Here we have another wonderful chapter. I wanted to get it up during CHRISTMAS, because of what I named this fanfiction. BUT OBVIOUSLY. THAT DIDN'T WORK. Please, read, enjoy, be nice? Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year everyone.

Experiment G1T8L1: Yes, everyone seems to be moving down this path of the memory recovering thing. Partial sounds good to me. Oh, poor Sinclair. Thanks for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it.

DreamOrNightmare: Ahahaha, I was playing the game and my friend was there. She's pretty blunt, so she was all, "He's fat." Much to my dismay. I've been trying to improve on writing my action scenes. Since I was reading through my old fanfics and crying at the typos in the action scenes. Thanks for the reviiiew~ Love your story BTW.

Shadowelf144 : Oh, Mac, it's not like she knows or anything, yeah? Heee, o3o I did beat her up a little bit in the last chapter though. Because, well, she did run headfirst into a fight with Delta. Thanks for reviewwiing. 3

Mio: GOT IT. Watch, you see Barney and Kirby somewhere in the next chapters. Yeah, he probably is, but it might just be a continuous thing. Plenty of pain and tears there. LOL. Thanks for dropping a review o3o

Music Fiend666: Well, okay, they make some horrible sound that goes something like MURYUUUUUREGHHHHHAAARUGH. I guess that could be considered talking? NOPES. I've played this game too many times and 50% of the reason was to study Sinclair's character. HEE. Thanks for reviewin'

Nukeman: Yeah. She dead man oAo

deganky: Dude, I totally smiled when I read this. And, as always, my mother thinks me strange for smiling at computer screens way too much. Thanks, stuff like this really motivates me. {/happehface}

I swear, there'll be action in the next chapter. FERSURE.

"You useless idiot, can't you do anything right?" Who was yelling at me? It certainly wasn't a voice I had heard before. A woman, perhaps? "There's nothing you can do." Someone gently said to me, "The doctor says that now it won't be long." I couldn't move, my limbs remained stationary. These people. They had no right to speak to me in such a tone. Why were they all in my head? Never before had I seen these images... and yet, they were familiar in some way. Bitterness welled up within me. I screamed then—out of frustration, anger, and... sadness? That sort of emotion was frowned upon. A foreign, and decidedly wet, substance slid down my cheek.

My eyes snapped open as I swatted it. A metallic clunk sounded when my hand smacked against my helmet.

"Oi! It ain't dead!" No. It sure was not. Everything hurt, to put it simply, but my fuel was the lust for revenge coursing through my veins. The three members of the family standing over me and poking me with a long object had backed up as I stood. Smoke might as well have been expelling out of my ears. Roaring in anguish, I launched past them. Cries of surprise arose understandably from the Rapture citizens. Their lanky forms stumbling back from my sudden burst of movement. My own breathing echoed in my ears uneven and ragged from my first confrontation with Subject Delta. Springing upwards, I grabbed a beam and hoisted myself up to perch on it. Brooding. Yes, that was a sufficient word. Acrobatically, I made my way across the next few beams, ducking under an entry way. With the assistance of my suit, I flew across the room with uncanny elegance. Minimal noise was made on my part. Delta. When I got my hands on him, I would tear him apart. I'd crush him into particles of unrecognizable dust.

I landed with a soft clunk on top of a ticket booth. A muffled, but alarmed yell of surprise came from within. For my own sake, and possibly the sanity of the person inside, I chose to ignore it. "Mac." I tried the word on my tongue. Sinclair had called me that. And for some reason, it had sent an awkward twinge across my chest. And then the matter of those voices in my head from earlier. Almost on cue, the door to the train next to the ticket booth slid open. Crouched low, on top of the ticket booth, I appreciated the shadow shrouding me. My heart began pounding as I saw who stepped off the train. Without thinking, I hopped from my situated place to land on the steps, blocking Sinclair from advancing any further. He gasped, stepping back in a hurry. "Sinclair." As if assessing whether or not to run back into the train compartment, he regarded me with a weary eye.

