"I am never getting into the ocean ever again!"
The helmet hit the ground with a horrendous clang and clatter as Atlas tore it from his head and hurled it as hard as he could in the opposite direction of his body.
Immediately after, before the helmet had even stopped bouncing, Atlas was tearing at the suit he'd barely been able to put on competently. While behind him, Delta moseyed on in at his own pace.
The lumbering tin man did little more than cock his head to the side and observe the wild flailing of his smaller companion. Atlas did seem to like making an almighty fuss over very little.
Granted even Delta might have been given a little shock at the first glimpse of their underwater friend. Sharks were not unusual around Rapture, Delta had walked through flooded sections of the city and seen them cruising around unbothered before. They rarely seemed interested in him and both he and the fish tended to give the other a wide berth.
Naturally it was when he was out with Atlas that one would come up to have a closer look at them. Rather typical.
As if able to sense just how limited Atlas's patience currently was, Sinclair's voice made a reappearance. "Would I be right in saying you found some of Rapture's life blood at the source out there, boys?"
The moment that jeering voice came buzzing across the line, Atlas's gaze narrowed in on the radio which he snatached almost too violently from Delta, only so he could rather firmly voice his grievances. Someone had to hear them and if Atlas had his way it would be the rest of this leaky fucking city.
"Yeah, no shit! Thought those damn things were all farmed out, not just laying around for Delta to…" Atlas looked to his silent companion sharply, eyes raking over him once, twice, before snapping back to the radio. "I don't know, assimilate it or some shit? Just jammed the fucking thing right into his arm, pocket - thing!"
If Delta did not know any better he might have thought Atlas was complaining for the sake of it.
Well, at the very least, Delta could see Atlas was not lacking in energy.
From the other end of the radio, Sinclair let out an amused gawf. It was about as positive a reaction as he was willing to share when Atlas was the one holding the radio.
"Fontaine was one savvy ol' crook. He built this HQ out on the edge of an ocean trench so deep it might as well be bottomless." As Sinclair dove into some sort of explanation for the slugs presence, Atlas slapped the radio back down on his hip and returned to trying to get his suit off. The struggle was partly due to their attempts to keep their supplies from getting damaged.
At the very least Atlas had been able to abandon that blasted painting of Delta's at the train, leaving them to only worry about the condition of their medkits and food stash. Atlas had to put some of those cruddy old candy bars in the suit with him and was rather violently turned off the thought of eating them now as he fished them back out. But food was food and he'd eaten worse.
"And why? Because the slugs that carry ADAM crawl right up out of it. Heaven knows what lies below... but the proximity surely helped him corner the supply."
In response to Sinclair's little lecture on the Fontaine Futuristics genius, Atlas rolled his eyes irritably. "Well if you're done sucking the dead bastard off…" Snarling under his breath Atlas finished ripping the last of the diving suit off of him, hurling the soggy boot he'd just painstakingly pried from his foot, across the room.
If Sinclair heard him, he didn't rise the bait. To his credit, he remained focused on the job at hand. A small level of professional distance.
"Now the good Doctor Lamb's as wily as they come — she's hidin' out somewhere underneath all this. Word is, she left some kinda... middleman in charge o' keepin' out the riff-raff. To get to Lamb, you need to find out who." Sinclair said, sounding rather exasperated with the games they had to play just to stay on Lamb's tail.
"Or..." Atlas interjected dryly, "...you could just ask the sorry sod that actually crawled his ass out of here before you lot dragged him on back."
He was, not being particularly helpful at first. He was no great fan of being ignored. "That loon Gilbert is still lurking here, as far as I can tell he's got a monopoly of the old place."
It was Tenenbaum that rose to this information most quickly. Perhaps tired of Sinclair and Atlas's borderline hostility. "Alexander? I knew this man... a talented builder of machines. He assisted me with implantation of the Little Ones." That checked out. Monster as a man and now a more literal beast.
"Yeah, and he's the last son of a bitch they left alive at Fontaine's HQ." Atlas groused, walking past Delta and allowing the sound of the radio to become increasingly distant.
