The tain had come to a halt.
The great beast of a thing groaning and straining as it finally came to a stop, right back at the beast's den at that. Wearily Atlas glanced towards the doors, they weren't open yet but that was just fine by him as he sat on his hind haunches, sorting through his small cluster of supplies.
He had his pistol popped open, reloading it only to snap it back shut and spin the cylinder. It felt sturdier in his hands once full again. Better still was his packet of bullets. So long as he was aware of how many he had at all times, he'd have no difficulty keeping this thing loaded. There'd be bodies along the way with extras they didn't need anymore as well. With this he felt just a little safer.
Though honestly he could do with something packing a bit more of a punch than this gun. Granted he felt a small level of attachment to it, but it still was just a pistol. He needed something a bit more before he'd truly feel at ease.
Then again, he did have something else.
Tenenbaum had stocked him up with what medical supplies she could spare for him, just as well because if Atlas's track record was anything to go if he'd be needing them. But it was the glow of the needles she's left him with that kept his attention.
Frowning Atlas plucked up one of three EVE hypos, turning it over in his hand. The expectation was that the vial would be cold to the touch but it seemed as though EVE never truly cooled. The temperature the substance kept at was just a touch too high, making it uncomfortable to hold for too long.
With the desire to never have need of the damnable things, Atlas set it back into the bag alongside the med kits. He told himself that they wouldn't be needed, but he could still feel the last hiss rushing through his veins.
If it came down to it, he knew he'd take the EVE again. If it was a choice between not polluting his body and living another day, well it was hardly a question worth asking.
Given a moment alone to just breathe Atlas thought back to what had happened in that far train cart. Some of it was familiar enough, fear, pain, anger - par for the course. But he was beginning to notice a few more cracks in his person.
Between nightmares, unexpected outbursts and thoughts he didn't know he could have - he was a walking wreck even after Tenenbaum's patch job.
Despite himself Atlas again wondered if there was any point in digging up his own memories. Every time he got that bit closer, memories knocked loose with each dose of EVE he took, Atlas felt a little less in control.
Perhaps it was best not to go looking anymore. What good memories could he find here? He didn't think the ones he'd have of the surface were enough to make up for the nightmares down here. He was already burdened with so many memories. Knowing what he'd done with his own two hands.
It took a great deal of effort not to look back over his shoulder, to seek out the figure of any lingering children, to send them off. He didn't want a single one of those girls near him if he could help it.
But in the same vein, his memories brought with them other ghosts. Some he wished would leave him be and others? Others he almost wished he could conjure up just one more time. To share one more word with them before they vanished from him again. Even if he was cursed at and blamed, at least he'd be able to speak with them again.
Ha, look at him. Willing up old ghosts out of desperation. How low could a man sink that he couldn't even let the dead rest?
"Get it together, Atlas." He muttered to himself, palm pressed almost painfully against his forehead, as if he could squash the conflicting thoughts back down as far as they'd go.
With a sigh Atlas tried to keep his focus on finishing packing up his bag and kept his thoughts on the end goal. Out of here. One way or another. He should want to get to the surface, it should be all he wants but even that felt rather lackluster to him now.
But he did want to be with Jack. He'd never even stood on the same ground as him, in the same room, been able to speak to him face to face. He...wanted to have that.
To hell with the surface, to hell with Rapture. He owed the kid that handshake.
With that thought focused on it became easy to move with purpose once again. Bag tossed over his shoulder and as secure as he could keep it at his side. Atlas glanced up at the doors once again, this time his gaze was no longer wandering and pondering, time to get on with it.
Raising back to his feet, adjusting the bag just once to be sure, Atlas stepped forward and past the door as they slid open for him. "End of the line." He muttered under his breath, the yellow glow of the Fontaine Futuristics illuminated ahead of him. This had been the start of the line for him as well. Somewhere deep in the belly of this old laboratory he'd been spat back into the waking world.
He felt the need to know rise up in him once again. To know why he'd been reanimated there. He'd clued some things together from his encounter with Stanley and the body of Valery. Old girl had got those things up and running again and Atlas could only assume that was why he'd been woken up when he was. He wondered idly if Valery would be irritated that she'd inadvertently returned him to this world alongside Delta.
The thought of her grimace nearly made him smile.
Stepping from the train boarding platform, Atlas took the steps down to the station's waiting area. His feet were met with the familiar wet splash of dirty water that he'd learnt to ignore. In Rapture you were far more likely to find yourself standing on something moist rather than dry land. Just to be relieved that you weren't drowning.
