Disclaimer: I still do not own Bioshock despite doing nothing to try and claim the rights for myself. Go figure.

"Sir, I don't believe that this is a good idea."

If there was ever a time for Hawthorn to have one of his over controlling moments, now was certainly not it. Cain had gone through the trouble of carefully selecting his most trusted agents for the upcoming mission, when his employer decided to throw a metaphorical wrench in his plans. Benjamin had decided that since he was the one in charge he would be the one pick who went after Davian.

"Your right." He said, fumbling to light his latest cigar. "It isn't a good idea, it's a great idea. I have just the right people for the job. Here, take a look!" He tossed the files on each of them to his less-than-pleased assistant.

Cain was already well aware of the splicers who he had been given to work with. Knowing things was his job, and he would be doing a very poor job of it if he let Hawthorn take him by surprise. While all their talents were impressive, it was their loyalties that were the problem. They all answered to Benjamin, which would make Cain's plan much more difficult to follow through on.

The first was Hammer. A brutish name for a very brutish man. He would have been around nine feet tall if it were possible for him to stand up straight. As it was, his seven and a half foot frame made him a massive presence in any situation. If popular rumors are to be believed, he was taken up by Hawthorn after supposedly ripping off a bouncer's drill and beating the metal giant to death with it. Thankfully, he was dumb as a rock. This would make it far easier to manipulate him in Cain's favor.

Second came Isabelle. While not as gargantuan as Hammer, she still cut an impressive figure at six-foot-five and dressed in welder's fatigues. Her equipment wasn't just for show either; she was an expert at crafting metal into weapons of death. Her gun of choice was an alpha series pattern spear thrower that had been modified to be fired by an un-enhanced human. The weapon was so hard to reload that she was rarely able to fire it more than a couple of times in any given fight. Then again, she didn't really need to. She was cocky, arrogant, and ambitious. While these were all traits that Cain could use, she was far more likely to report him to Hawthorn than join him. She would have to be disposed of at some point.

Third on the list was Jericho. The man was a splicer through and through. He brought heavy plasmid chaos to the fight, along with a terribly unstable state of mind. The only weaponry he carried other than his various Adam fueled powers were an assortment of bombs and grenades. Each one was lovingly hand crafted by the madman himself to create the biggest explosions possible. He wasn't big on subtlety. Jericho was no doubt crazy, but he also wasn't the most fervent supporter of Hawthorn. The two of them had been at odds ever since he had blown up seventeen of Benjamin's favorite attendants in a rather spectacular demonstration gone wrong.

Last, but far from least, was Ares. Out of all of them, he was the one Cain knew the least about. The man walked around bare-chested, and bald headed, with Greek symbols carved into his exposed skin. He dismissed the idea of gun-play in favor of two vicious hatchets, both kept in perfect condition by hands that were intimately familiar with them. Cain knew that he was a Houdini splicer, but that was about it. His intelligence, abilities, and general stability were all anyone's guess. What's more, there was no telling just how loyal he was to Hawthorn's will. He would be a problem.

"I have seen them sir, but I still feel that this job would be better accomplished by my own me." Cain said, trying to salvage as much of the situation as possible. "I have no doubts about their skills, but-"

Sadly, Hawthorn was beyond hearing his complaints. The man was already too caught up in his own little world.

"You'll take them after Davian." He said, his hands jittering with barely contained energy. "You'll kill him off, and you'll show Tenenbaum exactly what happens to those who piss me off! Show her the kind of people who work for me!"

Cain closed his eyes, tuning out the rest of Benjamin's tirade. By this point it was obvious that he had no choice in the matter. He would have to work with the troops he had been given. That was fine. It wouldn't be the first time he had turned a bad situation to his advantage. In the end, the splicers were tools to be used, broken, and discarded.

As Hawthorn devolved deeper and deeper into his rant, Cain turned and left. His departure went entirely unnoticed, as did almost all of the work he did. But that was fine. Anonymity was a powerful weapon in its own right. While the deluded tyrant sat on the throne, he ran the kingdom.

And soon, his kingdom would take on a much larger scale.

Cain set out to gather his new soldiers. They would serve his purposes whether they knew it or not.

Davian couldn't believe his eyes. He tried to speak, but his mouth simply opened and closed without any sound escaping. He was looking at something impossible. Something monumental.

"Like it?" Archer questioned, shooting him an excited grin. "My little brother is one of the people working on getting it up and running. He looks at the engines, finding ways to get the most mileage out of the limited fuel supply that we have."

"Is that…" Davian still couldn't bring himself to voice the question that he was dying to ask. It was something he couldn't have dreamed of in a thousand years.

It was a large submersible. Something akin to a bathysphere, but on a massive scale.

