Until this point Atlas had spent almost the entirety of his life and travels with a silent companion.
Well, Delta was not strictly silent. In fact, he offered little huffs of exasperation rather frequently. The tin man didn't have the ability to hold a conversation with him, but Atlas always felt there was a simple sort of communication between them. A way that they'd understand one another through the easy role of watching one another's backs.
There was none of that now.
Rather than feeling like he was traversing Rapture in reliable company, every glance Atlas stole towards his ethereal guide made him feel all the more alone.
Blessedly, he could still see Edmund's figure walking ahead of him, silent and unhalting, yet to fade away again. Although, there was no acknowledgment of Atlas at all. The ghost could have just as well been entirely alone in the afterlife for all he seemed to take notice of the man trailing after him.
Their walk was unpleasant, with the constant chill of the dead inching every further up Atlas's fingers, causing the man to begin shivering and put a bit more distance between him and the ghost. Never daring enough to fall more than a few paces behind, lest Edmund vanish and leave him without any sort of direction again.
However, he wasn't sure if their destination was really the one he had asked to set.
Who was to say if the ghost had any idea where Eleanor was. He was putting an awful lot of stock in the idea that these specters weren't just manifestations of his own ADAM addled thoughts. Perhaps that was why he didn't offer any words of apology to Edmund. Even if the ghost was real, he doubted his attempts to apologise for Fontaine's actions would garner him any brownie points.
He'd been 'Atlas' when putting a bullet through the man's head after all.
They were long past the Therapy Wing now. Going down, to the best of Atlas's understanding. He did not know the layout of Persephone perfectly. It was not his area of expertise and Sinclair certainly had never given him the full tour. But he was sure that they were firmly off the official map by now, even if they hadn't been, it was clear Lamb's people had been through the narrow corridors already and done some extreme redecorating.
There wasn't a surface not adorned with blue paint or claims of salvation attributed to the crackpot doctor, or declarations of the daughter's divinity.
Briefly, Atlas wondered if they dressed the place up with blue ribbons and flowers to appeal to the little sisters, but those little girls created their own utopias - they hardly needed the mildew rotted knock off Lamb's cronies tried to mock up for them.
With the recognisable rooms of Inner Persephone being swapped out for increasingly cluttered and small passageways, Atlas became gradually more restless.
Where was Edmund taking him?
Then abruptly his guide came to a halt. Causing Atlas's own pace to stutter and still as he looked around for any indication they'd come across Eleanor. Instead all he saw was the ghost standing at what appeared to be a ledge of some sort. Waiting quietly for him.
Despite how tentative he'd been to broach the silence that hung thick and tacky between them, Atlas finally spoke up to voice his reservations.
"I'm not seeing any abused and mind controlled children here, Eddie," Atlas bit out in an accusatory snap, only to catch himself a moment later. "I'm talking to my own fucking delusions. Fantastic. What the hell was I even expecting at this point?"
Eddie's dead eyes turned to fix on him. Waiting with an infinite patience, that he was sure only the dead could muster, for him to approach.
Atlas had never been much of a backtracker and even now he felt the only way to move was forward, so it was no surprise when he found himself coming to stand at the precipice with Edmund.
Part of him expected to see icy water pooling below, to inch higher and higher and put a very finite limit on their time in the city. But there was no major leak that he could see over the edge. Not even the hint of salt water to tip him off to a hidden pool of blackened water down there. At least no more so than Rapture always smelt of rust and salt.
Still, he could faintly make out the distant glow of… something far below.
ADAM plants maybe?
The red glow far beneath them was similar to that of the plant life found in Alex's chamber, but he felt like they ought to have been too far up to see some flowers.
Confused, Atlas began to turn towards Edmund to ask him what it was they were stopping to stare at - when he felt the chilly contact of ghostly fingers pressing lightly to his shoulder. Fear shot through him, sharp and final as understanding came just seconds too late for him.
And when Eddie pushed, Atlas fell.
His frantic attempts to grapple at the ghost were met with nothing but empty air as he was shoved clean off the edge.
"Eddie!" Atlas shouted the man's name in panic even as he was sent plummeting down.
Terror burst unpleasantly through his chest as he saw the ghost flicker out of sight from the ledge he'd been toppled off. Leaving Atlas to the fall.
The fall was not terribly long, but longer than he felt it ought to have been. Atlas didn't know what it was like to really fall for longer than a few seconds. The closest thing he had to compare a long fall to was the disjointed stumbling of the teleportation plasmid's journey he'd inadvertently taken some time before. And that had not truly been falling, it had been more akin to being thrown from place to place.
The fall ended how any other would, with a sharp, sudden impact and a loss of air.
Atlas didn't die when he hit the ground, so if this was Edmund's attempt at revenge it was poorly executed. But that did not mean it did not hurt.
