JUNE 10, 1959 — 1:14 AM

In the space between his escape from Fort Frolic and his trek to Neptune's Bounty, the weight of a difficult decision came to rest at the front of Jack's mind.

He could not stay in Rapture.

Even if Fontaine had been killed—even if Fontaine no longer posed any threat to him, it made little difference now. Even if the city came to recover from what he had done, it couldn't change what Jack had just done. It couldn't wipe clean the blood from his hands.

He had only ever killed to protect himself—but what did that matter? How could he know those people couldn't have come back to their senses? How could he know whether Cohen had forced them into it? And Cohen—how could he know that Cohen wouldn't target him ever again? What would stop him from forcing Jack to take more lives at his whims, if he didn't decide to take Jack's life himself?

This city was his home. Nothing could change that. But his father had been right: it wasn't safe for him to stay here, not anymore.

Even with his safety out of the question, he could not bear to remain with the deaths he had caused. He could not bear to think of how many more would ensue from his continued struggle for survival.

The shadows of their lives hung over him like an immovable cloud, dark and pendulous with the weight of its grief. When he thought of what more he might have to endure from the likes of Cohen and Fontaine, the cloud became more like a great and heavy sword, its sharpened point swaying perilously above his head.

The shimmering lights of the city through the glass were usually enough to soothe his distress at times like this, but never had he truly suffered through a time like this. The sight only served to remind him of the home he was about to lose, and of all that was already lost to him.

When Jack finally emerged at the correct bathysphere station, he found that his path was completely unimpeded.

It might have been a blessing, but somehow, it didn't feel much like one. The streets were deserted, but from the looks of it, they had not been emptied quietly. The shops were shuttered, and those that weren't had their windows smashed and displays entirely looted. The newsstands had been robbed as well; a vending machine lay overturned in the street; bullet holes riddled the plaster walls, and the scent of gunpowder still clung to the air.

Atlas might have fallen, but whatever he had started was still in full swing.

He didn't have much time.

Jack made his way to Neptune's Bounty, finally, with quickened steps and his gun at the ready. The wharf was abandoned, but the creak and groan of the docks in the distance put his nerves on edge. The thick stench of rotting fish grew heavy as he navigated the winding wooden path, following each arrowed sign that pointed to Fontaine Fisheries, until he found the body of a uniformed officer floating facedown in the briny waters and realized the stench probably wasn't that of fish after all.

He couldn't let that slow him down now, no—the neon-lit sign of the fisheries was just ahead. He just had another short distance to close...

"Jack!"

Before he could turn to the source of the shout, a gunshot burst from somewhere in the distance, followed by a cry. When he did turn, it was to see Tenenbaum with her pistol raised; in the other direction was a fallen man, revolver clutched in hand, writhing on the ground until he fell still.

Tenenbaum. Fontaine hadn't gotten to her, after all.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she approached, putting her gun away. Following close behind her was a small gaggle of young girls, looking not at all unlike Little Sisters with their stained and tattered frocks, save the lack of glow in their eyes and the normal tones of their skin.

It took Jack a moment before he realized he needed to answer her.

"I—" He swallowed heavily and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"What took you so long?"

"I..."

How could he tell her the truth? How could he even begin to tell her the truth of what had happened?

"Bathysphere—" He found himself swallowing again. "There was, er...a problem. With the bathysphere line."

She didn't look as though she believed him; he hadn't entirely expected her to.

"Jack, if there is something going on—"

"Look, we don't have much time, all right?" It was a struggle to keep the urgency in his voice from edging into panic. "We need to get to the sub, and the quicker, the better—"

"Jack." The firmness in Tenenbaum's tone cut him off from any protest. "Tell me what is going on."

There was no way he could tell her about Fort Frolic. He wasn't ready to relive it just yet. But there was a far more pressing problem than that.

"It's Fontaine."

Tenenbaum's brow furrowed in apparent confusion. "You told me he was dead."

Remembering the sight of the man dragging himself towards him caused a deep well to open up in the pit of Jack's stomach.

"Well—" He could hardly keep the panic from his words this time. "He might not have been as dead as I originally thought."

