Well, here he was.
In the water.
Again.
Despite his great displeasure, they'd once more stepped out into the deep blue sea and it was positively miserable.
Atlas was rightly miffed as the icy temperatures hit him once again, causing him to shudder as once again they were spat back out into the waters of Rapture.
There was plenty he was willing to leave behind from his past, a personal bathysphere was not on that particular list.
However, that thought did cause Atlas to pause as he was carefully finding his balance this time.
His personal bathysphere, which he'd actually used to get out of this place the first time around. Damn, he hadn't even realised it at the time, but it had been his.
And some underwater monster had torn it a new one.
God he hated the ocean.
Gritting his teeth Atlas focused on not falling this time. Walking along the seafloor, trailing after Delta like some lost pup. Delta was so much more at home down here and Atlas couldn't empathise.
He hated the sound of the ocean as well. That muggy, oppressive muted sensation that was mostly made up of his own breathing and the slight clunk and clatter as he moved within the suit. The water itself too difficult to describe in words just...heavy.
It was difficult to make heads or tails of anything down here and if something were to make a sound at all, he'd probably miss it.
Truly, he hated the ocean and, by extension, himself for coming to live down here.
At the time it had seemed like such a good idea. Thinking back on it, Atlas could just recall how fixated he'd become on Rapture once he caught wind of it.
On the surface he'd had a good set up. A bar all his own - stolen from some poor idiot in one of his man cons - enough money to be comfortable and all the joys that came with continuing to scam good, honest folk. Well, he conned plenty of less than savoury types as well - if that were any consolation.
All that. Nights filled with drinks and raucous music. A few close friends that he could genuinely rely on. A setup that was safe and easy to relax in. And he threw it all away for this. Decay and mildew. Yeah. Well done, Frankie, you're a fucking genius.
In the privacy of his diving suit, Atlas sighed. He couldn't help but think those words in a ghost's voice and wondered if he'd ever actually go by 'Frank' again. Probably not. He wasn't Fontaine, so why would he be Frank either?
Atlas. His name was Atlas.
A few steps ahead of him, Delta had come to a standstill. Atlas followed suit though he was rather surprised by the sudden halt. He wanted to ask, to reach out and tap at Delta's shoulder - but everything was difficult in the water. The effort it would take t reach out alone was enough to make him feel tired. He just didn't have the energy for that.
So he waited, head tilted as he watched Delta looking around. Noticing that he seemed to be following something in quick little jerks of his head. Atlas felt his heart sinking - he seriously could not stand another shark encounter. But the way Delta tried to follow whatever he was watching didn't seem like how a shark would move. These erratic, sudden movements.
Trying to see what it was Delta had seen, Atlas could only see the murky distance water stretching beyond them. It was disconcerting how quickly sharks and other sea creatures could just become swallowed up in the open water.
Giving Atlas the sense that even when he could not see the animals, they would always be lurking nearby.
Thinking of the shark that had come to see what these strange creatures were doing at the bottom of the ocean last time, Atlas tried to pick out the flash of a fin or the turn of a white underbelly somewhere in the deep.
Then. There.
A flash of pale flesh and a lash of a tail. Far out ahead of them, moving between the underwater landscape of Rapture's gardens. Moving fast. Low to the ocean floor. Atlas found that odd. Sharks were such large animals that tended to move with wide and long strokes. But this thing zipped along the ocean floor, twisting in a way that almost reminded Atlas of-
No. It did not remind him or something. It was that something.
It was not a shark.
Atlas's heart leapt into his throat when he truly saw it. The figure that only vaguely resembled a person anymore. Bulbus, pale flesh illuminated by the glow of Rapture from the safety within. Safety they were currently without. Left exposed in the splicer's own domain.
He'd tried to banish the image of the thing from his mind, but here was another in the flesh, rushing towards them.
Oh shit-
In a panic Atlas tried to reach out for Delta, to shove him out of the way. Once his hands connected with Delta they both went tumbling off to different sides.
