Sinclair was...anxious.

For lack of a less vulnerable term. Trust him, if there were a way to phrase it in a less vulnerable way, he'd have found it.

Sitting back in his seat Sinclair pulled his fingers through his hair and attempted to bite down the sigh threatening to get out of him. The effort fell just short and Sinclair made a soft irritated sound. Just as well the radio was left off.

Wearily he looked through Delta's eyes in a sense, the gentle back and forth of his every step could get a little disorientating at times. It was not the easiest viewing experience in the world, but it was what they had.

Delta had returned to being focused after that small scene he'd stumbled across. It would have been ludicrous to think he'd never once come across others like himself. Even if they were long dead.

And, admittedly, Sinclair might not have had the best words for Delta when he had. He'd just gotten a bit defensive when seeing the other big daddy lying there. Wondering what it was the kid was thinking. What he might have been remembering.

Despite himself, Sinclair's gaze dropped over to the side, looking behind him to where the small stash of oddities Delta and the girls had gathered lay. Most of the pile was a collection of audio diaries that for some reason or another, the girls tended to gather and occasionally Delta would even bring in. Sinclair tended to leave them unlistened to. If they were something damning then he was sure they'd be brought to his attention immediately.

However, what Sinclair was looking at was not the old voices of ghosts. Rather he was looking at the rolled up painting Delta had gotten from Atlas. It was one of the few good things Atlas seemed capable of doing and Sinclair rather despised him for doing so.

He knew that the nagging sense of endangerment that kept growing larger as it loomed over him was the cause of his hostility towards Atlas and by the same vein, the painting.

A million ways to phrase things, to use half truths and make sympathetic excuses were running around his mind. Preparing him in case Fontaine Futuristics happened to implicate him.

Helped none that he could feel Tenenbaum's eyes on him at almost all times. Knowing that she was not once fooled by him, and held her tongue for whatever reasons she saw fit. It was because of this he didn't confront her more.

Sinclair knew she was playing some sort of game, but if he demanded she loosen her tongue about that then she might just keep speaking and reveal him as well.

He was at an impasse and all he could do was talk to Delta at times. Urge him to move on forward, closer to the surface and cross his fingers with the hopes he'd never have to explain himself.

Delta seemed to be doing the responsible thing currently. Clearing out splicers where he could, collecting supplies, ensuring he was ready for battles to come. It was a slow process and it allowed Sinclair to rise from his seat. Needing to vent some of his frustration through movement.

Stepping out of his seat, Sinclair approached their collection of oddities with a pinched brow. Looking down at the pile of gathered treasures, at least that was how the children thought of them. The rusted audio diaries would only occasionally catch Sinclair's eye, once or twice wondering if he recognised one or two out of the lot. It was absurd to think so, they were all but identical, but if he looked long enough he swore a few of those were ones he'd once used. He brushed that inkling aside, not wanting to entertain the thought that he was right and Delta had heard him in his prime where he was less likely to paint a pretty picture of himself.

Kneeling down, Sinclair plucked up the painting, turning the rolled up canvas in his hand. Inspecting it and wondering just how quickly it would light up if he took his lighter to it.

Sinclair was clever enough not to do so.

It was while he was considering the painting that he noticed a new treasure he hadn't seen before. It gave him reason for pause, the little homemade big daddy toy.

Slowly Sinclair set the painting back down and reached for the oddly assembled toy. Crudely stitched together the Frankenstein doll was made from pieces that just didn't match. A baseball head, watched lashed to its front to act as one big, shining eye and a mismatch of other toys limbs.

To be honest, it was nothing he'd hand to a child. There were needles, old metal clips and sharp edges littered across its body, truly it was rather unsafe.

"That's mine." A little voice said.

Sinclair startled, nearly dropping the toy before looking to the doorway and seeing one of the girls there. The newest to the bunch. He hadn't spoken to her at all yet and his mind rapidly ran through all the different ways to both appease a child and not too harshly tell them to leave him alone.

Beatrice was looking at him like he was only one step away from being a splicer and that was a little off putting given she seemed rather comfortable around Atlas who actually had some splicer in him.

"Yours?" Sinclair ventured, holding the toy up. Maybe hoping that if he handed it to her she'd go on her merry way.

Instead Beatrice seemed to shuffle uneasily. Hands pressed against the doorway and gaze flicking between the ground and the toy in Sinclair's hand. Thinking about something rather deeply.