Groaning, Atlas forced himself onto his side. While gasping and heaving to try and recover his lost air, he distantly wondered if something new had been broken on impact. Atlas felt more or less like the world's favourite punching bag by now and couldn't find it in himself to think that was entirely undeserved, but surely there had to be a limit to his punishment.
When he finally managed to drag in a few painful, wheezing breaths of air he saw the ghost had returned. Walking calmly until those familiar boots came to a standstill in front of Atlas. It took a while before he could even look up to confirm the ghost was still Eddie and give him a well earned scowl.
"Thanks," Atlas grated out in a slow snarl, but it sounded far more like he meant to say, 'fuck you.'
And he was sure he saw the ghost smirk. Smug prick.
Sitting up was a new challenge and Atlas made his displeasure known as the new bruises began to set in. Layering over all the others he already had. If he stopped to take stock of all his injuries and scars he would be there all day. So instead he focused on taking a few more deep, rattling breaths through sore ribs, just until he was sure that he could get up again.
"Couldn't 'ave found me some damn stairs, huh?" Atlas hissed finally as he cast another look at the ghost, who didn't have the decency to even shake his head in the negative. He bet if he looked around he could have found a better way down. Slower, sure, but less bone rattling.
Cursing Eddie anew Atlas finally took a moment to look around at the hole Eddie had shoved him into. The source of the dull glow that had appeared so faint at the ledge was bright now. Atlas saw it first on the backs of his hands, the red glow spilled across every surface of the room. Pooling almost lazily into the little crevices and sliding up walls sluggishly as if the light itself had a weight to speak of. Looking up Atlas found himself staring at a forest of red filled tanks.
Immediately his thoughts raced back to Alex as he looked along the rows of proudly standing canisters. But he saw no creatures lurking in the bloody concoctions, laying in wait for some poor sod to get too close. Just the gluey, sluggardly rising bubbles inside the luminous glow of the tanks.
His aches and pains were slowly pushed to the back of his thoughts as Atlas rose. Impossible as it was, he swore he could feel the light of the tanks rolling over him, sliding off his shoulders and down his back as he stood, saturated under the clinging glow. The maze of red obelisks laid out all around him felt too vast, and he too small, like he could get lost among their numbers if he went in too deep.
But between him and that certainly endless labyrinth stood a sturdy gate and lock. The lock, he noticed dryly, was a one that needed a genetic key.
Atlas didn't want to go wandering into the complex of red tanks, but felt he might have, were it not for the metal that stood between him and the maze. Regardless, he came to stand little more than an inch away from the barrier between him and the containers. Trying to make sense of this unusual place and why Edmund had brought him down into it.
"What the hell is this then?" Muttering to himself Atlas peered closer. Looking up upon the bubbling tanks to try and make out the faded metal plank stuck to the front of the containers.
His heart dropped in a lurching freefall that left Atlas feeling faint as he realised where he was and what it was that surrounded him. It seemed all so obvious once he knew of course. What else could it really have been?
"The ADAM reserves...they moved it all down here?"
Astonished, Atlas looked around the chamber once more, trying and failing to envision how exactly Lamb had managed it. No doubt at the cost of more than a few lives in the moving process and all the years he and Fontaine had been 'dead.' Even with all that time and loyal servants, it seemed impossible to have achieved it.
But here it all was.
Rapture's heart and soul bubbling away and all but completely unguarded. Unsurprising, given any splicers that got too close would undoubtedly lose their mind at the scent of ADAM viscous and inescapable in the air.
Looking back at the lingering ghostly figure Atlas was at a loss for what to say.
Part of him wanted to ask why he'd been brought down here. A sick feeling in his stomach led him to fear that perhaps the ghosts were pushing him in the same direction as Fontaine. To indulge in his cravings in order to push himself right out of existence, and allow the original inhabitant to once again be the sole occupant of the body. But he couldn't imagine why they would want that.
"I'm not going to touch a drop of it," Atlas warned harshly and for a moment he was sure Eddie smiled. But the gloomy shroud never seemed to fully lift from around him. He'd never been the sunniest guy even when alive. Death seemed to have compounded the issue of his all consuming melancholy all the more.
Regardless, Atlas felt that the ghost approved of his declaration, so why? What reason was there to bring him here?
"Even if i wanted to get into all this, I don't have the key," Atlas groused as he looked down at the genetic lock that stood between him and the entirety of Rapture's life's blood.
He knew he didn't want to have access to it. Not really.
But for as much as he wanted to stay away from ADAM, the pull was there. Deep in his chest. Begging for him to indulge in the poison that would slowly but surely write him out of existence if he let it into his system. Just being in the presence of the entirety of Rapture's supplies… it left his mouth a little dry.
Atlas began to ask Eddie another question he did not expect to get a straight answer to, only to be cut off and silenced suddenly.
