Ch. 10: Subject Delta vs. Comstock Part One(flashback)

A.N.:

Everyone, I am so sorry that it has taken me a month and a day to update this story. I could try to defend myself by listing off everything that was preventing me from updating both this story and my F.E.A.R. story for so long. However, I will instead take responsibility for the unacceptable amount of time that it took me and will double my efforts to update more often.

I apologize if there were hurt feelings or dissatisfaction that I caused those of you who have supported this story. I will understand if you stop reading and supporting this story due to my lack of adequate updating.

To the troopers, I thank you and hope that you continue to support and like this story.

Okay, so basically, I know that up until now, the story has been a novelized walkthrough of the game. I have set it apart from the traditional game in multiple ways to finally give it an AU quality in this chapter and the next one, which should be posted late tonight or early in the morning at the latest. It has been so long that I took the liberty of typing up two chapters as an act of contrition for taking so long to update.

Please, open minds with the flashback. I tried very hard to not break continuity. Constants and variables right?

Also, I know that the layout of Market Street is messed up. Just go with it, please.

Thank you to the readers that take the time to read this.

As we made our way towards the Sinclair Deluxe, Eleanor asked, "Daddy, what are you going to do to Aunt Gracie?"

By then, we were passing the Gatherer's Garden Vending Machine and the El Bandito Vending Machine behind the diner. Confused, I grunted, "Aunt?"

The little girl riding on my back let out a robotic sounding giggle before she chirped, "Of course. Don't you remember?"

Again, I felt something trying to break free in my mind but I was unable to clearly see it my mind's eye. The more I tried to break through the mental block preventing me from uncovering the memory, the more pain it caused me. Finally, I was forced to admit, "No, Eleanor. I…I…can't…"

She giggled for a moment before she said with her Little Sister voice, "Daddy's head is silly. Mother went away for a while and left me in the care of Aunt Gracie. I didn't really like it though." I gave off a grunt with a questioning tone. My charge explained, "No one can replace you, Daddy." I smiled slightly in response.

However, I was uneasy with the whole situation. I did not want to maim or kill the elderly former singer. Eleanor had instructed me to kill anyone that got in my way, and I did not have it in me to deny her will. However, she had unknowingly put me in a paradox. I had to follow her commands, but I also had to ensure that I did not cause her harm in any form.

The exact "whys" and "why not's" of my design were taken to my creators' graves. Being a Big Daddy did not come with a preverbal instructions manual. There were aspects of my design that were still a mystery to me. The paradox of obey vs. protect was one quirk of my programming that I had been able to decode. At any given time, I was to obey Eleanor's commands without hesitation, but I was also to ensure that no harm came to her. My Protector Instincts took priority over everything, even my "Obey" Conditioning. Therefore, if ever there was a situation where obeying her command would cause her harm, her command became null and I was to resolve the situation as best I saw fit.

This override fail-safe was an ingenious way of ensuring the longevity of the Gatherer over the Protector. After all, an Alpha Series Big Daddy without a bonded Gatherer was as useful from a business standpoint as a racehorse with a broken leg. My best guess as to the exact purpose of the fail-safe was that it was meant to render the Alpha Series Big Daddy unable to comply with a "termination" command should the Little Sister ever become aware of her plight.

Regardless of its exact purpose, with her command nullified, I was left to make my own decision regarding how I would obtain the genetic key from Grace. If only I could remember what I had done to make her vindictive not only against me but also all the protectors, I could try to fix the situation. What could I have done that had convinced Grace that I had not only kidnapped Eleanor, turned her into a Little Sister, but also that I was some kind of mindless killing machine? Despite our purpose, those of us in the Alpha Series tended to avoid violence and destruction whenever possible.

Violence only led to more violence. An eye could only be repaid by an eye. I knew these things more than I would prefer. If anything, I was merely reaping what I had sown. I could not hold Gracie responsible for trying to exact revenge on me for something that I had done to her. I assured my daughter, "I will try to resolve this peacefully, Eleanor. I promise."

By then, we had passed the back entrance of the diner. A small fire was in the middle of the zigzag-like path. What appeared to be strips of fake wood paneling was serving as the kindling for the flames. Before us was the watertight door that led to the Sinclair Deluxe. To the right was a titanic, slender window with rounded ends that reached the floor and ceiling of the colossal bulkhead that separated this section of The Drop from the Sinclair Deluxe. Algae partially obscured the window and gave it a green ting.