Just as Sinclair was about to lose his patience she spoke up again. "You can...borrow it." She finally got out, and judging by how the words sounded damn near pained, she didn't like that one bit. That, and it might have had something to do with her English being just a touch broken. He'd occasionally heard the child speaking in French around the other girls. If only to confuse them.

They'd been snatching kids from all over the place apparently.

Sinclair was ready to hand her back the toy. He certainly didn't want it. Borrowed or not. He wasn't given the chance.

"Until...Delta is back." She clarified, dark eyes briefly landing on his face before away again, unable to hold the eye contact. "For safeness."

Helpfully, Sinclair only uttered, "Oh."

A short silence fell between them, Sinclair at a loss for how to proceed and the girl not exactly confident enough to speak again. It was terribly awkward until Sinclair looked back to the raggedy looking thing, unable to see in what way this would encourage 'safeness', though he supposed it made some sense. They were programed to look to Big Daddies for protection, even once free of their conditioning, that sort of association probably didn't just evaporate.

"Well, if ya need him to feel safe-" Sinclair began, attempting to offer the toy to her and all but immediately be shut down.

Beatrice reached towards his hand and rather than take the offering, She urged Sinclair's hands back towards himself, little fingers pressing his own over the doll insistently.

"For you." She said sternly.

"For me?"

"Yes." Beatrice nodded.

"Sweetheart, I don't need no-"

"But you do. Until Delta is back." She reminded just as sternly and it finally clicked for him.

Sinclair found himself at a loss, looking at Beatrice who only scowled down at their hands, firmly holding the doll to Sinclair's palm. So many dismissive words crossed his mind. Ways to ease the girl's misplaced need to somehow provide him with comfort, but not a single one managed to pass his lips.

Here was a child doing her best to offer him comfort and he'd given nothing of the sort to them.

'Euthanasia, son. That's all it is.'

Sinclair flinched but the reaction prompted him to keep on moving. Fingers closing wholly around the toy again though he truly had no need of it. He was feeling, more so now than ever, that looming sense of judgement bearing down on him.

Rapture had been a pipe dream. Ryan's, Fontaine's...and his.

They just all had very different dreams. No single one more deserving or less selfish than the other's. They were all over now and Sinclair had to leave his own behind.

That dream of rising above all accountability, dismissing humanity at every turn. It was all gone now and what he had left was a history of callous decisions. With a girl standing in front of him that he'd have left for dead using the thought of a slug and euthanasia to wash his conscience clean.

But Beatrice, just like Lucy, and Eseme and Viola, they were all perfectly alive little girls again. If he were to be honest, as much as it made his skin crawl, they'd never stopped being little girls.

Despite how his chest tightened and Sinclair found it increasingly difficult to turn a blind eye or keep his mouth shut, he managed to put on a fairly easy going smile.

"That's mighty kind of ya, sweetheart." He told her gently.

When she managed a smile back Sinclair couldn't tell if he felt all the worse for it or just a bit better.

Standing up, Sinclair took the doll back to their little observation set up and after some consideration, set it down next to the main monitor. A little companion of sorts. Amusing if nothing else.

Behind him Beatrice lingered and Sinclair's stomach twisted a bit seeing her look at the painting. It would hold no meaning to her, likely she was just looking over their little collection of memories. Sinclair was aware that he was being hyper focused on the thing, but that tended to happen when Delta was walking through the ruins of his past and his own crimes.

Seeking to ease the girl's mind, Sinclair offered another smile. "Don't you worry none. Those two will be just fine out there. You just stay right here, good and safe, they'll be back before you know it."

It was clear as day that Beatrice wasn't convinced, but she nodded all the same.

"Right, off you bed with you. Tenenbaum will have my head if you lot are up past bedtime."

Beatrice snorted in derision and Sinclair felt his smile become just a bit more genuine. Brat.

Without protesting Beatrice glanced at him once more, offering a simple, "Night." before heading back into the depths of the train.

"Goodnight." Sinclair replied thought the girl was long gone. Once again he was alone in the control room.

Well, not entirely alone. He had his little toy big daddy now. For what good it did him. Smiling tiredly Sinclair sat himself back down, checking in with Delta again.

Immediately Sinclair felt jaded as he watched Delta make his way to another section of Fontaine's show rooms. The plasmid theatre...he'd been there a number of times himself. Remembered the displays they'd put on and how disinterested he'd been in anything beyond estimating the money that could be made from each 'product'.

Almost without realising he was doing it, Sinclair reached to flick the radio on. "Hey, chief..." He began, voice halting before anything of meaning could be said.

What was he expecting himself to say?