"You didn't think we were just sitting here with our thumbs up our collective asses, did you?"

The splicer was too entranced by the machine to even notice the expletive.

It obviously wasn't finished. Other than the fact it wasn't under water yet, it still had several sections missing. Even so, the entire thing was so large that it would certainly be able to transport the entire colony and still have plenty of room to spare.

"What is it?" Wren asked, thoroughly confused by everyone else's reactions. Tomas was the one to answer her question.

"It's a ship." He said. "For the past couple of years, Tenenbaum has been gathering everyone still sane enough to want out of this place and getting this thing up and running."

He turned, looking both Davian and Amelia in the eyes.

"Each person here has poured countless hours into this project. It's our way out. Our chance at survival. Each one of us has the responsibility of keeping that hope alive. If you're going to be staying here, that responsibility will be yours as well. You'll be expected to do whatever you can to get it in working condition. That will include gathering resources, working on electronics if you have the skills for it, and guarding the colony from those who would harm it."

His face suddenly became dark.

"If you should fail in those duties, if you compromise the security of our people, or if you choose to betray our trust…"

He took several steps forward until he was towering over the two of them.

"I'll kill you."

Amelia's eyes narrowed, glaring at the threat. Davian put a hand on her arm to keep her from doing anything too rash.

"I get it." He said. "Don't worry, we won't be a problem." Amelia shot him a sideways glance as if to say that she would make no promises.

The tension stretched on for several more moments until Archer broke the silence.

"Great!" He said, clapping Tomas on the back. "Now that that's been sorted out, who's up for a round of drinks?"

As it turns out, the colony did in fact have a bar. Half an hour later, Davian found himself seated across from Archer in the establishment charmingly named the 'Indefensible Intoxicants'. He was willing to bet the man who named it was under the influence of his own products at the time.

Amelia had flatly refused to set foot inside. The loud noise, press of people, and nature of the establishment all ensured that she would be waiting outside with Wren despite the little sister's desire to see what the big deal was. Tomas had also gone his own way, choosing to go back to whatever work he did in his free time.

Davian swirled his glass of suspicious liquid idly. He wasn't all that interested in drinking, but right now he wanted to get an idea of what colony life was like.

"You've hardly touched yours." Archer said, already on his third glass despite showing no outward signs of intoxication. "You not thirsty or something?"

"Just out of practice I guess." Davian replied. "The last time I drank alcohol was a long time ago. I woke up in Ryan Amusements with no clothes and no memory of how I got there."

That elicited a small laugh from the young man.

"Sounds like fun times." Archer said. "But I guess you're used to crazy stuff, being part of the Saturnine and all."

Davian's head jerked up, a sharp glare forming in his features.

"She told you?" He demanded.

Archer waved his concerns away. "She hasn't told me anything. I just happened to be listening in. Joseph taught me how to hack into the radio systems a while ago, so now I eavesdrop on other people whenever I'm feeling bored."

Davian stared at him open mouthed, unsure what to make of his casual admittance to violating the privacy of others. Eventually, he sighed and looked back down at his drink.

"Wonderful." He said. "So, how many people will know by the end of the day?"

Archer put a hand on his heart in mock outrage. "I'll have you know that I never tell anyone about the things I overhear! Why just take Tomas for example. I've never told anyone that he talks to himself when he's alone, and not just talks but holds long conversations. It's pretty fun to listen to, I'll have to show you some time."

Davian wished that they were alone so he could strangle him.

"So how did you get involved with them anyway?" Archer questioned. "I heard the part about your sister getting you in, but how did she manage?"

Silently, the splicer debated how much trouble he would get in if he simply snapped his companion's neck right then and there.

"Most of the Saturnine were male." He hissed, his voice sounding as pleasant as a knife cutting through ice. "She was female. You put it together." He hoped his tone would be enough to deter any further questions.

It wasn't.

"Harsh. What did you do for them? Were you a hit man or something?"

"I was a kid." Davian said. "I did chores and stayed out of the way. Sometimes I would crawl through a duct or something to open a door from the other side, but I didn't go around on raids or anything like that."

"Doors? I thought they were all Houdinis?" Archer said, raising an eyebrow. "Why would they need to do anything other than just teleport through?"

"They can't see the other side." Davian explained. "Jumping in blind is essentially a very painful way to commit suicide. Have you seen what happens when a Houdini materializes in a solid object?"

He shook his head.

"I have. It isn't pretty, and very few of them were insane enough to risk it. Those that were usually ended up regretting it shortly after."

Archer leaned back in his chair, sipping his drink thoughtfully.

"What about the sisters?"

"What about them?" Davian asked suspiciously.

