Elizabeth flashed an insincere smile at her captor. "What sort of 'business' is it when you have the other party tied to a chair?"
"The Rapture kind, pet. But you wouldn't know that of course," replied the man, stubbing his cigarette in a broken ashtray. "It was just a… cautionary measure in case you didn't appreciate your benefactors at first glance. Despite what Ryan and his lapdogs would make you think, we ain't half bad. With these odd powers of yours, I'm sure you understand."
"Benefactors?" she almost spat the word. It felt like the man was deliberately mocking her.
"I won't pretend to know the cause of it, but you certainly ended up on ol' Ryan's bad side, sister. As you might have noticed during your time in this fine establishment, me and me folk ain't exactly on the best terms with that spineless prick either."
Atlas looked at her with something akin to a reassuring half-grin. "Enemy of my enemy. You scratch me back and I scratch yours. Sounds like a fair deal, does it not?"
Elizabeth lightly shook her head with a scoff. "Your so called 'folk' are mindless beasts who tried to kill me many times over. I see no reason to take part in any of your doings."
"The way I see it, you're pretty keen on leaving this fish tank in the very near future. How did you plan to pull off that one, darlin'? I'm sure you read the residency contract. 'In perpetuity'," he gestured theatrically. "With Ryan sittin' on his all-seein' throne, you ain't goin' nowhere."
"You still didn't point out what you need me for."
"Well, since you're the reason why Andrew boy sent his little friends here and ruined all our preparations for a stylish return to the city… I figured you can be the next best thing."
The woman got the impression again that she was being taken for a complete nitwit.
"Do you really think that if I had the means to do such a thing, I'd still be here talking to you?"
"With the things I heard about you, it wouldn't surprise me if you could grow a pair o' goddamn wings."
"I have no idea what you heard, but it doesn't work that way."
Atlas was visibly growing more impatient by the minute. "Of course, the only one who would know how it works is you."
The slight change in his demeanor did not pass unnoticed by the uneasy prisoner. Her chances of getting out of this plight with canny diplomacy started to steadily diminish.
"What do you intend to do in Rapture, once you managed to get back? Throw a ball?"
"The fanciest one under the sea. Ryan and all his lackeys are in for a neat little waltz," said the man, unable to hold back a sardonic smirk.
"It wouldn't stop there, would it? If you let these… savages run free in the city, it will become a war zone."
"There was hardly ever a time when decent folk didn't have to crack a few eggs to start a new day afresh, love," his eyes narrowed to slits as he leaned forward, locking her into them once again. "If you wanna get rid of a weed, you gotta pull it up from the root."
Elizabeth could feel the blood leaving her face after the terrible déjà vu the last line evoked. Her expression then formed into one of defiance.
"I'll say the same thing to you Atlas, as I did to Ryan. I have no interest in either of your petty games, and blackmailing will get you nowhere. I have nothing to lose." She truly hoped that Sally was able to avoid ending up in their clutches and found a place to hide. "The answer is no. If you truly are the champion of the common folk like your reputation suggests, you'll let me go now."
She could feel stormy clouds gathering above the irritated rebel leader's head, who brought his menacing glance to a mere inch from her own and grabbed the arm of the chair rather forcefully.
"In case you haven't noticed love, you ain't exactly in a position to make demands." The air from his nostrils came out in angry blows, and the woman could now see the little veins on his forehead pulsate with frustration. "I plucked you out from the grip of these… how did you put it? Ah… savages, was it? I can just as easily toss you back into their waiting arms. My benevolence only goes so far."
Elizabeth found it strangely familiar how the man emphasized this last sentence, as well of the mild inconsistence in his accent during his rant. There was something about him that just screamed an agenda.
Then she emitted a daring snicker after the realization hit her.
"Just which part did you find so funny, pray tell," sneered the man.
"Atlas, huh? An ambitious name for an ambitious man indeed. Did your grand plan work out as well as you expected… Mr. Fontaine?"
A fuse blew in the con man's head as he slapped Elizabeth hard with the back of his hand.
"If I were you darlin', I would avoid makin' anymore smarty remarks," he growled.
Elizabeth very much anticipated the man's impulsive reaction, though it didn't make the throbbing in her cheek any less painful. Getting herself killed by an agitated madman on the bottom of the dark sea was not how she preferred to end her overarching journey. Especially if it meant abandoning a certain Little Sister to her fate.
