He was himself once again.
It had been so long. But finally, he was whole again.
He remembered his own name, the life he'd walked to this point. The lies and different masks he'd worn that brought him to the peak of Rapture.
The little fantasy his fractured mind had lived out as of late, no longer in play as everything slowly settled back into place.
He was Frank Fontaine - not Atlas.
Well, that was to say, he remained 'Fontaine' for as long as the name suited his needs and then he might just as well become someone else.
But he was always Frank. That at least he remembered.
Straightening up and looking over his grubby clothes Frank grimaced. How pathetic he'd been acting. Walking around getting all chummy with Tenenbaum of all people and those little fucking brats.
Christ he sure as shit made the most elaborate characters up didn't he?
Buying into his own con, what a joke.
Stepping past his old desk and over to the large window leading out into the icy depths Fontaine fell back into old habits.
It was a slow start, despite finally feeling a bit more solid and sure of himself, the mess of conflicting memories and thoughts in his head still needed to be sorted out. Pacing back and forth as his mind ran a mile a minute. Sorting through his returned memories, making new plans, new cons.
Now he remembered where he actually stood and reconciled that with the memories he'd made as 'Atlas', he found that he had a pretty good thing going on here in all honesty.
That giant oaf Delta would bend over backwards to keep him safe and it seemed the kraut was doing her best to buy into this Atlas act as well.
He could see no other reason as to why she hadn't immediately outed him, instead opting to let this fantasy play out a little longer. More experiments he'd wager. Hadn't learned her lesson on that front it seemed.
Yeah...yeah this would work out just nicely.
All he had to do was keep up that jolly ol' Atlas act. Look confused and angry as he walked through Rapture seeming as vacant and convinced of his own act as ever and they'd take him right to the surface.
Once he was back up there, he could pool his resources once again. They'd never want to return to Rapture, but he would. Once he was back down here with the genetic key in place he'd have run of the decrepit city and could rebuild his original plan.
Sure, it would be a bit of a fixer upper, but with a little bit of effort, he'd have trade and control set up in no time. Pest management would be far easier when he was at the throne again, but first he needed to get topside to set himself up and get the key to Rapture back in his possession. The prizes always went to the dog that got up after each kick.
And hell, while he was up there why not pay the kid a visit?
Pretty sure he owed the little bastard a right thrashing after the shit he'd pulled.
It would be a bit of stress relief and gratification if nothing else.
He could rip off the Atlas personal once again, right in front of them all. Just to enjoy the look of horror once they realised they'd been had.
Tenenbaum, Jack, the brats, fucking Sinclair.
It would be a delight.
Keeping with this new-found good mood, Fontaine took himself back over to the selection of drinks he had in the corner of the office. Selecting something with a bit more bite with one hand while the other reached up to drag the boar head down by the tusk. Might as well make use of the money he had stashed away. It did seem like the occasion to pull it out.
The curtain drawing back seemed a bit sluggish after years of disuse, but Frank found everything just how he left it. A few boxes of smuggled in goods stacked to one corner and all three of his safes still perfectly intact. Good. Being robbed might have left him feeling a touch murderous and rain on his good mood.
Taking a sig, Fontaine went about opening up the first of his safes. Most importantly he wanted to get his hands on a proper cigar. Being stuck with those knock off Sinclair products was enough to send a man batty, he'd gone that extra mile back in the day to keep his smoking to a minimum with the nasty looks he'd get from the broads in his life. Kids could handle a little smoke in their lungs, they were just being nags - but better to just appease the harpies and not risk life nor limb.
The thought left him feeling bitter and Fontaine cringed as he physically felt his memories further arranging themselves. The good and the bad. It was the good that left him the most unsettled.
"Ya were just jealous I could smoke 'em and you couldn't." Frank muttered under his breath as the first safe popped open and he grinned upon seeing the healthy supply of cash and vices.
Perfect. A distraction.
Another drink taken, Frank pulled the cigars into his pocket and slid the cash into his bag.
He paused when looking down at the bag. Inside he could still just see that recording from Eleanor inside.
It was taking up space and so he figured he might as well toss it. He could just leave it with the other audio diary in this secret side room. His own, that one. If he stretched his memory, he could just recall how gleeful he'd been when recording it.
Anticipating Ryan's demise, a little sooner than it had actually come. Well, all's well that ends well, Ryan was good and buried by now.
Pausing in his decision to toss the kid's diary, Fontaine reached down to pick up his own. Contemplating what he ought to do with it now. The con to Rapture at large had run its course by now and so even if someone found this old thing - it really wouldn't matter.
But Frank didn't really fancy leaving behind a little reminder of the best trick he'd ever pulled on Ryan.
However, the sight of it reminded him a little too much of Reggie and so Frank was caught between two reactions. To set it ablaze or to tuck it away into the bag instead…
No.
