A/N: SteinMon1920518 here again.

Oh, boy! Another chapter composed for my Bioshock craving, complete with a stash of Pep-Bars and a thermos of Coffee.

Review Responses:

- Childatheart28: Eh, neither here nor there. I reveal nothing! I always wondered what the purpose of the tattoos were since, in-game, they only seem to serve to identify that you are the character. Symbolism is a powerful thing, but what it means to some people in the context we're given can change our view of the person in question.

- MartyrFan: Hey, sweet deal! Thank you for the inspiration.

And yeah, I didn't see how Jack was going to lug around everything without additional pockets (dress pants do not hold bullets, bombs, and Plasmid/Gene Tonic jars very well). And even if a game comes off as straight-forward, thinking about it from a human stand-point, how many of us would have done the same thing under the same circumstances. It's all perspective. Door automatically closes behind me, I'd press the lever too.

I do see what you mean by "blank-slate", and Rapture does, in it's own way, strip away inhibitions and reveals peoples true character. Almost a proving-ground for the soul (Oof! That was deep even for me, but I'm TradeMarking that)

*End of Responses

Without further ado. *Que the dimming of the lights*

Chapter 2: Welcome to Rapture (Hands-On Training Provided, Labels Not Included)

Jack wasn't two steps into the extended glass tunnel before the ground started to shake. Up ahead, he saw something he never expected to see again. The tail of the plane was heading straight for his destination, bee-lining for him. He took off running, sheathing his electric clad hand. The glowing blue veins of his Plasmid remained, pulsing throughout as both arms pumped to get him as far down the hall as possible. He heard the crash of the plane wreckage strike the glass behind him, and almost immediately, he felt the rush of freezing deep-sea water under his feet as hundreds of thousands of pounds of pressure began pouring in. The cracking of glass alerted him that he didn't have much time.

He ran faster, turning right as the hall dictated. On his immediate left, he glimpsed a tunnel collapsing through the glass, the door connecting it and the tunnel he was in groaned as it started to buckle from the ocean pressure just outside, water spraying from around its edges. Dead ahead, he all but dived through the furthest door, just in time for the glass to shatter. The door couldn't close fast enough as the tunnel began to fill rapidly with water. It wasn't until he heard it groan and lock shut that he let out the breath he had been holding.

That had been close. Too close. His heart was pounding in exertion, and terror. And excitement.

As he took steadying breaths, he was in another room now. To the left was one of those tube things he had seen. To the right, there appeared to be a deceased body laying against large windows. He moved left first, suddenly alerted when an ashtray on the ground appeared to jostle, startling him as his lifted left hand's blue glow began sparking to life, and the bright blue veins of his right hand cocked the wrench back to strike. He stepped closer, observing the waxing and waning light of the tube as he looked around. There only appeared to be a stack of mattresses and some items laying around, though he didn't know their uses just yet.

Footsteps drew his attention, and he swung around, just in time to see a Splicer scraping a pipe against the ground as it shot by.

"Splicer!" Atlas warned, apparently aware of this development. "Give 'em the combo! Zap 'em, then whack 'em. One-two punch! Remember kid! The one-two punch!"

Jack swallowed nervously, especially after how sick he had felt killing the last one. He gingerly stepped back into the center area, the Splicer charging him upon sight with a yell.

One shot of his bolts stopped it in its tracks, convulsing from its overloaded nerve impulses. His cocked back hand aiming for a kill-shot. Its skull caved in instantly. Before he could let out a gag of surprise, the room's only remaining exit grinded open, revealing another Splicer. It was the same result: One, Two. Zap and Whack. Stunned; Dead.