The pushing motion in turn shoved Atlas back in the opposite direction through the water. The creature darting between the gap between them.
A near miss that he was eternally grateful for. However, once he'd lost his balance, there was no way to regain it. And so Atlas kept falling, no longer on the ledge that he and Delta had been following like a pathway.
Sent plummeting in the slowest fall known to man. Sinking lower and lower until he hit the ocean floor again. Falling against another of Rapture's statues, had they been on land he might have crashed through it instead, but in the water he did little more than bump against it.
Briefly Atlas noted it was yet another greek figure, Poseidon. How appropriate.
Damn this suit's weights. They might help him navigate the floor but it made it impossible to really swim anywhere and now it had anchored him down a level from where Delta was. Separating them after they'd both had more than enough of that.
Getting his bearings again Atlas looked up hastily, trying to find Delta's figure through the water's haze. He couldn't see Delta, but he did see the creature. It passed through the water so smoothly, vanishing in and out of sight as it moved, its sickly pale flesh all but merging into the water when far away enough.
Being unable to see it would be terrifying, seeing it coming at you was a whole different kind of terror. And it was a terror Atlas felt rather strongly as it twisted and turned onto him. Coming shooting down from above in his direction.
Atlas was acutely aware of how little he could do in order to stop the oncoming beast.
It would tear him to shreds before he could even attempt to run in this place. Every movement was sluggish and slowed to a crawl, he'd be unable to take two steps while this creature zipped through the water like a torpedo.
Fuck.
Not the most eloquent last thoughts to have, but that was probably all he had time for.
At least, it would have been, had Delta's drill not come rushing through the water with almost the same level of speed as the splicer moved with. That drill dash had a bit more power than Atlas had given it credit for.
The drill struck the creature on the side and Atlas thought he heard it screaming. Good.
But its hide was stronger than expected and all too quickly the writhing beast was whipping up and lunging at Delta in return. All but wrapping around the drill and arm, constricting and squeezing with it's lanky body till Delta was the one letting out a sound of pain.
"Oh fuck- Delta!" Atlas shouted in his suit on reflex even though Delta couldn't hear him. If he could, he'd have likely ignored Atlas when he went on to shout. "Don't!" Wishing Delta would, just for once in his big stupid life, not be such a bleeding heart. Just once not rush to his aid without a second thought.
Still he struggled with the sea monster, trying to get a leg up on the situation. But even for Delta, who was far more competent under the waves than Atlas ever was both before becoming a big daddy and more so after, the ocean was not his domain. It was the monster's home, and the creature had an edge that they just didn't. Its speed and mobility too great.
So Atlas was stuck watching as it clawed and bit at Delta, continuing to squeeze around his arm to the point that Atlas thought it might break.
The overwhelming urge to just help struck Atlas so hard it hurt. But what could he do down in this crevasse?
His incinerate didn't work down here. If he tried anything with electricity down here he'd fry them all and that new sonic boom could do nothing but push the creature. If he was lucky to even touch it from this distance.
His guns, his plasmids, none of it would do anything in a place so far out of his element.
Atlas was helpless.
He shifted a bit. Trying to get himself back up off the ground, to maybe find something, anything to help them. Unwilling to sit there and wait for the beast to finish with Delta and then turn on him. In his moving, Atlas's arm bumped against the statue again and when Atlas reflexively turned to scowl at it in a fleeting glance, he realised what it was he'd struck.
In the statues hand, sat Poseidon's trident.
And it was made of steel.
The metal glinted in the dull light, shining through the few patches of its surface not covered in grime and baricales. Old, but sturdy and, most importantly, sharp.
And just like that, Atlas finally had an idea.
Reaching up Atlas grabbed hold of the old statue's ornament and tugged. Needing to brace a foot against the statue's base to have the leverage to rip it clean off of the statues already fractured hands.
The stone crumbled and gave away after a few violent tugs and the spear fell right into his open palms.
