It's a rather muggy afternoon, here in Purgatory. You can feel the humidity in the air, with every shallow gulp. It's like walking into the shower room of a pay-by-the-day gym (with the same feeling of hopelessness, and half-assed effort to better yourself as well). It's rank, and the tunnels are not as clean as you remember. You hear the pitter-patter of the new batch of Rescues foot steps, as they splash in the puddles of condensation.

You recall the day you were a Rescue. Young, and petrified. Yet, somehow, relief had flushed over you. You're above the Atlantic Ocean's darkest secret. A once beautiful city, that was free of judgment, and poverty. A place that (at one point in time) was a miracle of science, and discovery. A city named Rapture.

Well, It was a city. Now it was slowly destructing, beneath the very vessel you stood on. You remembered the man you hardly knew, that gave his life, just to free you, and your beloved big sister of that wretched place. A man whom you vaguely remembered.

As your path to a safe heaven rocked, like tree branches in the wind, you remember your manors. Your big sister has saved you.She is bringing you to a place she calls 'haven'. Well "Our Heaven", more-like-it. You think of all the many things you wish to say to her. All the different ways you could make her feel like the savior she was. As you pushed past he crowd of your peers, the words start to vanish, like ghosts. Suddenly the only thing you can manage is a smile.

She looks down at you, and you remember your only possession. You hand her a burlap doll, stuffed with the cushion from the bed in your old room. It looked like him. The helmet, with glass eyes, the boots, even the drill. He had been her Daddy. Her protector. Now they are one. Living together, as they always wished they could, all the time Lamb had locked her away.

She takes the doll, with a gentle hand. The smile she gives you, is the most gratifying of all. It said a thousand words, it shrouded your insecurities with the love you had only felt from your daddy. You shed a tear, in his memory. He was and angel now. Poor Mr. B. You wipe your eyes on your apron. You know that Mr. B hated when you cried. You then look up to your lighthouse in the fog. Your guardian Angel. Eleanor was going to bring you home. To a new home. To "Our heaven".