The Fontaine Futuristics welcoming station was, like much of Rapture, a wreck. Even as he stepped into the glow provided by the lights that stubbornly persisted through the decay, all it lit up was more debris of the destroyed city.
At the very least he could make out the station light flickering off to his side. The south side, huh? Atlas couldn't say for sure, but he didn't think this was particularly close to where he'd woken up. Then again, how could he know that? He didn't know the layout of Fontaine's old coop. He'd call it a hunch.
Among the ruins there were old newspapers. Atlas glanced over the papers that had once been plastered over the walls and now lay soaking up water under foot. If he looked close enough he could see those old headlines that were designed to keep the gossip alive rather than provide any real information. Once upon a time they'd been different, but much like Stanley himself, journalism hadn't lasted long. It just didn't sell. And in Rapture? If it didn't sell, it didn't have a right to take up space.
Bending he thoughtlessly fished one out of the puddles, surprised it didn't fall apart the moment it came into contact with his fingers. This particular headline was one he remembered distantly. 'Smuggler Dead! Fontaine's Fall. Read more page two.'
Scratching his jaw Atlas briefly attempted to turn the soggy paper over but it finally gave up on staying in one coherent slab and broke apart under his hand, tearing and dropping a large section of its bulk back into the puddle. What he was left with was one more grabber tagline. 'What will happen to Fontaine's assets?'
They're supposed to be mine.
Atlas recalled there'd been some push for Ryan to hand over Fontaine's interests over to him and the boys. A peace offering of sorts that Ryan's counsel had been debating. Some way to satisfy Atlas and his crew with a show of good faith and perhaps quell the growing tension between them and the elite.
But of course not. Ryan, the stubborn old bastard, had taken it all for himself. "The 'free' market." Atlas mused bitterly as he dropped the rest of the ruined paper into the water. "What a feckin' joke."
Before he could rise from his position crouched above the puddle of now completely ruined papers, the door to the train slid open again. Glancing up Atlas saw Delta's bulky form carefully working its way out of the small space. At his tail was Tenenbaum, speaking to him quickly and no doubt firmly.
Without hearing a word of the one sided exchange, Atlas was sure he could guess the final outcome. Tenenbaum was no doubt giving Delta a timeframe of some kind. Atlas wondered if that timeframe was going to be a short window of time that ended with another outburst like the one in the train.
His jaw set firmly and eyes narrowed at the thought. By the time Tenenbaum had finished speaking, sending Delta back out in the environment she was too frail to traverse, Atlas was standing back to his full height. Still a good head and shoulders shorter than Delta.
The moment the big daddy turned and began to approach him - Atlas snapped and put an abrupt stop to that idea.
"Don't!" Atlas snapped sharply and saw as Delta's whole form stuttered to a standstill, hand still slightly raised towards him. Chided by the look of it. "Do not take one more goddamn step in my direction."
He couldn't be trusted around him and Atlas felt himself no more trustworthy right then. There was every chance he'd pull his pistol on Delta before any splicer had the chance.
Despite his avid refusal to feel any sort of sympathy for the guy that nearly caved his chest in not half an hour earlier, Atlas might have felt something close to it beginning to wiggle its way in when Delta only kept looking at him. Some longing, miserable air about his gentle sways and hunched shoulders. Not a word and Atlas was sure Delta was begging forgiveness.
With a tsk Atlas turned and head towards the gates, never quite letting Delta out of his sight but unwilling to stand close to him. "Let's just get on with it." He growled under his breath.
He didn't want to have to look back and see Delta's shoulders set in that particularly pitiful way. The sort that reminded him of a kicked pup. He didn't need that shit on his plate as well as everything else.
Striding on ahead Atlas glanced back as he caught the familiar glow of a Vita-Chamber to his side. It was pressed up against the wall, ever waiting to be used again. Briefly he wondered if...well if he were to die, would it bring him back again as they always had Jack?
Perhaps he just didn't have the gambling spirit anymore - but he didn't feel up to testing the theory.
Though when he caught the distant ramblings of a splicer he felt a chill rush up his spine, a sensation he was now well acquainted with. He heard a woman screeching about 'the children' and a man somewhere cursing some doctor for something. He wasn't sure what it was about splicers, but they seemed to have an eerie tendency to mimic one another. Copied phrases and patterns.
The genetic key that had once put Ryan in charge of all these raving lunatics might have had something to do with it. Maybe they were hive mind like as well.