To our left was a makeshift walkway that was mounted to the side of the diner to allow access to the roof. The walkway was constructed out of wooden boards and metal bars that appeared to be sections of the security barricade that had been laid on top of large wooden boxes that were bigger than the average man. As we approached the cave entrance-like façade around the security bulkhead that led to the hotel, I noticed that the decorative copper strips along the bottom of the walls had turned green from the prolonged exposure to the damp conditions of The Drop.

After we passed through the watertight security door, we came to the tunnels that connected the main area of The Drop to the Sinclair Deluxe. Resembling glass-walled and steel-framed snakes, the tunnel networks were all throughout Rapture. Aside from bathyspheres and the Atlantic Express, the tunnels were the most effective method of traveling around the city. Unfortunately, the unsupported lengths of steel and glass were critically vulnerable to inflicted structural stress. Given the war-torn state of the city, I would prefer that we restricted travel along their network.

Before us was the flat front of the hotel. A decorative gold plated star-shaped neon sign of "The Sinclair Deluxe" was mounted to the front of the hotel beyond the fork in the tunnel. Above the sign was a slime-covered, female Poseidon-like statue. Along the front of the hotel near the top, beneath the green slime, I saw a two wide rounded portholes that vaguely resembled eyes. Though I only saw the figure for a brief moment, I could make out the disturbingly apathetic expression on Grace's face as she pierced my armor with her glare from the left porthole. I mentally shivered. I had known hardened killers and rapists while I had been locked up in Persephone that had been incapable of such a cold glare.

After our brief stare down, Grace calmly backed away from the porthole and disappeared into the hotel's interior. No! I forced my heavy frame forward as fast as I could manage without dislodging Eleanor, much to her delight as she squealed in excitement. My footsteps shook the tunnel and their rumbling report echoed through the area. With my drill revved up, I charged towards the right entrance. When the security bulkhead failed to open in time, I used my momentum to bulldoze through the obstacle. I briefly lost my sense of hearing as the shriek of strained metal ripped through The Drop. The security door submitted to my assault and fell backwards onto the cracked tile floor of the lobby. Only faltering momentarily as I regained my sense of balance, I continued forward around the corner past the check-in desk.

However, I was too late. Just as I reached the long, wide hallway that led to the area where the elevator and stairs were located, a Brute Splicer appeared. Grabbing a red metal barrel, the hulking abomination informed me, "Gracie says piss off an' die you tin shit house." Before I could stop him, the brute threw the barrel into the support beam above the entrance. The decayed fail-safe for the hotel was triggered and a huge watertight bulkhead slammed down, blocking our path further into the hotel.

Having had halted my advance when I had seen the Brute Splicer, I growled in irritation as I punched the thin wall to my left with my gauntlet-encased left fist. My strike pulverized the flimsy walling, literally crushing it into powder. Having had vented my frustration, I withdrew my fist. Alpha, having had spliced himself to be more suited for mid-to-long range combat and not violent close quarters combat, finally caught up to me seconds later. Upon seeing the massive obstacle in our way, he let out a strange noise that vaguely sounded like a sigh.

My built-in radio activated and, seconds later, Sinclair said, "Well sport…I guess Gracie's home…but that big lug just dropped my damn hotel's security gate in your way. I had it installed as a kind of insurance policy 'case the tenants got other ideas 'bout payin' their rent. Used to be remote override but Gracie put an end to that. Now, we're stuck here 'til you get that key. Work out a way to get it open again."

As my radio deactivated, my mind began to race. Even fully enraged, Subject Delta, that monster inside of me, could not brute force his way through a security gate like this. It was at least five feet of solid steel. Brute force was not going to cut it here. Looking around, I noticed a large yellow fuel pump mounted on the left wall. How heat resistant would something like this be? We could not cut through something like this even with an acetylene torch. However, there was one thing that I knew about from my Navy days that could cut through something as thick as this bulkhead.

Red iron (III) oxide plus aluminum powder, commonly known as Thermite. It was easy to manufacture and could burn through almost everything. "Thermite? Daddy?" Eleanor asked with concern in her enchanting voice from where she was riding on my back.

I grunted back, "Unless you have a better idea, Eleanor."

She asked, "How are you going to make some?"

I explained, "The ingredients are commonplace and it is easy enough to make if you know what you are doing."

My brother suggested, "The markets downtown should have what we need."

I grunted in agreement and we began to make our way back towards the main area of The Drop. As we moved towards the exit, I noticed that advertisement posters for Sofia's practice adorned the walls. I mentally sighed. The Splicers must have turned the Sinclair Deluxe into a recruitment center/safe house for Sofia's Flock. We were in for one hell of a fight once we got past the gate.

