"Battle not with monsters." Jack said.
He was sitting in Sullivan's office leaned over with his face in his hands. His face had been in his hands since thirty two seconds in the room. On every wall was a board and on every board were clippings and pictures with notes attached to them.
Each board had faces from the fisheries and from Fort Frolic. Every face on the board was instantly familiar. The wall was meticulous. Each board held a certain theme that was categorized, then chronologically ordered with further notes where needed.
"The man knows what he's doing." Jack said under his breath.
A board to his right held faces with pictures of bodies next to it. The board next to that held faces with notes under a heading labeled: MISSING.
It was the body count board. The "Before and After" board.
Jack had given each board a few seconds worth of his consideration. Except for these two boards. These boards had not been before his eyes for over a half of a second before he put his face in his hands.
"This is the work of a determined man." Jack barely whispered. "This is the work of a crusader. A true believer in rapture. Jay-sis. I'mma dead man."
There was a cascade of footsteps outside in the larger open area of Rapture Security. Jack was still able to shoot up three seconds before Sullivan's hand touched the doorknob. He never looked back as the man entered the room and took a seat in front of him. Sullivan's mustachioed face was buried in another file.
"Good morning, Officer." Sullivan said.
"Good morning, Sir."
"Brought us in a couple of high ranking thugs yesterday." Sullivan looked up briefly smiling. "Mr. Ryan himself has heard your name, my boy."
"Really, sir," Jack said, "Mr. Ryan don't need to hear my name. Me and the boys did it as a, watcha call, a collaboration. Howard is fine officer, sir, and Dean has never proven to be nothing but one of Rapture's finest. He's a helluva officer sir."
"Yes, but you're the one on the inside aren't you?" Sullivan's smile widened then he looked down to his papers again. "Mr. Howard has surely out performed the burden of his brawn and Mr. Dean has overcome the handicap of his race, but it's you, my boy, you who have dug in deep."
"Thank you sir."
Sullivan sat reading the papers. He leaned back to cross a leg over the other. For forty-three seconds he studied them as Jack sat silently.
"Don't think I don't know what rough work it is mind you. I know the fisheries and Frolic can be filled with filth and atrocity. It can't sit well on a man. But I have to call into question your inability to reach past, shall we say, middle management."
Sullivan was flipping a paper up now. His face nodding down then up as he studied a picture. Two drops of sweat traveled from Jack's scalp to the bridge of his nose within four seconds.
Sullivan kept his office uncomfortably hot. He also positioned his guest's chairs at their lowest setting and his chair at it's highest. Sullivan's desk sat on stacked books. He was always above. An officer, criminal, or any man had to look up to him. It was like looking up to a god, not knowing which emotion would rain down from above.
Sullivan's face came up from the papers. He said nothing.
"At first I thought these hacks, excuse me sir, these people of lesser standing, would be like sheep, ya know." Jack held out his hand. Sullivan just looked at him. "I thought I'd just haveta put on a some wool and they'd sneak me right on in to the top. But these sheep ain't dumb sir. They're damn well organized. And if one ain't saying bah the right way, then the rest know in a hurry. All my informants end up dead, but my cover ain't been blown. You don't get a chance to talk in the fisheries, sir. And if you do talk about anybody, to us or to them, it ain't pretty. Rats ain't appreciated on either sides, sir. Your liable to get your head cut off."
"Like Mr. Weldin."
"Yes sir."
"You know why I can look at this photo, officer?"
Sullivan held out the folder, which showed a man's severed head on a pike at the entrance to the fisheries. Jack swallowed his own spit.
"You know why I can look at all of these vile and retched pictures?"
Sullivan got up and walked to the boards. The "Before and After" boards. He stood before the pictures and Jack was forced to follow his form in their direction. Sullivan stood before a menagerie of faces and corpses. Faces then last known places.
Jack swallowed bile.
"I can look at these pictures because I know, I know my dear boy, that people like you and me will find the people responsible. I know that justice will prevail. I know that Rapture is pure and impurities will be sought out and eliminated."
Jack didn't say anything. Sullivan never looked away from the board.
"There are to be cameras installed in the Fisheries."
"Cameras sir?"
"Cameras in every corner of that smugglers den."
"Isn't that, what you would call, messing with peoples privacy."?
"It's only in the Fisheries, my boy, and Mr. Ryan has assured me that they will be removed once we have eliminated the cancer. Justice will prevail."
Sullivan pinned Weldin's face on the bottom of the board. Next to that he pinned the picture of the severed head. He didn't look away from the board. Silence again for twenty-eight seconds.
"Keep up the good work, Jack." Sullivan said. Jack's eyes went wide at the sound of his own name.
"You're dismissed."
…
"Frank is pretty smart, no?" Brigid was standing next Jack in front of the new poor houses.
"I get the poor houses, but why the orphanage?" Jack looked between the two buildings.
"Children are losing families." Brigid said. She looked at the ground. "Someone needs to take them in. We do not want people becoming suspicious for not going, how you say, all the way. At least that's what Frank says."
"I kinda miss the days of bonkin a drunk on the head when you needed a test subject." Jack smiled and looked over at her without turning his face. "Poor house kinda takes the fun out of it."
"I'm sorry you don't get to have fun, Mr. Jack." Brigid smiled and lightly slapped a clipboard onto Jack's arm. He flinched then picked it up with his left hand. "This is what is needed. Imagine what will be built when we hit the market. Do I need to look at your arm?"