Taking a moment to collect himself, he looked down at his recently vanquished quarry, eyeing something spilling slightly out of its pockets amidst its bloodied indent of a head. Gingerly, he poked at it with the sopping wet toe of his shoe, kicking away until he could visibly spy the object: A Med-kit by the looks of it, if the red cross on its cover were any indication. He picked it up, looking at it carefully. Splicers carried supplies on them. If that were the case, that meant-

"I'm gonna regret this," Jack complained. He quickly squashed his self-disgust down as he bent to riffle through the dead humanoid's pockets. He shook slightly. He felt so dirty, pillaging from the dead, though that may have been the sticky blood on his hands talking. He pulled out what appeared to be a capped syringe, filled to the brim with some glowing blue liquid. He put both items in his shoulder satchel, clearly aware that he would need the Med-kit, but unsure what the blue syringe did… yet.

With the thought that supplies would be just as important as protection, he began to wonder around, searching for anything of value. Between the corpses and whatever was lying around, three more blue syringes, and another Med-kit. Not to mention food, though he knew his mother would reprimand him for considering potato chips "food" as he pouched it. "You're a grown man, but you still need to eat properly," she would fuss. It made him smile slightly.

There was also a bottle of wine, but Jack didn't need something to hamper him, both in weight and in clarity, as long as he had to keep sharp. He'd drink when he returned to the surface. However, there was-

"Cigarettes!" he exclaimed, cringing as he realized just how loud he had been. After holding his breath for several heart-pounding moments, and watching the exit with no intrusion, he picked up a partially used pack of a brand called "Nico Time". Let it never be said that he didn't appreciate his own variety of de-stressor. There were only a few left, but he pocketed the small box all the same.

The only thing that made Jack hesitate in his search, besides pilfering the dead like a common graverobber, was the body of a cat just behind the tube. While he wasn't one to be sentimental in this cases, it still made him feel bad. The only other sign that there had been life besides the Splicers, and it was dead.

Finishing his rudimentary room search, he pressed on through the door the second Splicer had entered from, walking up the stairs the rising gear door revealed. He heard a Splicer talking just as what appeared to be a single-man elevator collapsed from above, dropping to the ground with a fiery crash. Jack might have thought longer on this, but the door ahead opened, revealing a Splicer engulfed in flames rushing toward him.

Half-stunned from the sight, he raised his hand to fire a bolt, only to feel it fizzle out. Terrified at his sudden lack of lightning, he swung his wrench wildly, missing the flaming Splicer's head all together. It wasn't until after giving a few good whacks, and taking one to the back of the shoulder himself that Jack inhaled a startled breath.

"Okay, so evidently the lightning isn't permanent," he thought aloud, wincing slightly as he pulled out a Med-kit to see to the nasty hit he had taken. Instead of bandages as he had expected, there was a single needle, filled with a reddish tinted substance. "Great! More needles!"

He rolled up his sleeve again, aiming for the same spot his Plasmid had been inject in. It took just a moment to inject the substance, and Jack quickly pulled over at shoulder of his sweater, watching as the nasty blue and yellow bruise that had formed turned an inky black, then began to fade rapidly. "Well, I'll be damned. Magic shots. Too bad there isn't a drinkable version." Despite his family's rather remote farm, the town they lived outside of was small, but reachable; thankfully with a rather unoccupied physician. Though, his nose scrunched a little when he thought about the medicine he had taken as a child when his mother took him to the doctor. Those spoonful's had been nasty. And the doctor had been rough with the shots he did get, it kind of made Jack wonder how he wasn't afraid of needles. Although… he couldn't remember what his doctor had been called. Hmm.

He tossed aside the otherwise empty Med-kit, pulling out one of the blue syringes with a curious expression adorning his face. "Now what do you do?" There wasn't exactly an instruction manuel, and considering he had found them on the Splicers, he figured they had a definitive use. Shrugging slightly, he figured the only way to find out was first-hand, especially since Atlas wasn't exactly chiming in with answers as he spoke. Wouldn't that be convenient.

Popping off the protective cap, very gently, he stuck his upper forearm again, pressing the blue liquid into his veins. The result was a small surge of energy, like a sugar high, that quickly mellowed out as his blue veins of hand began to crackle to life again on his whim. "Oh," he said in understanding. "So you're like gas for my Plasmid. Interesting."