The woman turned her head back towards the fuming pseudo-Irishman, putting considerable effort into hiding the inner struggle between dignity and survival instincts.
"There was a little girl accompanying me. You got her too?"
The fury in Atlas's expression started to shift back into its earlier smugness. He got the upper hand again.
"Nothing to lose, hm?"
She did not flinch, just waited patiently for the dreaded answer she was sure would follow. The man stepped to the door and opened it to a slit, "Bring the brat."
Elizabeth closed her eyes with a silent curse. Of course they would have Sally, it would have been futile to hope otherwise.
Atlas took his previous spot at the table and the two thugs she was greeted with upon her wake arrived in the room shortly, pulling about a pale little girl in a ragged dress. It was the first time the woman saw her usually nonchalant companion with genuine terror on her ghoulish face, but it all subsided in a second when Sally glanced at the strapped figure in the chair.
"'Lizbeth!" she exclaimed happily, sounding no different from a child who just found her lost toy shovel on the playground.
"Restless lil' devil, that one," laughed Atlas. "It just wouldn't shut up about that lady friend of hers. Can't say I've ever seen one as noisy about anything that ain't a giant bellowin' bulldozer. You an elder sister or somethin'?"
Elizabeth ignored the question, preparing herself to swallow the bitter pill and strike a deal with the man while he was still willing.
"If I give you what you want, will you let us go our own way? Unharmed?"
The corners of Atlas's mouth curled upwards again.
"You have my word."
"With a person like yourself, I need more assurance than that," frowned the woman.
"That's all you gonna get."
She looked at the beaming Little Sister with a weary sigh. "And just what is it that you need from me exactly?"
The grin on his face grew wider by the minute. "I'm glad you asked, love."
He grabbed the chair by the back with one hand and dragged a helpless Elizabeth in front of the large window that separated them from the dense underwater scenery. Atlas pointed towards a place on the bottom left corner of their view, past a passing school of fish.
"You see that little dock over there? That belongs to that service bay we were supposed to depart from. With the bathyspheres me men knocked together. Of course, they are all bloody done for thanks to you darlin'." He inserted a pregnant pause, expecting his prisoner to object, but she remained silent.
"And now," he continued, "you're going to fix this little issue of ours."
Elizabeth had a feeling the 'request' would be something akin to this, but it gave her little comfort at the moment.
"I already told you. If I were able to just magically restore any of those damnable wrecks, I wouldn't be here in the first place."
"Am I supposed to believe that you can summon a six-foot automaton with a goddamn machine gun, but not a few metallic husks?"
To say that he was not convinced would have been an understatement. Elizabeth tried not to succumb to panic but could not hold back the growing despair that had no doubt settled on her face by now.
"I'm not lying. I can't choose what to bring in, it's all coincidental. I.. I don't know if I could-"
"Then just 'coincidentally' bring in a transport. You can start trying right now."
Atlas clearly did not like how this conversation was going. The annoyed scowl returned yet again.
She took a deep breath and focused her every thought on the dock beyond the blueness.
I can't even see any tears. Now what?
Her mind was frantically looking for a solution. A way out of this nightmare. She could feel the fat drops of cold sweat running down her temple.
Back in Columbia, tears tended to appear more frequently whenever her anxiety increased.
I'm as anxious now as it gets. Where the-
Wait. There it is.
The familiar shimmering came into her view just where she needed it to be. Elizabeth wondered if this meant some sort of control she managed to snatch back from her restrains. Atlas looked at the spot in dead silence, careful not to blink too often. He could see it as well, it seemed.
Okay. Here goes nothing.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on summoning a vessel that would satisfy her unrelenting captor. The tear began to pulsate with a pure white wave of energy, slowly revealing the ghost-like grey object she managed to pull through.
A bathtub.
When Elizabeth opened her eyes, she could not help but sigh in disappointment. The rebel leader clearly shared the sentiment.
"You know love, if I wouldn't know better I'd think you're takin' the piss. Fortunately for you, we got all day," he said, gesturing for her to have another go.
And the woman did so, again and again. The bathtub was replaced by a shark cage. Followed by a refrigerator, a large container, then a family car. After each failed attempt, Elizabeth's panting got heavier and Atlas's drumming on his folded arms got harder.
"I… can't…" she stuttered weakly, her eyes begging for release now. "Please… just let us go. I… need to-"
"What you need, is a little motivation, pet."