Let them talk about Alexander all they liked, he didn't expect a single one of them to grasp exactly how monsterous he'd become even if he attempted to describe it in great detail. To write essays upon essays as to how every writhing, bulbos inch of the sea monster imprinted itself onto his memory. Of all the things he had forgotten, he wouldn't have minded if that part was taken from him.
Regardless, they'd likely find out one way or another, through the dingy screens they observed Delta's journey through. Atlas would leave it a neat little grotesque surprise for them.
The thought of not encountering Alex-The-Flipping-Great didn't even cross his mind. Atlas didn't believe in that sort of good fortune anymore.
Pausing, Atlas found himself standing foot to foot with a corpse, they were nothing special anymore. Splicers even less impactful than humans. Atlas glanced over the man that lay propped up against the tiled wall, bloody and sunken. Not decayed enough to have been there for more than a few days, maybe weeks.
Atlas had long since forgotten to be disturbed by how easily he could gauge a corpse's time laying where it had first fallen.
Above the body was something just a little more interesting. 'YOU'RE FIRED' written in great big bold letters. There was so much written across Rapture's walls nowadays that Atlas rarely stopped to truly take them in. But like Lamb's messages before it - this one caught his eye.
Frowning, Atlas bent at the waist, leaning over the body in order to trace his fingers across the exclamation that stood as this splicer's only headstone.
As his fingers brushed over the tiles they dipped into the carved out letters. Smooth inside, glossy even. The words were burnt into the wall, blackened and precisie. Atlas's arm throbbed as it always did when fire came into the equation but he ignored it this time. No splicer's fist of fire could make words like this. Which meant, this was something new. Fantastic.
Just as he was straightening back up right, Delta's approach brought Sinclair's voice along with it, brining Atlas back into the conversation of their middle man.
"I expect he's still in those old laboratories." Augustus was saying and Atlas didn't bother chiming in to add his agreement. Rather hoping to avoid going down to the laboratories himself. But Sinclair wasn't interested in his opinion - clearly - instead something else seemed to be plaguing him judging by how his tone dropped.
After a short pause, Augustus more slowly ventured, "As I understand it, son... this is where they made you."
That had Atlas looking back to Delta, seeking some reaction all the while knowing it would be near impossible if Delta opted to keep his reactions subtle. There was many different feelings and meanings Atlas could glean from how Delta carried himself. But if he gave no physical response then behind that heavy helmet - it would all be private to Delta.
Private was exactly how he kept it with nothing more than a slight nod and Atlas felt irritation nagging at him. Not knowing what reaction he would want if given any, but knowing this was not what he wanted. This acknowledgement without any outward emotional response.
It left Atlas at a loss for what to think and as of late his head was enough of a mess without playing guessing games around Delta as well.
"Alright, so we're heading for the frankenstein factory - nice. Let's just-"
Atlas's rather insensitive, but well meaning, response was cut short by the sound of something making a rukus up ahead. Both men paused, falling completely still and silent as they listened to the comotion just one floor up. It was distant, but Atlas recognised the shrill screeching.
"He's stealing office supplies, the cheeky little bugger! Company ADAM, from company stocks - I saw him jab it into his arm! Search him!"
Apparently Gilbert had brought his mechanical voice to the upper levels of Fontaine Futuristics as well.
With a small gesture to follow, Atlas crept towards the door and tried to get a better look at what was happening in the Fontaine Furtruistics entryway. It was hard to make out from this angle but eventually he was able to make out the form of at least two splicers huddled around a vending machine, with the annoying drone of Alexander's buzzing around their heads.
Still screaming. God the man was grating to listen to.
And they had to listen to him plenty.
Whatever pitiful attempts the splicer made to appease the giant eye in the sky that served as Alex's surrogate was only able to infuriate the man more. It was truly not the splicer's fault - Alex seemed mad enough as was. Just looking for bodies to add to his tally.
As the bot's screaming got increasingly unhinged, all Atlas could do was set down his bag and begin rather casually rifling through it. Withdrawing first his packet of bullets and then whipping out his pistol to get started checking the amunition situation. Might as well get ready for the bullshit to come.