His new knowledge baring fruit, he tried to walk and organize his supplies as he pressed on through the door ahead. There was still much about this world that he didn't know. One of the elevators was open for him, so he entered, the grate closing behind him automatically as it began to ascend. This must have been the higher ground Atlas had talked about.

"Listen, I've got a family," Atlas spoke hesitantly though the radio. "I need to get them out of here. But the Splicers have cut me off from them. If you can reach them in Neptune's Bounty, then maybe, just maybe-"

"Look, Atlas," Jack interrupted. Who did this guy think he was? Jack had just climbed out of a bad situation and more than a couple attempts on his life. "I'm sorry about your family. But what the hell can I do? I just came out of a plane crash, got locked inside a lighthouse, hit a switch to open a door and ended up twenty-thousand leagues under the sea. I've been here for what? Less than an hour, and I've had more brushes with death in that time than most people have over the course of a few months." He stifled a sob as he leaned back against the still rising elevator. "I just want to get out of here and go home."

"I know you must feel like the unluckiest man in the world right now, but you're the only hope I'll ever see my wife and child again. Go to Neptune's Bounty, find my family… please." That hit Jack square in the chest. He remembered, just before the plane crashed, he had seen a little girl asleep in her seat next to her mother, dreaming. What were the chances that little girl was still alive? His chest tightened at the thought.

"Okay," he whispered. If he could prevent that fate from befalling anyone else, then he would. Despite the need to survive, Jack wasn't about to turn his back on a woman and child that needed his help. His parents had raised him better than that. "I'll help."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Jack!" Atlas cried from the other end of his radio. "I'll help you however I can."

"~When your daddy's in the ground, momma's gonna sell you by the pound. When your mommy's up and gone, you're gonna be the lonely one~" Jack cringed at the voice as the elevator came to a halt with a ding, shivering at the nursery song tune turned dark. He peaked around the corner, seeing the shadow of what he assumed to be a Splicer over a stroller carriage.

"~When you are the lonely one, no one will be there to sing this song~" He snuck closer, until he could see the Splicer in question. It was clearly a woman, her voice edged with sadness. "Hush now… mommy's gone… and daddy too. Wait, this is happening before and not… why aren't you here?! Why is it today and not then when you were warm, and sweet?"

Jack froze suddenly, comprehension dawning in him as he prepared his wrench. This wasn't a normal person. This was a Splicer, though for some reason, he felt pity for her bubble up in his chest as he snuck closer still. "Why can't mommy hold you to her breast and feel your teeth? Oh no, no no no no-"

He brought his wrench down against the back of her skull, flinching in repulse as her body dropped with a Thud, having severed the spine from the base of the skull. Looking in the baby carriage, he felt a moment of rushing relief. There wasn't an infant like he had expected, instead, there was only a revolver, a weapon he could use. He quickly picked it up, counting out ammunition almost instinctively as he looked back down at the former mother.

"Plasmids changed everything," Atlas said dejectedly, as though he had been right next to Jack to witness it. "They destroyed our bodies, our minds. We couldn't handle it. Best friends butchered one another, baby's strangled in cribs. The whole city went to Hell."

"Does that mean-" Jack looked down at his newest kill in horror, his fingers pausing from their count. "-Does that mean she… killed… her baby?"

It was silent for a moment before Atlas responded, "More than likely I'm afraid."

"I injected a Plasmid," Jack swallowed, nervously looking at his hand as he called the blue arcs between his fingers, "does that mean I'll turn into one of… these things." The cost really did out-weigh the benefit.

"Only if you splice too often. If ya start feeling funny-like, ya need to slow down, and give your body time to adapt," Atlas warned. "Now get moving. We haven't got all day."

Jack nodded absently in acceptance, looking at the revolver he had acquired as his mentality switched from anger and horror to methodical and strategic. He had six shots right now. Best he use them wisely. Maybe he could find some ammunition laying around. Making sure the hammer wasn't cocked, he carefully slid the weapon underneath his belt, returning his wrench to his hand as he looked ahead toward a sign.

