Rapture's ever moving race for the top bore with it new competitors as the New Year was ushered in. Nineteen-forty-nine, like every year before it after Rapture had established itself properly was shaping up to be the same as all those before it, clawing and scrambling from those just close enough to the top to see the soles of Ryan's feet.

Fontaine was only a head and shoulders above that ledge with his smuggling but those crack job scientists had pushed him above Ryan now – a paper route was what he ran when compared to Fontaine's rapid expansion of enterprise and the man could not be happier. Waltzing around in another man's hard work and smirking.

He'd promised his sister wealth and fine objects to satisfy her eye for all things that glittered. Now he came looking for a different sort of gift for the girl with the stickiest fingers he knew. And he sought it out from one of those newly sprouted businesses. Always willing to go that extra mile to make his face known and size up a new source of possible exploitation.

What Fontaine hadn't expected as he stepped into the shadow of that new possibility was to find another man looking to make a profit – only to have been stone walled before he had truly started.

"What a surprise." Fontaine remarked upon seeing Sinclair lingering by the newly opened premises. "Wouldn't have expected to see you down around these parts, Sinclair." Jovial as his tone it seemed the other man did not share in his enthusiastic mood.

In terms of their business ventures their moods matched rather well with their current standings.

While Fontaine stood, elated and self-confident in his every movement – Sinclair was left standing in the shadow of a failure and Frank could perfectly imagine the spite that must have been burning in the man's gut as he looked upon Rapture's newest commerce.

Word traveled quickly in this fish tank, only made faster when Jackie had her fingers pulling those boy's strings. Fontaine found himself set on edge by his sister's influence over his men, claimed a few as her own even while they remained on his payroll in name only. But Frankie trusted her to make use of them in ways he simply couldn't – a woman's touch. Even if she was a mad bitch.

The end result - if there was something worth knowing, Jackie brought it to him without fail and Sinclair's own failings had reached him in record time.

Ever the businessman however, Sinclair's expression quickly fixed itself into one that was a near match for Fontaine's casual arrogance. "Mister Fontaine, colour me equally surprised. Not come to change suppliers I should hope?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Sinclair my good fellow – but still," Fontaine felt his expression give way to a more lethal smirk, edging on a sneer. "A man does find himself curious to see the rest of the options on the market. Thought I'd come and see the quality of these goods. You understand I'm sure."

For the briefest moment something sharp crossed Sinclair's face but Fontaine knew that had he not been anticipating it he'd never have seen anything.

Still, it was likely unwise to go poking fingers into open wounds. It was a fun but messy business, he knew better than to leave tracks. His smile remained flawless, his words civil even as they caused the tension to skyrocket between them. It was cathartic he supposed. Perhaps this was why his sister as of late had insisted on holding exchanges with the man.

Frank's smile twitched as Sinclair's settled.

"Well o' course." He agreed in an overly amicable way. "Can't fault a man for keeping a keen eye." And as though he was unable to find anymore words that would keep to that agreeable tone Sinclair turned to look back at the large sign that hung over their heads. For once surprisingly void of a neon glow – Ryan wouldn't fancy the pain look of this one. Valor's Amory. A new weapons production and dealership.

Sinclair did not particularly enjoy having offers he believed to be a done deal taken out from under him.

He'd believed the offer to be reasonable, at least not a con by any stretch. The woman's home defense business did alright but Sinclair had sought to corner the market on weapons distribution and thought her set up would be an easy sell. He hadn't expected her to bite back with a second enterprise expanding on the first.

Valerie was a hard sale of a broad he'd hand that much to her but this went a little beyond just that.

Had he not known Valerie to be the moral sort he'd have thought she'd chosen to become his competitor out of spite. Well perhaps it wasn't far from the mark, not spite but principle.

Principles, in weapons dealing – for Christ's sake.

Principles really had no place in Ryan's city, didn't mean much of anything to the rest of the citizens, himself included. But it meant something to her and just like that her business became opposition, if nothing else he could at least admire the extent of her values and once again wondered why she'd set up shop in a place like this.

Valery wasn't going to budge and he begrudgingly had to concede he'd been out played this time.

He was not having a great deal of luck with the fairer sex as of late.

With that thought in mind Sinclair's gaze flicked back over to Fontaine. He found it impossible to believe the man was not aware of the snake he had in his employ, the man was sharp as they came. Had to be in order to step all over Ryan's nerves with a smile and come away with nary a scratch.

They all knew he was smuggling, it was the best kept open secret in Rapture – but Ryan couldn't pin the evidence on Fontaine. Always where the evidence wasn't when the time was right. Never got more than a handful of idiots at a time and not a single one had a wrong word to say about Fontaine, nor did they connect too closely to him outside of closed doors.