"That's a start, I 'spose." Nervously withdrawing, Sinclair was so on edge he could've fainted. I tilted my head inquisitively. Firstly, I had no intention of harming him, not unless he broke a cardinal rule of Rapture. "Didn' quite get a chance to thank you for savin' my life there, did I?" Saving his—? He must have misunderstood. I was merely complying to... "I would give you a friendly-like hug an' all, bu—." Hug?

"Hug?" I blurted, again without thinking. The man stopped mid-sentence and gave me an odd look.

"Your mind's all a'jumble Mac." He pressed his fingers to his temple, shaking his head. "A hug, kid... it's y'know?" My silence apparently prompted him to demonstrate by fist-ing his hands and pulling them inwards across his chest at a high speed.

"Do not call me that." I hissed venomously, taking a threatening step closer to him. My brain mulled over the hug concept for a some time. I'd heard the little ones mentioning it from time to time, but never had I really conducted one. Nothing to lose really. As Sinclair had done, I balled up my hands and yanked them roughly across my chest in a wide arc.

"Urgh!" In the speed of it all, my fist had slammed squarely against Sinclair's jaw, jerking his entire body back. The man struggled to maintain control of his feet. "Not quite wha' I was-uh, ahem." His mouth opened and closed, face twisted in a grimace. I stared, moderately intrigued by his reaction. Hand against his aching jaw, he took a step back. It didn't take too much of a fool to realize that he most definitely did not want to be in my presence. My statue-like demeanor didn't appear to be alleviating any of the discomfort in his features. "How 'bout we sit down an' 'ave ourselves a lil' civil talk?" No. A mental answer, but my body language should have been enough to convey the point. He took another step backwards, still rubbing his jaw. "No?" That's right; No. "You're makin' this awful difficult here, kid. Probably takin' pleasure in it even." The hand rubbing his jaw slowly slid to the back of his neck in deep contemplation. "Take this nice and slow then." What did that mean?

Automatically, I shifted one foot back and bent my knees defensively. Sinclair stiffened at my action. "Mackenzie Dawn." Every syllable was carefully emphasized as if they'd be drilled into my skull. Blank faced and unmoving, I allowed him to continue his game. "You never liked cilantro... only because it reminded you of your stepfather." Stepfather? I had a father? Daddy. Big Daddy? Why was it that when I repeated the words in my head, a sour chunk of bile rose in my throat. I swallowed, suddenly very unwelcoming of this... 'activity'. The long pause in his speech ensued as he slowly ambled to the left. My eyes never left him, "See this kid?" My eyes widened and my heart stopped at what he held up. A small black-ish creature dangling from a thread should not have been this frightening. Beneath the helmet, my face contorted into one of inexplicable mortification as the man got closer, minimizing the distance between me and that... thing.

As the creature's spindly legs began moving rapidly, my mind toppled over the edge as I held up my hand and fired, with perfect accuracy, five rivets. To my satisfaction, the little thing was nowhere to be found and Sinclair had staggered back to keep from being hit by a rivet. Angrily, I turned my gaze on him, the pounding of my heart vibrating my eardrums. Sinclair must have sensed the mistake, for he inched back even further, his hand open as if he were going to reach for something. "One last thing..." His hand disappeared into the pocket of his dark gray pants. "Found this among your personal effects." A crumpled piece of paper was held out to me in a highly cautious fashion. "O' course I didn't read it or anythin' like that. Figured it was important. And I do make it a point to respect someone else's privacy." Seeing as my mood was on the verge of snapping, I concluded that Sinclair considered himself lucky that I'd decided to snatch the scrunched up thing from his hands rather than rip his head off.

Hey Sis.

Sorry I couldn't make it home for Christmas, they called me out to the Base B station at that last minute. Dumb, I know.

What was this? I... My heart was experiencing inexplicable pain.