"Kashmir Restaurant," he whispered, carefully poising his weapon and preparing his Plasmid.

It appeared the restaurant was in disarray, like much of the city. Overturned, dirty, and empty of everything except the voice of a Splicer somewhere in its floors. Up ahead, he could see a front desk with what appeared to be a poster for a masquerade ball behind it. 1959? That had only been a year ago. How did a city get so bad in a year? He looked around, noticing some stairs to a lower level. If nothing else, maybe the restaurant still had some unspoiled food. Maybe canned goods? Lord knows, he could use it, since he didn't know how long he'd be down there.

As he turned to look down the stairs, he immediately saw the Splicer fiddling with a door, trying to get in.

He rushed forward, hopping the banister as he brought his wrench down against the Splicer's head with a simultaneous Crunch! and Splat!

Jack only felt a little sorry for the Splicer. Atlas had said the Plasmids destroyed both the body and the mind. But even if that was the case, he knew that it wouldn't hesitate to beat him to death. So, as sad as it was, Jack couldn't afford to grant the Splicer any mercy except a quick death.

"Charlie?!" another Splicer called. "Charlie, where'd you go?! Cha-arlie?"

Jack barely had time to look up before he felt something slam into his shoulder. His heart beat suddenly became audible as he looked, meeting the smoking barrel of a gun with his eyes. Funny. He hadn't heard it go off. His breath became shallow, but it was surprisingly numb as time crawled.

He acted quickly, before another shot could go off, a knitting of lightning bolts leaving his hand as he rushed forward toward the Splicer in question. His popular strategy of bashing in a Splicer's head backfired as his wrench bounced off of her cranium with a Bonk! causing him to recoil. Relieved of her stunned moment, she aimed the pistol in her hand at him for a second shot.

'Fu-' BANG!

Jack expected the end. A bitter, twisted end that seemed only fitting in this city. She had placed that shot between his eyes. He had felt the bullet cracking through his skull, felt it pierce soft matter. That was practically a guaranteed kill shot. He should have died.

Instead, he was startled when he felt almost spectral, his mind all a blur as he felt something backtracking, as if something were pulling him by a thin cord that could snap at any moment. He watched as he was pulled to the elevators until his vision immediately cleared anew.

He clawed at his chest, his heart pounding painfully into overdrive as he woke up inside a glass tube. Any harder, and his heart might give out from the sheer stress. He swore he had just died! His shoulder surprisingly felt fine. One glance showed there was only a hole in his sweater, the blood gone, as well as the bullet. A shaky hand began brushing his forehead, almost afraid to feel a hole would still be in his head. There was nothing.

"Oh. God," he panted, pushing open the tube as he stepped out, a little wobbly as he slowly made his way back the way he had come from. That was not something he wanted to experience again. "Fuck."

"Where'd you go?" he heard the Splicer call.

'She shot me,' he thought incredulously. 'That bitch shot me in the fucking face!' His confusion and shock ended, quickly replaced by an empowering anger. He was pissed. He ran right back the way he had come, not bothering to notice that his wrench was still in hand as he jumped down the stair well. The Splicer barely looked up in surprise to see him alive… just long enough to witness the wrench smash into her neck, breaking it on impact as her head suddenly bent at an odd angle. Her body instantly collapsed.

"Fuck. You," he panted, bending over as he panted. A moment of clarity provided itself, revealing that he had retained all his weapons and satchel amidst his resurrection. Dying did have some perks– he shook his head before that thought finished. His chest still ached from the shock of imminent death, and his head throbbed as if to remind him how that death had come about. There was no way he would willingly encounter that again.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way into the room she had come from, gagging as the smell hit his nose. So much for looking for food. The kitchen he was in, looked like someone had smeared year-old cuisine and waste everywhere, although that seemed likely. He kept a sleeve to his face as he roamed further into the back. He was pleasantly surprised to find a cash register and a body. Searching the body hesitantly, and only finding some spare change in the register, he started to leave when he heard more Splicers. "God, do they ever end?"