Finally, Frank put it back down, settling for a middle ground between destruction and pride.
Better he just walk away and forget all about it and everything attached to it. He couldn't bring it with him after all - not when this particular con was still in the process of living out its last days suckering in Tenenbaum and those idiots.
They trust me. This is going to be a cake walk. Fontaine thought with a smug smirk.
He still had the Atlas face and voice at his disposal and now that his memories had all slotted neatly into place - well for the most part, he could collect the few missing pieces later - things were going to be a breeze.
Still, there was the small matter of getting Delta's kid back.
It was going to be a real pain in the ass, but Fontaine knew this place inside out and some nutty ditz like Lamb wasn't going to be anything more than a temporary thorn in his side.
Once the lunatic was dealt with and that girl was back with her big lug of a father, they could get topside.
Though he had to wonder how functional the girl would be. Who knows what Lamb was doing to her. If she was in bad shape how would Delta hold up?
He'd only briefly caught sight of her sleeping when the teleport had dragged him to her room, no way to know if she was even able to walk from that alone. If it came to it, he couldn't very well be expected to carry the kid himself. But if she was hurt then what choice would he have?
Delta would be shattered no doubt. Seeing his kid like that might just render Delta useless himself. Frowning Fontaine wondered how he'd be able to help ease-
Wait…
What was he thinking?
Fontaine's pace faltered, hand pressing to his head as though he might be able to physically urge down those unusual thoughts. He wasn't going to waste time looking for the big daddy's kid! What a stupid fucking idea.
But if they didn't find Eleanor then Delta would shut down.
So? What did he care? He didn't give a damn about that. They were a means to an end. Why would he-
Fontaine froze.
Realisation finally hit him with a sensation of disgust rolling over his skin as he looked down at his scarred hands.
"You're still in here."
How could that be? Atlas wasn't real. Frank was always himself - he'd just been confused without all his memories.
It was still him and yet once he'd realised that those persisting thoughts wouldn't go away it was as though...
As though the dream ended.
Suddenly everything hurt and it was a pain he knew. Two conflicting desires splitting violently apart after having been momentarily bonded.
Atlas was still alive in there and Fontaine didn't have nearly the level control he thought he possessed.
As soon as Atlas woke from his slumber, Fontaine was expelled from the vessel they unwilling shared yet again. Tossed back out of the master seat, Fontaine hands lost their grip on the metaphorical chains and he was delegated to a back seat.
Leaving behind the sentient will that had formed in his absence.
Two once more.
Atlas resumed his place at the controls. It was an inelegant exchange of power and Atlas stumbled, doubled over onto his hands and knees. Gasping and gagging as his consciousness slot back into place uncomfortably.
Both realising very quickly that there was no going back to how it had once been. Neither was truly Atlas nor Fontaine.
Frank had mistakenly assumed that once the memories returned the man that thought he was Atlas would no longer exist and he'd be whole finally.
Not a trace of the ADAM born delusion left behind.
But it was undoubtedly Atlas that was in there now, looking more alive than he ever had been before.
The panting man gradually raising the head of the body that was rightfully Fontaine's, to scowl at the after image in his mind of the shocked con-man.
No longer physical, Fontaine was all but a ghost again - but one Atlas couldn't seem to free himself of.
There was no harmony between them, Atlas had refused to die and return to being the discarded con he naturally was. While Fontaine had no intention of quietly fading away when this life and body belonged to him, one of the few things he'd not stolen for his own.
Slowly the shock bled out of Fontaine's face, replaced with a vicious scowl. "So, it's gonna be like that, huh?" He snarled, a glare from Atlas his silent confirmation.
The wraith like figure of Fontaine straightened back up, Rapture's lights pooling around him as he stood with his back to the large glass windows, looking down on his own body and the imposter inside of it.
"Fine."
And when Fontaine took a step forward, towards the small set of stairs the lead down to Atlas's prone form, the ADAM made lie began to scramble back. Not sure what might happen if Fontaine were to try and touch him now, if there'd be a struggle for control, if he would lose.
But between them the world was falling back into place, to Atlas's mounting horror. He remembered what happened to Jack, to them. The reveal, the codes that they'd used against the kid and then, finally, Atlas remembered his own creation. The ensuing struggle.
That choice he'd made at the very end to let themselves die up there. The choice had been snatched back away in a Vita-Chamber and now here they were.
All the different memories began to sink in and in a moment of emotion he could not suppress, Atlas screamed at Fontaine.
"It was you." He accused, voice raw but fortunately his own once again. Accent back in place.
Briefly Fontaine seemed taken aback. His approach pausing as he stood at the first step atop his desk's platform.
"You caused all of this. Everything."
Too quickly all the memories had been thrust back onto Atlas.
