"I've been guardin' this place since I got here." He said. "I've had to do some pretty horrible things when it got dicey with the smugglers. Things you've asked me to do. Things Sullivan asked me to do. Horrible things. People did wrong by Rapture, I did wrong by them. You know this about me. Know I'm loyal. But when I had to put the screws to someone before, it's always been someone who had it coming. For the greater good, if ya want. This don't seem like one of those times. I know for a fact Sullivan won't like it."
"We came to you first, Mr. Wilson." Andrew Ryan said. The room was filled with wisps of smoke from Ryan's and Cohen's cigarettes. It was the shitty brands that came from Rapture.
"But Sullivan is my boss, sir."
"And I'm Sullivan's boss. Your boss Mr. Wilson." Ryan regarded Cohen then looked back smiling. "We go to Sullivan for a more, permanent, action. Then he goes to you. What we're talking about now, Mr. Wilson, is not the permanence that Mr. Sullivan has been using down in the fisheries. Not what he's been using you for. Rapture is a haven for ideas and opinions. But we cannot flourish in a world that allows slanderous material to be taken as the truth."
He let the words hang in the air. Ryan and Cohen continued looking into him. The former was looking especially deranged tonight. Cohen had been one of the firsts to be allowed into the pool of plasmids when Ryan had taken over Fontaine Futuristics.
The nationalization of the business was already ruffling some feathers. It had been a busy few weeks as ADAM distribution came under the control of Ryan. Judging by the thoroughly spliced look of Cohen, rank had its privileges. The artist had not heeded the warnings of over indulgence and his deformed face was unsettling.
At the moment the artist was staring at a case on the wall.
"Mr. Ryan, if you say it's gotta get done, then its gunna get done." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry if my place is a little dusty Mr. Cohen. This place is just home, it ain't like the nice places in Olympus Heights."
"Your home is more than welcoming Mr. Wilson." Ryan smiled. Jack hated how secure that made him feel. Cohen was still staring at a case on the wall.
"You a big fan or Mardi Gras, sir?" Jack walked over to the case of masks.
"Mardi Gras…" Cohen was transfixed.
"Uh, yes sir. Fat Tuesday. Every year before Lent we throw a big party down in South Alabama. I'm from Mobile originally, your probably a lil' more acquainted with the celebrations in New Orleans."
"A religious ceremony, Mr. Wilson?" Ryan said grimly.
"Not much Christian values during those parties, sir." Jack shrugged sheepishly. "More just a reason to dress up and put on masks so no one can tell who's raising all the Cain. Sir."
"What do they mean?" Cohen asked dreamily. "What can those beautiful things mean?"
Ryan looked over, obviously amused by the discomfort.
"My family is part of one of the societies sir, kinda like a Krewe down in New Orleans, but a lil more fancy." Jack looked back to Ryan uncomfortably. "We were the Nymphs. Sorta a woodland theme. I wore the rabbit mask there. My father wore the one with the long nose that is supposed to be a bird."
"The last one." Cohen stood up to the case and looked in.
The masks were all white with silver trimmings. Flamboyance in their Mardi Gras glory. The last one had soft silver wings sticking out from the sides. Fake diamonds glittered all over it.
"That last one was my mother's Mr. Cohen." Jack said. "It's the moth."
"Moth…" Cohen stared dreamily into the case; completely unaware that anyone was in the room with him.
"Well, Mr. Ryan is right." Jack said. "Religious symbols shouldn't be held on to. If you want to take the case to help you out Mr. Cohen go right ahead. Just something from my old life, that don't have anything to do with my life in Rapture."
That earned an approving nod and smile by Ryan and an almost orgasmic sound from Cohen. He lifted the case off the wall and started walking towards the door.
"Oh the pageantry for the party. The elegance." Cohen waited as Jack opened the door.
"Lotsa moths gunna be running around this year, sir?"
"Oh no." Cohen looked Jack into the eye for the first time. "Only one can be special enough for the moth. Only, the right one."