The trident alone wasn't enough to save their skins. It was rendered useless if he were to try and use it underwater like any other sword or spear. But this was Rapture and in Rapture there were all sorts of tricks to make things deadlier than they had any right to be.
He might not have telekinesis to show off as Delta did, but he didn't need it. He had his own tricks.
Untested as they might be.
Fumbling, Atlas raced for his EVE hypo only for his fingers to stutter once it was in his grasp - hesitating. Atlas always hesitated when he went reaching for more EVE, knowing full well that he shouldn't put too much into his body.
That hesitation must have been a second too long because suddenly the cold he felt had nothing to do with the ocean's icy temperatures. A telltale chill that rushed up his spine was the unpleasant warning he was given before he heard it in his head.
"You gonna die down here, imposter?" Fontaine's voice asked lowly. Mocking to the very end. "Or are you gonna to do something about it?"
Then with more bite Fontaine snarled. "Then do it."
And, of course, Atlas did.
The needle slid so neatly into the slot on the suit's arm, mimicking the way Delta took his own shots, and the bite of the needle caused Atlas to flinch. But his gaze stayed fixated on the creature that had Delta outclassed in this domain.
Watching, Atlas saw as the creatures claws dug further into Delta's arm and let out a shout in the confines of his suit, forcing the plunger down quickly to send EVE racing into his system. So happy to be at home in him once again.
A familiar flush of energy rushed through him and an equally familiar sort of satisfaction followed it. Briefly lived as Atlas's panic took precedence.
His panic outweighed the distinct sense of victory that came from somewhere in the back of his mind.
EVE burned through him, thrumming in his veins, a promise of power if he used it. But electro bolt and incinterate were out - he only had one left. It would have to do because this idea was all he had up his sleeve and if it didn't work they were both going to get torn to shreds.
Up above him he could see Delta struggling with the creature. Trying to keep snapping jaws away from his helmet with one hand while it coiled around his drill. It was a struggle he was losing.
Time running out.
He'd only get one shot at this. And his hold was shaky with nerves.
The sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, eyes wide as the fear settled in. One shot. If he couldn't do this then they were good as dead. The pressure was unappreciated and his chest tightened like a vice.
Atlas was terrified. He could not even rely on his own aim when he was shaking so badly.
Then, a firm cold settled on his arms. The sensation akin to hands, gripping his trembling arms, holding him in place. His shaking stopped.
"Steady." A voice murmured in his mind. This time it was not Fontaine. It was a comfort. "You gotta aim before you fire off, boss."
Aim. Right. He remembered. Take a deep breath, focus on the shot and why you were firing. He remembered that.
Just like the first time he'd held a gun. Firm hands seemed to steady him and Atlas took a deep breath as he'd been instructed, and tried to focus as directed. And when he opened his eyes again, he was indeed, focused.
Sharp and precise, Atlas finally he hurled the trident out before him into the water. Vigilantly, he watched as it began to sink once leaving his finger tips. Gliding out ahead of him in the water and ever so slowly lining up. Points dipping into position and-
There.
Atlas threw his hand forward, the water between him and the spear rippling out violently before an explosion followed. The pressure of the sonic boom plasmid pushed all the water out of the way, striking the spear in an instant and picking it up in its wake.
The spear flew through the water, faster than the splicer had moved and with a deadly accuracy that Atlas liked to believe was all down to skill when it more likely had a healthy dose of luck behind it.
And in his mind that old memory praised him. "There. Bullseye." It said, sounding amused in that gruff tone. Fondness maybe. "You're a natural, boss."
There was no sound as the trident speared through the creatures sleek body. Just an abrupt jerk, a moment of confusion and then a cloud of blood.
Blood that Delta pulled back out off, tearing the now limp splicer's body from him. Untangling himself, Delta turned to look down at Delta, conveying a quiet sort of panic. Grinning behind his mask, Atlas gave the big daddy a rather cocksure thumbs up. Acting as though he'd not been counting his blessings that whole time.
