Just a heads up, Finals and work will be consuming most of my free time this week. I plan to get the next chapter up this weekend, but it might be delayed beyond that. Next week things should hopefully speed up a bit.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bioshock or any of the characters associated with it

Davian didn't have much experience with trains, but he assumed that it was safe to say this was the least comfortable train ride in Rapture's history.

Stanley Poole stood at the controls attempting to make small talk, which inevitably devolved into awkward silence when nobody responded. Wren refused to sit still, dashing around the small compartment to look at every new object in sight and point them out as loudly as possible. Amelia was stewing in a corner, giving of the feeling of a caged animal that really wanted to hurt something. And to top it all off, the crushing weight of the ocean made itself inescapably known through the small glass windows. Truly this couldn't get any worse.

Kill him.

Speak of the devil.

This man cannot be trusted. End his life now, before it's too late.

That time already? Davian thought idly.

He fished an Adam vial out of his bag, wondering what set the voice off this time. Maybe the Alpha Series had drained him more than he thought, or maybe the near-death experience was enough to push him over the edge.

Listen to me damn you!

Watch your language.

Davian drew out a carefully measured amount of the red liquid in a syringe. Enough to keep him from going into withdrawal, but not so much that the rush would be a problem. He would probably have to refill again in a couple of days, but he would worry about that later.

You will regret this.

There were a lot of things that he regretted, but this probably wouldn't be one of them. Pushing through the barrier of skin, he injected the drug into his bloodstream. Like every time he had done it in the past, he was bombarded by the blinding relief which was quickly followed by the flood of power.

Davian held tight to the side of the train as the intense sensations threatened to sweep him away. Thanks to the limited amount he had injected the effects were not enough to derail his mind, but they did have the downside of leaving him unsatisfied. Until his next fix, he would be plagued by an even stronger craving for more.

When the intense feelings finally faded, Davian opened his eyes to see everyone else in the small room staring at him. It was then that he realized shooting up in a train car with people he barely knew probably wasn't the most socially acceptable pastime.

"Sorry." He muttered. "I had to take care of that."

Wren turned back to her examination of her new surroundings, with Stanley reluctantly following her example. Amelia on the other hand, continued to stare at him with an unnerving gaze. It was impossible to see her expression, but Davian still felt like a mouse being watched by a hungry snake.

As it happens, he didn't have to suffer her scrutiny for very long. With a lurch and the sound of metal grinding on metal, the train slowed to a stop. Stanley was the one to point out the obvious.

"Were here."

Compared to the inside of the train, the battered station they exited into was a paradise. Davian took a deep breath to dispel the stress of their cramped ride. The rotten air was far better than the stifled cabin fumes he had been forced to endure.

"Well, heh, looks like my parts done." Stanley said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way. I got a little hiding place to get back to before some other psycho moves into it."

"No."

The single word plunged the station into silence, as all eyes turned to Davian in disbelief.

"Uh… I don't think I heard you proper." Stanly replied, trying again. "I said I'm headed back now. You see? You go your way, I go mine."

Davian fixed him with a glare that would have given a raging bouncer pause.

"Do you remember when I said I'd forget about you trying to kill us?" He said. "I lied. You already put our lives at risk once, so there's no way I'm letting you leave with the only transportation out of here."

The color drained out of Stanley's face as he realized where this was going.

"In addition to that, I know you had access to a radio. That was how you were talking to us wasn't it? How can I be sure you didn't send some kind of message to any friends you might have on this side?"

Poole tried to stammer a response, but Davian didn't give him the opportunity.

"Here's how it's going to work. You're coming with us until I'm sure this isn't a trap and then maybe, maybe, I'll let you go. But if at any point you give me reason to think your intentions are less than helpful…"

He closed the distance between them, bringing his flame-wreathed hand up to Stanley's face.

"I'll make you wish Amelia had killed you."

For a miniature eternity, nobody moved a muscle. His eyes bored into Stanley's as the two of them stood locked together. Though the man searched desperately for some sort of reprieve, the glaring splicer offered him none.

