of energy, sending it flailing across the room. Barely having time to aim, Jack shot the revolver at it and two other Splicers who came rushing into the room. He almost slipped in the pooling blood of the large woman who first attacked him, practically doing the splits.

While Jack struggled with his footing, a fifth Splicer, a younger man in a tattered three piece suit, managed to get the jump on him, knocking Jack to the floor. Both he and the Splicer landed in the pooling blood, and Jack could feel its sickly warmth as it seeped into the back of his shirt. The wrench and revolver slid across the floor, leaving Jack weaponless under the surprising weight of the young man, who stared down at him with crazed – yet faintly desperate – eyes.

The Splicer wrapped his fingers around Jack's neck, his dirty thumb nails digging into the skin of Jack's neck on either side of the windpipe. "You fuckin' wolf!" The man spat – quite literally, as flecks of spittle landed on Jack's face. "You fuckin' sleaze! I'll die before you lie to me again. Again!" He gripped Jack's neck tighter and yanked it to and fro, smacking the back of Jack's head off the tiled floor over and over. Shocked, dazed, and unable to breathe, Jack tried reaching for the wrench, as the revolver was too far away, but was missing it by a hair's breadth. Too panicked to remember he had his Plasmids, he tried worming out of the Splicer's grasp fruitlessly.

He was panicking. Panicking was dangerous. It's what gets a person killed. But he was thrown into a fight before he was prepared. It was hard not to panic. Especially since he couldn't breathe.

"Fuck you!" The Splicer howled, throwing Jack's head against the bloody floor for emphasis. "Fuck you!"

Thinking quickly, Jack reached for the man's face, digging his nails into the Splicer's scalp and pulling him forward. With as much strength as he could, Jack pushed his thumbs into the man's eyes.

Not the most settling way to get an attacker off, but it would do the trick just fine.

Veins snapped and popped as Jack forced his thumbs into the soft tissue of the Splicer's eyes, blood streaming down his arms. Instantly, the young man let go of Jack, his hands going to his own eyes. "Sunnovabitch!" The Splicer roared, falling to his knees and elbows in pain, covering his eyes with his hands.

Feeling the pressure being lifted off his throat, Jack coughed, forcing himself to his feet. Despite the fact that he was light-headed, he staggered over to the wrench. It took a bit of effort to find a grip on the wrench, as it kept slipping, and he was dizzy to boot. After finding a hold, clutching the blunt weapon tightly as to make sure it didn't slip because of the blood that lubricated his hands, he turned on the man in the suit. He raised the wrench and brought it down hard on the Splicer's head with a sickening crunch. The young man fell backwards to the ground, his hands falling from his eyes, revealing the darkened, bloody pits.

Stumbling to his feet, Jack fumbled to pick up his revolver, coughing again. Disgusted by the sight of the young Splicer and what he had to do to get it off him, Jack looked away, leaning against the counter that faced the room he originally came out of. "Jeez…" He breathed, wiping his hands off on his pants, and then cleaning the blood off the handle of the wrench, using his shirt as a rag. "This going to be a bit harder than I thought…"

Facing the rest of the room, Jack cringed at the damage. He may not be as efficient as he used to be… but, according to the room full of limp bodies, he's still able to handle himself. He didn't exactly pride himself on that, but he knew he was going to need the skill.

Somewhere outside the atrium-like room, the sound of large, heavy footsteps on the floor echoed loudly. Something big was coming after Jack, and it was moving fast. What burst into the room, however, was not what Jack expected.

It was an enormous, gorilla-like Splicer. He had to have been easily three times Jack's size. His protruding lips were slathered in saliva, and his bulging eyes were red, bloodshot from the excessive Plasmid – and possible other drug - use. His nasty little eyes were staring at Jack with a terrifyingly longing look, as if Jack was a gift that was promised to this huge Brute. The mound of muscles grinned, revealing the biggest mouthful of human teeth that Jack had ever seen.

"Oh," The Brute purred in a guttural voice, his grin growing wider as he started to slowly advance towards Jack, using his knuckles to assist his walk – almost as a gorilla would. It sounded as if he perpetually had phlegm stuck in his throat. "I'm 'avin' you…"

Jack looked up at the Splicer, in a state of shock. It took a bit of effort to be able to move, again. He tore his eyes away from the intimidatingly large man, raising his hand. Jack let loose a strong bolt of electricity, which hit the Brute in the chest. While his new attacker stood in place, jerking violently as electricity shot up and down his body, Jack made for the hallway.

The Brute had already shaken off the effects of the electricity and had his beady eyes trained on Jack. It let out a throaty sound before barreling after Jack. "Piss off, ponce!" He roared with his cockney British accent, grabbing Jack by the collar of his shirt, keeping a tight hold while he picked the smaller man up. Snorting, the Brute slammed a fist into Jack's gut, sending him flying.

With an unnecessary amount of force, Jack hit the pillar that stood in the atrium, silently watching the fight. The breath was, yet again, driven out of Jack's chest. His vision doubled for a moment, his head fuzzy, his senses disoriented. But he shook his head, trying to regain vision. When he was able to focus, he saw the Brute standing on the other side of the room with fisted hands, his eyes still fixed on Jack. "Go back to fairyland," He said in his deep, hoarse voice, then laughed as he reared himself to run down Jack again. "Here's the end for you!"

Terrified both at the Splicer's size, viciousness, and threateningly prolific strength, Jack pressed an arm against the pillar, using it to help him to his feet. There was no way he was going to just lie there as the Brute attacked him again. He cringed in pain, feeling the muscles in his torso convulse in disagreement. He continued anyways.

