I still felt like Camille's babysitter. Her strange request to have me guide her through the maintenance shafts halted me for a moment and I was about to say no, but Sinclair insisted I go or else she'd fare the streets by herself and the possibility of her getting killed was higher. If I didn't love him, I would have told him to shove his guilt-trip up his ass. I let Patrick lead to make sure he knew where all the splicer nests were again since we hadn't used the maintenance tunnels in a while. Thankfully, he remembered it down to the 10 second wait at junction 36.

She had the gall to involve Bill McDonagh in her desperation to prove that the body hanging in Ryan's gallery wasn't Frank Fontaine. I believed her, but she knew that Bill would agree to her request regardless of how crazy they were and that pissed me off. Bill was a good man with a good head on his shoulders to be drawn into something that didn't involve him directly. I got my point across to her that if anything were to happen to him while running her fool's errand that I would hold her personally responsible and she would not like the result. I once respected Camille as a worthy adversary, as someone who I could trust a little farther than I could throw her, but now she had taken my trust of her and shoved it in my face to do as she pleases.

But as crazy as she was going about this, the evidence all pointed to the fact that Frank Fontaine was still alive, only with a different face provided for him by one Dr. J. Steinman.

For a moment, I looked in the direction of Sinclair's end table and the drawer where I had stuffed the medical file put together by Steinman that Camille had retrieved from the mad man's office. I had only glanced it over when she handed it to me, but I closed it quickly in a moment of pure disgust. I didn't know how Steinman had gotten a full frontal picture of me, but the things he had drawn on it for 'enhancements' and 'modifications' made me refuse to open it again after Camille had handed it to me. Just the thought of what he had planned to do to me did not sit well in my stomach and almost made me hurl from the amount of detail he went into when it came to describing how much he hated my face.

There was one document though that scared me more than the rest of Steinman's insanity: a single document sent to Gil Alexander from Yi Suchong about a genetic match for the ADAM slug trials. The date was December 22, 1953 - when I went in for stitches for my back. The patient file I had thought I had stolen was just that: a patient file. It showed my medical history, but patient files can be seen at any point by the patient. The file Camille gave me was one that wasn't supposed to be seen by me, but how did Steinman get a hold of it?

"Honey? You okay?" Sinclair asked, slightly leaning over me. I looked up at him without saying a word and shifted into a more comfortable position on his shark leather couch that I had unofficially claimed as my own.

I finally gave him a nod to satisfy his question and he leaned down, placing a small kiss on my forehead. "You've been quiet these pas' coupl'a days. It's startin' to worry me."

"I'm sorry then. But there's not much to say." I sat up and hopped up to my feet. "I've got something to check up on. I'll tell you the results." I gave him a half-assed wave and jumped up into the vents, the only place I could really feel safe in Rapture anymore and even that was a death wish.

I hadn't seen Bill at the Fighting McDonagh's for a while ever since he had helped Camille get that little bit of DNA from the corpse hanging on Ryan's wall.

I dropped through the vent to Bill's office, still not seeing him anywhere which wasn't all that odd if Rapture wasn't falling apart at the seams, but Rapture was at a point where repairs were pointless now. His pneumo was mostly empty except for a note from Camille of all people explaining the results of the DNA test she had Gil run: The codes didn't match. Well, I'll be damned.

I searched his desk for any sign of where he could be and quickly found an Accu-Vox that he recently been recorded. I shook my head and quickly pressed play.

"I never killed a man, let alone a mate. But this is what things come to. I don't know if killing Mr. Ryan will stop the war, but I know it won't stop while that man breathes. I love Mr. Ryan. But I love Rapture. If I have to kill one to save the other, so be it." The recording came to a stop.

"Oh no... Bill." I was in the vents once more crawling well into Hephaestus faster than I had ever moved before. I dropped down right in front of the doors leading into the hall where Ryan kept his trophies which included the bodies of 'Frank Fontaine' and Anya Andersdotter (Ryan's "Assassin"). I paused for a moment outside of the door before stepping close enough for the bulkhead to slide open on it's own.

