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Andrew Ryan wanted to create a city under the ocean, a utopia where others like him could escape the "parasites" of the surface. So, he had this done.
But, it is quite hard to build a city without anyone taking notice.
Unfortunatly for him, the US government did.
FBI headquarters, Washington DC, 1946.
"Andrew Ryan has been transfering massive amounts of money to Wales and Wales archituctural firm lately." said Robert Green. Green had been assigned to basicly follow every montery move Ryan made.
"What's Wales and Wales?" his partner, Ben Jenson asked.
"They are a pretty low level firm, specializing in art deco designs."
"What? Ryan wants to build some new art deco skyscraper or something?"
"No way. 5 million just to build a single building? Looks like he's building an entire town."
"Still, Rob, I don't know if this is big enough to justify an investigation."
Lately, Ryan had begun a mass burst of anti-government rants, whuch made the government fear the fact that he was leading some sort of rebellion. Mass money transfer seemed to be a popular trend with him nowadays.
The truth, though, was much bigger.
North Atlantic, 1947.
Truth. That was a funny thing for Jenson. A few massive money transfers from Ryans massive bank accounts had led the FBI to a city under the sea. Rapture, he believed it was called. The government didn't want any action taken, yet. They wanted to see if Ryan's little city would turn into something big. If not, it would be better to simply leave it alone at let it flounder by itsel,f then move in. But they needed someone on the inside to tell them what was the deal with the place.
That man happaned to be Jenson.
When the FBI was informed of a Rapture recrutier in DC looking for workers, the FBI swiftly produced fake documents to make it look as if Jenson was just another blue collar working man. Perfect. A few days later, Jenson was in. Now, it was time for him to make the decent into Rapture. He was given a few supplies, a camera, about $1,000 USD, and a pistol, in case he was "compromised." His job was to work on Rapture's first metro system, the Atlantic Expresss, and had already secured an apartment in Artemis Suites, in the main residential district of Olympus Heights.
He was to find a way to send letters back to FBI HQ at least every week in order to report on the progress of Ryan's underwater city. This would be especially difficult, since Ryan allowed no surface contact whatsoever. If he found out that he was an FBI agent, he would probably be dead faster than you could say " Surface Agent."
On his first day in Rapture, he was introduced to his new apartment. He was told that he would most likely be sharing it with a few other families, all in seperate rooms. His suite was clean and comfortable, complete with a den and kitchen. On his first day at work, he was to drain a partially built tunnel which had filled almost all the way with water. Just keep this up for a few months, no one would suspect a thing. It soon came time for the first of his weekly reports. He kept it brief, as Rapture had only begun to get on its feet. He wrote:
New apartment is very clean and spacious. 'Am currently the only one in my room. Earning $3.30 per hour. Should be enough to sustain myself for a while. USD is not accepted. Hope this letter reaches the surface.
He paid a smuggler, which were already beggining to crop up in the city due to the fact that people needed some comfort items from the surface not available in Rapture. It cost him 40 Rapture Dollars. Considring he earnded 70 RD a week, he'd have to find another source of income. Nothing illegal or he may be compromised.
The weeks went by and the reports were all similiar. No jobs in his reach were available. Jobs were filling up quickly. A month soon passed. It would be 1948 soon. He recieved a letter from the FBI. He was told that weird things were happening near Rapture's location. Ships reported equipment failures. Entire boats missing. NATO had even started to shift shipping lines around Rapture's location. The US government had kept the find of Rapture a secret and had not informed anyone lese of its existance.
Towards the end of 1947, Jenson had taken a walk to Neptune's Bounty, the partially built fishing district of Rapture, to take a few pictures of the submarines docked there. On his way back, he bumped into a woman hurrying out of the district. "Sorry, miss!" Jenson said shortly after he ran into her. "I'm in a world of my own!" Thw woman checked her belongings and said "It is no problem, mister." In broken english. She had a heavy accent, a mixture of German and Eastern European. She had long brown hair that looked as if it hadn't been brushed in a while. She was also carrying some sort of sealed glass jar wrapped in a cloth. Inside was some murky water and what looked like something alive sloshing around in it. Maybe she had just picked up a package from a smuggler. "Well, you have a nice day, miss." Jenson said as he tipped his hat and eyed the jar with suspision. Noticing this, she quickly tightned the cloth around it, laughed nervously, and walked quickly away. Crazies these days. he thought.
The next report, he noted the strange run in the woman, but that was the highlight of the week. 1948 dragged in and continued. Nothing special happaned for weeks, and even months on end. Rapture was expanding every day. Jenson's pay was being docked every so often due to Ryan's Free Market ideals. He was recieving barely enough to live on, let alone send letters to the surface. Soon, a new family moved into his apartment.