Now there was the small matter of the divide between them. Atlas cringed as he watched the blood spreading out through the water. If there weren't any sharks around before, there'd soon be some coming to rip into the remains. They needed to be out of here, but Atlas couldn't exactly get back up onto the same level as Delta and if they wasted time figuring out a way to get him back up there then they'd have more deep sea creatures to deal with.
Atlas would rather not.
So, with a great deal of reluctance, Atlas tried to gesture for Delta to keep going. To let him know he'd find his own way there and they'd just have to meet up at the entrance to the labs. He knew vaguely where it was after all.
"Atlas?" Sinclair's voice buzzed in his helmet. "You good?"
"Yeah. Tell Delta to get a move on. I'll meet him there."
It was with no small level of cruelty that Sinclair went on to say, "You're heading out into the deep blue on your lonesome? How brave."
"Gee. Thanks, Augustus." Atlas seethed and heard the man laughing through the radio. Prick. Let's see him navigate his way around the ocean floor and ask him if it's so funny.
"For the record." Atlas growled. "When I get back to the train I am going to rip you a new one."
More laughter from Sinclair. Atlas rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to getting the hell away from that spot. Pointedly not looking up at Delta again, not wanting to know if the kid was still watching him with that silent but somehow deafening concern. After all, he'd saved him that time. One step to catching up to the long list of times Delta had saved his skin.
Carefully Atlas made his way through the few remaining pathways in Rapture. Noting a downed bathysphere and old fueling station as he did. The whole place was a rapidly growing graveyard. He'd rather their tombs not be added to the extensive list of the dead.
Atlas thought he was perhaps a few hundred feet away from an entry point when the feeling hit him.
The sudden wave of nausea took Atlas off guard, striking him rather violently and causing the man to stagger slightly. Under his skin he could feel ADAM beginning to activate, not unlike how his veins burned when using a plasmid. He needed to look down to his hands to ensure that he had not in some way lost control of them and unintentionally activated a plasmid. But that wasn't the case. The feeling burned uncomfortably through his skin, but no plasmid attempted to flare up.
Then there was that cold. That static in his ears and a pounding in his skull.
He could not stop here. If he were to pass out or fall while out in the ocean it was as good as death. So Atlas pushed through the sick feeling coiling in his gut and pretended he did not see the light of his own scars beginning to glow on the inside of his helmet.
Struggling, Atlas sluggishly made his way to an airlock. He caught sight of the entrance and at the same moment the relief came, so did that horrible churning in his gut. A hunger for ADAM appearing inside of him and that truly scared Atlas.
Desperately he made for the airlock. Stumbling over to the doors and placing his hand against it, waiting for the bioscan to complete itself. He wondered if it was seeking out contamination in him and knew damn well it wouldn't allow him access if it was.
But no. Instead it registered his identity. And the doors unlocked, welcoming the owner of Fontaine Futuristics back inside.
That sick feeling grew more unbearable.
Once inside the airlock began to drain all the water out, but before it was even down to his ankles, Atlas had removed his helmet. Needing to get away from that oppressive space as his skin burned more painfully and the urge to vomit welled up inside of him.
Disorientated, Atlas doubled over and gagged. He had nothing in his stomach to throw up which only made him realise how hungry he actually was on top of everything else.
However, his focus could not be torn from the sensation of ADAM crawling its way under his skin. Pulsing through every vein, fed by the EVE he'd allowed into his body. Dazedly, Atlas realised that it must have been the EVE hypo he'd used, though he couldn't decipher why it had him so ill.
Could EVE be bad? Go off or be contaminated in some way? He did not know but fear began to grip him. Wondering if he'd actually managed to poison himself.
If that were the case, at least he'd managed to save Delta before the poison killed him.
Doubled over on his hands and knees, Atlas curled an arm around his stomach, still gagging and gasping for air as the pain grew worse.
And with it the static.