There was a new body - horribly burned from the looks of it - hanging on the first pillar on the right. I could still smell the flesh on the corpse sizzling from the amount of heat used from an Incinerate. He really tried to kill Andrew Ryan, but failed. Bill McDonagh was dead. "Shit, Bill... Why?" I questioned the corpse like he was going to respond. I couldn't even blame Camille for this. McDonagh went and played with fire and now he was burnt to a crisp hanging on Ryan's Trophy Wall.

If only Bill realized that Rapture was already lost even if he killed Andrew Ryan, that Atlas would take over, or hell, even Lamb would try and stake her claim on Rapture causing yet another war between Atlas' and Lamb's followers.

I left the hall with a slight tremble in my body, noticeable when I pulled myself up into the vents. The last person with a sane head on his shoulders was gone leaving nothing there to stop Ryan from doing something incredibly stupid in a mad attempt to stop Atlas.

I returned dutifully to the Sinclair Tower to make sure Sinclair didn't end up sleeping in his office again for the 3rd night in a row and perhaps tell Camille that Bill was dead.

At least I was going to return to his office, until I saw a very familiar and very unwanted Irish revolutionary in a dark overcoat and a skull-knit cap covering his blonde hair. He was flanked by a few rather dangerous looking Splicers with several boils, bulbous flesh and deformities covering their bodies, each armed with plasmids and weapons to compensate for Irishman's lack-thereof. The rest of the splicers appeared almost out of the shadows which made me applaud them for the ability to hide in plain sight; a trick that took me a while to accomplish.

I ducked into the shadows and observed the scene with a careful set of eyes.

"Betty?" Atlas questioned which made me want to smash my head against a wall repeatedly. Of course he was here for Camille and of course Camille just had to meet up with him. Atlas pushed his way through the crowd to get closer to Adler with a grin spread across his face. "Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes. You look a helluva lot better than when I last saw ya."

"I... I can't believe you came here," Camille said rather dumbly if I do say so myself. "I mean, the security around here and..." She means me. "You're a wanted man! And-"

I glared as Atlas raised his hand to silence her. "I get around the city well enough, Betty." Through the smuggler tunnels which can only get him so far, then he depends on his splicers to cause a distraction while he travels from place to place. I had him tagged from the moment me and him met. "Besides, Ms. McClintock here said that you wanted ta speak with me. How could I ignore that?" Easily. "A Sinclair Solutions employee, eh?" He gave a quick shake of his head. "I'll tell ya now, I didn't see that comin'."

"She told you, huh?" I nearly smacked my hand against my face, noting that she was still wearing her ID that anyone still literate could figure out that she worked for Sinclair Solutions. Of course, the lot that runs with Atlas could be questionable when it comes to their intelligence. "I don't blame her, I guess."

"And I don't blame you. I know you're not like Sinclair, or the others in his orbit." My fists clenched tightly together, my fingernails almost breaking through the skin. How dare he speak about Sinclair like that. "You're even helpin' us out. Now, that ain't like no Sinclair employee I've ever known."

"And just how many have you known?" She challenged smartly.

Atlas didn't reply - caught in his own twist of words. "So," He started to change the subject, crossing his arms, "Why the sudden change o' heart? Last time I saw ya, well, ya weren't too friendly. Have I grown on ya?"

"No," She mumbled at first and I almost didn't catch what the woman had said. She repeated after a moment, "No. You haven't grown on me. My opinion of you hasn't changed all that much. But I've been doing some thinking. A lot of thinking. If Rapture's come down to Ryan or you..." She hesitated to finish, biting her bottom lip in her usual nervous tick.

Atlas urged her to continue with a subtle raise of an eyebrow. "If that's what it's come down to, I know where i wanna be. I don't like you, or what you do, but you and I want the same thing - freedom. That's reason enough for me to get behind you."