Tenenbaum paled as the confusion in her face gave way to alarm.

"Go," she said, putting a firm hand at his shoulder. "Lead the way, quickly. Come, little ones—"

Jack did as he was told, leading their path into the fisheries while Tenenbaum and the girls followed at his heels. He kept his own gun at the ready, and prayed with every fiber of his being that he wouldn't have cause to use it.

"This way," directed Tenenbaum. "To the freezers."

When they reached the freezers, Jack found reason to believe his prayers had been answered.

In the midst of the icy haze and frost-coated walls was the scene of a shootout. Bodies littered the floor, outfitted in grubby waders and security uniforms alike. Not a single one stirred.

"Look, Mama Tenenbaum!" one of the girls chirped in excited tones. "Angels!"

"Yes, child, I know."

Jack pressed on.

At Tenenbaum's guidance, the path led to a door hidden at the very bottom of the freezers. Beyond it was a winding tunnel carved from the rock, slick with seawater and lit with strings of exposed lanterns.

"Mama Tenenbaum, I'm cold..."

"Shh, child, everything will be all right."

Jack felt a shiver, himself. But he couldn't be sure whether it came from the cold of the tunnel or the thought of what lay ahead.

Speaking of which—

"Dr. Tenenbaum?"

"What is it, Jack?"

He kept forging his way ahead, which—thankfully—kept him from seeing the look on her face as he spoke.

"I want to go with you. To the surface."

Tenenbaum was silent for a moment.

"Your father will not like this."

"He wants me to go." He hesitated. "But I... I made this decision on my own. It's got nothing to do with him."

The tunnel led to a small room with a large console of controls and another door on the opposite side. Through the glass window above the console could be seen a bay some distance below, where a miniature submarine sat afloat by the platform.

"Do what you like," said Tenenbaum. "There is room enough for one more. But we must hurry."

There was no question of that.

Through the opposite door was another winding tunnel, this one strewn with rusted machinery. At the base of the tunnel was a Vita-Chamber—or, at least, what looked like the remains of one, as its glass door had been shattered and its electric blue glow had been reduced to flickering sparks.

The sight of it gave Jack pause, though only for a moment. The submarine was just ahead, after all.

"Hurry, girls, hurry—"

Tenenbaum began to usher the girls forward as they emerged from the tunnel. But the broken Vita-Chamber, combined with the scene they had passed in the freezers, stuck in Jack's mind like a stubbornly ringing alarm.

Something was amiss.

"Dr. Tenenbaum, wait—"

Just as he stretched out a hand to keep them behind him, the door at the front of the submarine opened with a loud hiss.

"Heh... Tried to warn ya, kid."

Fontaine stepped out from the sub with heavy, thudding steps. The wound in his abdomen had regenerated into a mass of twisted flesh, fused with his clothes where they had been shredded by the Big Daddy's drill.

There was a familiar glow in his eyes as he slowly advanced on them.

"But it's too late now."

Jack kept his hand out to shield Tenenbaum and the girls, while he drew down on Fontaine with the other. With a pang of dread, he remembered that he'd used up all his rounds in Fort Frolic—but Fontaine didn't know that, did he?

No, Fontaine couldn't have known. But his only response to the gun being drawn on him was to laugh.

"What, you think some pea shooter's gonna stop me now?" Fontaine had no weapon of his own, but the muscles in his forearms were visibly bulging as he flexed his wrists, sending blue sparks shooting down his veins. "Not even a fuckin' Big Daddy could put me down, remember?"

Think—all Jack had to do was think. But it was difficult to hear his own thoughts over the pounding of his heart.

By now, Fontaine was just far enough from the sub that they could get to the door past him—if they could get around him. But he was so obviously spliced up, what would stop him from electrocuting them as they tried to pass?

Just like that, Jack saw what path he needed to take; he saw the only route that would ensure Tenenbaum and the girls got to the sub safely.

He knew what he needed to do.

"When I say go," hissed Jack, turning his head back just enough so that he could still keep an eye on Fontaine's approach, "take the girls to the sub and get out of here, you hear me?"

"But Jack, you said that you wanted—"

"It's the only way."

Tenenbaum made no protest. It seemed she understood the situation as well as Jack did.