Couldn't rule anything out with ADAM.
When the door from between those voices and the trainstation slid open, they didn't seem to notice at all. The splicer's mutterings grew louder and Atlas knew they were somewhere in here. He was a touch surprised by the lights, how blue they became the moment he passed the threshold. Were it only the ocean held back beyond the large windows set ahead of him it would have been nothing to marvel at - but there were new lights.
Someone had been redecorating. He'd seen bits and pieces like this in the park but nothing like the display he found now. Scrawled up on the wall in big white letters 'ASCENSION IS NEAR' stood out proudly. Illuminated by a splash of blue light and decorated with many tiny blue butterfly images.
Below he could just catch the sight of further lights, though it was impossible to identify the source from this angle, he'd find out soon enough. Just had to get through the mad dogs lurking down there.
As Atlas crept forward, finding himself on a second floor and down beneath it the splicers were lurking. Splashing around and ranting to no one in particular. Atlas was about to slide his pistol into hand when he had another thought.
He'd once told Jack, way back at the start of all this, that he could light up splicers like christmas lights with a crafty shock of electricity.
He was the one with a fist full of lightening now. Might as well take his own advice.
It felt alien to him even now as the surge of power shot up his arm and crackled into life, little luminous cracks of blue sparks darting across his closed fist. It felt wrong to feel how comfortably the ADAM coursed through his body.
For all his wariness and anger towards Delta, he still glanced over his shoulder at the behemoth who seemed clever enough to give him a wide berth. Likely both because of his decidedly foul mood and because he was using stealthier tactics. Big daddies weren't exactly built to be the quietest bunch, even if Delta was a lighter model than say a rumbler.
Knowing that should things turn pear shaped he'd have a big gun backing him up, Atlas crept up to the railing to get a better look. The first thing that caught his eye was that the splicers had seemingly gathered. Unusual, at least until he finally found the source of all that light. They'd set up a...a shrine around a little sister's vent. The sheer volume of candles was enough to take Atlas aback.
Whole damn city was sinking and these lunatics had time to light a church worth of candles. Unbelievably.
The strung up blue curtains and alter were what he noticed next and at the altar he noticed they'd laid out a sacrifice of all things. To lure out a little sister...christ.
No sooner than that sunk in did he catch the little scrapes and clangs of one of those little girls crawling her way up out of the vent they'd crowded around. While Atlas got the impression they weren't waiting around to strike, Lamb didn't seem the type to waste little sisters, he sprung up all the same. Not wanting to leave them standing long enough to see the kid exit that porthole.
One turned just in time to catch sight of him and its disfigured mouth opened wide to shout to the others no doubt, Atlas silenced it quickly.
Aiming firmly for the body of water they'd all so helpfully stepped foot into his shot a concise blast of electricity and found himself all but preening with pride as he watched the water spark into life and the electricity racing up the splicers feet. There was a visceral sort of glee that rushed through him when a plan went down without a hitch. Each thud of a fresh body another little bit of validation.
Before he could become introspective and note that even by his standards that sensation of satisfaction seemed too dark, he was distracted by the sound of the little sister that had nearly exited the vent screaming and vanishing back into the darkness. "Shit…" He cursed, rushing down the steps foolishly to see if he might be able to somehow coax the kid back out.
But she was gone just as quickly as she'd arrived. The slippery little buggers had to be quick to avoid the blood thirsty, ADAM starved monsters that followed them around.
Her hasty retreat left Atlas peering into the black void the vent provided. Hand on his hip with his expression twisted up into one of frustration. There was nothing to be done about it, he couldn't very well have left the splicers standing and no matter what he'd done the kid would have fled at the first sign of danger.
Perhaps it was because of his success with Beatrice that Atlas had reflexively chased after the girl. It would hardly redeem him, but it felt like it was his duty at this point to at least try to catch those girls and hand them off to Delta and the good doctor for safe keeping.
Speak of the devil, Delta came lumbering down after him. He saw the big daddy's helmet turn towards the still jerking body of the splicers and Atlas could not tell if he was admiring the simplicity of the take down or if he was having another bout of misplaced empathy. Either way he didn't address the dead and instead jerked his thumb towards the vent.
"Oi, reckon you can urge the little gal back out?" He asked but as he suspected it was pointless. Delta slowly shook his head as a negative.
Typical, even he couldn't bring one of those girls back once they'd scampered too deep down the vents to hear his pounding and were likely still running further, scared out of their mind.