The words he thought he should say were circling in his head, but to say them out loud was too hard. His motivations might have shifted a little bit. Maybe. Knowing that if it all came out now, Delta would likely turn on him.

In the past that was a fear that involved thoughts of a drill through the chest or a rivet passing between his eyes. Now? Sinclair did not believe Delta would do such a thing. But, what he stood to lose felt no less significant.

Still, he had to say something. Delta's feed had stilled, the kid was listening to him. As he always did.

So he gave Delta just a little piece of himself.

"Now might not be the optimal time for this but I just wanted to say that I...I never really knew those girls were still human under there." He admittedly, regret strong in his words. Delta knew this.

He'd been the one listening when Sinclair first advised 'euthanasia' instead of Tenenbaum's methods. That had been his suggestion and he could still feel the sting of Delta's disapproval. Didn't need to speak a single word and Sinclair could feel how he shunned him all the same.

"Something like that could...well, might could make a man re-evaluate his position…"

It was a poor attempt at some earnestness, Sinclair recognised that. But he was unable to offer more.

Crimes he was rather stayed dead and buried too heavy to bring to the surface himself. Maybe one day he'd tell Delta himself, about what he'd done to him in a previous life, but he couldn't force the words today.

This was the best he had.

"It's just that I… well I-" Sinclair began to speak again, more hastily now, reaching for justifications that he couldn't make up fast enough.

Only to see Delta moving again through his screen. They had so few ways of proper communication that worked two ways, but Delta had little tells he could give.

A so-so movement for when he wasn't doing so hot, or in this case, a thumbs up of all things.

The motion got a startled laugh out of Sinclair that just edged on something bordering hysteria. Just so taken off guard by Delta's seemingly endless willingness to provide support. After that quick breath of laughter faded, Sinclair was left smiling faintly, still in disbelief of this kid.

"Well, I'll be damned. You are something else, chief." He sighed and given how the image shifted up and down distinctly, Delta must have shrugged.

There was still a long way to go and Sinclair knew already that it was going to be a painful road there and maybe Delta would be less forgiving with him soon, but for now, they were together on it.

"Alright, kid." Sinclair spoke a bit more sternly; sitting forward a he watched the screen. "This part is gonna be a mite unpleasant. Ol' Alexander used to run a pretty successful circus down here back in the day. I reckon he'll put on a show for ya."

It would be awfully nice if, for a change, Sinclair weren't right.

…

...

Delta had paused to listen to Sinclair speak. Rather taken off guard by what he had to say. Not that he was in any way disappointed by what Sinclair wanted to share with him.

For Sinclair, it was an improvement just to say outwardly what was happening in his head.

In fact, Sinclair seemed very similar to Atlas in that regard. Delta wished he could have his voice back, if only for a moment, to tell them they weren't nearly as slick as they thought they were.

Snickering silently to himself, Delta tossed aside the oil can he'd been refuelling his drill with. He had been burning through fuel at a fairly concerning pace as of late. The result was a far safer environment, but it hadn't gotten him another relay device. That was alright, Delta was looking towards the area he was sure it must have been.

The Plasmid Showroom didn't sound pleasant, but that was par for the course at this point.

For as safe as he'd made the surrounding areas there was still something on his mind. He'd not yet encountered the big daddy he and Atlas had heard upon entering. He'd searched for it, more out of a desire to see if there was a little sister in need of help than out of any desire for conflict. But he'd been unable to locate the other monster.

He doubted it had gone upstairs. The floor didn't exactly seem safe for anything of their size and honestly he was fairly sure that if anything the size and weight of a regular big daddy went up there, it would come crashing right back through the decaying floors.

As far as they went, his model was the lightest out there and even he didn't fancy trying his footing up there.

Just as he didn't like to consider that there might be another like himself out there still. Knowing their fate was to go insane or shut down. Often both he was learning.

Getting into the plasmid showroom was a bit difficult. Alex had a turret trained on the hallway there and Delta had nearly missed it, very narrowly avoiding getting himself blow up by a rocket. Catching it mid-air, barely an arms length away from his face, and turning it back around, striking the turret with it's own ammunition.

When it exploded, Alex had complained endlessly.

"You brute!" He accused. "The poor little thing. Never did anything to no one! And you come along and murder it while it's just doing its job. Have you no heart?"

Delta had learnt to tune Alex out. He complained and accused him of being a monster when he destroyed bots of any kind and heaven forbid he hack one. Alex tended to flip flop between praising his successful hacking attempts and mocking him relentlessly for being less knowledgeable on machines than himself.