Looking up at Fontaine now, he could see the parts of himself that were ripped straight from the other man. The things that Fontaine hadn't changed about himself when creating the persona he'd taken Rapture apart with. One of many personas he'd worn throughout his life.
A life Atlas now had at his fingertips to dismantle to his own dismay, seeing each lie for what it was.
His family - a farce. Fontaine's own flesh and blood long since burned and buried. The friends and allies he'd thought to mourn before the memories returned, nothing more than collateral damage. And the scarred hands he had now were responsible for so much death.
Panicked Atlas began to tremble. Right down to his fingers he was shaking, teeth grit hard enough they ached as the weight of guilt came crashing down stronger than he had ever known it before and he'd never been without its weight before.
So what if Ryan was dead? They'd taken the rest of Rapture with them.
"If it is too much for you. Then just disappear." Atlas was snapped back into focus when Fontaine spoke again. Voice deceptively level, as though he were telling Atlas something intended to help him.
"Because you're not going to suddenly forget it all again. You live, and you are going to live with all this. Better you just die now and give back what you took from me."
"Took from you?" Atlas snarled right back, all the guilt and anguish amalgamating into a rage he didn't know he possessed. Anger that could go nowhere because he could not touch Fontaine. All he could do was speak, to be the voice that Fontaine had intended him to be.
Staggering back to his feet, Atlas pointed at Fontaine and went on. "You did this! All of this is your damn fault! Everyone is fucking dead because you wanted to run this pile of junk. Well, congratulations, you got just what you wanted. You're king of nothing but a city of corpses, Fontaine! Hope you're fucking proud of yourself."
Silence was what got as his answer.
Fontaine's gaze boring down onto him from where he stood. Eyes they shared all but illuminated in the darkness. Atlas couldn't say he had access to Fontaine's thoughts, but he could guess well enough. They'd both spawned from the same source material and Atlas knew a thing or two about this bastard.
Near hysterical Atlas looked back down, his hands still trembling before his eyes. "Everyone...our family." He mourned, reaching up to cover his eyes. As if he could just push it all back if his sight was taken from him.
He recognised now the few ghosts he'd met. The images of both a baby girl and a young boy. As Atlas he'd never known what Jack looked like as a babe. He did now.
"You're too soft." Fontaine uttered in a harsh whisper. "Moaning and wailing about a bunch of rotting bodies-"
In a moment of rage Atlas hurled a fist full of fire at Fontaine. It was a pointless venture, but Atlas acted thoughtlessly, just wanting the monster gone.
The flash of flames passed right through Fontaine and struck the bear behind his desk, setting its fur alight briefly only to leave it singed when Atlas would have preferred it'd gone up in flames.
For his part, Fontaine looked a bit shaken. They both knew to some extent he was not physical like this, unable to be harmed, but seeing a ball of fire being tossed your way would unsettle even the oldest of ghosts.
Gradually the alarm ebbed away from Fontaine's face and he spared only a short sidelong glance back at the burned bear. Then his gaze was back on Atlas. They'd reached an impasse.
"Sooner or later you'll vanish." Fontaine informed him coldly. "All I need to do is wait you out."
And just like that it was Fontaine that was gone.
But Atlas did not for one second make the mistake of thinking he would not be back. The ghost somewhere within the corners of his mind. Just waiting for an opportunity to come crawling back out.
Left exhausted and shivering, Atlas took a moment to just stand in silence. To try and recollect himself. To sort his thoughts and reaffirm himself with all the information he now had.
But there was just so much…
Looking back through the past was agonising and so for a moment Atlas tried to focus on the present.
Hastily he checked to be sure that Eleanor's audio diary was still with him. That his own hands hadn't finished carrying out Fontaine's desire to toss it aside.
There it was, safely nestled in his bag. Good. One small mercy.
Just as Atlas had started to back up, intending to drop against a wall and to his knees after that - intending to rest, he heard something off in the distance.
It took a moment for him to recognise it as screaming.
In a heartbeat Atlas was back on both feet. Alert and far more focused on the moment rather than the nightmare that his open mind and memories had left him with. The screaming continued.
A bellowing wail that Atlas would have known anywhere.
The sound of a big daddy in agony was one thing, the sound of Delta in pain a whole other.
"Fuck, Delta..." Atlas cursed and not a second later he was running.
Heavy footfalls striking the structurally unreliable ground of the second floor, Atlas's foot nearly broke through it several times. Not that he slowed.
Trying to focus on the sound of Delta's shouts. They echoed throughout Fontaine Futuristics and Atlas was struggling to figure out what direction they were coming from. All he knew was that Delta had gone down while he went up and so he needed to follow him down now.
As he leapt from the steps of the second floor, striking the ground of the first floor hard, the radio at his hip came back to life. The static made a momentary appearance but broke apart quickly, giving way to familiar voices.