As we went back through the compromised entrance, I mentally went through what we would need. In my days in the United States Navy, we had used it for underwater welding. It was perfect for that task as it contained its own source of oxygen and water tended to boil around the intense heat of the reaction so it was damn near impossible to extinguish. My memories of those days were becoming harder and harder to remember but I was able to recall the bits of information that I had picked up about Thermite through idle conversations with the eggheads that I was often paired with during projects.

Thermite was, for the sake of simplicity, metal powder that burned at extremely high temperatures in specific circumstances. There were many different formulas to create Thermite but I only knew enough about its most common form to be able to create what we needed. We needed a fuel and an oxidizer. The fuel source was aluminum powder. Given that Andrew Ryan constructed Rapture out of aluminum in order to prevent drawing attention to the secret building project, the metal was going to be easy to obtain. The oxidizer was iron oxide, commonly known as rust. Given the state of The Drop, that was going to be easy to obtain as well.

Since I did not have the proper tools, I was only going to be able to manufacture a very crude mixture that would, at best, be one forth as potent as industrial grade Thermite. Because of the lack of tools to properly manufacture the mixture, we would have to use the crude mixture to weaken the gate and then use brute strength to finish off the obstacle.

Upon returning to the tunnel, I noticed that the far left security door that led to part of the market district was boarded up and had sandbags in front of it. The splicers had the right idea for funneling potential attackers of the hotel, I would give them that. I also noted the multiple patches of dried blood pools on the metal flooring of the tunnel. How contested was The Family? I had thought that The Drop was a safe haven for Sofia's followers. From what I was seeing, that was not actually the case. Perhaps, we could use that to our advantage.

As I neared the security gate that allowed access to the area around the Fishbowl Diner, I was suddenly assaulted by an invisible assailant. My entire body went numb as all of their strength was suddenly purged from my muscles. At the same time, a sharp stab of unimaginable agony erupted around my heart while the assailed muscle's strained beats pounded in my ears. The veins in my eyes flared, allowing me to see them as they flashed with vivid colors.

Unable to support my massive frame, my knees buckled. Immediately thinking of the safety of my companion, I steered my body just in time to prevent falling on top of her. I collapsed up against the nearby tunnel wall while I let out a mournful cry of pure misery. The glass cracked in a spider web pattern as my left shoulder made contact with it but it held up just barely.

Above the sound of the report of my heart as it stubbornly fought on in defiance of my body's self-destruction programming, I heard Eleanor crying out in alarm and for Alpha to release her. He must have been holding her back to protect her from me should I be driven mad. Though it only lasted for a few seconds, it felt like an eternity of hell as the maddening agony racked my entire body. If I could have grabbed the sides of my head, I would have ripped the flesh off of the bone in my pain-fueled madness. Unable to do anything else, I mentally steeled myself to hold onto my sanity. I could not give in! I would return to my master's side even if I had to go through Hell itself in order to do so!

Eventually, the agony began to subside and my strength began to return. After I had forced my frame back upright, Eleanor ran up to me and wrapped her thin arms around my tree trunk-like right leg. My daughter cried as she pressed her face into the rough fabric of my suit. Though the fresh memory of the agony still afflicted my mind, it was easily overpowered by the guilt that I felt for upsetting my precious Eleanor. I let out a reassuring grunt as I placed my left hand on her back.

After a few seconds, Eleanor composed herself and withdrew from my frame while she gazed up at me through the Little Sister's glowing eyes. Green streaks of ADAM coated her pale cheeks from when she had been crying and her breathing was still ragged as she slowly calmed down. I moved my massive gloved left hand to cup her right cheek as I let out a low, rumbling groan. She pressed my hand against her cheek with her tiny hands and then smiled as she leaned into my touch.

When she finally calmed down, she said, "We need to get fresh ADAM into you, Daddy. It will help." Not waiting for me to reply, she grasped my left hand with her tiny right hand and began to pull me along behind her as she guided me towards the nearest ADAM-filled corpse. Weakness remained in my muscles and I felt like a hollow shell. However, I refused to show weakness in front of my master. Forcing my body onwards, I rallied my aching muscles.

We entered the area around the diner and she led me to the right. To our right, I saw the Rosie Mass Production Model that had been crushed by the collapsed corridor. Beyond the Rosie against the wall was a Little Sister Vent. As we got closer, I also noticed that there was a burn barrel, which had a fire inside of it, between the Rosie and the Vent. We passed between the main entrance to The Drop and the front of the diner as Eleanor guided me towards the strange structure that I had noticed upon first entering the area.

A sense of nostalgia filled me as I fixated on the small child that was pulling me along behind her. I had never known true happiness and peace before I gathered with my beautiful Eleanor. She had an energy and personality that was simply intoxicating. How someone like myself ended up being the companion of someone like her was simply beyond me. My aching heart tightened painfully as it finally hit home that those days were over and had been over for nearly ten years.