And then he was gone. Jack's knees were shaking.
"Very wise, Mr. Wilson." Mr. Ryan. "That is the man of Fort Frolic, a very powerful ally. You seem to please all the right people."
Ryan followed the artist down the hall.
"Just doing what I do best."
Jack went to his uniform.
"How long have these threats been coming to you, Mrs. Culpepper?"
"Ms. Culpepper, Officer Wilson." Culpepper said. "And ever since I started singing out against Ryan. Everyone has been sending me these horrible letters."
"It's these times." Jack held the letters in his hands. A crude drawing of Culpepper being sodomized in front of him. "People are a little angry and scared. But luckily most aren't talented artists."
He held up the picture smiling. She tried to suppress a laugh, but failed.
"Look, Ms. Culpepper. The people who write letters like this are usually not gunna act on anything." He laid the papers down on the table and walked around to her. "The dangerous ones won't tell you they're coming."
"I know nothing is going to happen. These people are cowards." She took out a cigarette and put it in her mouth. It was a smuggled brand. She was arrogant. "I know nothing is going to happen."
Jack held his hand out and snapped his fingers producing a small flame.
"Oh, somethin' gunna happen." Jack said. She was leaning in to light her cigarette and looked up at him suddenly. "I'm the warning. You need to stop going down this path, ma'am. Next time it won't just be me that comes to visit you. I won't be wearing this badge. I won't be wearing this uniform. I'll come into this room and cut your throat and leave you on the floor."
She was wide eyed and the cigarette dangled for a moment on in her fingers before she dropped it. If she were smart she would listen to the fear. Listen to survival instincts kicking in her brain and just go back to being another Rapture citizen. But then she scowled. She wasn't smart.
"Ryan's dog!"
His free hand came around an open handed slapped her. She fell to the ground her hand to her red face. Blood started to drip out of her nose on to the carpet. She looked to the ground and crawled up, like a frightened animal.
"These are illegal." Jack picked up her purse and pulled out cigarettes. "But I'll just let you off with a warning. Have a nice night, ma'am."
He walked towards the door and opened it.
"Why would you work for this mad man? Don't you see what it is he is doing? He's kidnapping children! And you run around cleaning up his messes. You and that sadist in Frolic. What is it that you think you're doing?"
"Just doing what I do best."
He left her there on the floor.
Ever since the death of Fontaine, the poor houses had started to fall apart.
Not coincidentally this was where all the really strong plasmids had gone. All the good stuff before the nationalization under Ryan. They were all horribly disfigured from the splicing and were all retched in the new poverty brought on by the fall of their benefactor.
The meek and the poor all fighting for resources. People were murdered nightly for food and clothing. Most were murdered for ADAM, that sweet source of power. More valuable than gold and oil had ever been. These people were ready to slit throats and worse for it.
They were just about ready to be used.
He passed the place walking along the train tracks. One of the carts was abandoned beside them, turned over after being discarded. A lot of things were discarded down here.
Jack came up to the cart and opened the door. Inside was a blonde Irishman. Along the walls were suits, wigs, and assorted cosmetics. The Irishman sat in front of a mirror.
"How goes it, boy-o?"
"You're getting good at that." Jack took a seat next to the Irishman as the former continued to apply some sort of powder to his face. "It's confondin'."
"It's that uniform that's unsettling, Jackie-boy." The Irishman mouth curled into a sick grin, still looking at the mirror.
"I thought you liked this get up." Jack said. "Sure as hell made you a lot of money. It's also got me in the inner circle with Ryan and Cohen. The good doctor will be a fan soon, when I shoo of some nosey paparazzi looking into his, unique, form of surgery."
The Irishman had stopped. He always stayed perfectly still when in thought. Like a cat planning its fatal strike. There was always something predatory about this man.
"Hope your not falling in too deep with the other side, Jackie-boy."