No, Frank Fontaine was by no means a careless sort, if he had a snake working for him it was only because he had the same venom in his bite so to speak.

Sinclair had to play things more carefully when he spoke with this one unless he wanted a taste of that venom himself. "Can't say it's not a sting." He admitted as though this small vulnerability shared was a peace offering. He and Fontaine did good business after all – best to keep to that relationship.

Especially when the man came to him baring new exciting prospects.

Plasmids. Sinclair was still winding his mind around the concept. But the concept did not matter any, the money that could be made off them the only thing worth focusing on.

He thought it amusing. Ryan had him running an underground prison and Fontaine had him producing dicey science with the poor souls that got sent into his clutches. Technically everything went smoothly – unofficially approved by Ryan. Perhaps he'd have been blue in the face if he knew where those unwanted individuals actually ended up.

If only because he grew to loath Fontaine's face with every passing day. Whatever admiration he'd had for the vicious businessman dwindling as he was forcefully pushed out with every step forward Fontaine took.

Still plasmids were game changing as they were concerning. Even Sinclair had to take a step back and wonder if there were just some things men should not toy with the first time he'd seen a sorry bastard burst into flames. His unholy shrieking had stuck with Sinclair for some time.

But the heavy wad of cash Fontaine had put into his back pocket had stayed with him for far longer.

Fontaine tossed out a nonchalant sort of smile as he approached his partner in arguable crimes and Sinclair let the snake coil itself around his leg, if only to avoid the venom of it's bite "Never you fear." Fontaine said, clapping Sinclair on the shoulder as he passed him by. "The New Year brings with it only good things."

Good things and a shot of ADAM into weak veins.

Sinclair watched as Fontaine vanished into Valery's open doors and thought the woman would have readily given him the boot had she been there in person. He pondered idly if she'd have slipped the needle under her skin if she thought it'd do some good. Maybe – until she saw Fontaine's name on it.

Truly she had an eye for their sort and Sinclair couldn't help a dry, bitter chuckle as he flicked out his lighter. A smoke seemingly like a good way to ease his nerves and even that he noted had Fontaine's label on it – invisible, as it may have been.

He wondered how long they'd be living in Ryan's vision as Fontaine continued to take over and then wondered what Rapture would be like in the hands of a man like that.

Then just as quickly discarded the thought, it didn't matter any so long as Fontaine and Ryan kept supplying him money to keep an eye on the other. Even if he was keeping closer tabs on one over the other.

Time to give ol' Stanley a call.

The New Year, as it turned out, brought with it just a little more than Edmund had signed up for.

Of all things for he'd thought Fontaine might decide to suddenly dabble in, charity had not made the list. But sure enough there he stood, overseeing the construction of the 'Little Sister's Orphanage'. He was not much of a questioning man; he wasn't paid to run his gob.

Quite the opposite in fact. Miss Jaclyn didn't fancy a tattletale.

But looking over this new endeavor he couldn't help but begin to wonder if they'd make a questioning man of him yet. Within the safety of his own silent thoughts he certainly had questions. Why a charity? Why an orphanage? Why just girls?

Sighing irritably under his breath Edmund pulled out a much needed cigarette. He'd been able to afford the more expensive kind for a while now, not much of materialist and more a hoarder of any green he could get his hands on, but the smoke he pulled into his lungs now were priceless within Rapture. You'd not find your hands on good like these unless you were a favourite toy of Miss Wayne. Eddie counted himself among those unlucky few and once again knew better than to ask where she'd acquired cigarettes that had origins on land.

If Ryan couldn't prove anything then any one of them could have been free to puff that illegal smoke in his face. Eddie wasn't the vindictive sort and so left displays of arrogance like that to the likes of Fontaine.

Hestia was home to not only the orphanage but what would become a home for the poor. Yet another charity that Eddie took with a ton of salt down the throat. There was talk of a second orphanage being set up in Siren's Alley as well and Eddie got the distinct feeling he'd be overseeing that production as well.

He'd initially been surprised that Fontaine put him to minding the lads working on construction but realised very quickly that if he wanted to remain in Wayne's favour he'd do just that. Her newest game with that wretch Sinclair seemed to require all kinds of observation and information gathering. It felt rather dangerous to include Fontaine's enterprises on that list, but once again Edmund let those questions go silent. Wasn't his place and it wouldn't get any more money or goods in his pockets to make a fuss. Still, those voiceless questions persisted.