The cheerful, curious child that I had faithfully guarded and accompanied through the streets of Rapture was gone. Sofia Lamb had killed her the day that she forced the girl's best friend and father figure to kill himself in front of her eyes. The goddess-like young woman that she was now was still my Eleanor but she was also not my Eleanor at the same time. This new Eleanor reminded me of another woman that I had encountered shortly before my demise. The woman had become so consumed by the desire to kill a certain man that she had sold her own humanity in order to so so. My mind drifted as the memory played in my mind's eye.

"Can we go clothes shopping since we are here already, Daddy?" I stood with my drill at the ready, though I felt foolish doing so since we were in one of the best sections of the city. All around us was Rapture's finest in every form from the architecture to the people eying us as we gathered from what was probably the first body that this shopping district had ever seen. My Protector Instincts deactivated as I realized that, for the first time in nearly a week, the splicers would not make an appearance during the gathering session.

Lowering my drill back down to my side, I turned to face my charge. My ever beautiful daughter, in her blue and white Little Sister dress that she had been forced to wear after an attacking splicer had ruined her white one, was kneeling over the corpse of a middle aged woman that was dressed in the typical attire of an upper class citizen of Rapture. Judging by the body's contorted posture on the ornate wooden floor, the telltale appearance of the eyes, and the froth around her mouth, the woman had overdosed on a controlled substance. She had likely been in a downward spiral for quite some time and had been using ADAM to hide the physical signs of her problem out of shame and fear of being alienated by her peers.

Eleanor never suffered any ill effects from ingesting the blood of people like this woman due to the fact that the slug inside of her was a bottom feeder in its natural habitat and was, therefore, well-equipped to handle anything that human beings could be carrying. I replied with a series of grunts, "No, it is getting late. After this, I am taking you home."

She finished off the last bit of blood that she had gathered from the corpse. Then, showing her tomboy personality off, Eleanor shamelessly burped loudly, causing a nearby woman dressed in upper class attire to state, "Why I never…" However, her husband, noticing me eying her, quickly silenced her and then led her away before she caused me to attack her.

Standing, Eleanor giggled at her own burp briefly and then protested, "Please?" I silently looked at her in thought for a moment. She placed her tiny hands together, with her gather tool held between them, up by her chest and smiled brightly while her glowing eyes gave off a radiant yellow light. She added with her British accented voice that had been changed to mimic a French accent, "Je suis une bonne fille, papa." (I am a good girl, daddy.)

I smiled beneath my emotionless face. Eleanor's Little Sister brainwashing was continuing to weaken. It had only been a few months since they had turned her into a Gatherer but, already, her mind was fighting through the programming. The genius-level intellect that she possessed combined with her strong will was proving to be more than a match for Dr. Alexander's Gatherer Programming. I guess, some birds just could not be caged.

More and more, she was giving indications that she was almost free from the mental conditioning of her condition. In fact, she had progressed so much that I idly wondered if, looking back, she would even be able to remember her time as Little Sister beyond vague recollections of the impulsive hunger and the "happy place". She had been a self-taught polyglot, among other things, and was now reclaiming the many languages that she had been very fluent in prior to her transformation into a Little Sister.

My resolve melted and I let out an agreeing grunt as I bent down to allow her to stand on her throne on my back. She squealed with excitement and then quickly climbed up onto her throne. When she had situated herself, she tapped the top of my copper head and said with a humorous tone, "Forward ho, Daddy." Laughing with my repeated grunts, I began to make my way down Market Street.

The people we passed were clearly not accustomed to a Big Daddy and his Little Sister casually walking amongst them as if they were ordinary residents of Rapture. Their stuffy, self-righteous composure would vanish as they gasped and recoiled away from us as I approached them. I humorously noted that their repulsion of my appearance was, fittingly enough, what kept them safe as they kept a distance away from my beautiful master and thus avoided my rage-fueled rebuttals.

I climbed a flight of stairs. To our left was one of many giant glass walls that allowed someone to look out over the magnificence of that which was Rapture as it sat on the seafloor. A whale passed between the building that we were in and the one that hosted the Kashmir Restaurant. Twisting my torso to the right briefly, I half-heartedly took note of an advertisement for Sander Cohen's "Why Even Ask" album.

Upon reaching the landing, I was still glancing to my right. There, I saw a simple wooden frame and glass-windowed door. On the surface of the glass, which was reinforced with crisscrossing strips of metal that were sandwiched between the interior and exterior surfaces, I saw the name, "Booker DeWitt", and, below it, "Private Investigator" in plain black font.