"If you spot a Splicer in the water, hit them with the Electro Bolt," Atlas advised.

"The Electro- what now?" Jack asked in confusion.

"The bloody lightning in your hand!" Atlas said with tried patience.

"Oh. Sorry," Jack apologized, looking at his hands. 'So it's called an Electro Bolt. You'd think they'd label the Plasmid bottles. Guess I'll have to.'

Jack filed that note away for later as he moved forward, spying the Splicers in question that Altas had meant. 'My pleasure.' As soon as his Plasmid hit the water, a jolting cry of surprise arose from both of them, until they both fell, completely fried. "Now that is a nifty trick." He was feeling a little less guilty as he looted them, and the other Splicers he had brained. Especially after he had been shot. In the face. After an experience like that, his empathy for the Splicers was diminishing; and quickly. Even if they had once been people, a part of him understood from Atlas's statement: "The body needs time to adjust." These people hadn't let their bodies adjust, so in a way, it was their own faults. Jack wouldn't feel sorry for their choices.

As he began scrounging the lower floor for items, he noticed one thing that stood out: a strange box on one of the tables, with what appeared to be a tape inside. He gingerly picked it up, reading the label.

""Property of Diane McClintock", huh," he read. It was the first sign that people, actual people, had lived here. He carefully pressing play.

"Another New Year's, another night alone. I'm out, and you're stuck in Hephaestus, working. Imagine my surprise. I guess I'll have another drink… here's a toast to Diane McClintock, silliest girl in Rapture. Silly enough to fall in love with Andrew Ryan, silly enough to-" Jack listened as he heard something like a gunshot in the recording. "What… what happened… I'm bleeding… oh, god… what's happening…?" The recording cut right there.

'So it's a recording device,' he thought, 'like a personal journal.' Interesting. But what were the chances he was going to find a lot of these. Well, hopefully if he did find more, they might help him piece together what happened in the city. And there was that name again. Andrew Ryan.

He continued his looting, finding a couple pistol bullets, Med-kits, blue syringes, and money bills – which he stuffed in his wallet. To his relief, he also found a few more cigarettes, which he took out, and replaced in the box he had stowed in his back pocket. It wasn't much, but he did have a few now. He just needed to find a place to sit down and enjoy it in peace.

As he returned to the restaurants upper floor, it was a simple matter to deal with the Splicer that he had almost run into, whacking it quickly until he was sure it was dead.

It wasn't until he moved to searching the restrooms that he stopped, peaking out from behind the divider wall carefully. An image, like some sort of white specter or phantom appeared in his vision, looking over one of the busted sinks into a non-existent mirror. "I'm too spliced up. I'm too spliced up. Now no one is going to want me!" it cried, before it slowly began to fade.

"Great, now I'm going nuts," he muttered, tempted forward upon seeing another recording device at the other end of the bathroom. As he passed through, he gingerly waved a hand through where he had seen the specter. Nothing happened. "Please don't be haunted," he whispered in silent prayer. After he collected the recording device, had listened to its former owner complain about a hole in the bathroom wall, and a Splicer tried to surprise attack him from one of the bathroom stalls, Jack continued on, moving from the Ladies restroom to the Gents. Sure enough, there was a hole in the wall. The recording true to its word, it smelled like shit.

As he stepped into the apparent theater with a half-covered nose, he looked down, seeing what he thought had only been a hallucination. A glowing eyed little girl with a large needle; only this time, she was sticking it in a corpse with a sickening Shhhk!

"Careful now," Atlas whispered cautiously. "Would you kindly lower that weapon for a minute?"

Jack sheathed his weapon obediently, eyeing some light fixtures and scaffolding he could use to get to the other side. He walked carefully across, listening to her humming a sing-song tune as Atlas continued. "You think that's a child down there? Don't be fooled. She's a Little Sister now. Somebody went and turned a sweet baby girl into a monster. Whatever you thought about right and wrong on the surface, well that don't count for much down in Rapture. Those Little Sisters, they carry ADAM, the genetic material that keeps the wheels of Rapture turning. Everybody wants it. Everybody needs it."