"Mister A!? I am your employer, boy! What is my name?" Alex continued screaming near incoherently as a background noise to Atlas's calm preparations. "Oh, now it remembers. Too late, my friend! Too late!"
To the sound of Alex 'firing' the splicers, Atlas counted off his rounds. " "Dismissed! Fired! Terminated!" Alex shrieked and Atlas only just had enough interest to glance around the corner again and see Alex put the splicer down.
Admittedly the fire power the modified security bot had was somewhat daunting. Tenenbaum's description of the talented scientist proving true. But the most Atlas could muster for the time being was a weary, "Guess we found the grafiti culprit." That blast of heat that carved out the 'dismissals' into the tiled wall behind them was nothing to scoff at. Another obstacle then.
"I do so hope that was instructive for the rest of you." Atlas clicked the pistol chamber open as Alex brought a close to his little 'demonstration'. Sounded pretty pleased with himself to boot.
"That'd be our man." Atlas confirmed with a hefty sigh once the noise had settled.
Sinclair sounded far less jaded than himself, horrified even. "Alex the Great!? Oh hell, not much left of the man that left you that message we're following. He sounds mad as a March hare now." He lamented. How he was not yet used to all these 'great minds' going completely nutty was beyond Atlas.
"Preaching to the choir on that one, Sinclair." Atlas remarked, jamming new ammunition into his pistol with a precise callousness.
If it turned out they had to kill the thing Gilbert had become as the old memory of the man had pleaded in recordings, it'd be no sadder than putting down a rabies laden mutt.
With that Atlas rose back to his feet, noting that the entry hall was now empty save for the aimlessly flying security bot. Seemed like Alex didn't know what to do with himself when he wasn't killing his 'employees.'
"Right. Let's give him something to do."
It was with perhaps just a little bit too much confidence that Atlas stepped out from his cover, pistol trained on the unsuspecting bot, and fired.
Most bots would take the bullet and fall from the sky at best, glitch and flail at worst, but Alex's personal security bot did little more than dip slightly off course before whipping back around in Atlas's direction.
"Shit-"
Having just seen what a blast from Alex's bot could do, Atlas was quick to dive aside of it when aimed at him. The heat of the pointed beam rushed past Atlas's side, just narrowly missing him as he clambered down beside a collection of crates with 'seized' notices plastered all over them.
Scrambling onto his backside, Atlas caught sight of Delta still standing in the doorway he'd just stepped out of in all his misplaced bravado. Atlas wished Delta kept these thoughts more private because he was definitely really unimpressed with him right now.
In response to that flat judgemental stare, Atlas flipped Delta off and snapped. "Well let's see you do better, Delta!"
He was genuinely a bit wounded when Delta did just that. Stepping out after Atlas and turning towards the drone as it flew overhead, right over the stack of crates Atlas had tried hiding behind. Seeing it abruptly above him, Atlas yelped in alarm and it was then that Delta moved. Drill whirling to life as the big daddy braced his massive form before charging right at the bot.
The bot that was literally right above him. Oh for fucks sake-
Atlas was forced to leap away from the pile of crates as Delta came crashing into them, drill striking the bot and sending it flying along with the rest of the boxes that broke under the force of Delta's blow. Atlas, naturally, imagined himself breaking much the same had he not moved aside in time and if he screamed in a slightly unflattering manner when he did fling himself out of the way - well that was understandable.
"Would you kindly watch where the fuck you're throwing yourself, Delta!?"
Atlas's skin crawled.
He didn't know why.
Couldn't focus on that currently. His heart was busy thundering in his chest as he saw his life nearly flash before his eyes. All twelve minutes of it with what he could remember.
Delta shrugged, some bits of the now demolished wooden crates falling off his shoulders while Atlas scowled at him. That fucking bastard did it on purpose, he could fucking feel it.
Before Atlas could get started with the shouting fit that was no doubt to come, the bot Delta had flung across the room seemed to shudder. They both stopped to watch as the study bit of machinery began picking itself back up off the ground. The whirl of its engines louder now as it worked overtime to remain functional. Any other security bot would have been well beyond broken from that, but Alex did have the shinesty toys it seemed.