"Voice…"
A grinding metallic voice rasped behind him and Atlas through for a horrifying second that Eddie had found his tongue once again, only to realise after a split second of fear that the voice, despite its distortion, was decidedly feminie.
And Edmund was long gone.
When he turned he came face to face with the usually so imposing figure of Eleanor slumped between the towering containers of ADAM.
Although, perhaps he ought not to think of her as such like this. Clothed from head to toe in her personalised twist on a big daddy's garb, she seemed more like Big Sister to Atlas than Eleanor.
There was every chance his way of identifying people was simply warped by his own experience with duality. No matter the level of truth behind that theory, right now he was sure the thing that lay crumpled behind the bars was Big Sister and not truly Eleanor. Not really.
Ever so slowly Big Sister heaved forward, and Atlas could not be sure if it was his own mortified imagination or if he was really hearing her bones snap, as though they'd been pressed out of place and needed to realign themselves as she moved. He hoped it was simply the grinding metal of her suit that created the effect and that her insides were nearly as shattered as the cracking sounds would suggest.
As she pressed forward, Big Sister slumped down till her shoulders nearly touched the ground beneath her before gradually dragging herself back onto legs that seemed too numb to carry her weight. It would not have seemed out of place, had dust and cobwebs cascaded from her form as she moved as if stirring from a life long sleep.
Had she been sitting down here in the dark amongst the glowing ocean of ADAM since she fled from their last encounter?
A justified unease took over Atlas despite the bars between himself and Big Sister as she came to stand before him in utter silence. The thick bars between them seemed too flimsy to him for comfort and he took a careful step back, expecting at any moment she would break from her stillness and strike. But she made no sudden movement, and no lethal blow came.
Instead Big Sister simply watched him, swaying slightly as the light of her porthole beat down on Atlas's prone form.
Where she had been unable to crush him before, she was unlikely to fail a second time should she try. But Big Sister didn't budge for a long time, just swayed that gentle to and fro motion and watched Atlas. Looking right through him.
"Voice," she repeated a little more firmly, as though she only now realised he was truly there.
It took Big Sister a long time to speak. Each word carefully pushed out past her teeth and the suit to Atlas. Speaking sounded awfully difficult for her.
"You are...here. Where is….Father?" she asked darkly, slowly turning her head from side to side, the light sweeping across the ground in search of the behemoth that was clearly not by Atlas's side anymore. A reminder that stung him some.
Eventually Atlas realised he was expected to answer and with nothing else he could think to do, he simply shook his head.
"Not here," he told Big Sister, hoping that wouldn't result in her deciding she didn't like that and taking it out on him. Atlas was quick to add, "He's looking for you."
"For...us…" Big Sister paused, gaze slowly dropping to the ground at her side, shoulders shaking ever so slightly as if she was fighting off a great weight being put down on her just to remain standing. "Yes… for us. Father…is still searching."
After that soft affirmation that sounded like it was entirely for herself, they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Atlas didn't think he was much of a fidgetter but waiting for the other shoe to drop did have him wringing his hands nervously, not sure what to make of Big Sister now. She didn't seem bloody thirsty or completely under the haze of her mother's influence.
"Nice 'home' you have here," Atlas noted, almost just to fill the dead air before his nerves got the best of him.
As he recalled the final order he'd heard Lamb give to her daughter. He got the distinct impression this place wasn't the home Lamb had been commanding Eleanor back to.
Eleanor glanced around the chamber of bubbling ADAM and might have actually laughed under that suit of hers, but Atlas couldn't be entirely sure if that's what the little airy sound she made really was. A scoff perhaps.
"Raw ADAM," she explained, gesturing to the tubes of the stuff all around her. "Clears our head. Like harvesting does for our sisters."
Atlas doubted having a 'clear head' was a good thing for a little sister.
He shuddered to think what they would think and feel when seeing Rapture for what it was through their programming unexpectedly. During harvesting no less. It sounded like it would be too much for a little girl to comprehend.
"So you're free?" Atlas asked, although he wasn't really hopeful enough to think Eleanor was out of her mother's control with just a quick shot of ADAM.
All she offered in response was a small shake of her head and no elaboration. Atlas didn't press her either. Their conversation had been nicely devoid of violence thus far, best not to test a good thing.
Ever so slowly the glow of her stare lifted back to Atlas and the words became softer, more careful.
"Voice… you need a key. You need many keys."
Big Sister informed him as though Atlas wasn't well aware. He knew not to rush her and after a moment Big Sister rewarded his patience.
"We have one. A key. For you."
"Which one?" Atlas asked abruptly. Even made a little breathless as fear and excitement rushed through him all at once.
He no more wanted Fontaine to have the genetic key than he wanted for Lamb to keep it. He didn't know if handing it to him now would be more dangerous than leaving it where it was.