There was something unsettling about the door's appearance but I could not understand why it made me uncomfortable. Perhaps, it was the fact that I could not see inside of the establishment. Instead, all I could see was a bright white light. However, the most likely explanation was the one that made the least sense. The door was out of place as if the physical object, the establishment itself, and the occupants beyond the impenetrable white light did not belong in Rapture.

I shook off the uneasy feeling and turned my torso so that I was facing forward once more. What did I care? Whoever or whatever that DeWitt individual was, he was not my concern. Eleanor was all that I cared about anymore. If DeWitt endangered my beautiful Eleanor, then I would kill him just as I had killed every other fool who thought that he could match Subject Delta in a death match. I did not care what form of providence or supernatural force protected an individual. If he or she could bleed, I could kill them.

As we continued forward, I noticed a woman that was fixated on the door that I had just been looking at. The middle aged woman was wearing a long sleeve white buttoned shirt with a black collar and black cuffs. She was wearing a simple but stylish black skirt with a belt that drew attention to her thin waist. Her legs were covered with black fishnet stockings and she was wearing black high-heeled shoes. Around her neck, she wore a red ribbon and a pendent that had a white bird, which resembled a dove, in the center of a purple background.

She had a fair white complexion with two small but still noticeable blemishes on her right cheek that added character to her face rather than deducting from it. Her dark brown hair was cut in the short but stylish manner that was popular among the middle and upper class women in Rapture. Her cheeks were slightly pronounced but not enough to deduct from her feminine beauty. Her dark red lips were drawn tight in an expression of intense focus.

However, it was her blue eyes that drew my attention. The edge in them as she glared at the door unnerved me slightly. Whoever this woman was, she intended to inflict great ill upon DeWitt. I wanted to feel sympathy for Booker but, judging by the look of cold calculation in the woman's otherwise enchanting eyes, the man did not deserve it. Whatever pain DeWitt had caused this woman, she would show him no mercy when the time came to pay back the debt he owed her.

Her eyes softened ever so slightly as we passed into her line of sight. What I could only describe as sympathy entered her expression as she idly followed us with her eyes while I made my way past her. I was struck by the nature of the sympathy that she held for us. Rather than the sympathy that we normally received, which was for being what we were, a Big Daddy and a Little Sister that had been forced into those roles, the mysterious woman had sympathy for who we were, Subject Delta and Eleanor Lamb.

As grateful as I was that at least one person saw the human beings that we still were rather than the monsters that we had been transformed into, I was uneasy with her inexplicable knowledge of us. How did she know us? I was certain that I had never seen her before. Perhaps, she knew Eleanor somehow? That must have been it. She knew Eleanor and had simply recognized her despite her Little Sister appearance. Maybe she was a sympathetic supporter or even a committed ally of Eleanor's incarcerated mother.

However, I dismissed that possibility. The look in her eyes told a different story. The knowledge that she possessed about us was borderline intimate. How? As infamous as we had become to the citizens of Rapture, public knowledge about us was superficial at best. To the rest of Rapture, we were simply Subject Delta and Eleanor by title rather than name. We were a curiosity, nothing more. However, this woman knew us enough to have been our long lost best friend and confidant.

The entire encounter lasted little more than a few seconds. Moving forward, I continued past the woman and made my way towards the elevator that would take us to High Street. I knew where Eleanor wanted to go because I had promised to take her there nearly a month prior. I would have taken her there sooner if the conflict between Atlas and Ryan had not created an ever increasing demand of Plasmids and Gene Tonics. Finally, with New Year's Eve mere days away, we had finally gotten our chance.

Even when we were far away from the woman, I continued to sense her presence. Was she following us? Frightening everyone around us, I wheeled around with my drill revved up. I did not know what the woman's motives were but I would be damned before I let her harm my Eleanor. However, when I turned around to face behind us, she was not amongst the fleeing citizens. In fact, she was nowhere to be found. How was that possible? My Protector Instincts had never been wrong before. I had been certain that she had been following us.

I powered down my drill and stood there scanning the area very carefully in case she had simply been hiding, had used a Houdini Teleportation Plasmid, or had used a Peeping Tom Plasmid. The latter two left a telltale mark in the air if one knew what to look for. In addition to the telltale mark in the air that had been learned by my kind to counter it, The Peeping Tom Plasmid was virtually useless against the true Big Daddies of the Alpha Series due to our psychological bonds to our daughters, who could still "see" the user due to their ability to smell the ADAM of the splicer.