"I recognise you, thief." Alex's voice came warbling out of the busted up speakers. Oh-ho? Come back to line your pockets with more Fontaine ingenuity have you?" Alex began ranting again and his lack of composure gave Atlas some time to find his own once again. Gathering himself up off the ground, dusting off his frankly beyond filthy pants before looking back at the still screaming Alex-bot.
"All Big Daddies are property of Fontaine!" Alex asserted and Atlas felt a swell of irritation. Not a massive fan of Alex thinking someone owned Delta. Even if was a dead man. "Understand, sir, that I am the body corporate, Understand, sir, that I am Alex the Great! A company is an organism, my friend - I can piss you right back out into the ocean with just a little squeeze-"
"Charmin' that." Atlas's droning voice cut across Alex's staticy mess. "Hope the eulogy for ya self, is just as inspiring, Gilbert."
"Why you insolent-! You know what? No! I don't have to stand for this disrespect."
Instinctively both Atlas and Delta tensed as the weapon attached to this particular security bot began to power up. Delta took a step towards Atlas and he was fairly sure that had that weapon not immediately sputtered and died out, that Delta would have flung him across the room like a ragdoll just to make sure Alex didn't fry him where he stood.
As Alex's gun died and left him with nothing to use, a brief silence fell between the three of them. Then, ever so slowly and no matter how undeserving his arrogance was, Atlas began to grin.
"...outta juice, are we?" Atlas asked ever so sweetly.
Outraged, Alex's voice came shrieking through the security bot, breaking the speakers into a mess of staticy snaps and cracks. What a drama queen.
Atlas watched as the drone flew off, seemingly in a huff and couldn't help snickering under his breath. He swore that when Delta looked his way it was chiding. In answer he only shrugged 'innocently' with a sneer.
With a heavy drop of his shoulders, Delta walked over to Atlas. Stopping in front of him for a moment Delta just stared at the ridiculous little man before firmly planting his fist atop Atlas's head. It was nothing more than a scolding 'bonk' but Atlas still yelped. More so insulted than wounded.
"Couldn't let me have even that, could you, tinman?" Atlas groused, rubbing his head. Pausing before adding under his breath. "Kill joy."
He was sure that Delta was laughing at that somehow.
"Boys." Tenenbaum's voice cut in rather sharply. Exasperated with the both of them clearly. "You must continue to the laboratories. Delta, please. Up above, there you will find a security gate. See if you cannot bypass it."
To Delta's credit, he did very quickly return to the task at hand. Turning away from Atlas and heading into the belly of Fontaine's entryway. Atlas took only a moment or two longer to follow after him.
The security gate that Tenenbaum spoke of was on the second level of the rather obnoxiously extravagant main hall of Fontaine Futuristics. The place was decked out like a high class resort rather than a place of science. Though Atlas knew that was not the case in the depths of Fontaine Futuristics. Down there it was dark and nightmarish. Likely had been before the rot had even set in.
Stepping away from the mess they'd made, Atlas followed after Delta at first. Taking note of the bodies Alex had left behind briefly before, inevitably, his gaze was drawn to the centre of the room.
Once his eyes landed on it, Atlas's stride faltered and he became stationary once again. Staring up at the globe before him.
While he was caught in place, Delta continued to lumber on past the centrepiece of the room, seemingly disinterested in it beyond an acknowledging glance. It was only a skulpture. One of hundreds in Rapture. There was no reason to be captivated by it. But Atlas found himself unable to tear his gaze away.
The massive globe sat to rust under the glow of the Fontaine Futuristic's sign. Through the haze and dust, Atlas could see the faintest shine of bronze still peaking through the decay and it was only once his gaze caught that shine that abruptly it expanded.
A sudden expansion of colour and glassy sheen spread across the globe and once the colour began to spread from the globe it overtook everything else. Wiping away the debris and rot, replacing it with the shine that was so unique to Rapture before the fall. The glow of a utopia when it could still pretend it wasn't rotting beneath the surface and standing proud and tall in front of the farce of perfection was yet another ghost.
