In a quaint, 2 story San Francisco home, lived a family. A man, his wife, and their 5 five daughters. This is the Ryan family, Jack Ryan, a policeman, Brigid Ryan, a Biology professor, and their 5 girls, Samantha, Rebecca, Anita, Alexis, and Laura. Jack never told anyone how he and his wife really meet. He always claimed that she immigrated from Germany and he meet her while on the job. He also claimed that all of his girls were adopted. This was the only truth to his tale. In reality, they met in the secret underwater city of Rapture, fell in love during his journey through the city, returned to the surface together, and were married in 1960.

Sometime in 1968, little girls were being kidnapped all over the world and no one knew why. Brigid Ryan may have know why. One day, while Jack was patroling the city, she sat home with not much to do. It was a Saturday, weekend at the University of California. She graded a a stack of essays written by her students, but then had no other work to do. She picked up a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle left on a table and glanced at the Headline: "LITTLE GIRLS AROUND THE WORLD KIDNAPPED AT RANDOM; NO KNOWN SUSPECTS." She read on, reading about how the kidnappings took place near coastal areas, strange red lights seen in the water, the swift and often soundless kidnappings, and the similiar description of the girls: Between 5 and 9 years old, caucasian, and relativaly small stature. Something seemed erieely familar about the discription of these girls. She glanced at one of her girls, Samantha, who was laying on the couch, reading a magazine. No, it can't be possible, surely not! she thought. Is someone making new Little Ones on that aweful city again?

Later that night, she discussed her fears with Jack, who waved them off. "I don't see how it is possible. Who is still sane enough to do something that complex any more? Forget about it, it must just be some incredible conicidence." She wasn't convinced. There must be some connection.

Over the next few weeks, she secretly researched everything she could about the kidnappings, getting in touch with the victim's kin and other investigators. One man intrigued her the most. He was Mark Meltzer, who lost his daughter, Cindy, while on vacation in Montauk, Long Island. He showed her some evidence he gained from his extensive research into his daughters disapperence, which also confirmed her worst fears. Everything pointed to Rapture being where these kidnapped girls went. She had no choice. She had to return.

The next night, as she was preparing to go to bed, she couldn't stop thinking about what was going on in that horrid place. As she walked to bed, Jack noticed the concerned expression on her face. He looked up from the book he was reading and said "I know that face. Don't tell me you are still thinking of those kidnappings." Jack said."

"But that's the thing, dear. I am." she responded as she climbed into bed next to him.

"I keep telling you, they are nothing but isolated coicidences. Nothing more."

"Jack, I want to go back to the city and save them."

Jack turned to her, stunned.

"No. No you can't! You're going to risk your life on something that may or may not exist?"

"Jack, I need to. More parents are going to pay for what I've done. These girls will be doomed to a life of torment if someone doesn't save them."

"But you don't know what has happened since we left the city. It could've gotten worse."

"I need to return to the city. To stop this once and for all."

"No, no, no! I can't allow it. What if you die, or worse? How will me and the girls cope with it? Please. Think about it."

"Jack, do you love me?"

Jack looked confused for a second and said "Yes, of course I do."

"Well, if you really do love me, you'd let me return to the city."

At that moment Jack relented. He decided that it was for the better and that she was a smart and resourceful women who could take care of herself in a crisis.

The next week at San Francisco Airport, Jack and Brigid were saying their final goodbyes until she left for Rapture. Jack then swept her into a kiss. He wanted to feel it again, the sweet taste of her lips, the smell of her skin, one last time.

Later that day, Jack had an idea. One that would throw him back into a living nightmare he barely escaped.

He called an old marine buddy of his, Peter, and said: "Peter. It's Jack. I need some guns."

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