He couldn't die here. Not when so many people were counting on him.

The massive Brute's grin widened as he saw Jack struggling to his feet. "Don't move, you!" He roared, shooting after Jack, who was now on his feet. Jack raised his hand to electrocute the Brute again, but the mountain of a man suddenly fell, his huge body dropping like a sack of old potatoes. Jack felt it through the floor. It would seem that the Brute slipped on the same pool of blood that Jack did. Regardless, Jack took this opportunity to run out of the atrium, gaining some distance. He couldn't fight this mountain in such close quarters.

"Fight me like a man, you wet ponce!" The Brute called after Jack, who looped around the hallway and back into the room. The Brute was just leaving as Jack entered.

Jack panicked slightly, unsure of what to do. This hulking man was unlike anything he'd seen before, and, with just that one throw to the gut, Jack could feel broken ribs, and taste copper in his mouth. From the corridor outside the atrium, Jack could hear the Brute taunting and searching for him. "Sissy! I'll take the fuckin' room apart! Just try and look me in the eye, you poof!" He continued to shout, romping about the halls. From the sounds of it, he'd lifted one of the benches and angrily tossed it into a wall.

Jack ducked behind the counter, reloaded his gun, and closed his eyes as he thought, breathing quickly. He could probably use the other Plasmids he had on this Splicer, but he had no idea what effect it would have, and how long it would last. He'd never seen an enemy like this before – It was like the Big Daddy equivalent to a Splicer. That being said, Jack would have to use his speed and smaller build to his advantage.

When he heard the Brute trample back into the room, Jack popped his head out from the counter and shot a bolt of electricity at the hulking man. Then, while he was stunned, he shot the pistol at his chest several times, though he was trying to aim for the head. However, Jack found that it was quite hard to jump over the counters and run away while shooting a gun at a man who was at least three times taller than himself.

After Jack had made some distance between them, he electrocuted the Brute again. The Splicer easily brushed off the effects of the attack, picking up one of the nearby gurneys. With a loud grunt, the mountain tossed the cart at Jack. Keeping in mind that he was faster than this man, Jack ran to the side, easily dodging the gurney. With several more shots, the Splicer grunted, slowing down. Blood started to seep through the vest and dress shirt that the Brute wore.

Jack frowned, frustrated. He aimed for the Splicer's head again, pulling the trigger… and heard the empty click of the gun. He checked his pockets quickly, but couldn't seem to find any more ammunition for the revolver. Looking up, he saw the Brute was lurched over, breathing heavily. "Fuckin'…" The Brute panted loudly. "… don't move… you… pansy!"

How was this thing not dead yet?

Jack tossed the revolver to the tiled floor, gripping the wrench instead. He ran up to the hulking man, easily dodging a tired throw of the fist, and then raised the wrench. With all the strength he could muster, Jack brought the weapon down on the Brute's head.

And, just like that, the Brute slumped over, practically falling on Jack.

It took a little bit of working to get the wrench out of the man's head, but, once he got it, Jack stood there, breathing rapidly, trying to catch his breath.

"Damn beast…" He muttered angrily, turning away from the Brute's corpse. He cringed, wrapping an arm around his chest. "Well…" He muttered, limping back to the middle of the room. "… That could have gone a lot smoother… I suppose I am out of practice…" He knelt down to rummage through the pockets of one of the Splicers, picking up its gun.

That had to be… possibly the most annoying, most tedious fight that Jack had ever had to go through. And, as for the lady on the television... hopefully, he'd be able to thank her in person for sending all those Splicers.

From behind him, Jack heard someone start to clap slowly. He whipped around to face them, pistol raised in the direction that the applause was coming from. He hissed from the pain of his broken ribs, but didn't let his aim waver. He'd be damned if he survived an attack from that big son of a bitch just to die at the hands of some booger.

"Bravo, sir." A young girl's voice came from the top of the television. Jack cocked back the hammer of the pistol as a warning. The girl, evidentially unafraid, simply leaned against one of the metal poles that held up the screen. She wore a dark blue frock and matching service type Oxfords. There was a utility belt with pouches attached to it that she wore loosely around her waist. She reminded Jack of some sort of scavenger, like a raccoon, or a crow... Her hair definitely fit the bill. "That was quite the show." She added with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jack couldn't respond from both pain and puzzlement. He was trying to figure out when the girl had gotten up there… or how she had gotten there.

"You can lower that gun – I'm not going to attack you…" She held her hands up, showing her lack of weapons, "… Little Moth."

There was an intense silence. Once he'd caught his breath, Jack muttered "'Little Moth'…" He took a step back to see her better. "… Who are you?"

She cautiously let her hands fall back to her sides, making certain that Jack wouldn't attack her mid-movement. "We haven't met, if that's what you're wondering." She pushed off the pole she was leaning against, holding the tips of her dress and curtsying. She straightened her back. "I'm Holly. Holly Cohen. I believe you're familiar with my late father, yes?"

"Cohen's daughter?" Jack stared at the raven-haired girl. But it didn't make sense, because… "… Cohen didn't have any kids." He growled, gripping the gun tighter. Sander Cohen didn't have any children. Jack didn't even know if the man was capable of reproducing, let alone actually finding a woman who'd be willing to roll in the hay with Cohen. This girl clearly took Jack for some sort of rube if she thought that his intelligence was low enough to believe that she was Cohen's daughter.

Jack didn't want to hear any more of it. Someone already tried to kill him, nearly succeeding. He wasn't interested in a kid doing the same.

The girl didn't even get a word out before Jack pulled the trigger with an irritated scoff.