Atlas didn't like the thought.
"Fine. Maybe we'll run into her later, let's move on." Atlas was still being short with Delta maybe unnecessarily so, but he didn't stop to spare Delta a second glance as he stepped past the bodies he'd left in his wake. It was impossible to conjure up the same sympathy Delta seemed to still hold for splicers.
Kinda got that way after a couple of dozen had nearly bashed your skull in. They only got so many chances and Atlas had run out of more to give.
The only hitch with his solid plan of 'moving on' was that the gateway that had once lead right to the front door of Fontaine Futuristics was busted and spewing ocean water through the cracks. He'd seen leaks like that before and knew it was unlikely the door would give, yet he still took a hefty step away, not exactly keen to test the theory by disturbing it in some way.
"Well fuck me five ways to Friday" He cursed rather colourfully now that the kids were no longer in earshot. And yet he was positive he could still feel Delta's disapproving stare boring into his back. "Guess we gotta find another way in or the whole plan is busto. There's another path down here."
As he turned back he happened to glance off to his left and balked as he saw the image of Lamb's face plastered over the wall in a massive poster. 'Lamb is ALWAYS Watching'. "Eerie motherfuckers." He muttered under his breath and tore his eyes away. He'd had quite enough to Lamb and her bunch of nutjob followers, but he suspected she wasn't done with them just yet.
At the far side of the room there was a pathway downwards and Atlas truly didn't like the look of it. It took them down and down, the look of the area getting increasingly behind the scenes in nature. The sort of place he and the boys spent their time working.
He'd seen enough pathways to airlocks in his time and sure enough his stomach dropped when he saw a gateway to the ocean floor set out before them. Hissing another expletive under his breath Atlas tossed a scowl at Delta. As if to blame him for his ability to survive unhindered by the ocean pressure.
Part of him fancied using this as an excuse to go back to the train and bunker down. Maybe make good with Sinclair and snatch another drink. But while it was a comforting notion to entertain, Atlas knew there was no turning back. Had to keep going. Was compelled to keep going.
It felt important that he reach Fontaine Futuristics. He was never a backseat guy anyway.
How fortunate - or unfortunate - for him there were a pair of old diving suits hung up on the far wall. Atlas went over to begrudgingly inspect them. They must have belonged to the maintenance workers before big daddies started doing more of the heavy lifting.
"October ninth, nineteen-sixty-seven. Hello...My name is Gilbert Alexander-"
Atlas startled so bad he nearly leapt out of his skin. Despite the level, rational, tennor to the man's voice Atlas's mind conjured up the last form he'd seen Alexander in and his heat went pounding. It took him a second to realise the sound was not of a radio transmission, but an old recording - it had said a date first but he'd been so alarmed he'd almost completely missed it.
It was rather strange, hearing Alexander's voice sound so sane once again. The man had once been so brilliant, with his hands deep in the big daddy production line at Fontaine Futuristics. But ADAM destroyed even the best of minds.
Turning Atlas found Delta staring at the screen emitting the memory of Alexander's mind, listening and watching as the man went on. The screen his old image was displayed on was directly across from Atlas, Delta's larger form must have brushed close enough to trigger it.
"Look while you're listening to his ramblings I'm going to stuff myself into this soggy ol' bit of gear." Atlas grunted, mostly trying to ignore the recording, though it still managed to seep into his thoughts here and there.
It chilled him to the bone when hearing Alexander say outright he expected and accepted his own decline into insanity. To know it was coming and be so helpless to stop it as your mind turned on you….yeah, Atlas was made extraordinary uneasy by it.
The suit he was trying to squeeze himself into was foul. It was damp and squished unpleasantly as he jammed each foot inside. But at the very least the padding was well insulating and even before it had reached his waist Atlas could feel how it would keep him warm. Just as well because he'd freeze to death out in the ocean water without it.
Getting the boots on was harder, two pairs and neither were a good fit for him. The first too large, leaving him basically without any god damn boot to speak of they were so useless to him and the others just a tad too small. He knew it would become far more uncomfortable once he stepped into the heavy pressure of the ocean, but they were not small enough to cause him any real harm. Just enough to be irritating no doubt.
As he struggled the last boot on, Alexander's recording finished up. Atlas couldn't say he was a massive fan of the request. They had enough to do with limited time as is and he wasn't biting at the bit to have another encounter with what the man was now. However, he got the distinct impression that this too was going to be out of his hands and they'd be forced to jump through more hoops.