Eleanor chirped, "Yay! You rescued me from the spooky lady, Daddy! Come on, let's hurry before they close." While I was not convinced that I had chased off our pursuer, I did not want to disappoint my beautiful daughter. I let out a threatening roar for good measure before I turned back around and then continued towards our destination. If that woman wanted a fight, the monster inside of me would be happy to oblige. I would kill her just like any other threat to my charge. They could use whatever little tricks that they fancied and warped themselves into whatever little freak shows that their hearts desired. It did not matter to me. They all died just the same.

Nearly half an hour later, I entered the retail clothing establishment named Maison Vosges in the upper class market area of High Street. The Italian shopkeeper started to greet us in a sophisticated tone but then paused when he saw us. Ignoring his lack of manners, I lowered my enormous frame down onto my left knee to allow Eleanor to safely dismount. My daughter jumped down and I returned to standing upright. Eleanor excitedly ran up to the shopkeeper and addressed him after first bowing in a courtly manner, "Buon giorno, signore. Voglio sfogliare la selezione di abiti." (Good day, sir. I want to browse the selection of dresses.)

I had no idea what she had said exactly, but I knew that it had been something along the lines of wanting to look through the store's dresses. However, the shopkeeper clearly understood her but hesitated and looked back further into his store at the already present patrons that were glancing at us and then at him with looks of disapproval. So, was that the game that the rich pricks wanted to play? Well, two could play at that game.

I retrieved the, rather large, collection of money from the hollow compartment along my weighted diving belt. The money clip was stretched as far as it could go as it strained to hold the pieces of legal tender together. I hardly ever used the currency that I collected so I had amassed a substantial amount of wealth that rivaled even that of the most powerful individuals in Rapture. I had most of it in my locker at Fontaine Futuristics but I carried around a respectable amount of it in case a situation arose.

Holding the money clip in my gauntlet-encased left hand, I raised it up so that the shopkeeper could see it. My message was clear: if he treated my Eleanor with the respect that she deserved, we could both profit from this like civilized adults. He gave me the most subtle of nods and then addressed Eleanor, "Sì, signora. Un momento." He turned and then addressed the other patrons, "This establishment has been reserved for a private function. I must ask you to leave, now."

With expressions of shock etched on their faces, the upper class pricks began to leave the store. The shopkeeper then turned back to Eleanor and addressed her in a chivalrous manner, "Vieni con me, signorina Eleanor."

He began to lead her towards the section of dresses that were more of her size. Being ever polite, Eleanor replied, "Grazie per il vostro tempo, signore."

Without looking back, the man assured her, "Non c'è problema, signora." I followed behind them but stayed far enough away to let Eleanor have her space. For what seemed like hours, she slowly browsed the store's dresses while I patiently remained vigilant for signs of trouble. To the shopkeeper's credit, he never diverged from his chivalrous mannerisms. I would have even gone so far as to suggest that he actually enjoyed conversing with her. Who could blame him though? Eleanor was always very charming.

Finally, she entered a dressing room to try on her selections. When she came out, I was stunned by her new appearance. The bland blue and white Little Sister dress and simple crude black shoes that she had been wearing before had been replaced by a beautiful white dress and matching white shoes that, combined with her flawless frost grey skin, gave her a surreal angelic appearance. While I maintained my emotionless facade, in reality I was using all my willpower to keep from melting.

She smiled brightly as she spun around for me to take in her new appearance. I smiled beneath my armored face. My daughter certainly deserved to have clothing that was just as beautiful as she was. When she finally stopped spinning, she asked, "What do you think, Daddy?"

I replied, "You're very beautiful, Eleanor."

She giggled while she raised her balled hands up to her cheeks for a moment before she said, "Thank you, Daddy."

Later, after purchasing her new outfit, we were leaning against the railing of the nearby path while we looked at the splendor of the surrounding seascape through one of the many giant glass windows located around High Street. The bioluminescence of the surrounding sea life and the lights of the city combined to create a truly humbling sight that was unlike anything found on the surface.

Below us on our left, I noticed the bizarre spectacle of business suited-men wearing bunny masquerade masks that were shifting their postures ever so often while they stood on top of separate columns in front of Sander Cohen's private Neverland called "Garden of Muses". It was an invitation only type of establishment. I mentally scoffed. Cohen was living proof that sometimes an individual was not an artist, he was just psychologically disturbed.

However, sometimes, I got the impression that Cohen's behavior was just a front that he used to hide a more sinister personality. It would be along the same thought process of being so overt that you are covert. After all, Rapture's Law Enforcement officials seemed to want to have so little to do with the "mad artist" that they outright refused to investigate the rumors that Cohen ran, among other things, a child slavery ring.