Until finally Atlas heard footsteps. Forcing one eye open, unaware of how tightly he'd screwed them both shut, Atlas tried to raise his head and see who had found him in this state. Hoping it were Delta though those footsteps were not the heavy thuds of a big daddy.
The person that had found him was no person at all and Atlas bared his teeth when he caught sight of Fontaine's figure standing before him.
Where he was hunched over and in agony, the ghost stood proudly, a sneer on his face. "Not bad." It remarked, eyeing Atlas's prone form like he were some particularly entertaining bug squirming about before him. Just begging to be squished.
"Thought for sure you were going to get us both killed for a moment there. But don't worry, buddy, you made the right choice."
"Right...choice..?" Atlas grit out. That wording sounding off in his head. But perhaps that had something to do with his splitting headache and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Fontaine's smirk was nothing short of vicious.
"You are nothing but some ADAM made mistake. Let's unmake you."
And just like that, Atlas was no longer the one on the dripping wet floor. In an instant all that pain and grating noise stopped as Fontaine slipped back into his own body.
His body stopped shaking and while Fontaine still needed to take in heavy gulps of air, there was no more choking or gagging.
With a deep breath, a smirk curled along his lips. Taking his time, Fontaine gathered himself up off the ground. He'd admit, that was not his most elegant return to control, but at least it was a return. Giving himself ample time to get out of the ugly diving suit, Fontaine reflected on how easy that had actually been.
A little nudge in the right direction and Atlas had all but handed control back to him. He was no great fan of using EVE or ADAM himself - but if it got him back on track then he'd gladly do it a hundred times over.
Although…
Fontaine was in the middle of removing his diving boot when he thought back to what had happened out there in the water. Bitterly he wished he did not have to be cursed with the same affliction as Atlas, recalling ghosts. Atlas ran from them like they were trying to snatch him up and drag him bellow and for once Fontaine thought the man had the right idea.
What point was there lingering on the dead? Even if the memories were not always unpleasant ones.
With the boot slid off and discarded, Fontaine was left to think about the voice that had rung in their head when they'd needed steadier hands. Needing a moment to catch his breath and think.
Christ, how many years ago had Reggie even told him that?
He had to have been at least twenty years younger when Reg had showed him how to line up a good pistol shot. That was seriously reaching deep into his memories to come up with that. He hadn't thought about life on the surface in a long time.
Fontaine didn't much appreciate Atlas digging it all back up.
Better to forget. To pretend none of it had ever happened. How else could he be expected to move forward? There was no time for sentiment.
Finally feeling ready, Fontaine straightened up and stepped out of the airlock, leaving behind the diving suit. He recognised this area of his little lab set up, granted only vaguely. He didn't spend much time in the bowls of it like this. Normally only dropping by to check in on his investments. Pretending he understood half the things that came out of Tenenbaum's mouth.
He learned quickly what was good and what was not - even if the technicals were lost on him. He gave it a bit of effort, reading up on some medical journals he had taken from the doctors.
It had taken some time and a great deal of frustration, maybe some embarrassment as well, in order to understand any of it.
Despite himself, Fontaine recalled the few nights he'd fallen asleep at his own desk after his eyes had grown heavy with the weight of words and concepts he didn't understand. Waking up sore and disgruntled, but almost always with some sort of blanket haphazardly tossed over his shoulders to keep the chill away.
Occasionally he'd even call on Tenenbaum, when his pride didn't ache too badly, and request she run him through one concept or another, in those musty old books. She never ridiculed him - likely because she simply didn't care in the slightest - but would make the time to explain it to him all the same.
"Herr, Atlas. You make it safely. This is good. Delta has made his way to the laboratories through the Oxy-Fill station entrance." There was some disgruntlement from Tenenbaum when she added. "It would seem Sinclair has more unsavoury ties than expected to know of it."
In the background Fontaine heard Sinclair speak up. "Hey now, don't go besmearing my good name by acting as though I wouldn't have some behind the scenes knowledge."
Humpf. Typical.
Opening his mouth Fontaine planned to deliver them a lie in an Irish lilt, only for it to be his turn to be struck with a feeling of queasiness.