Jack didn't dare comment for fear of being heard. Who would do that? To a child no less? This city; these people! The more and more Jack was learning, the less and less he cared for this place, and he wasn't sure how much further he had to go until he was free of it. As he stepped to the other side, hearing the "Little Sister" finishing a song with "Teddy Bears, Teddy Bears", Jack felt a strange ache in his chest, accompanied by the familiar blossom of anger. As he took some stairs down to the little girl's level, he watched as a Splicer entered in the room she occupied through a door.

"Hey! Look out!" he called out in panic.

Her head bolted up in surprise, catching sight of him. It took a moment for his words to process before she turned around in surprise at the Splicers approach. He ran to the locked gated door next to the window, trying to rip it open. But not before he heard her scream. He turned just in time to see the Splicer smack her, knocking her straight to the ground. Jack was about to shout, to bang on the window to get the Splicer's attention, when he heard it.

"Bbrrraaaaaaaah!" something roared, seeming to shake the walls with its tone. Up where Jack had just come from, he saw it again, the multi-eyed creature, though, without his drowsiness, he could clearly see it was a dive suit. And much larger than he had anticipated. He watched as its glowing red-eyed helmet seemed to narrow on the Splicer, jumping down with a Thud. The Splicer let off a few rounds from his pistol, only to guard his face as the behemoth threw a theatre chair at him like it was nothing. The creature began moving forward, the Splicer searching frantically for a way out as he let off another couple shots, only for the creature to smack him into the ground in karmic retribution, lift him up to the wall and smash a huge arm drill into him.

Jack gagged when the drill began to spin, spraying the Splicer's blood and innards everywhere as he cried out in pain. The creature then wrapped its enlarged hand around his head, and smashed him into the glass repeatedly, no more than a barrier of simple glass between them and Jack as the window became spiderwebbed with cracks. On the third hit, the creature finally sent the Splicer's head through, dropping it as it hung between its own side, and Jacks side.

"Holy shit," Jack exclaimed, looking at the dead Splicer, unsure just how much of that he deserved. The behemoth seemed to glance at him from the other side, but paid him no more mind as its eyes turned green. "What the Hell is that?"

"That's the Big Daddy," Atlas answered warily. "She gathers ADAM, he keeps her safe. Otherwise, they'd be near helpless to all the Splicer's roaming about."

The "Big Daddy" gently offered his hand to the "Little Sister", moaning slightly as she took it, and together, they began lumbering off, even as Jack watched in amazed horror. He took a moment to gather himself, before redrawing his wrench, poking at the Splicer indignantly to ensure it was dead, though he couldn't see how it wasn't.

As the jaws of his wrench made contact, the body jolted, causing Jack to Yelp! in surprise as he quickly smashed the wrench into its neck repeatedly, his breaths laden with barely suppressed terror as he slowly tried to steady himself. He gave it another gentle poke, backing away quickly when it seized once again.

"How the fuck are you still alive?!" Jack hissed, waiting for the would-be corpse to respond. Nothing. It was dead… maybe.

Taking his wrench, and keeping a wary eye on the motionless Splicer, he busted open the lock of the sliding gate, gingerly looking around the corner to make sure that neither of the hallucinations, which… weren't really hallucinations anymore, were gone. To his relief, they were. Turning the next corner, he was greeted by another one of those tubes, finally seeing the big bold lettering right over it. "Vita-Chamber." He shivered slightly, not wanting to think about the last one he had seen.

He moved quickly down the hall just in time to hear another Splicer bawling as he rounded the corner… and right into another female Splicer with a gun. Bad memories were already starting to surface.

He reacted with another Bolt, taking some satisfaction as the sparks danced along her jolted form. He capitalized on the Splicers vulnerable state, knocking the gun out her hand by breaking her wrist with his wrench swing, then smashing her knee like he had with his first Splicer.