With another drag of nicotine tinged smoke Eddie let the lungful out with a second heavier sigh. The new year had barely even passed them, the festivities still in full swing for the evening, and already he felt weary of this year.

"Never thought I'd see the day a charity popped up in Rapture."

Speaking of weary.

Turning away from the laborers swarming around the soon to be completed home for the poor, Eddie met with two familiar faces. "Warren, what are ya doing being Lewis 'round these parts?" He asked, eyes flicking between his tenuous friend and the young airhead he'd brought along to pester him.

The youngest of the three made some sound of offence, the show of irritation a shallow one. "Lovely to see you too, Eddie." He huffed and Edmund didn't bother trying to hide his eye roll from the pair.

Warren tossed Eddie a pitiless smile, the dry expression nearly weaseling a third sigh out of the man. No point in complaining now he supposed. Lewis was likely some sort of a peace offering. After all Eddie had no doubt that Warren was actually here to see what was worth reporting back to Sinclair.

Deeming it alright to split his focus between his work – which for the past hour had been little more than standing and staring, to assure none of the idiots managed to set something alight while putting the kitchens in place – and his two 'friends', Eddie turned to face both properly. "How's your brother?" He asked mildly, something to take Lewis's attention away from his slight insult.

Worked a charm as the young man's eyes lit up in that particular way. He was a bit of a handful, pick the right topic and he just went. No need for an active talking partner when Lewis had all the information in the world apparently bottled up in his head and he simply had to share it. In this case it was a small mercy that his elder brother was a conversation that could be derailed if he got too worked up. "Wally is doing great! Have you seen his newest work?" He asked excitedly. "The Artist's Struggle is displaying it."

"You know I aint got no eye or time for art." Eddie groused, feeling a small swell of what he refused to think of as guilt at the admission.

Walter was as close to a friend as it got, and of the three he had Walter remained the least headache inducing. Mostly because the man didn't seem to speak, leaving his brother to snatch up all the words he could. For an artist he was blissfully quiet. Eddie could do without another Cohen running around screeching from the high-rises about what was and was not art.

Catching Lewis's slightly downtrodden expression Eddie amended his original response. "Once this lot finishes up for the day I'll swing by the plaza and have a look." As quickly as Lewis could be disheartened he was able to turn that light back on and beam at him.

He wondered idly if all 'brilliant minds' were as fickle as Lewis's.

Eddie caught Warren's eye going back to the work in progress behind him. Recognized that slight downward tug at the corners of the man's lips as the same unspoken question he'd been asking since Fontaine announced this project. "Ryan kicking up a stink about this yet?" He asked, bringing Warren's eyes back to him.

"I'm sure the man is seething, but what can he say about it? Fontaine is the one shelling out the money for this, it's entirely funded by the man. If it was asking for donations or trying to survive off a government payment Ryan would be able to knock it down. But as it is now? Nothing he can do about it."

Not for the first time Eddie wondered if Fontaine had done this purely to dance on Ryan's nerves that little bit more.

When he looked over at the construction again, Eddie let a small truth slip before he could think to censor himself. "Can't say I agree with 'im." He admitted bitterly. "There's plenty of folk that could use a proper roof over their heads. Not like they got much in the way of options right now."

Out loud that sounded like blasphemy. As though at any moment Ryan's great chain itself would wrap around his throat as punishment for that thought. But Eddie dug his heels in within his own mind and stood firmly by it. He came here as a working family, not one of Ryan's handpicked rich boys and girls. It was Ryan's fault there were so many people flocking to Siren Alley and the drop. He'd given the men and women that built his city lies dressed up as technicalities. They had no money, no jobs – Ryan gave them nothing after they'd built him everything.

So if Fontaine offered where Ryan rejected, who were they to refuse?

His gaze remained fixed on the front of the shelter, able to feel Warren's gaze boring into the back of his skull. Warren was not a hardened soul, he knew that. But that did not make him a bleeding heart either. He didn't need Warren's agreement – he didn't need anyone's judgment or validation.

To Fontaine he'd have asked, why. To Ryan he'd have accused, fraud. He doubted either would respond in earnest and so he remained silent. Eddie would continue to quietly burn with his questions and criticisms.

Then finally Lewis spoke. His voice soft and lyrical when compared to Eddie's harsh tone. "Rapture might not be built for it…but I don't think there's anything wrong with a touch of altruism."

Now that word was blasphemous and Eddie whipped around to look at the man so quickly his head began to spin. But Lewis just smiled that idle, airheaded smile of his. "After all, Ryan advocates for freedom of all things. Speech, enterprise, choice. So if someone chooses to be kind or charitable then they have just as much right to do so as someone who chooses not to – correct?"