This time when there was a shift between the two of them, there was far less fanfare. Fontaine stumbled and seemed to slip right back out of his own skin as Atlas settled right back in. Answering Tenenbaum in a hasty breath. "Y-Yeah...heading up there now." His gaze never dropped from Fontaine - rendered a ghost yet again.
The two stared at one another in silence for no less than ten seconds before Fontaine seemed to snap.
"No...no!" Fontaine raged, screaming in frustration as once again he was relegated to an observer in his own body.
He was not a solid person and so when he turned and struck the nearby wall with his fist, there was no damage done to himself nor the wall. Just a dull, imagined impact. Though to both of them, it sounded as though Fontaine had cracked the wall, only for his fist to drop away and reveal absolutely no evidence that it had been been brushed against.
Just their mind filling in the scene for them where one was not really there.
Panting raggedly, Fontaine seemed to take a second to calm himself, fists clenched tight at his sides. After a few more seconds, Fontaine took a purposeful deep breath and seemed to shake some of the tension form his shoulders. Though the air of fury never truly ebbed away. Slowly he turned his head to scowl back at Atlas over his shoulder.
"How many times are we going to do this, Atlas?" He asked in a hiss. Acting as though Atlas were some unruly brat that didn't learn from the cane after repeated licks. "It's a losing battle for you. You're on borrowed time here, so just hand me back what is rightfully mine."
Atlas, still left shaken from that momentarily loss of power to Fontaine needed a moment of his own to recover. When he did he met Fontaine's loathing with a look of horror. Knowing now what seemed so obvious in hindsight.
"It's the ADAM..." He whispered, staring at Fontaine with wide eyes. "You've been using it to…" Become more real? Take control back? Drive him insane? Atlas couldn't nail down which of the list it was, if not all three.
Continuing to scowl at Atlas for a second longer, Fontaine scoffed. "Figured that out have you? Took you long enough. I don't remember writing you to be so fucking dense."
Looking back on it, Atlas could clearly see Fontaine's influence behind him whenever ADAM and plasmids were on the table. The vindictiveness, the desire for more…
In a way that was comforting. To know it had less to do with addiction and more to do with this ghost of a man.
In defiance, Atlas snarled. "I won't have another drop o' the stuff!" Fontaine paused, listening. "And you'll disappear."
This seemed to both amuse and infuriate Fontaine further. Turning on Atlas with the same heat as he'd held when striking the wall.
"I made you!" Fontaine shouted.
The only reason that all of Rapture was not on them in an instant was because no one else could hear Fontaine. That must have felt rather lonely. Maybe Atlas would pity Fontaine were he anyone else.
"You're not even fucking real! You're some pretty fantasy whipped up because Rapture was full of a bunch o' suckers! Just because you feel like you're alive right now, that don't make it so."
"And yet." Atlas replied, slowly. Each word low and harsh. "Here I am."
For a beat, Fontaine was speechless. Perhaps feeling the reality of that statement sinking. Atlas was in there and he was out here. Unable to do anything other than watch.
Another wordless sound of anger ripped out of Fontaine before he jammed his finger in Atlas's direction and continued to rage.
"Mark my words, you'll slip up eventually. We both know damn well that you need ADAM if you're ever going to survive down here and once you've had enough that body is going to be mine again."
With that Fontaine blinked back out of sight. If by his own volition or simply his moment of coherency leaving him, Atlas couldn't say. But those parting words left him shaken all the same. Repeating in his skull.
The promise that one day he was going to be snuffed out of existence in his entirety.
Delta was waiting for him, but Atlas needed a second to just breathe and keep his arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to exist in some way. To have evidence that he'd been here. But he didn't know how to cement that.
Well...he could start with doing something that would help the few that knew him to live on. Atlas could start there.
That goal was calling out to him, trying to get Atlas to return to the job at hand. But he just needed a few more seconds to breathe.
Just a few more seconds...