"A….At- Atlas!" Sinclair finally got through the static, sounding rather panicked. "Atlas, are you there?"
It was a clumsy motion, but Atlas was reaching down to snatch for his radio, not stopping as he whipped around seeking out the direction Delta might have gone. But in the chaos Atlas still could not pinpoint the sound. "Yeah. Yeah! I'm here, fuck- where is Delta? I can hear him but-"
"Spectacular Theatre." Sinclair told him quickly and now Atlas knew this place like the back of his hand. After all, he'd been there when the layout had been planned and drafted up. So, he turned on a dime and ran towards the theater, the sound of Delta's screaming getting louder and louder.
Only for it to suddenly stop.
Despite needing to get to Delta as fast as he could, Atlas's pace faltered. Stuttering as he slowed to a walk for a moment. A sense of horror sinking in. The silence was more unsettling than the screaming.
Then, just as quickly as his stride had hesitated, Atlas was running again. Dashing through the behind the scenes set up area of the theater, it was fairly flooded. Every hasty step became sluggish and held the risk of slipping.
Atlas very nearly did just that as he came flying around the corner to the backstage entrance. Needing to catch himself on the doorframe to stop from losing his footing and crashing to the floor.
But once he was there, he found Delta.
On the ground. Delta was kneeling, hand up against his helmet and just quaking. Atlas recognised a pose like that, Delta was in agony. It was not all that different to how he'd been not ten minutes earlier. But seeing Delta in such a state caused him to stop dead.
Johnny Topside, Subject Delta - unwilling test subject admitted to Fontaine Futuristics in 1958. The information jumped to the forefront of his mind, whole and simple. Fontaine had not great interest in the former deep sea explore, just enough to ask in passing about him when he was placed into the test subject's ranks.
Test subjects that came directly from Persephone.
All but able to feel Fontaine's thoughts tugging at the back of his mind, Atlas pushed on forward. Thrust that information aside and rushed to Delta's side.
"Hey...hey, can you hear me, Delta?" Atlas tried to reach him, but Delta's body heaved, and the drill swung out at him blindly. Stumbling back, Atlas only narrowly avoided being struck by the drill.
Fortunately, Delta did not seem to be attacking him so much as lashing out and trying to keep things away from him.
This too he thought he recognised. The red glow pouring out of Delta's helmet reminded him of the crazed state he'd fallen into back on the train.
However, this time Atlas had a spark of genius that didn't include fighting.
Quickly he dropped down to his knees, digging around in his bag for the audio diary that Fontaine had almost discarded and started it up. The moment the diary began to kick into life, Atlas slid it over to Delta.
Watching and just praying for once he'd actually had a good idea.
Then, Eleanor's voice started to flow out of the diary and slowly Delta stilled.
The echo of Eleanor's voice registering gradually, and Atlas watched as it sank in for Delta and the man shifted to look down at the little box in silence.
Seconds trickled on by and eventually Delta's light flickered from red to yellow and then finally back to a safe green before losing its colour all but entirely. Back to the neutral look that Atlas knew best.
"Hey, tinman." Atlas murmured once he was sure Delta was back with him. "You alright?"
Delta couldn't verbally answer him, but he could reach down and gingerly scoop up the audio diary. Holding it with such care, scared to break it. Atlas could only watch, and he felt his heart aching painfully. He looked at Delta now and it made him sick to know that there was a part of him that was so willing to turn away from both Delta and his daughter. To leave them for dead.
Hadn't they killed enough children?
Now that he knew Delta wasn't going to lash out again, Atlas stood back up. Walking slowly over to the man, hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
"I know you don't exactly have a lot of words to work with here, bud… but just let me know if you need a minute, okay?"
He couldn't know what had happened here. Looking around he saw evidence of a fight, an incredibly nasty fight and even Delta looked worse for wear. But he couldn't spot an enemy that could do something like this. There was a lot he could guess, but nothing he could say for sure.
So, he simply let Delta tell him in his own way how bad it had been.
Shakily, Delta placed the audio dairy against the ground, leant up against his side to free up his hand and reach for Atlas. He knew exactly what was going to happen and Atlas thought it was comforting for the two of them when Delta planted his gloved hand atop his head and ruffled his hair after a moment of hesitation.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it, big guy. Don't have to scramble my brains here." He protested halfheartedly and then even more tiredly added. "We both need a break, just for a little while."
Delta nodded, just a little forward shift of his helmet. As though any more than that would be too much, and he might collapse. Atlas took this as confirmation enough and slowly settled himself down next to Delta. The two of them sitting together with Eleanor's audio diary between them.
There was so much that had to be done and it was already becoming painful - but for now, they took a moment to sit together in comfortable silence.