If there was anything Ryan would have loathed more than Fontaine's constant looming existence – it would have been Lewis's sentiment. He was right, and that might have stung the creator of Rapture more than the poor house itself.

Warren eventually let out a little sigh and Eddie smiled dryly, thinking it good that Warren began to feel some of the same fatigue as he did. "You two are going to end up on some kind of radar at this rate." He chastised but not one of the three men was truly worried. This was the city of man after all.

Freedom was the philosophy of the city. They'd be alright.

"Well as much as I hate to say it…this is a touch comforting." Warren relented, looking over the sign that was yet to light up in the neon colours that Rapture so fancied. "Knowing that there's actually a place for kids to go if things go south."

Eddie didn't need to ask. Knew that Warren was thinking of his own newborn sister while looking at this place. With that in mind he looked at it in a new light. Where he'd mostly thought of this place as a means of spiting Ryan and doing some shred of good, now he saw it perhaps the way Warren did even without saying so. A safety net if something went wrong.

He thought of the little girl that Warren had showed him over drinks not a week earlier. She was no more than a few months old, still barely more than a squirming bundle of sobbing and translucent hair. But she'd grow into a proper little girl one day and with this place existing now, Warren must have felt a bit safer knowing that even if everything went wrong and she was left alone – there'd still be a place for his little sister in Rapture.

That thought alone had Edmund standing back upright, straightening out his spine. Aware that both his friends were watching him. "Well shockingly I'm still on the clock. I'll meet the pair o' you after I wrap up here for the day?" He suggested, leaving the offer open. Lewis pounced on it with the same enthusiasm as he always had.

"We'll meet you in the plaza!" The young man announced, a bounce in his step as he skipped around Eddie and out of the man's way, standing by Warren's side. In turn Warren smiled just a little, a crooked knowing glance that promised a bottle or two in the near future.

With a careless wave over his shoulder Eddie turned back towards the soon to be orphanage. Snubbing out his cigarette as he passed through the freshly finished archway, head craning back as he looked up the twisting flights of stairs. This place wasn't built quite as fancy as the rest of Rapture, that was to be expected given it was to be a place that made no money of it's own. Still Eddie looked at it more critically now.

If this was to be a place where children lived and people were given help then he'd see it made better. No matter what Fontaine's real intent may have been – charity absolutely not in his nature – it didn't matter. Eddie was going to ensure this place got built to the best of its ability.

Jasmine was a visage.

But she had Jaclyn looking at artwork as though that might in someway capture her attention for longer than Jasmine's barely made up face.

That wasn't to say the art was bad by any means, still paintings just didn't hold the same charm as the living piece of art at her arm, currently squealing about the newest pieces that caught her fancy.

"Josie, love." Jaclyn began in an amused drawl. "You'll have outgrown these come next month." And have blown all her money on a flight of fancy. Really Jasmine was alarmingly fickle. But Jaclyn indulged her to no end.

Bouncing Jasmine seemed ready to fly off Jaclyn's arm at any given moment, likely to try touching the artworks she liked so much. A child that had to be kept still to avoid breaking the goods they couldn't afford to pay for. In an effort to keep Jasmine from ruining the art or setting off an artist's delicate sensibilities, Jaclyn calmly laid her hand down atop the giddy woman's to keep her in place.

Not so that she could feel the soft skin underneath.

Apparently feeling chastised by Jaclyn, as she rightfully should, Jolene turned to toss her an ineffective but greatly amusing pout. "Well which one do you like?" She challenged and Jaclyn nearly sighed. She didn't think that she could answer that in honesty. Although the thought of flat out telling the gorgeous woman she easily outshone all these pastel and oil canvased ladies was briefly entertained.

Jolene had proven herself unaffected by blatant flirting and while Jackie occasionally couldn't help herself on that front it was rarely worth the small stab of disappointment when it flew over the other woman's head. So instead of honesty she sought to pacify Jolene by looking over the paintings. Truthfully very few of them were bad, the skill was clearly there but Jackie didn't fancy the subject matter.

Each lovely lady she saw on the canvas felt twisted. They were painted fantasies and Jackie knew it childish but the thought of the man behind that brush made her blood boil just a little. Frankie had always told her she had a bit of a nasty streak when it came to artists, she thought he was on the money for that one.