"How did you end up meeting them?" Archer asked. "I've got a bet going with Peter. He thinks you have them on your payroll or something, but I don't believe that. I think you went all white knight and saved the two of them from a hoard of marauding splicers."

Davian pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're both wrong. I met the two of them at different times, and I sure didn't save Amelia from anything. She attacked me and I blew up a gas barrel in her face. The only reason she's still hanging around is because she wants to look after Wren."

"Geez." Archer said. "You must be one hell of a Casanova then. Blow her up, and she still likes you? You'll have to teach me how to do that some time."

"She doesn't like me." Davian stated flatly. "If anything, I'm fairly sure she hates me."

"Are you kidding? She was sticking to your side ever since the two of you showed up. There's something going on there whether you want to admit it or not."

"She tried to kill me." He said again. "I don't think that is how girls typically greet people that they like to be around."

"Sure it is." Archer commented. "You probably just caught her at the wrong time of month."

Davian, who had been going for a sip of his drink to ease the irritation of his interrogation, violently spluttered causing the liquid to go all over the table.

"What is wrong with you!?" He demanded, glaring murderously at the young man. "I did NOT need to think of that!"

Archer doubled over, laughing at his reaction.

"Your face…" He gasped. "Is priceless right now. I wish I had a camera to preserve this moment forever."

Davian got to his feet, having had enough of the degrading questioning. He had taken two steps when his arm was caught.

"Hey, hey, hey." Archer spoke up. "Sit back down, I promise I won't laugh at you again. It was just a joke, no need to get angry."

Very slowly, he got back into his seat.

"I'm only staying to finish what's left of my drink." He said. "No more questions about Amelia."

"That's not her name you know." Archer said. At an inquisitive glance from Davian, he continued. "Protectors are usually named after the Greek symbol carved into their suits. Hers would be Epsilon. The number five."

"Epsilon…" He repeated. It sounded cold. Unfeeling. In a way, it was fitting for the killer big sister. She often seemed to be so other compared to the rest of the world. At the same time, he couldn't see her with a name like that. She was still a person underneath the mask of death. People didn't have numbers.

"So…" Archer began, building up to something. "Why did you name her after your sister?"

"I told you, no more questions." Davian said, his voice growing colder.

"Aww come on, just this last one." He pleaded. "If I don't figure out your reasoning for it now, I'll just go make a bet with someone else and end up pestering you again later."

"What makes you think I had a reason?" Davian asked defensively. "Maybe it was just on a whim. Maybe I'm just not all that creative."

"Organizing your books in alphabetical order? That's something you do for no reason." Archer said. "Naming a super powered killing machine after your dead sister? That isn't."

Davian sighed, shaking his head. His shoulders slumped down as his body slipped deeper into the chair.

"Because… I'm an idiot. That's why. It wasn't supposed to mean anything, but it was my way of pretending I had done something. It's stupid, but on some level being able to just say that name made me feel like I hadn't abandoned her. Especially after everything she did for me."

Archer watched him silently, his demeanor far more serious than usual.

"That isn't stupid." He said, leaning forward. "Listen… I can't really say if you did everything you could since I wasn't there, but I don't think she would want you to beat yourself up over it for this long."

"It doesn't matter what she wants anymore." Davian said. "She's dead."

Archer got to his feet, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Then how about you make something with what you've got? You might not be able to go back and save her, but there are still a lot of people here who could use your help. If you can't fix your past then you might as well try to fix your future."

With that, he went on his way. Davian watched him go, wondering just what he meant by those words. They sounded far too philosophical to be coming from the seemingly care-free young man. Maybe he wasn't as much of a pain as he had first thought.

"Hey, buddy." A rather burly man said, getting Davian's attention. "I hope you got money, cuz it looks like your picking up your friend's tab."

Then again…

That night Davian was lying awake once again. Amelia lay in the other bed; her arm draped protectively over Wren's sleeping form. It was sort of touching to see the two of them together like that. At least, it was when it wasn't so disturbing.

Nothing individually was keeping him awake tonight. Rather, he simply couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. He chose instead to reflect on the events of recent times. Why, just a month ago none of this would have seemed possible.

Turing over in bed to get more comfortable, he caught sight of something poking out of the pocket in his old shirt. Out of curiosity he picked up the object and brought it to light with a tiny flame in his palm.

It was the note.

The one he had found in the raid on the splicers. Frowning, he re-read the last name on the list. Hawthorn. Where had he heard that before? It sounded far too familiar to be a coincidence. Maybe…

Wait.

Hawthorn.

Benjamin Hawthorn.

Davian shot straight up in his bed, adrenaline rushing through his system as the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.

The shotgun gave a click as the trigger was depressed, before an explosion wiped away all other sensation.

Benny.