"A man after my own heart." He swooned when Delta turned a security bot on him. Warning him not to do it again, saying that he'd let it slide just this once because it was ever so cute to watch him try.

"I designed that device, Delta! You fumble at it like an amorous baboon!" He insulted Delta when he disabled a security camera. They were far more aggressive in their timing here he'd noticed. Alex's tampering no doubt.

Then, finally, when Alex had seemingly reached his wits end he'd simply sighed dramatically and asserted. "This is just getting stupid!" They were in agreement on that if nothing else.

When none of his complaints, insults or admirations seemed to catch Delta's attention, Alex tried something a bit different.

Bargaining.

"Delta... in regards to your termination... perhaps I was hasty. Would you like to return to custodial services? Leave the rest of my security relays intact, and we'll just forget about the whole thing, hmm?"

Unsurprisingly, this was no more successful and Delta continued on his merry way. Taking out another security bot before batting Alex's personal one away once again. It took a lot of damage but seeing as it could do no real harm, Delta didn't go to great lengths to destroy it.

And then, after that, Alex had gone quiet.

Delta had come to a halt the first time he noticed Alex's suspicious lack of presence. No bot following him around annoyingly, or constant chatter over the radio. Just...quiet.

It ought to have been a relief, but it had begun to make Delta uneasy. He made his way through the decayed halls to the showroom. Abandoned plasmid testers set up around the place, practically begging to be used. They were fashioned like carnival skill testers and Delta wondered if they'd ever been used by the general public or if they were all for the test subjects. They were not in good working anymore regardless. A few left upturned in the water, now useless.

The back way to the Spectacular Theatre was dark.

Dark and still.

No splicers stirred and even the leaks and drips seemed minimal despite the large bodies of water scattered around. Looking around, Delta saw signs of struggles in the past. Large chunks of the wall torn out and debris everywhere.

He could see evidence of bullet spray in the walls and piles of ruins that he could only guess were made by larger explosions. But he couldn't see any rocket launcher turrets anyway. Not even the foundations for ones that had been destroyed or removed. The evidence of their fire was there, but they were not.

The last thing he needed was for a splicer to be carrying around a rocket launcher of their own or to run into a Rumbler.

Cautiously Delta kept on.

There was that feeling crawling up his spine again. The one that warned him of places he'd already been. Vague memories of seeing these walls when they were still whole and not decaying very slowly passing through his thoughts. Not sharp or pointed, but insistent. That knowledge that he'd been here before impossible to escape.

Delta let the thoughts in, allowed his memory to piece together slowly and as he reached the end of the hall he already knew what wait on the otherwise. Perhaps it would be destroyed almost beyond recognition, but this was the showroom, their theatre. Where they'd 'performed' in the past.

Those memories were the haziest he had.

The early days of his existence as a big daddy, no coherent thought or desires, just the pain and plasmids. The fighting and the anger, all the screaming. And then, finally, the paradise that was handed to him when his daughter was placed into his care.

But for as distant and muddled a memory it was, Delta knew the theatre too well. They'd no doubt been paraded in here before, Delta and the other alpha series big daddies. The place where they'd all been forced to fight and destroy one another.

He knew to be alive today he must have won every fight they'd put him in.

Once, when he was still a man but Delta was not, Alexander had told him that he had a strong will. After the show he'd been told that parasites wanted everything, wanted a free ride, but they lacked to will to do so. Alexander had told him that and now as Delta sorted through his memories bit by bit, he remembered the most important thing he'd been told.

"The price of greatness is a dear one, Delta." Alexander Gilbert had told him and he knew that if Alex, as he was not, were to echo it, he'd be crowing the words with such enthusiasm.

Not the quiet understanding Alexander had first spoken those words with.

But Delta had never really wanted greatness. It was something that those scientists had thrust unto him and told him that he must have wanted. Because everyone in Rapture wanted it. It was the most valuable thing. Greatness. Success. Power.

They never once believed he didn't want that too. But all Delta wanted was the laughter in his memories.

Instead he was here, looking at a 'Please wait to be seated!' sign that stood uselessly outside of the theatre's back entrance. Clearly there hadn't been any shows in a while to have all these signs left out back in disuse. Instead here he was once again, waiting to be brought onto the stage.

The difference now was that when Alexander spoke to him it was not with a calm, detached tone, but one of manic elation.

"ADAM, Delta!" Alex's voice repeated abruptly, causing Delta to jump in alarm. "One little jab in the arm, and even a hopeless under performer can be employee of the month! And you should know."