Eventually, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he realized there was no way for him to escape alive.

"You bastard…" He whispered, his voice losing any sense of conviction.

"Call me what you want." Davian replied. "Just as long as you do what I say. Now move."

Epsilon was growing more perplexed by the hour. The more time she spent around Davian, the less she seemed to understand him. Earlier, she had thought that maybe he had maintained some semblance of humanity despite his condition. The train ride had proved her wrong.

It wasn't just the fact that he had threatened Stanley, in truth she wanted nothing more than to dispose of the man, rather it was when he injected himself that she caught a glimpse of his true colors. No ordinary person would have been so easily able to fill their blood with such a taint.

And his face…

Up until that point, she hadn't seen much sign of the sickness in him. But right then, gripped by the effects of Adam, his expression had shown nothing but hunger. He still felt the crippling pull of the drug, no matter how well he tried to hide it from her. From now on, she would need to be even warier of him.

"Amelia, care to join the rest of us up here?"

Epsilon started slightly at the sound of his voice. Looking up, she realized that she had fallen behind the group a fair bit. Davian stood observing her with an eyebrow raised, Wren at his side with all her usual cheer. She had likely already forgotten how dangerous he had looked earlier.

Stanley Poole stood nearby as the picture of misery. It was clear that he expected them to kill him when they were finished. It was almost enough for her to feel pity for him.

Almost.

Quickening her steps, Epsilon caught up and fell in beside Wren. The girl gave her a bright smile as she took her hand and skipped along. She subtly pulled the little sister closer to her side and away from the splicer.

If Davian noticed her actions, he didn't say anything. He was too busy keeping an eye on their unwilling companion. She doubted that he would be stupid enough to try running, but if he did he wouldn't get very far.

Suddenly, Epsilon felt a tug on her arm.

"E…? Can we stop soon? I'm getting sleepy." Wren said, rubbing her eyes slightly.

"It is starting to get late." Davian commented. "You've been here before; know anyplace we can hold up in for the night?" He asked turning to Stanley.

The man just sighed. "Yea I know a place." He said. "There's a diner up ahead. Promise not to shoot me in the back and I can take you there."

Epsilon wished she could have commented on that, but settled for following his lead instead. If either he or Davian tried anything, she would be ready.

As it turned out, Stanley had been telling the truth.

No more than five minutes had passed before they came up to a battered diner. The place had been boarded up, but a swift kick from Amelia solved that problem quickly enough.

Soon enough the four of them were seated around a small fire made up of burning boards, while cooking the small amount of canned food that still looked edible in the place.

Davian stared silently at his can of beans while debating whether or not to risk a bite. Wren had already finished her meal, and was now nodding off while leaning on her older sibling.

Amelia, for her part had refused any part of the meal. He didn't know if this was out of repulsion for the slightly rotten food, or if it had something to do with her sudden hostility. She had been far from welcoming from the start, but her seemingly unprovoked tension surprised him.

He doubted it had anything to do with Stanley. The man may have been held captive, but he was still far from a threat. He hadn't fought them himself so Davian doubted he had the guts to try taking them on now.

The only other thing he could think of was the Adam injection. That couldn't have been it, could it? Surely she had known that he needed the stuff? It wasn't like he had tried to hide the fact that he was a splicer. That was just common sense after all, wasn't it?

Wearily, Davian lay back staring at the ceiling. Fatigue from the past few days had all caught up with him at once. He wasn't sure what had caused the tension, but this certainly wasn't the best time for it. They were deep in unknown territory, with no real concept of what was out there.

That reminded him…

"Stanley." He said, turning to the man. "I'll be taking first watch, followed by you, then Amelia. Keep in mind that I'm a very light sleeper. If you try anything, you'll regret it."

The threat didn't even seem to surprise him at this point. He just gave a dismissive grunt before huddling up a short distance from the fire. Soon, he had drifted off to sleep the same as Wren.

Davian couldn't see Amelia's face, but something told him that she was still awake.

"Do we have a problem?" He asked, facing her grim helmet. She gave no response.

