BioShock Rapture

She was startled from her fumination by a commotion outside. Several men with shotguns were shouting at the crowd of unemployed. They seemed to be getting them organized into a line. To her surprise, the ragtag crowd passively lined up …

Then a man came striding onto the scene, followed by several others carrying large baskets. The man in the lead somehow drew all eyes to himself. He was a handsome figure of a man with a fine head of hair, a mustache, a cleft chin, and broad shoulders. He dressed like a workingman—with a white shirt, sleeves rolled up; suspenders; simple work trousers; boots. But he carried himself like a man in charge. Yet there was no harsh edge of authority about him. His expression was kindly, compassionate, as he took a basket from the man behind him, began quietly passing out things to the people in line. The first one, a woman with gray-streaked hair and a lined face, a tattered frock, took a package, and Diane could read the woman’s trembling lips: “Thank you. Oh thank you…”

He spoke briefly to her, patted her arm, and then passed on to the next in line, personally handing out a pair of shoes; a sack that seemed to brim with canned goods.

Could this really be Atlas?

The waitress came to Diane’s tables, asked in a bored voice, “You want some more of what passes fer coffee around here, honey, or what?”

“What I’d really like…” Diane took a ten-dollar bill—with Ryan’s picture on it—and tucked it into the woman’s apron pocket. “Is to know if that man out there is who I think it is…”

The waitress looked around nervously, looked into her apron pocket, then nodded. With a lowered voice she said, “Him … he calls himself Atlas. Only t’ing I know: the lady lives down the hall from me wouldn’t have nothing to eat, weren’t for him. He’s helping people, that one. Gives out free stuff every week. Talks about a new order.”

The waitress hurried off, and Diane turned to stare out the window at the man called Atlas. He was gentle but powerful— the kind of man she truly wanted to meet …

She hesitated. Did she dare go out and talk to Atlas? Suppose Andrew were having her watched?

It was too late. There was shouting, an alarm on the concourse outside the café—constables were coming. Atlas waved at his charges—and then hurried off around the corner. Her chance was gone.

But she made up her mind. One way or another, she would meet this man …

She would stand face-to-face with Atlas.

Fort Frolic Shooting Gallery

1958

They were alone in the long, narrow shooting gallery, firing at man-shaped targets. The air smelled of gunsmoke; brass littered the floor. Bill stood just behind his wife, looking over her shoulder. “That’s it, love—take aim and shoot ’im right between the eyes.”

Elaine winced and lowered the revolver. “Do you have to put it that way, Bill? Between the eyes? It’s just a paper target…”

Bill McDonagh grinned ruefully. “Sorry, darlin’, but—you said you wanted this for self-defense! And those rogue splicers don’t play around—” He put his hand on her shoulder and added more gently, “If you’re going to defend yourself against them, you’ve got to shoot to kill. I know it’s bloody awful. It’s been hard for me to shoot at these blokes too…”

Elaine took a deep breath, raised the gun at the end of her arm, clasped it with both hands, and aimed at the silhouette at the other end of the shooting gallery.

She grimaced and squeezed the trigger, blinking as the gun went crack.

Bill sighed. She missed the target completely. “Right. This time, let out a long breath before you fire, squeeze the trigger gently, like, and—”

“Oh Bill…” Elaine lowered the gun, her lips quivering, eyes welling with tears. “This is so horrible. Having to … Mr. Ryan never said it’d be like this…”

Bill glanced at the door to see if anyone was listening. They seemed to be alone. But you never knew for sure anymore …

“Bill … it’s just … I can’t raise Sophie here, in a place where I have to…”

He put his arm around her. “I know, love. I know.”

She put her face on his shoulder and wept. “I want to leave Rapture…” she whispered.

“Elaine … darlin’ … got to be careful where you talk like that…” He licked his lips, thinking, Listen to me. Turning into a craven bastard. “One thing at a time, love. Thing is—Fontaine’s gone but … word is, Atlas is making some kind of deal with the rogue splicers. He’s got a lot of ADAM stored up, somewhere. Got ’em workin’ for him. And he’s going to make some kind of move—he’s not just handing out food and pamphlets, love. All of us on this side of the fence—we’re going to have to defend ourselves. It’s more dangerous out there than ever…”