Bang. Bang. Bang.

That man certainly has a knack for disturbing your peace.

Four months, or so, since the two of you have parted ways. Well fed up with the state of Rapture, both sides—the right and the left—you couldn't bear to actively participate in the increase of the death rate, and so you've said goodbye to the revolution.

Unfortunately, you are stuck in Rapture until, well... Probably for the rest of your life, as the last bathysphere left long, long ago; Ryan's guard has increased and he monitors every (now in)accessible way out of the city.

And when Atlas shows up at the door of your office, one particular cold evening, you wish you'd have done it.

"Long time no see, ay? I got into an... icky situation. Figured I'd pay ya a visit, see. 'S not pretty."

He greets you the exact same way he was used to talking to you. Always so wry, unable to grasp the seriousness of the situation, humiliating even.

Icky, in question, means a shot wound in his side, from where blood is currently leaking onto his shirt. Atlas tries to conceal it with his hand, but blood inevitably seeps through his fingers.

With a grunt, he leans against the doorframe, and not even this state stops him from seeing right through you. His eyes travel your body up and down, as if you're just a fragment of his imagination.

His tired smile suddenly falls.

"You work for him now, don'tcha?"

He asks you, just as you are deciding to finally let him in.

You've played the part of a sorry good girl after departing from Atlas, for otherwise, Ryan would have executed you. Not that you haven't considered the possibility of beating him to it, but it technically does against the Hippocratic Oath.

Atlas eyes you with a feigned pout, readjusting his slippery palm on the bleeding spot, but he can't hold back a resentful chuckle.

"What a shame. I lost ya to that bastard."