He yanked Sally out of his cronies' steady grasp, pulling the frightened girl into her field of vision.
"You have any idea how many spliced up blighters I had to beat off from the brat on your trip here? Hmm? Do you know how badly they want the juice from her lil' belly?"
Elizabeth could only shake her head powerlessly. "No… please don't."
"I'm sure I could boost the morale a bit if we gave them some appetizer to chew on. Maurice here would gladly cut this sweetheart open, right in front of you."
On cue, the thug accompanying Lonnie stepped closer to them, casually spinning a dagger in his hand. He knelt in front of the girl who was trying to wiggle out from the other man's hold in vain.
"NO! Let her go, I beg of you!" She was openly crying now.
"You know what you gotta do, darlin'. It's all up to you and the magic bunny in the hat," grinned Atlas viciously.
Elizabeth turned her teary glance away from Sally's futile struggle and back towards the tear. She knew she only had one last shot at this. Delving into the deepest core of her very being, she imagined the unseen chains clenching at the wrists of her shining figure.
Then she pulled at them with all her might.
The tear took various odd, even oversized shapes in rapid succession, changing too fast to make out any of the forms. The onlookers' expression was one of confusion, like they were watching a movie reel that missed every other frame.
"Keep doin' what you're doin' love. The bigger the better!" grinned Atlas, still holding Sally tight.
Elizabeth delved deep into wherever she currently was with gritted teeth, gripping the armrests so hard her whole body started trembling. The pulsating became wilder and the shapes changed even more quickly, until it all stopped to give way for an enormous black vessel, torn from the very fabric of some distant reality. The woman collapsed in the chair, held in place only by her bindings while the dumbfounded men stared at the mighty submarine in awe.
"Ha! I knew you had it in ya!" he exclaimed, paying little mind to the near unconscious prisoner or if she had even heard him. After the grey, noisy glow dissipated he noticed a golden emblem on the bulk that looked identical to the one belonging to his own former enterprise, Fontaine Futuristics.
"Well I'll be damned. You're one hell of a magician, love."
She barely registered anything outside the crushing pain that overwhelmed her being, feeling like she had been squeezed to an invisible wall by horribly strong pressure.
Elizabeth could only lift her head slightly to glance at the result of her grievous efforts, too agonized to even wince. Atlas mumbled something to Maurice who then put his knife back into his belt and handed a radio to his boss.
"You two take care of our lovely benefactress here and come down to the bay. Don't bother with the mess, " ordered the con man, his grip on Sally unrelenting.
"What…" breathed the woman faintly, forcing her aching mind to formulate words. "We…had a deal…"
"Didn't your momma ever teach you not to put your faith in strange men?" he laughed. "I can see now what Ryan was so desperate to get his paws on, but I'm sure not takin' any chances."
"Just… just let her go… please," pleaded the broken traveler.
Atlas pulled the silent Sally closer to him. "Worry not. The brat's expertise will be sorely needed where we're goin'. She'll have a lotta work on her lil' hands."
The Little Sister kept trying to weasel out of his grasp to no avail. "LET GO!" she whimpered.
The man turned back to his eager minions for a final word. "Put a bullet in her and be aboard in half an hour. That's half an hour, got it? Or you'll stay here rottin'." He brought the radio to his mouth upon leaving through the door, pushing Sally forward. "Someone get Samuelson on the line right now," he barked into the microphone. "If the bastard's not too spliced up yet he might even drive this thing."
The door shut behind him, making his further instructions inaudible, and Elizabeth was left alone with the two armed thugs yet again. The one called Maurice stepped to the wall on her side to just lean to it while playing with his knife, giving way for the grinning Lonnie.
"Hmm, half an hour is more than enough for a little game, don't ya think Mo?"
He sat down on her opposite side, picked out all but one bullet from the opened cylinder then pulled it back to its place with a flip of his wrist.
The woman was looking at the floor in defeat, barely paying attention to her surroundings. The throbbing in her head was already subsiding, replaced only with the pang of utter despondency.
I failed. I'll die here and I failed Sally.
Lonnie's first shot ringed with an empty click, and he snickered as he gave it a new spin.
I'll never get back to Booker.
Another pull of the trigger. "Empty! Empty again."
She did not move an inch, her eyes never leaving the floorboards.
What would Booker do? Would he just sit here, silently waiting for death?
"Three is the magic number, right dear?"
No.
The third shot was the loud one.