You're a college girl now, huh? Well, I guess you have been for a few years now. Something like that deserves a gift, doesn't it? No, just kidding, you didn't get me anything for college. (:

He had been gone... gone for so long. It was now that I noticed the brown blotches and poor quality of the paper. There were a few noticeable rips along the edges too.

But anyways, don't go touching any of my stuff now. I expect that to be back when I get there. That includes my games! And ipod! And laptop!

An entire page of useless information in a letter. Why did I consent to reading this? I stole a glance up at Sinclair, then returned my eyes straight back down. As I was reading, I stopped at a particular section.

Mac, listen. I promise when I get back, I'm going to take care of you. We'll buy ourselves a house. Sound good? You won't have to see them again. They won't fucking interfere with your life anymore. It'll be you and me bud.

Nicolas. My brother, how could I ever forget him? The obnoxious, arrogant, know-it-all of a brother. I was annoying, uncouth, and pissy, but he loved me. Everything I had ever wanted to be. Tears streamed down my cheeks, struck by the simple words on the page.

You told me in your last letter that you wanted this game? I think its the right one. Bioshock 2? Hopefully it gets there by Christmas. I sent money to my friend Jeremy to buy it. You should be stunned by my effort.

"Nick." I whispered. Sinclair's eyebrows raised hopefully. A scream violently shook my vocal chords as I garishly swung my needle, catching Sinclair across the chest.

I miss you Mac. And I love you. Wish me luck, yeah? Look forward to seeing your next letter. I gotta say though, your grammar could use some work. Later!

How dare he? How dare he? The man stumbled back, his hand against the crimson spreading across his white button up. His face twisted in pain as he inspected the red paint running down his fingers. It was strange that I had noticed this during my head splitting migraine. A door was forcing itself open in my head, but I wouldn't let it. Maybe I was... scared? No. With all the force I could exert, I pushed it shut. My breathing wasn't steady. This man, this Sinclair was not someone I wanted to be near. There was no telling what else he could [i]harmlessly[/i] hand over to me.

Defeated, utterly lost, I turned and ran.

o_o_o_o_o_o_O_o_o_o_o_o_o_o_o

"Subject Delta, I have known for years of Stanley's betrayal here. And had forgiven him, but in compromising Eleanor now, he compromises his fate. You see, it was Stanley who turned you into Ryan. The security booth is open now. You may have your revenge."

It was as if a rope had wrapped itself around my waist and forced my body to turn back to the entrance. A burning hate and insatiable desire for revenge bubbled up inside my chest, threatening to explode. My arm itched with anticipation as I saw what lumbered through the door. Unfortunately, my prior injuries and thundering headache kept me at bay. How infuriating. Delta was within reach, but I was powerless. From my perch, my body tried desperately to recover for another battle. I was still shaking. What? I growled as Delta moved for the ticket booth. A muffled voice was making itself known on the inside.

"Lamb knew? No... !" Again I crouched in the shadows, piecing together the puzzle. I waited for the expected. But, for some unknown reason it didn't quite come. Leaning against the damp, peeling wall, I inched over to catch a glimpse of what was happening. There he was, a hulking mass of metal slowly ambulating from the ticket booth. Revenge was sweet? Wasn't it Delta? "Mm." There was a possibility my ankle might have been broken. Both my eyebrows went up as the train departed. I'd extract my revenge later just as Delta had upon Stan—wait a second. My eyes narrowed in disbelief. A slim figure poked its head from the open ticket booth. Their body was shaking with the intensity of a mouse in a cat's grip. This man was Stanley Poole, a man who'd contributed greatly to the downward spiral that was Delta's pitiful life. Despite this, how was this man still breathing? I blinked, dumbfounded and teed off to be wrong at my prior assumption of Delta grinding his wiry body into the dirty floor beneath him.

Curiosity settled itself next to the concept of revenge. I desired both to destroy Delta and to learn about him. Dangerous road to tread. My hand floated over my, recently quelled, pounding chest. It had received enough gratuitous abuse for today.

Courtesy of one Augustus Sinclair.

Thanks for reading! Seriously.