Staggering back a step Atlas realised that he was alone in this experience. The distant figure of Delta passing up the stairs, unbothered by Atlas's delusions, currently looked more ghostly than the memories playing out before his eyes.
"Well?" The long gone ghost spoke up, booming voice one of pride. "What do ya think? Not half bad, eh?"
Stepping around the back of the first ghost's form was a second. Atlas recognised the transparent form in an instant, the glow of an ADAM made memory, no different to the brief appearance of Valery back at the theater - not one that would interact with him presently.
Unlike she had in front of the broken down carousel.
But it was the man's form that seemed the most solid. As though he belonged right there. Seemed about right, this place had been the fruits of his labours after all.
Atlas looked on the memory of Fontaine with more contempt than he thought possible.
"You're not impressed?" The ghost asked, scoffing. "You're just sour 'cuz I was right about the kraut, eh? Look where her crackpot ideas got us. This place is gonna put Ryan to shame, just you wait and see."
It was almost a friendly interaction and Atlas watched the blue phantom lean herself across Fontaine's back and scoff right back.
And in Jaclyn's voice there was more fondness than Atlas felt was deserved of Fontaine. "If you say so, Frankie."
Just as quickly as the vision had appeared it was wiped clean of the world again. An abrupt snap back to reality that took all the colour and light with it in a near violent withdrawal. Around Atlas the decay and ruins returned. The steady drip of a thousand leaks and the stench of mold returning to him. Welcoming him back into the hell Rapture had become with open arms.
As the shine and illusions were wiped away, Jaclyn's ghost along with it, there remained only one relic of the past. Still standing before the globe Fontaine's ghost lingered. As though not yet willing to rejoin the dead.
Where the ghost had stood tall, basking in it's own arrogance and victory in the memory of this place's opening, now it stood in the way a dead man should. Hands by his sides, clenched, shoulders tense and head dropped before the testament to his ego.
Atlas swore he heard it speak once more. Voice a low snarl.
"...If I say so." The ghost's voice carried, harsh and biting. "Just wait and see."
Frozen Atlas felt something grabbing at his chest, a familiar sort of painful vice closing around his heart. Fear, perhaps. The unpleasant coldness spread and inch by inch it seemed to crawl through his veins, and all Atlas could do was stand there and let it overtake his senses bit by bit.
"Atlas?" Sinclair's voice broke him from his stupor. In Atlas's surprise he looked down to the radio on his hip, instinctively reaching for it, only to become just as quickly alarmed that he'd looked away from the ghost. When he looked back towards teh globe it was alone again. Rusting and abandoned, no memories or spirits lingering anymore.
"Hey, you going to just stand there?" Sinclair spoke again, unaware of how Atlas's hands shook, needing to release them from clenched fists before he could take the radio again.
As he straightened back up, needing to forcibly ease the tension from his shoulders, Atlas saw Delta standing atop the stairs, looking back down at him. Ha. That must have been how Sinclair had noticed how still he was.
Before so much as attempting to speak, Atlas drew on one deep, hopefully steadying, breath. He had to get his head back on straight. These ghosts were haunting him a little too literally. But he didn't asked 'why god? Why me?' He knew exactly why. There was no point in crying that it was unjust - too much blood on his hands to play the victim.
But he wasn't the only fucking monster here. "What do you want, Sinclair? Can't let a man fucking breathe, can you?"
Atlas did not miss how Delta shifted in place. Likely a bit taken off guard by the venom in Atlas's voice. The response had been needlessly vicious, but Atlas was tired. He was tired, and he was furious.
He wasn't the only one that deserved punishment and they both knew it. That was likely why Sinclair didn't act the victim either when replying to the resentment thrown his way. "You want time to breathe? Let's not take it when we're all about to drown down here."
And with an angry growl under his breath, Atlas agreed. With actions rather than words. He did not want to speak out loud in agreement with Sinclair. And so forced himself to start walking again. Moving to rejoin Delta.
This time he did not look at the globe but he swore that there were still ghosts looking back at him.