I was thinking that Atlas' smile couldn't have gotten any bigger, but I was proven wrong with his pearly white teeth showing more than before. "Well, this is an interestin' turn of events. Ya sure about this, lass? Once you go up against Ryan, it ain't somethin' you can change your mind about. It's bloody dangerous." No kidding. One wrong move and she could end up another trophy on Ryan's wall or dangling from the gallows. And if she thought I would always be around to play the ever mysterious bodyguard she had a rude awakening for her.

"If you get me out of this city, I'll do whatever it takes." She thrust out her hand for him to shake. "What do you say, Atlas?"

"I'm more'n happy to have ya, Betty, But is this what you want?" He made a gesture to the Sinclair Tower. "You wanna give all this up? I imagine you're well off, good job, money, security. You wanna give all o' t'at up and run with us?"

"I can't do this – this – anymore," she replied, gesturing to Sinclair Tower. "I can't. Nothing that I have is worth the destruction of the city. Yes, I want to give it all up. I want to get out of here. As much as I'd rather not, I have to join you. I know you can do it." My glare turned from Atlas to Camille.

"And what'll you offer me in return?" Atlas asked. "I don't just take anyone in without askin' for a little hard work in return."

That caught Camille off guard. What did she expect? That he was just going to accept her without a little insurance that she wasn't just a waste of air and using him to escape when he had followers to lead and promise the same thing. "W-what do you want me to do?"

"Well, what can you do?" Atlas asked quickly.

"I… I'll do what Diane does. Looting places for resources."

He made a small noise of contemplation and asked, "have ya ever done anyt'in' like that before? It's not as easy as it looks, ya know."

"I'll read all those medical manuals. I'll learn how to help you, your followers. I can do that, right?"

"I have information. About Ryan. His plans, his actions against you… That's what working in this place has done for me. I can help you with that. Among other things. I'm privy to a lot of reports and correspondence." My glare hardened. More like I had information that was downright juicy and she had the business side of that information which wasn't the full truth half the time. But to top it off, giving information on Ryan meant giving information on Sinclair and ultimately me, throwing us all under a bus.

Atlas chuckled darkly having already thought through the same thing as me. "So, ya'd throw all these people under the bus if it meant gettin' my approval?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that… It's just that – well, you could use someone like me. To keep you two steps ahead of Ryan. Right?" Atlas looked deep in thought over the whole thing. "Please?" she begged.

I glanced over Atlas' group of Splicers, noting how quiet they had been despite the obvious addiction to ADAM they possessed and looked at Atlas like he was some kind of god. Pathetic.

"Ya seem dedicated enough," he agreed, a smile on his face. He gently took a hold of her plastered hand and gave it a shake, sealing the deal.

"So… What now?" Camille questioned slowly.

"Get your affairs in order. I expect ya have a lot to sort here," Atlas answered. His gaze was on the neon sign that said Sinclair Solutions. "When yer ready, head to Apollo Square. It's safe from Ryan. Someone'll getcha and bring ya to me."

"That's it? I just have to hang around Apollo Square waiting for you?" she snapped, obviously finding the request a little ridiculous.

"Ya have so little faith in me, don't ya?" Atlas said, chuckling. "I should let ya get back to it, then."

"I guess," she muttered. "That's it?"

"That's it," he answered, turning to face the Splicers. With a wave to the group he was with, they disappeared back into the depths of Rapture.

"Oh God, what did I just do?" she muttered to herself. I ducked inside the Sinclair Tower to give her a firm piece of my mind. She just signed a deal with the devil and didn't even realize it.

Camille stopped walking for a moment when her eyes laid on me. She knew exactly what she was in for. I leant against the nearby wall and crossed my arms. I wasn't going to try and make her see reason: she was far too stubborn for that. But I had to at least make her think this through carefully. "Please tell me I didn't hear what I think I just heard,"

She mimicked my stance more for defense than offense like my own. "What's it to you?" She asked, a cold tone to the words. And here I thought we were finally good friends.

