Max shoved the door open and rushed passed Eleanor. "Stanley!" She ran over to the chair where he had been restrained. After cutting the leather bonds on his wrists, Max clasped her hands to either side of Stanley's shuddering face. Stanley's eyes shot up to meet hers and his lips quivered.

Eleanor hurriedly scanned the room and saw no trace of Fred. All she saw was a two chairs but back to back with Stanley sitting in the one and a blood trail leading from the other. "Fred, I need you to tell me where Fred is. What happened to him!"

Stanley's shaking hand pointed at a white bloody corpse lying against the wall. "T-they suddenly turned o-on her." He shuddered again. "Tortured her then gutted her like a rotten fish."

Eleanor covered her nose as she approached the fresh corpse. The smell of death emulated the entire room. The chest of the corpse had been ripped open with hooks that had been left where they stabbed her ribs. Leaning in closely, Eleanor bent over and brushed aside the white hair.

"Lucy," she gasped. For whatever reasoning that possessed them, Lucy Evansfield's people had brutally murdered her and left her corpse to rot. It was almost a pitiable sight, Eleanor thought, almost though. Jolting from her position, Eleanor almost ran as she followed the blood trail out of the room and into an opposing corridor.

"Where are you going," Max shouted after her.

Without replying, Eleanor left the room with Billy following her closely.

Max cursed at the situation and shook her head in annoyance. She looked down at Stanley who was shaking so much he was getting the hiccups.

"Stanley, honey, how are you feeling. We can't stay here."

"I (hiccup) I-I don't know," he replied blubberingly.

Max quickly grabbed Stanley's jaw and forced his face into her own. As she kissed him, she thought to herself how she had always thought Stanley to be a bit of a wimp or a flopping fish but he was her flopping fish. And those lips of his, how she had been missing them all that time he had been gone. She had never known any of the women before her but she did not care. Stanley was funny, caring, sincere, a good kisser, and one other thing as well.

Meanwhile Stanley was feeling so alive after having Max crush her lips against his own. The warmth of her face radiated from the tip of his lips to his ears. All that trauma and pain shut down like a breeze on a hot day. Raspberries, yep raspberries again, He thought. It was her favorite lip balm after all. Max had never been one for painting her mouth with lipstick but her lips did chap a lot so she always used lip balm. And Stanley's preferences changed immediately. No more wiping greasy lipstick from his face, hell it always kinda pissed him off when he would wipe his face only to stain another good shirt. No, he preferred sharing whatever Max's lips had to offer: raspberries and all.

"Feel any better," Max asked gasping for air.

Stanley sucked air into his chest and stood up. He stretched his arms and cracked his neck sideways. "Just a bit," he replied.

Stanley's demonstration of bravado cracked a smile on Max's face. It felt good to have her man back.

"Ms. Lamb."

Eleanor paused as the voice called out to her. Fred. Finding Fred was her task at the moment but that voice… bothered her for some reason. Eleanor found herself following the crackling voice down a flight of stairs leading to a room partially flooded with ice cold water. Billy did not seem to mind the water as he waded past his protector. He smelled something good.

"I smell an angel!" he exclaimed. Billy pushed past one of many mannequins that had been left lying around the room.

Eleanor quickly snagged the little boy's hand and quietly scolded him. She had lost Fred and almost lost Stanley. The thought of letting Billy out of her sight sickened her.

"This way Ms. Lamb. It would seem that even a failed experiment such as this little brother still maintains better senses than you."

Eleanor followed the voice to a corpse that had been crucified to the wall by hooks. Billy tore himself away from his charge and busied himself stabbing the helpless splicer were it hung. She looked around the room but saw no one. "Who are you? Where are you?"

"Where am I? That answer is of no consequence to you."

Eleanor spotted a half broken two-way radio partially sticking out of the dead splicer's mouth.

"As for who I am," the voice continued, "I am a mere shadow of my former self… almost an apparition."

A sense of pent up rage filled Eleanor. She was sick of riddles and secrets. Her hand pounced at the radio and tore it from the corpse's mouth practically tearing the jaw off. Her heavy breathes fumed upon the device. "Enough of your bullshit! Do you hear me? If you've taken Fred then give him back or you will regret not having taken my generous offer of letting you live."

The two-way radio cackled with sinister laughter. "Generous offer you say. Are you sure you're up to the task?"

What the voice said was true and Eleanor knew it. Ever since they had arrived at Fontaine Futuristics she had been feeling worse and worse. Exhaustion was plaguing her very bones. Maybe playing the sympathy card would at least let her know who she was dealing with. "Okay, fine," she huffed, "I have not been alright. Tired in fact. So just please- please tell me if Fred's okay and what on earth do you want."

"What do I want? My dear, dear child," the voice cooed, "I want nothing less than the total destruction of Rapture."

Author's Notes: Between my hours of working my ass off with my job and being lazy I have been severly lacking in the writing department. For that i do apologize. I really wrote myself into a corner and almost literally had to wait for the letters to dry before i could continue. So if you still deem my story worthy then press on.