So were back to the silent treatment. Davian thought to himself, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Look, if something is bothering you then just make it clear. I'd rather deal with it now, than have it be a problem later."

Still no response.

"Fine, be like that." He said, giving up. "You probably want to get some sleep while you can. You'll be on watch after Stanley."

Settling back into his nook in the room, Davian did his best to ignore the glowing red porthole that was watching him.

Rapture, as a whole, had fallen deeply into disrepair since its citizens fell from grace. It was not uncommon to find rubble, debris, and rotting corpses in any given room. Few were sane enough to notice the difference, and those who were didn't have the luxury of being able to care.

All of this made one particular room stand out dramatically.

Located deep in the bowels of the dead city was a single well managed office. Every inch of the place had been carefully cleaned and maintained with what some might describe as obsessive diligence. Not a single speck of dust, or shard of broken glass could be found. If a person were to judge the entire city by that single area, it would have appeared as a vision of dedicated vision of corporate enterprise.

Inside the unusual room were two figures who only added to the surreal feeling of oddity.

The smaller of the two figures paced in circles, his entire body shaking with nervous tension. He smoked a large cigar, his third for the day, while absentmindedly rubbing the mutilated flesh that had once held his left eye. His body had been wasted away by years of Adam addiction and malnutrition, leaving him a shell of his former self. The attire he wore might once have been considered impressive, but time had reduced then to ragged strips of cloth that clung to his skeletal frame.

Suffice it to say, Benjamin Hawthorn was not a happy man.

"Damn it, what are they doing out there!?" The snarl was directed to himself than anyone else. "Cain, what do your spies say?" He questioned, turning to the second figure.

Cain stood in stark contrast to his companion. Every inch of the man was held in careful control, with not a single thread of fabric daring to come loose for fear of incurring his attention. His hair was cut short, with a clean shaven face that displayed little emotion other than an experienced calm. With his hands clasped behind his ramrod-straight back, he was the spitting image of the man Hawthorn had never succeeded in becoming.

"They say the same thing as always." He explained, patiently. "Tenenbaum's refugees have been hiding in their little community. They only venture outside to gather supplies."

Benjamin gave a mirthless chuckle that devolved into ragged coughing as a lifetime of inhaling smoke took its toll. When his body stopped shaking, he took a deep drag on his cigar to ease his nerves.

"That's what they want me to think." He said, waving the cigar around for emphasis. "They think they can outsmart me. ME! Tenenbaum thinks I won't notice if her merry band of hapless assholes sneaks out in the night. She thinks she can take the city from me! Well, that bitch can have Rapture when she pries it from my cold, dead, hands!"

Cain took a subtle step back to avoid the spittle that flew from Benjamin's mouth as he spoke. This wasn't the first time he had been forced to listen to one of these rants. In truth, he saw Tenenbaum as only a minor threat. Her group of 'survivors' as they called themselves, only numbered about several dozen strong. As of late, their few attempts to push back against the splicers had all been miserable failures.

Hawthorn on the other hand, was consumed by paranoia about her. He was aware that she had played a part in bringing down Andrew Ryan as well as Sophia Lamb, and he wouldn't let her do the same to him.

"Their after me Cain! They want my power, my position. They want to take everything from me! Have your spies look deeper into their plans, they can't get the upper hand! So help me, I will end their miserable lives if it's the last thing I do!"

"Of course sir." Cain responded smoothly. "I'll see to it at once. Whatever their hiding, my agents will find it."

Benjamin was so caught up in his own subterfuge that he didn't notice the look that passed over Cain's face as the man left. It only existed for the barest fraction of a second, hardly enough time to be sure it was there at all, but the careful observer might have described it as a look of contempt.

Hawthorn sat down heavily at his desk, a whooshing thump emitting from his chair as it held his weight. He took one last puff on the cigar before smothering it in a nearby ashtray.

"I'll get you Tenenbaum." He said softly to himself. "Just you wait. This is my city now, and no bleedin' heart broad is gonna take it from me."