"Nothing," I responded, giving a shrug of my own. "You can do what you like, Adler. But I know a few people who won't be too happy. Like Augustus Sinclair, for one."

"Tell him. I don't care. I'm done here."

"I thought you were smarter than this. Atlas? He's got you wrapped around his finger. You're gonna join him and then what?"

"I'm gonna get out of this city. Look, if that's all you have to say then I have work to do." She brushed past me and crawled into the elevator, leaving me alone in the foyer.

"Just know, Miss Adler," I said to no one in particular. "If you go through with this, you're on your own. If you compromise Sinclair, I will not hesitate to burn Atlas' little mission to the ground."

I gave a glare in the direction Camille left and kicked off the wall. I was going to let Camille be the one to tell Sinclair she was quitting - I could care less. I just wanted to go home and sleep off the headache starting to form because of this whole mess.

With a quick goodbye to Sinclair, I hit the vents taking my time in returning to Apollo Square and my apartment. Despite the war, Apollo Square still remained mostly intact aside from the trams being blown off their tracks, killing a good amount of people in the process. So using the express was no longer an option. Things had started to finally calm down now that Ryan had basically given up on retaking Apollo Square and pulled his security out. No point in getting killed trying to take back a lost cause.

I coughed out of no where on something foul in the air, pumping through the vents. "What the-?" My question was cut off by more coughing, this time harder than before and a pain in my chest from my lungs being cut off from decent oxygen.

The pheromone... So Gil finished it...

Desperately crawling toward the nearest vent I could find, I tore it open and fell through not caring where it ended up just as long as I could breathe. My back slammed painfully into the ground, knocking the wind out of me making the cough worse. I must have landed in the main square since I could hear the sounds of more people coughing as well and insane splicers screaming for Atlas to save them.

I felt dizzy and cold, yet sweat beaded my forehead despite the shivers I was feeling. I still couldn't move from where I had landed painfully on my back and the night was rolling in. I coughed hoarsely into my arm and stared at the glass roof overlooking Apollo Square, showing an expansive view of the surface miles above our heads. "Wha's this li'l fish?" I heard a voice ask, dripping with insanity. "Wond'r if she gots any ADAM..." A grotesque looking Splicer leaned over my body, looking for any sign of ADAM on my person.

He would be sorely disappointed.

The ground shuddered beneath my fingers and a groan echoed around the area. "Uh oh... Need ta run! No li'l fish is worth toein' it with de metal daddy!" The splicer screeched and took off, leaving me to lie there on the ground, too dizzy to move.

I gave a groan and finally rolled on to my stomach the pain in my spine becoming more evident. "Dammit..." I cursed struggling up to my hands and knees. My body shivered uncontrollably in protest to my movements, but with the steady thumping of a Big Daddy approaching; I had to make my escape.

"Look, daddy!" a distorted child's voice rang out. "It's an angel!" I looked up sharply. Not even 10 feet fro me was a Little Sister accompanied by her metal bodyguard hovering over the body of a female recently dead.

I squinted my eyes at the familiar face of the child: Masha Lutz, daughter of Sammy and Mariska Lutz who worked at the Fighting McDonagh's and lived there in the apartments above it. Why was she a Little Sister? Unless Ryan was really desperate enough to create new Little Sisters using the citizens' children, not that I wouldn't put it past him.

Ever so slowly, I staggered to my feet and took careful steps backwards away from the Big Daddy (Rosie Series). My arms wrapped protectively around my ribs having been rattled in the fall. I could tell that they weren't broken, but the more likely scenario were that a few were bruised.

The walk was slow back to my lonely little apartment (pure hell walking up the stairs).

Time had past since that day, Camille taking off without a word and later I had discovered her with Atlas when they made a raid on Sinclair Spirits. The girl thought she could hide from me and I knew she was trying. She didn't want me to know where she was and at times went out of her way to avoid my haunts. The stupid girl was going to get herself killed.

