Jack barely made it out alive from the Smuggler's Hideout. He couldn't believe what happened to Atlas…his family. They were blown to bits like fireworks on the fourth of July. The Irishman sobbed over the radio as Jack tried his best to comfort him.

Now he was in Arcadia. It seemed odd to him with flowers and plants in the bottom of the ocean, even trees! The smell of some sweet aroma floated in the air. It reeked of roses and newly grown grass. Jack was standing in front of a poster.

Who is Atlas?

Jack wondered really. There was an itch in the back of his brain telling him something was suspicious, but he couldn't put his finger on it. There was something wrong. Narrowing his eyes, he took a glance at the poster with a man standing proud and hands on his hips. He always wanted to see who Atlas really was, and what he looked like.

"You might hear things about me, see my name about. Think what you will. There was a time when I cared about politics, but it's just an excuse men use to kill one another. I'm done with all that. I just want to see the sunlight again."

A quiet voice came from the radio. Jack almost jumped out of his skin. He's never seen his friend like this…or rather, heard. But even as his sorrow grew for the man, Jack's suspicion couldn't help but grow. 'A time I cared about politics?' Something didn't seem right to him at that moment.

Jack couldn't find the words for the bitter scene. He bit his tongue in frustration, glancing around the huge garden. At that second he felt uneasy, like someone was watching him. He heard the soft paddle of footsteps behind him, crushing the grass beneath them. Jack took a look over his shoulder and saw nothing.

Must my mind playing tricks on me…

He laughed tiredly, running the back of his hand over his forehead. Jack was jittery with everything he had done. He felt a hand on his shoulder as fear struck him.

"Hello beautiful," said the cracked voice behind him. Jack grimaced, his eyes widening. His hands tightened around the red monkey wrench and his head snapped back to see a tall man wearing what seemed to be a wooden made mask and a trench coat dipped in crimson blood…though it didn't even surprise Jack anymore.

The young man raised the wrench and threw it on the mysterious splicer's head. He swore he heard a crack and then the man was gone in a cloud of red dust. His heart thumped too closely into his throat as he heard the same voice laughing at him. Jack snapped his head towards the stairwell when he saw the splicer glance at him then ran like a bat out of hell. Jack ran up the rotten steps as he reached a large room.

He couldn't tell what it was -- a storage room or a makeshift lab? It had grass and vines growing everywhere, forgotten by everyone. There was a cross space in the middle of the room. Jack raised a brow as he bent down and glanced in. It had the same Atlas posters with a round of pistol bullets. The man happily took the ammo and hastily pushed it into his torn pocket. He heard a noise behind him as he saw a glimpse of the same red dust as before.

Jack gritted his teeth as he dug his feet in the dirt as he turned around to face the splicer. It stood there smug as could be with a hand in the air, ready to throw something at him. He saw fire come from its finger tips like Incinerate, and in a form of a ball came whistling past his face, barely missing his hair. Jack ran and swung the wrench again to its head. The splicer threw its hand in the air as it fell lifelessly to the ground, making a dull thud in the overgrown grass. Jack let out a deep breath as he loomed over the splicer, wrinkling his nose when it reeked of wine and copper. He decided it wasn't worth his time as he began to search the room. It had almost brown looking pumpkins scattered everywhere and various posters advertising this and that ripped from the walls in a fit of insane, mad rage.

Jack bit his bottom lip as he saw nothing of use in the room. Not a thing. He sighed heavily and walked through an open door that led to a balcony.

The balcony didn't have a bad view. It hung over plants and benches. It was beautiful actually, if the place was a little livelier and safe. He saw a female splicer down the path, mumbling to herself about her daughter's wedding and something about a minister. She screamed to herself -- unaware to Jack's presence. He started to jog towards the once beautiful woman, raising the bloody wrench and connecting it to her skull. She fell to the ground like the others. He turned his head the other way, running down a flight of stairs.

Jack noticed he was in an entrance in the gardens, Arcadia it was called from what he's seen. The entrance wasn't in better shape either. It had overgrown plants covering the walls. He walked quietly to the open doors, sliding a bruised hand over the cold peeling walls. He saw a corpse lying on a bench and vines hanging from all directions. He heard a distant scream and the rumble of a Big Daddy, ready to give its life for the person he was to protect until the end of time. He felt a cold wind fall over him as uncomfortable silence replaced the noise. He closed his eyes for a minute -- thinking if everything he's been doing was worth it or not...if it really mattered or benefited anyone. The young man frowned, seeing a paradise that never was.

Jack mused to himself that Rapture was a once beautiful place, a secret to the world.