"Naw, it's just been sore."
"What did you do?"
"You don't want to know."
Brigid held her hand out to the poor house where kidnapping was child's play and gave him a look.
"Well if you're gunna to be that way about it." Jack said. "I had to saw a man's head off then dispose of the body. I told you, ya didn't wanna know."
Brigid shook her head.
"I can't believe the things you do."
"But you can bed up with the monster that has me doin' em."
She turned away from him. Her tone was harsh.
"What did I tell you about jealousy?"
"Shit what I don't get." Jack was looking back to the orphanage. "Is your brilliant. I mean your gawd damn brilliant. And yet you can't see it. You take one look at me and you know what I am, which doesn't bother you sometimes and sometimes it does. I made my peace with that. But you're so damn smart and you can't tell he's using your feelin's against you."
"I do see it, Jack. I am not some simple girl."
"Then why?"
"Because sometimes I need it."
"That don't make no sense."
"Why do you run between Ryan and Fontaine, like some dog?"
Jack kept his face forward but jerked his chin upwards and to the left quickly then turned around and started walking.
"You'll get your subjects, ma'am."
"Jack wait."
He stopped. She had turned to talk to him but he kept his back to her.
"Come over tonight. I have a record you will like."
Jack stood stiff for three heartbeats. Then his shoulders slumped and before he continued walking off he said on more thing.
"Gawd damn." He said. "Why can't I say no?"
….
"No trouble tonight, sir." Dean said.
"You ain't gotta call me sir, Dean." Jack said. "I ain't the kind to add insult to injury."
"What do you mean sir?"
They were standing in the fisheries where Jack and Howard had looked out to hunt drunken fishers. Dean stood at attention as Jack leaned out and looked at his beat again. Still hunting men he would no longer abduct. Simply marking them.
"I mean you got the screw job, cause your colored." Jack said. "And I'm the guy that hopped over you on the totem pole. Don't think that just cause I come from the land that invented screwing colored boys, that I like seeing colored boys get screwed."
Dean slumped and bit his lower lip. Wisps of grey attacked above his ears and he was taller and more heavily built than Jack.
"Rapture isn't like that sir."
"You don't gotta talk like that." Jack said. "I know you're from South Carolina."
Dean exhaled loudly then looked out over the fisheries.
"Look, Dean." Jack said. "I know it must have been rough learning that some lil' shit from Alabama hopped over you. I know it musta really been rough learning that prejudiced dived down with us. I just want you to know, I ain't had nothing to do with it. I wanted to wait awhile so you knew I was sincere. Man who comes up and apologizes right off the bat just sounds like an ass hole who's saying it to say it. I wanted you to know that I mean it. You're a damn fine officer and the treatment you're getting ain't right."
Dean continued to look out over the fisheries stone faced. For ten breaths that sat there. Then Dean smiled.
"Maybe if I was a white boy, I could sneak in on all these drunks and get the good intel you been getting?"
"Intel? I didn't know you served."
"Well, Alabama boy." Dean looked over at him. "I was a fighter pilot outta Tuskegee. Tuskegee, Alabama. Heard of them?"
Jack smiled. "Colored boys shooting down krauts. Hell yea I heard of y'all. Y'all were damn heroes."
"Tell that to Alabama."
Jack lost his smile.
"You see Jack. I know why I don't get promoted. I know that I'll never get above this. I have seen it in the army, I have seen it in South Carolina, and I've most certainly seen it here in Rapture. But nobody in Rapture is burning crosses, Jack. Nobody is dragging me outta my home and cutting me into pieces. I make sure that my family is safe and so do you. So I'll take it Jack. Cause this place is special and ain't nobody going to take that away from us."
Jack looked him in the eyes. Dean was nodding slightly again and again. Jack extended his hand.
"I wanna thank you for helping me and Officer Howard taking that group in the other day. You can take the night off, if ya want."
"That's all right sir." Dean said. He released Jack's hand. "I'm gunna go walk my beat. I got a home to protect."
Jack stayed and stared at nothing for seventy five breaths before Howard walked up.
"Hey Jack." Howard said. "Talk to the n****** yet?"
"Yes I did."
"Is he going to see the light?"
"Nope." Jack said. "He's gunna do his job to the best of his abilities. And because he is capable I'm going to have to kill him sooner or later."
"Well that's one less n******." Howard said.
"Don't call him that."
"Call him what?"
"He's not a damn n****** Howard." Jack looked the bigger man in the eyes. "He's a hero. And I'm the evil piece of shit monster that's gunna kill him"
Jack stormed off down to the fisheries. Howard cocked his head to the side and held his hands out bewildered.
…
Fontaine's even home temperature and pleasantly smelling home was a welcome experience after a long day. Jack had maneuvered his way here dressed casually to avoid suspicion. He found Fontaine and he found Fontaine's stash of the best bourbon. He started making himself a glass.
"Well Jackie-boy." Fontaine said. They were standing in the rich man's study. He grabbed something from the table. Jack finished his glass and looked over. He was holding a syringe with red liquid in his hand. "You ready to see the mad house?"
"The mad house?" Jack slumped down into one of the plush chairs. "What mad house?"
"Rapture, Jackie-boy. Rapture."
"You mean Rapture ain't already a mad house?"
"Not like it's about to be. Jackie-boy," Fontaine's smile went wide and he held the syringe out in front of him, "we hit the market in a month."