Sinclair was... upset is the best word to describe it, but it took two weeks before he finally took her DNA out of the system, causing problems for the raid. It was cute when she tried to copy what I did on a normal basis, but in all I realized that this was more a test of loyalty than an actual raid since Sinclair barely kept anything in the safe in the wine cellar (Atlas called it a 'secret room' when in reality it was just a wine cellar to keep drunks from making off with his alcohol). Sure, there was a safe down there, but Sinclair mostly kept some rainy-day funds inside along with a few guns in case things got crazy in the bar area.

I stayed away from her as much as I could, but I still found myself watching from a distance to see how she was faring and to intervene without being seen when there were far too many Splicers for them to handle.

She never made any attempt to contact me or Sinclair which was fine by me.

But if she was going to be crawling around in the vents, I at least had to give her a bit of a hand even if I didn't like it. The only thing going through my mind as I crawled through the vents with a piece of chalk writing different directions on the sides was that she was a friend and I still felt responsible for her. I wrote down the names of the main areas Atlas and his band of morons mostly went and finally dropped out of the vent once I arrived at Apollo Square once again.

Now I wouldn't feel guilty if she gets killed by a crawler in the vent.

I worked hard to collect enough supplies from apartments long abandoned or the residents still dead within so that Patrick, Sinclair and I could still eat to keep up our strength. It was mostly canned goods like fruit and meat, but it was better than starving to death in this place. I even learned how to hack the vending machines to access a few of the food items inside (earning a few electric burns in the learning process). We stayed mostly in Sinclair's office in the Sinclair Tower, but I still returned to my apartment to sleep somewhat decent instead of on his shark leather couch.

I awoke one night with a jolt from someone banging on my door. I sat up sharply, listening for any sign that it was a splicer trying to break his way in, but the pounding was too systematically, the raps like that of someone desperately trying to gain my attention. Well, they had it.

I got up adjusting the pair of night shorts I wore along with my nightshirt (a gift from Sinclair as a joke), walking silently to the door as the pounding got harder. Patrick wandered out of his room rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Who is it?" He mumbled.

I shrugged and glanced through the peep hole. Well I'll be damned... I opened the door sharply and glared at Camille who had none other than Atlas and Diane behind her. I almost said 'Camille', but quickly switched back to, "Betty? What in the hell are you doing here?" Patrick let out a small gasp.

Camille gave an apologetic smile and responded, "I was hoping you would listen."

I shifted my stance and crossed my arms, my eyebrows knitting together. "And am I going to like what I'm possibly going to listen to?"

"More than likely not."

I sighed and allowed my former (I use the word hesitantly) friend inside followed by the man who made my blood boil and the woman who I could care less about. Camille sat herself down on my couch while Atlas stood off to her right with his arms crossed. Diane took a seat hesitantly next to Camille, looking around like being in my apartment again was a foreign thing. "All right, I'm listening."

"What? No offer of coffee?" Atlas made a jab.

Patrick hovered near me protectively. "Shut your mouth," I hissed almost immediately after he made the comment. "I thought I made it clear the last time we met that I don't like you?" He didn't flinch; only smiled and shifted his stance to get more comfortable.

Camille cleared her throat loudly catching both of our attentions. "Hawkeye," She started, returning to the little moniker so that Atlas wouldn't know my real name. Chances are he knew who my mother was and that was something I didn't want getting out, even to Camille since Dusky Donovan was a popular name at the Pearl even if she was dead. "We're planning an attack on Ryan himself to get his genetic key. We poured over the maintenance tunnel maps day in and day out but found no clear way into Hephaestus without tripping some sort of alarm. Except..."

"Except the ventilation shafts," I filled in the blanks of what they wanted me to do: Play tour guide through the vents. I was just happy that she didn't dance around the subject of asking for my help.

"Correct," Diane chipped in her 5 cents but was quickly silenced again by a glare I sent her way. "The ventilation shafts are our only shot at getting Ryan or at least the key. From what Betty has told us, you're the only person that knows the vents that isn't insane."