Fontaine barked out another laugh. "Well? You gonna shoot that thing, or do I need to come over there and show you how?"

He only had one chance. It was the only way.

Jack lobbed the gun at Fontaine's head. The time it took Fontaine to react in surprise and shield himself was time enough for Jack to shoot a bolt of electricity in his direction.

The sound of Fontaine's scream reverberated throughout the entire cavern. It dazed Jack to keep the electricity at a constant, to keep Fontaine stunned in place for as long as he possibly could, but still he found the strength to turn his head once again:

"Go, now!"

Immediately, Tenenbaum rushed the girls past Fontaine and towards the sub. She helped them climb inside, one by one...

"You—son of a—"

Fontaine was beginning to fight off the electricity, enough to stagger his way towards Jack. He just had to hold him a little longer, just a few seconds more—

"—bitch!"

Suddenly, Fontaine launched himself at Jack, tackling him to the ground. Jack's head cracked against the stone floor hard enough for him to see stars in his eyes, stars which only cleared in time for him to see Fontaine cocking his fist for a punch.

But before he could throw it, there was another loud hiss and a mechanical sound. The submarine had begun to submerge.

"No, no—"

Fontaine was off him in an instant, running back to the edge of the bay as if he could somehow stop the submarine's descent. But he was too late.

The noise Fontaine made then—not quite a scream, not the same as he had done just moments ago, but rather a howl of frustration and rage—was nearly enough to keep Jack from getting back to his feet.

When he snapped his attention back to Jack, the look on his face was one of absolute murder.

"Bad move, boyo."

There was no slowness in Fontaine's steps as he stormed back to where Jack stood. Jack stumbled back, lifted his hand to try using his plasmid again, but nothing would come forth save a splitting pain in his head and the sensation that his veins were dry as dust.

The confusion it caused him gave Fontaine well enough time to come near enough to punch Jack right in the face.

Jack reeled back, stunned from the blow, but Fontaine wasn't finished—he grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back for another punch, then another, and another. Then he squeezed a hand around Jack's throat and, with only that hand, easily lifted him off the ground and slammed him into the ground.

By this point, Jack wasn't even seeing stars anymore. His vision was sliding in and out of darkness as his head throbbed with pain, more pain than he had ever known, pain near enough to make him sob if he weren't so sure he would choke from the effort. Fontaine's strength was superhuman; Jack didn't stand a chance against him, not without any weapons or EVE.

It was all he could do to try crawling away, back towards the tunnels where he could at least attempt an escape. But he had barely moved an inch before Fontaine was on him again, before he felt the cold metal of a muzzle being pressed to his head.

"Hate that we gotta part ways like this, kid."

Jack heard the click of the hammer.

"But you had to go and make this personal."

Fontaine pulled the trigger—and all that came forth was the click of an empty barrel.

Jack heard him snarl, then came a clatter as he threw the gun aside. Then Fontaine grabbed him by the throat once more.

"That's cute," growled Fontaine, lifting Jack's head just enough to look him in the eye. "Real cute. But there's more than one way to skin a cat..."

Fontaine picked him up again, lifting him off his feet, and carried him like that towards the edge of the bay. Jack struggled against him, kicked at him, clawed at his arm and did his damnedest to pry his fingers from his throat, but it was all for naught.

Just as Jack thought he might be losing consciousness from lack of air, Fontaine slammed him down again, this time keeping his hand on his throat as he pinned his head beneath the water in the bay. The sheer cold and brine set every single one of his nerves alight, stunning him back into full alertness, and he fought against Fontaine's grip even harder than before.

But Fontaine only pushed him down deeper.

It was no use.

He was going to die.

Through the water, he could make out the vague, shimmering shape of Fontaine above him. The sound of his laughter carried through the icy waves.

Jack turned his head back instead, as best as he could in Fontaine's grip, straining to see through the darkened depths. He wondered if he could see the sub from here.

But no, that was impossible. Surely Tenenbaum was long gone by now.

His chest burned with desperation, and his mind raced with fear. He took one last struggling breath, struggling for air, struggling to ignore the water that filled his lungs as his vision faded to black.