It was super effective; giving him time to continuously bombard her with hits before she could regain her composure. He supposed there was a strategy to killing them… before they killed him that is. Death was an experience best not-encountered twice. Not thinking much on it, he grabbed her pistol, emptying it of rounds quickly into his satchel before continuing onward, facing another indoor window, and the sounds of another couple Splicers. At least he had a plan now.

The first he saw had a pipe as a weapon. One-two punch. The second and third were standing in some water that lead to a lower floor like a waterfall. They were looting what appeared to be a Big Daddy corpse. Zap!

'I hope that isn't the one I saw moments ago,' he thought glumly, sighing relief when he didn't see the little girl. Even if Atlas thought she was a monster, Jack was still on the fence about it. He still saw a little girl, even if she did creep him out a little… or a lot. But he had also seen what was the norm for Rapture, and if that were any indication-

Looting their corpses, the only way forward was down. He saw a Vita-Chamber below, along with signs that pointed to what he assumed was Neptune's Bounty, and something that read "Medical". With a gentle splash, he lowered himself down into the freezing cold puddle, heading directly for Neptune's Bounty.

Just before he could pass through however, the gate shut in front of him, the room visibly darkening, and a red glow blinking as an announcement called, "Security! Alert in progress!" He heard a bunch of Splicers above him, and by the sounds of it, they were heading his way.

"Come on, Jack," he whispered. "Think. Think!" The only way down was the waterfall. His hand sparking reminded him that he had an advantage on his side. Water plus Electro Bolt. Duh! He also switched out his wrench for the pistol, figuring now was a good time to break it in.

The first two Splicers dropped down into the puddle, just as he had predicted. Zap! An unexpected third one appeared from behind, the butt of a pistol hitting him over the head before he turned around. A Bolt shot, giving him time to aim his gun at one of its wide convulsing eyes. BANG! It was down. More dropped down into the water. Zap! Easier than he had anticipated. He listened carefully, not wanting anymore to get the drop on him. All he heard was the alert.

"It's Ryan!" Atlas's voice shouted out through the blaring alarm. "Goddamn Andrew Ryan! He found us! Damnit! He's shut off access to Neptune."

"What do we do?" Jack asked, quickly injecting himself with a Med-kit serum and another blue syringe… though, he had used quite a few Bolts this time. He was going to have to find a way to stockpile his supplies… or find another satchel. If running into Splicers and getting trapped was going to be a repeating habit, he was going to be running out way too fast. Still, the he felt the bump on his head gradually diminish.

"There's another way to get there. Head to Medical," the man on the other end of the radio said.

"Okay," Jack responded, but not before he began looting the bodies he had dropped. They evidently had some ammo.

"What are you waiting for? Go!"

Finishing his less than honorable scavenge, he followed the sign, running down another hall through flashing red lights, hopping over a fallen piece of the ceiling before he made it into another room, an open pressure hatch saying that was the way to go.

As he approached it slammed shut on him. He turned around to go back, only for the cage gate he had passed through to shut on him as well. "What is it with these damn doors up and closing shut on me!" Jack raged within reason. It was an annoying feature that he was beginning to hate with a passion. Then of course, to make matters worse, the lights cut out.

"Ah Christ, you're trapped!"

"No shit!" Jack snapped, clenching and unclenching his Plasmid encompassed fist angrily.

"Hold on! Gonna try to override the exit from here."

A whirring sound drew Jack's attention as a projector of screen flickered on, showing him the "Stand-by" picture of the lighthouse he had seen in the Bathysphere during his less than informative orientation. Just as quickly, the still picture of a man's hat covered, tilted face dominated the screen with the word "Ryan".