Careful to keep the disdain off her face Jackie looked through each one. Some were simply beautiful in that typical way, revealing varying degrees of flesh to the observer and a few seemed as though they'd painted from a model while others relief on reference and fantasy. There were a precious few that became more abstract or vile, missing limbs, strung up and painted red in a way that suggested perversion of a darker kind. Jaclyn noticed Jolene pointedly didn't look at those paintings. She was a child at heart, she liked purely pretty things with no deeper meaning attached. It was a fine way to enjoy art although Jackie knew she'd have been scoffed at by the man standing behind the counter. Spine ridged and almost as uniform as his stuffy suit.

Finally Jackie found a splash of colour that caught her eye. It took her a moment to realise why that particular piece had caught her attention, besides the more vibrant colours and the lack of any immediately noticeable pale fleshy tones. Without thinking Jackie stepped over to that painting and she must have surprised Jolene because for a second the contact between them broke.

She was looking at the surface. A memory of it.

The painting burned with unnatural colours, it wasn't a real representation of the world up above but she understood the appeal of it. How it seemed in memory when compared to reality and made only brighter with the pallet of their underwater city. She knew that Rapture was stifling her but it wasn't until she looked at the painting that she realised how much it felt like suffocating.

She was getting soft.

Fortunately the hand that slid under her arm again was equally soft and far more comforting. "You fancy this one?" Jolene asked, she was still using her showgirl voice but Jackie thought it was softened for her in that moment. Perhaps she didn't give Jasmine enough credit, she might not have been the brightest spark in terms of great intellect – but she had more empathy in her pinky than most of the city could muster in their collective being. Jackie included in those ranks.

Quietly she sighed and mustered a small smile for the pretty blonde on her arm. "Guess it makes me a touch homesick."

Jasmine frowned and it was nearly painful to see a crease form between her brows. Jaclyn wondered if she could withdraw the comment and replace it with a sweeter lie. But before she could find the energy to make one, Jolene was peering closer at the painting. "It's so pretty." She murmured, frown dropping. "Oh! Oh, I know this artist! Here, look." Jolene pulled Jackie to a different side of the gallery, seeking out another by the same artist.

It would have been near impossible to guess that the painting Jolene brought her to shared a creator with the one they left. The colours were entirely different, as was the subject material. It wasn't the surface this time but instead beyond it into the stars and Jackie found this one equally captivating. The colours again were all imagined, nothing like what the dark expanse overhead had looked like in the few times she'd face it. But it was so clearly the stars and so clearly the way the artist saw it.

"What's 'is name." Jolene murmured to herself, fingers pressing into her temples like she could physically pull it out of her skull. Jaclyn chose to believe that's exactly what happened when a moment later Jasmine pepped back up with an answer on her tongue. "He writes poetry! Walter Thomas." She recalled, looking extraordinarily proud of herself.

That expression alone getting a dryly-amused smile from Jackie. "A poet huh?"

"He writes love poems, the paintings go with them. I absolutely adore his writing, some o' it don't make much sense to me but he writes it all in such a lovely way."

Jackie hadn't noticed at first but there was in fact a neatly written set of pages under the painting. The poetry she supposed. She wasn't a massive fan of poems, most of them a bit too wordy for her tastes. She listened to her own tongue weaving pretty lies often enough without having someone else's on paper.

Jasmine did not share her distaste for the written art however, clearly a fan of the artist. Jackie wondered if this was another passing fancy of hers or if she'd hold fondness for this man's work for more than the usual month or so. "The ladies love him. But I hear he's not much for the ladies." And if that wasn't the closest Jasmine had ever come to sounding scandalous then Jackie didn't know what else there was. She rather liked it.

She had no choice but to chuckle in the face of Jasmine's innocent teasing. "Oh you gossip."

The pair of them shared a moment of laughter that seemed to ruffle the suit's nerves as he then stiffly asked if they intended to buy anything. Jackie turned to say no but paused, eyes drifting back to Jolene for just a moment.

Well it wasn't as though she'd never been accused of being frivolous herself. "Actually, I'd like this one."

At her side Jasmine startled, tugging at her sleeve in alarm. "Are you sure, Jackie?" And despite everything she shivered hearing her real name falling from Jolene's lips under the guise of a nickname.

"Positive, Josie." She purred back on instinct, hand resting over Jolene's again. "I don't have anywhere nice to hang it of course, so you'll have to mind it for me, yeah?"

Her pretty, blooming smile was more than confirmation enough that this was the right decision. Her wallet might ache over it but Jackie wouldn't regret it for a moment knowing she'd given Jolene a gift that she had no intention of taking back. It was a nice thought that somewhere in Jolene's life she'd have a picture that might remind her of that night and a neat little bundle of borrowed words that spoke of love.

She supposed she would be a fan of this Thomas man as well after tonight.