But the key Big Sister produced for him was very different. It was large and rusted. Nothing like a genetic key would look, it was a real key. Which, quite frankly, just seemed out of place in Rapture nowadays.
And it very much looked like it ought to fit the lock to the ADAM reserves.
Instinctively Atlas stepped forward to take the key, but stopped himself before he could get within reach of Big Sister. Casting her a cautious look.
"Why?"
A soft, distorted bubble of laughter left Big Sister's lips and it was a decidedly exasperated sound. Not unlike the occasional chuckle Delta might have given him. It was almost painfully familiar.
"In exchange, Voice," she told him gently, seeming to speak more fluidly given time to get used to her own voice again. "A key, for our garments."
"Garments?"
"Yes. Our...armour. Like Father's."
Confused, Atlas pointed out the obvious. "Kid, you're wearing that get up."
He could only hope it wasn't melded to her flesh like the later big daddy models had.
"Not...this," Big Sister grit out, clearly annoyed at having to explain this to him when she found speaking so difficult. "Big Brother's suit."
"Brother?" Atlas uttered, frowning as he felt they might have been having different conversations, they couldn't seem to settle on basic facts.
"There's no such thing as big brothers, or little brothers at that," Just as well, at least the boys escaped that fate.
Big Sister laughed again and fixed him in the golden glow of her gaze again.
"No?" she mused distantly. "Have you no son?"
Atlas understood, disbelieving as he might have been, he did understand.
"Jack…"
Without speaking Big Sister nodded gently and Atlas felt a thousand more questions bubbling up on his tongue. He ought to know everything there was to know about Jack but then again, he'd been gone an awful long time and even before his small departure from life, everyone else had always had their own designs for Jack. From Fontaine to Cohen to Alexander to Tenenbaum, they all had an idea for him once they knew about him.
What was one more he hadn't known about?
"Might have helped him a couple of years back. A bit late to the party, don't you think?"
Listlessly Big Sister shrugged, the question of timing was hardly her problem. "It helps us now."
"Oh, there's an us now is there? You hardly seem all there- shit, there's barely even a me half the time, let alone an 'us.'" Atlas snipped.
Eleanor regarded him in silence for just a moment and despite the helmet, he got the distinct impression she was raising a brow at him. Being around Delta so long had definitely given him a feel for the intent of 'helmet stares.'
"...Voice," she began slowly. "You are not quite what we expected. Quite… callow, actually. "
"Right," Atlas replied stiffly. "I'm going to let that slide because you're fucking terrifying and I don't want to lose my head, but what do you need this suit for anyway? What's wrong with this get up, not meeting your standard on the terrifying shit-o-meter?"
"Big Brother's suit is... Separate. Mother has no influence over it, even in its design. It provides different abilities, different methods of escape. It is stronger. We need stronger."
Atlas could not begin to imagine Big Sister being stronger and tried not to shudder at the prospect. Staying on the point. "And you want me to go collect your new dress in exchange for that key?"
For a moment Big Sister regarded the key in her hand thoughtfully, as though she thought it was a flimsy bargaining chip and then shrugged.
"No. Not really. We expect you'll do it even without the key in exchange."
"I'm not really much for charity," Atlas attempted to dryly correct.
"No. You're really not," she agreed easily. "But you'll do it for… your family. Won't you?"
Big Sister had a habit of smacking the words right out of Atlas without actually having to touch him, he couldn't think of what to say in response to that declaration. He didn't feel much like a family man now the lie had been dismantled. The only blood family he actually had was long dead and cold - in no small part because of his own actions.
What family was there left to risk life and limb for?
Big Sister did not leave him guessing as to where she got this wildly inaccurate idea from.
"You don't have many allies, Voice. We both could use allies. So, do we have a deal?"
"Depends, how do I know you're not going to get dragged back to your mother's influence?"
"Do you hear her, Voice? Down here she cannot reach. Not without sending Uncle to fetch us. He is in no fit state to come down here, not for some time. We have no choice but to stay here and wait for either he or you to come back to us."
Atlas didn't ask who 'uncle' was, already knowing the behemoth that Lamb had lumbering around after Eleanor. If he was stuck facing Demo on his own, he might just shoot himself to get it over with cleanly. Despite knowing who Eleanor meant, he did consider asking why he was 'uncle.' Had that always been his title with little sisters? Seemed like an odd distinction from other big daddies, but really it wasn't all that pressing and Atlas let the thought lie.
Atlas gave a hefty sigh and reached out to clasp Eleanor's hand.
"Sure. What else am I going to do with my time now anyway?"
He could only be relieved that when Eleanor shook his hand she did not crush every little bone within it. He wondered distantly if she was smiling underneath that helmet as she gave his hand a small squeeze.
"That little one… our sister, you tried to guard her, Voice. We are quite glad we did not squish you for that."
"You and me both, sister…"