According to Eleanor, the rumors were true. It had been Cohen that mediated her purchase by the orphanage after she had been kidnapped. Luckily, due to what was Cohen's own twisted definition of "professional curtsey", he sold Eleanor to the orphanage rather than keeping her for his own sick purposes as a "favor" to Sofia Lamb. Eleanor said that Cohen saw Sofia as an "artist of the mind" and had told my daughter, while she was in his care, that he would not violate the child of a fellow artist. Cohen only believed in violating a fellow competitor, not a fellow competitor's child.

Presently, a giant squid passed within inches of the exterior of the glass window as it swam past the building. From where she was sitting on top of my massive left arm that I had positioned to be like a perch for her, Eleanor giggled with delight before she commented, "Whoa!" Then, she asked, "Are there animals that big on the surface, Daddy?"

I replied, "Not in length. On the surface, organisms are affected by gravity more so than they would be in the ocean. So, they get heavier rather than bigger size wise. The biggest animal on the surface that I know of is the elephant and they are very impressive to see in person."

My master said, "Oh, I've read about those. My books said that they are six tons!"

I laughed with repeated grunts before I remarked, "I would not argue with that. They are huge and very strong animals."

Eleanor teased, "Stronger than you, Daddy?"

I smirked and then replied, "Nothing is stronger than your old man, Eleanor."

She clapped in delight at my response, causing me to laugh slightly. However, her tone change to one of longing when she commented, "I would like to see a real elephant on the surface."

I assured her, "You will, Eleanor. I promise I will find a way for us to escape someday."

"I know a way to escape."

Turning my entire body to the left, I found the mysterious woman from earlier standing before us. How had she sneaked up on me like that? It did not seem possible. Not even Houdini Splicers had ever gotten the drop on me like this woman had. Even more troubling was that she had understood me when I had spoken to Eleanor. What was she? I lowered Eleanor to the ground and then roared threateningly at the possible threat to my charge while I entered a combat stance with my drill at the ready. Meanwhile, Eleanor stood behind my right leg as she peered out to look at the woman from around the side of it.

The woman raised her hands up as if she was surrendering and said, "That will not be necessary Mister Topside. My name is Elizabeth and I am in need of your help."

Eleanor cried, "No Daddy. Spooky lady!"

Elizabeth asked, "Why am I spooky, Eleanor?"

My master, frightened back into her Little Sister mannerisms, replied with her edged Gatherer tone, "One of these things does not belong! Equals bad! You bad! Bad spooky lady!"

Elizabeth smiled and then said, "Eleanor, I am here to find my friend's cat...my friend's name is Schrödinger. Perhaps…you have seen Schrödinger's cat?"

Eleanor was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her Little Sister mannerisms had vanished and her voice was once again British accented. She replied with a tone that indicated that she was unconvinced of whatever it was that Elizabeth had claimed, "Maybe…but if that were true then you would be here but you would also not be here."

Having absolutely no idea what the two were talking about, I simply continued to ensure that Elizabeth stayed a safe distance away from my Eleanor. The mysterious woman smiled again and reached into one of her pockets. Seconds later, she withdrew a strange silver coin that I had never seen before but vaguely reminded me of a silver dollar. Holding it between her left index finger and thumb in a way that Eleanor could only see one of the flat sides of the coin due to her perspective, she said, "I see tails…"

Eleanor remarked, "…but I see heads."

Elizabeth then rotated the coin so the opposite was now true and said, "And now, I see heads…"

Eleanor remarked with a tone that indicated that her stance on the matter had slightly shifted towards believing the woman, "…but now I see tails."

Elizabeth then rotated the coin again, but this time she stopped it when only the thin side was visible to both of them. She said, "Now, the coin is…"

Eleanor, with a tone that indicated that she was nearly convinced that Elizabeth was telling the truth, finished, "stuck between heads and tails…superposition." The older brunette smiled once again and raised her right hand so that we could see her fingers properly. I heard Eleanor gasp quietly. I saw it too.

Part of Elizabeth's pinky was gone as if it had been severed when she was very young and then had healed as best it could. However the cut had been so clean that the only thing that came to my mind was a surgical blade. I did not delude myself into believing that I even remotely understood what this woman was or whatever mind boggling reason allowed her to exist. However, if she was what she said she was, then her offer of knowledge on how to escape might also be true.

Eleanor moved to stand in front of me and asked, "You know a way that we can escape?"

Elizabeth replied, "Yes. If you help me, it will be your payment."

I asked with my Alpha Series voice, "What do you want?"

Elizabeth turned and walked to the railing. She leaned against it while she had both of her hands placed on top of it. Looking towards the glass windows, she explained, "There is a man here in Rapture that does not belong…"

Realizing that my suspicions had been correct, I asked, "Booker DeWitt?"