"So, tell me friend," the new voice, that Jack recognized as Andrew Ryan's from the video. For some reason, the farm-boy didn't think he was going to be getting a tourist guide this time. "Which one of the bitches sent you? The KGB wolf? Or the CIA jackal? Here's the news: Rapture isn't some sunken ship for you to plunder, and Andrew Ryan isn't a giddy socialite who can be slapped around by government muscle. And with that, farewell, or Dasvadinya. Whichever you prefer."

"Bastard!" Jack growled incredulously. The asshole hadn't even let him explain what had happened; he'd just popped in with a monologue, assuming he was there to loot Rapture dry. "What a prick!" 'And since when does the CIA wear sweaters?' he wondered in tangent after-thought, looking down at his attire in confusion. He thought the government types always wore suits.

Even as the "stand-by" screen returned, the Splicers were closing in, their silhouettes outlined by the screen. All the separated them was a window. Jack immediately tensed, preparing for the fight that was sure to come as they began smashing on the glass with their impromptu weapons.

"I got it! Get out of there! Get out now!" Atlas ordered, the pressure door opening.

He didn't need to tell Jack twice. Glimpsing as the cracks widened in the window, Jack immediately stepped inside, breathing a sigh of relief as the door shut and locked behind him, even as he heard the glass shatter.

"God, I hate this city," Jack complained, sliding to the ground to rest for a moment, letting the gun drop from his hand. It may have seemed immature, and he'd only just got there, but he couldn't help it. The more he learned or encountered, which only felt like the tip of the iceberg in his opinion, the more he couldn't wait to leave.

"Just give me a second boyo, and I'll open the door to Medical," Atlas informed him.

"Take your time," Jack replied indifferently, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, popping one up for a smoke. He realized then just how tired he was. How long had it been already? An hour? Maybe two? That plane wreck already felt like a year or two ago, and he hadn't got a moment's rest since then. He hadn't even slept on the flight.

He nestled a dart between his lips, aligning the head between his thumb and index fingers. All it took was a blue spark, and the tip of it ignited. Who needed a fire Plasmid when he could light his cigarette with friggin' lightning? All it took was a little ingenuity. It wasn't the type of power one had, merely how it was used; both in imagination and execution.

After he had taken a stout inhale, he picked up the radio, exhaling a stream of smoke upward. "Hey Atlas? Is the rest of Rapture as crazy as that was?" Looking down at his cigarette perched hand, he noticed it was shaking, his palm greased with drying blood. It wasn't even his own blood, and that thought extinguished any desire to puff on a cigarette with his dirty hands so close to his mouth.

"Sometimes," the voice replied. "In some places, it'll be a lot crazier; especially if some whacko is pullin' the strings in the area. That's what happened when Andrew Ryan mass-produced the Plasmids. What started off as a small business venture, where quality and safety mattered, it turned into a fuckin' arms race. Who could out-splice who? And now- now the people you're fightin' are your friends and neighbors gone mad. That's why- why I need to get my wife and son out. Before they drown with the rest of the city."

Jack didn't respond to that. What could he possibly say to alleviate the anguish in the only comrade he had down here? He was just an outsider; he didn't know the hardships that had been endured by the populace. Still…

"I'll help you get them out Atlas…," he said, taking a deep breath as he flicked his cigarette away. Retrieving his dropped pistol, he quickly made sure it was fully loaded before he holstered it underneath his belt. Standing was more of a chore than he anticipated, but he stood all the same. Drawing his wrench, a spark coursed between it and his glowing blue veined hands, creating a small crackle between the jaws of the tool.

"…I promise, I'll do my best."

Author's Notes: Would You Kindly Read & Review! :)

Whoo-hoo! First First-Aid Kit and Blue Syringe (EVE Hypo). And death! *Shiver* A lot of firsts in this chapter, as well as a quickly dispersing sympathy for the populace.

And those damn doors just keep closing!

And just how will Jack fare in the up-and-coming Medical Pavilion with the current experience under his belt.

Take care, and don't forget to Review! Let me know your Questions, Comments, and Concerns (QCC) :)

Until next time. Chapter 3: The Price of Perfection or something like that. Still debating on the chapter title.