For as pitiless as Gilbert had been, as Alex he was far worse. The sadism in his insanity had long since begun to grate on Delta's nerves.

Just as he was prepared to block out Alex's ravings again, that personalised security bot appeared above his head, staring down at him with that never blinking eye.

"Look around you, Delta." Alex purred, voice uncharacteristically low. "Is any of this...familiar?"

Alex still had ultimate control over the theatre and with that control he drew the heavy red curtains before Delta back with a flare of show lights and...confetti of all things. He was about as tacky as he'd always been.

The stage was just as he'd remembered it and as the curtains drew back Delta saw his homecoming gift.

WELCOME BACK DELTA!

Burnt in bold, sloppy letter onto the stage floor before him and out ahead of him under the familiar glare of show lights was the spectator's gallery.

Littered with still bodies. Logically Delta realised they were all dead, corpses propped up to enjoy an imaginary show. Alex's work no doubt. But for a second he truly thought he was right back in another trial and any moment he'd be meeting another just like himself to fight until one of them didn't get back up.

This fear served as a spike of adrenaline and Delta drew his drill closer to his body, EVE prickling through his veins as he anticipated an attack that did not immediately come.

"Yes, yes!" Alex called over the artificial sound of a crowd cheering. "I know, we're all very excited to have our show stealer back on the stage after so long! But hold your applause ladies and gents, for today we have a brand new show for you all!"

The fear went nowhere. Delta remained on edge, body locked up as he looked around the theatre in quick little jerks. There was panic in him, he knew that and panic could cause him to make stupid mistakes, but being back here with Alex's voice booming above him, it left Delta disorientated.

"For tonight and tonight only! Allow me to introduce you all to Fontaine Futuristics newest line of defence!"

Delta, shaken as he was, recognise this lead in. Alex had used it for him in the past, when he'd been their newest model. Trying to calm his nerves to at least listen enough that he might guess the threat before it was unleashed, Delta attempted to stop trembling and focus.

On the stage he felt more alone than he ever had. The lights were on him, the dead lining the seats offered about as much sympathy as they had when alive and he knew the only purpose of his being here was to fight something for Alex's amusement once again.

He really wished that Atlas was with him right now.

With the same amount of showmanship that Alex had presented him with, he presented their 'newest line of defence' for a dead city.

All the lights turned off Delta abruptly, flashing up ahead of him to the viewing gallery, which was by no means where a contender should have come from, but that's exactly what happened.

Slowly, a new monster of Alex's was revealed to Delta.

It was a monster of a big daddy that came lumbering out into the light. He could recognise it as a variation of one of his own, but only by the association he made between big daddies and Alex.

Every step the big daddy took was heavy enough that Delta felt the stage tremble. Its massive form almost matched that of a Rumbler. Delta nearly mistook it for one at a glance. But it was too smoothed, too rounded off and armoured. Even if it shared a heavy set of rocket launches on its shoulders with a Rumbler.

He'd never seen a big daddy like this before, every part of it above its waist was clad in protective, shield like armour. With its massive bulk the creature looked as though it could take the impact of a rocket and pull on through. Even had its armour casing not been enough, the large riot shield that adorned its left arm looked sturdy enough to deflect any plasmid a splicer tossed at it.

Alex said it was the newest in their line of defence, he could see why.

Stunned Delta stood stationary as the other bid daddy entered the arena, doing so by smashing straight through the viewing glass that had been designed to keep projectiles inside and protect the audience. It shattered through the glass without seeming to put any effort behind the action.

And as it came to stand just below Delta, not yet violent without command, Alex excitedly began crowing once more.

"The Demo Daddy!" Alex presented with a near violent flare. "Never presented beyond the production line, a pride and joy of mine in recent years. A...passion project let's call him."

Elated the box with Alex's voice came flying in front of Delta again after making two laps around his prized creation.

"True. Plasmids didn't quite take with him." Alex admitted with a kind of 'what can you do' tone. "But no matter, for what stuck? Oh did it stick! This here is Fontaine Futuristics most heavily armoured walking war machine! A personal achievement of yours truly."

Once the introductions were over with and Delta was left staring at this big daddy, supposedly just as much a slave as he'd once been and the only of its kind. He felt a pang of pity and following quickly after, fear. He'd have to find a way to defeat this thing and just looking at its stature, he knew it would be much harder than tussling with a bouncer.

In his stillness and silence, Alex interjected. More coldly now.

"So. Shall we see how you shape up to your successor, Delta?"