"Nah. I've always been a Fontaine man." Jack looked down at his hands. "Couldn't stop now even I wanted to."
"Oh I know, boy-o." The young Irishman looked back at him. "You might be the only thing old Fontaine might have considered a friend. Dangerous position."
"Fontaine?" Jack looked thoughtful. "Didn't I kill that old coot?"
The Irishman laughed and looked back to the mirror, continuing to concoct the image of youth and virility.
"Getting in with Cohen is good. It will be nice knowing what that fruit is up to. But until you get in with the doctor we're going to have a blind spot. We need to know everything that Ryan and his cronies are up to for when we strike."
"If Ryan keeps nabbin' people's kids off the streets, we prolly won't have to do much of anythin'." Jack said. "He lacks the subtlety you showed in getting the girls and the supplies."
"Let me worry about all that, Jackie-boy. I'll control the masses. Does the gook still think you betrayed me?"
"Suchong is one dumb genius."
"Just like I like em'. You keep doing what you're doing with the doctor and we'll run this place."
"Doing what I do best."
The Irishman stopped and just stared in the mirror.
"And what would that be, Jackie-boy?"
Jack pulled out one of the cigarettes and lit it with his hand.
"Making friends with the devil."
"So this will be your place."
Jack stood with Tenenbaum amongst the rows of bunk beds. The room was dank and the metal had started to rust on the beds with no mattress.
"How did you find this place?" Tenenbaum asked. She looked around the room with her brows furrowed.
"This was for construction workers when Rapture was being built." Jack walked towards the back corner with the German in tow. "Only people who know about it other than me are dead accept for the Scottish engineer, who pretty much knows everythin' there is to know about Rapture. Too bad for him Ryan got word of his insubordinate rantin.' Thinks he's gunna start up a rebellion right under Ryan's nose. Ryan wants me to put him up for the night tomorrow."
"Put him up?"
"Like a ten point buck." Jack walked into the office and held out his hands open. "This will be your place. I came here often to get diving suits for smuggling crates off the ocean floor and for when y'all were using them for study. You can keep track of a the girls through that window and pretty much have a decent office space to yourself in here if the brats get too loud or anything."
"I will need my own place to do work, but I can not ignore the little ones anymore." Tenenbaum crossed an arm under her breasts and held the other hands thumb in between her teeth.
"Just foolin' Doc." Jack walked over to the window and put both of his thumbs on either side of belt where they were buckled at the zipper. "We should mark the occasion. This is gunna be the first genuine act of kindness I've done since I came to Rapture. If it wasn't for all the horrible shit I've been doing the past years I might feel good about myself."
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." Tenenbaum moved behind him. She reached out a hand to touch his back but pulled it back before actually touching him.
"Just can't get past the monster side of me?"
"You can change your ways. Like you said this is an act of charity, no?" Tenenbaum gestured with her hands as Jack shook his head and looked towards a mirror on the wall. "You can stop doing work for both sides. Live for yourself. Do good in this place."
"The shit I pulled Doc, there ain't no making up for it."
"I've been turning little ones into monsters. Putting vile slugs inside them for scientific study. Watching their eyes turn yellow and skin grow cold and pale. If I can start changing my deeds, maybe you?"
"That sounds nice, doc." Jack looked in the mirror at the right side of his face. Smiling at his still handsome face. Then he turned to the left and ran a finger along the stitches where his cheek had to be sown back together after splicing caused his mouth to elongate to his cheek. "Naw. I am truly in the shit, Doc. Ain't no turning back now. This path I'm on, got only one way. Turning around gunna get me killed. Stopping is gunna get me killed. Gotta keep moving forward, farther down the hole till that kills me too."
"But you still live this meager life. You are accepting money from Fontaine and Ryan but still live the life of a broke police officer. If you are not doing this for the money, why did you ever get on this path in the first place?'
"That's a helluva question, Doc." Jack said with his horrific smile. "Guess the devil is good at making friends too."