Her voice filled with anger, Elizabeth corrected me, "He is not Booker! Booker is dead. His name is Comstock."

Already having a good idea where this conversation was going, I asked, "What do you want with Comstock?"

The brunette explained with a cold, emotionless tone, "I am planning on luring him into a trap. There is a girl that he is attached to named Sally. He lost her gambling at Sir Prize. He thinks that she is dead but really, she was kidnapped and turned into a Little Sister…just like you Eleanor. New Year's Eve, I want you to follow us and when I have lured him into the trap, I want you to kill him. Do that, and the knowledge on how to escape will be yours."

Eleanor asked, "Why us?"

Elizabeth replied, "What do you mean?"

My daughter explained, "You seem the resourceful type. Why not just hire some of the desperate people of Apollo Square or some of Ryan's guards that are looking for some extra cash on the side? Surely you could find some people that are willing to do this for you. You risked my Daddy attacking you just to talk to us. Why?"

Looking back towards us, Elizabeth explained, "How do I put this? Comstock is not your average mark. He is a very dangerous man and I have watched even the strongest of fighters fail to kill him. I am not leaving Rapture as long as he is alive. He has to die and very reliable sources have informed me that you, Subject Delta, are the one man in Rapture that is a match for him."

Who was this man? A mere private investigator that was so dangerous that a woman, who was apparently hell bent on killing him, had risked being violently torn apart just to enlist the aid of the original and strongest Big Daddy and his bonded Little Sister in order to kill him made no sense. Rapture was full of hardened criminals and professional killers. Surely, this woman could have found someone else.

I did not like any part of this purposed arrangement. For all I knew, it was a trap by Sofia to reclaim Eleanor. What was to say that she would not betray us once the deed had been done? Maybe she was simply a crafty splicer and this was all some unnecessarily complicated set up to get the ADAM out of Eleanor. There was more to this. There had to be more to this. Any of the lumbering Tin Men would have been more than enough to kill Comstock. Why us?

I confronted her, "You're lying, ma'am. If you are taking us for fools, let me assure you that we are not. You want our help? Then you are going to have to level with us. Otherwise, keep walking and find some other sobs to do your dirty work."

Elizabeth left the railing and stood before us. The brunette said with a plain tone, "Comstock took someone very important away from me, okay? I would have thought that you two, of all people, would be able to understand my pain."

Eleanor gasped and then remarked, "Booker was…"

Elizabeth interrupted, "…my father. My true father. You remind me of him, Johnny Topside. I can see that you truly love your daughter and that she truly loves you. That is why I have gone to such lengths to enlist your help. I want to help ensure that you two avoid the same fate as my father and I. However, if you wish to tempt the cruel algorithm of possibility, then by all means, I will leave."

If this was an elaborate setup, then its architects deserved more than all of the ADAM in Rapture. Something bad was in store for Eleanor and I in the future. As her Protector, I had to ensure that no harm ever came to her. That meant pursuing every possible opportunity to gain an edge over fate regardless of how absurd the circumstances around them were.

Eleanor turned and looked up at me with her trusting eyes. The thought of failing her hardened my resolve. What was wrong with me? I was her father, her guardian. A way to protect my perfect angel was being handed to me on a silver platter! How could I not accept Elizabeth's offer? However, there was one final concern that was troubling me.

Eleanor, sensing my agreement through our bond, turned to face Elizabeth and then informed her, "We will accept your offer on the condition that Sally is not to be harmed."

The brunette assured us, "I give you my word that Sally will not be harmed."

Eleanor replied, "We are at your service then, Miss DeWitt."

Elizabeth smiled and then said, "Thank you. Now, it is best that we are not seen together again until New Year's Eve. I trust that you will be able to handle your end without me?"

I grunted, "Don't worry about that. Just get Comstock cornered and I will handle the rest."

She nodded and then departed from us without a word. Eleanor turned back to face me. Smiling, she said, "Come on, Daddy. Let's go home." I grunted in agreement and began to lower myself down onto my left knee so that she could climb up to ride on my back. After my master was situated, I stood and began to make my way towards a suitable spot for Eleanor to sleep curled up against my chest while I rested myself. Lately, she outright refused to sleep anywhere else, even the vents.

My mind was racing at the possibility of escaping Rapture with Eleanor. With any luck, this little job would be straightforward and then we could escape. It would be very easy to escape while the city was recovering from its post-New Year's Eve hangover. All I had to do was follow the pair and then kill Comstock. Once I did that, we would be free from Rapture forever.