Slowly he worked on the more fiddly parts the suit trying to figure out a few latches and patches he didn't understand, Delta searched the place. Likely to avoid making it obvious he was waiting on Atlas.
Except Atlas could not for the life of him figure the suit out.
Frustrated and confused he looked over it all again. He should know this. He'd worked maintenance on Rapture for years. Granted he didn't specialise in the water repairs, but he'd been a metal worker all his damn life. Surely he would have gone out with the divers once or twice to work on piping?
His memory was shot all to hell but he'd never forgotten a skill before.
The longer his fingers failed to magically recall what they were supposed to do, the more furious Atlas became with himself. Why? Why was he such a damn mess? How could he forget something so fundamental to his person? A whole trade, down the drain.
Apparently he'd taken too longer, because Delta was turning back towards him. Head cocked in that way he always did when enquiring over something. Too angry and flustered to form a coherent answer to Delta's silent question, Atlas furiously tugged at the suit here and there, just trying to make something happen. To slot into place in his mind.
Delta spared him the struggle continuing. Approaching him and after a brief hesitation when Atlas turned his fiery gaze onto him, reached out to take over. Johnny had been a deep sea diver before being put into a more permanent suit. It made sense he'd make short work of the gear. Atlas's pride was wounded, but he let Delta work, knowing he couldn't impede progress for the sake of his ego. Worse still, risk his life underwater because he refused professional help.
Didn't mean he'd be thanking Delta of course.
Instead his gaze flicked up to the airlock and he felt his heart clench again. Thoughts of the...the thing that had attacked him in the bathysphere as he escaped the very place they were heading filling up his head.
"Hey...Delta?" His voice was low, quiet in an attempt to disguise the sickly sensation of fear crawling up his spine. "There's things out there, in the deep. Splicers I suppose but…"
God he didn't want to go out there.
He was fucking piss scared of going into the water. He was not too proud to admit that, at least within the safety of his own mind.
Briefly Delta paused in his preparation of Atlas's diving suit. The helmet that would soon be over Atlas's head in his gloved hand. He made even that look small with his massive size. His stare followed Atlas's towards the airlock and by extension the open ocean depths. Atlas didn't know what he was thinking. Maybe he thought he was a coward, maybe sea monsters were nothing to him. But Atlas recalled the damage that thing had done to his bathysphere. It was made of tough stuff, just like Delta. He'd probably fair about the same.
Atlas truly worried that Delta would be shredded if one of those things found them.
Finally Delta turned back in his direction and set the helmet onto his head like he was a child, before slightly lifting his drill to show Atlas. With one hand on the helmet, a sort of indirect touch to his head that Delta was so fond of, he gave the drill a small rev and Atlas was alarmed when he did not immediately become afraid.
Delta had knocked him around badly back on the train, and yet with him still so clearly being himself - Atlas just couldn't muster up the fear he thought he should have felt.
He hated the moment he realised he trusted Delta.
And that small display of his drill while keeping a comforting contact with him got the message through the Atlas loud and clear. Delta was there for him out in the watery depths. Delta was willing to fight off any monster that might come across them down there. Would protect him.
Despite thinking he should be pissed that Delta was treating him like an infant that needed his hand held through everything, all Atlas could think was thank god. Delta's certainty that they'd be able to make it was a great reassurance. After taking a deep, steadying breath that seemed to reverberate in the metal helmet he was stuck inside, Atlas nodded.
The fear not erased, but the bravery to walk himself out in that icy water restored. He could do this.
"What the fuck do a bunch of ugly squids have on us anyway?" He ventured and even without seeing Deltas face under all that metal, he could have sworn the big softie was smiling.
Okay, so maybe he didn't have to keep being pissed at Delta. He needed allies currently and Delta was the best he had.
Delta was the first to step into the airlock, ready for Gilbert's little test. Atlas followed after him and wondered if he'd actually be able to pass this 'bioscan' to see if they were sane enough. Between a big daddy and all his loose screws Atlas genuinely wondered if they'd pass.
But they got the green light and Atlas was rather pleased that at least a machine thought he was sane enough.
Then he laughed when Delta gave him a thumbs up, over their successful passing of the bioscan he guessed, and Atlas returned the gesture it with a roll of his eyes. Sure, they'd probably die out there, likely an eighty-five percent likelihood if Atlas was forced to guess, but hell it was a one-hundred percent chance of death if they didn't continue on.
Suppose he'd just have to live with those numbers.