I nodded at that fact since the only other people who shared the vents with me were the Crawlers and even then, they crawled around randomly with no destination in mind other than finding ADAM and killing whoever stood in their way. "Who came up with this brilliant plan? Boy wonder?" I cocked my head at Atlas who narrowed his eyes in response.

Diane bristled, straightened her back and answered, "I came up with it since I know Ryan's office best. You - apparently - know the ventilation system and if you're as good as Betty makes you out to be: you've already accounted for tunnel collapses and hot spots for the splicers in the vents."

I averted my eyes for a second before they returned to Camille. " Here's a fun question: Why on earth would I want to help you?"

Atlas took a step towards me and said, "We get the genetic key ta Rapture an' that means we have access to the bathyspheres: A way out."

I glared harshly and snapped, "Even for Augustus Sinclair?" Atlas was killing Camille's chances at getting me to cooperate here. I could feel his anger boiling about Sinclair, knowing he didn't like the man. Tough shit.

Atlas sighed and reluctantly nodded. It seemed promising Sinclair a way out of this place was the same as pulling teeth with a pliers, but if he wanted me to help I had to guarantee Sinclair's safe passage out.

He glanced at Patrick for just a second, but it made me uncomfortable. I stood more in front of my son, shielding him from the Irishman. "So we have a deal?" Atlas questioned, holding out his hand.

I stared at it and promptly ignored it looking to Camille. "Here's how it will go though," I started to count off on my fingers, "You will follow every instruction I give with no hesitation. Any questions and I will leave you to flounder in those vents. There is only one speed: My speed. Can't keep up, don't show up. Splicers roam around constantly in the vents and will snatch you up if you don't move fast enough. With the pheromone pumping through the vents, there will be no mercy when they gut you like pig."

I felt a slight burn of the 'ATLAS' scar and finally realized which arm I had used to list off my conditions. Atlas was staring at it a look of pure shock. My fist clenched and I brought my arm to rest on my stomach protectively. Atlas made no notion to ask about it and just shook his head like he was trying to shake the image from his mind.

"You will meet me on top of the King Pawn building tomorrow night. You will bring what you need, but remember: The vents are small and can't carry much, especially the ones around Hephaestus," I finished turning toward my door. I opened it up wide and gestured for them to leave.

Atlas smiled appreciatively and gave me a nod. He was the first to leave with Diane on his tail like a love struck puppy. He stopped next to Patrick and I immediately put myself between them. "You 'ave a good lad. Looks like he takes care of his mum. Protects her," He commented out of the blue.

"You'll take care to keep your comments about my son to yourself or else something might... happen to you. Say: an accident of a mysterious nature?" I passive-aggressively threatened. He finally walked out of my apartment and Patrick and I almost visibly let out a sigh of relief.

Camille stopped in the door frame and glanced back at me. "Why did you agree?"

I scratched at the raised scarred skin of my arm, unconsciously tracing the carving. "Because sitting around waiting for Ryan to croak isn't getting anywhere. I still think you're an idiot for throwing your lot in with Atlas, but I don't control your life."

"How is Sinclair?"

"He's fine." I didn't want to harden up to her, but she didn't deserve to know much about him.

"When you see him: Tell him I'm sorry."

"Duly noted. Now get out. I still have to catch up on some sleep."

Camille opened her mouth to retort but decided against it. Instead, she turned on her heel and followed Atlas and Diane back to the Little Sister Orphanage no doubt.

Atlas was getting desperate: That was for sure. With the pheromone getting spread around, Atlas was loosing troops and fast since he couldn't maneuver with the same finesse in places like Athena's Glory without causing a stir forcing him to remain in the drop zones of the pheromone. This attack on Ryan was a gutsy move, but smart to a point, still borderline suicidal.

I ran a hand through my long hair and looked at it blankly. A nasty run-in with a splicer had me questioning whether I should keep my hair as long as it is since the splicer managed to grab my braid and pull hard. I almost had my throat slit for ADAM I didn't possess.

Perhaps it was time for a hasty haircut.