A long, desperate scream echoed throughout the empty hallways of a long forgotten building. Hidden from the bustling hub of an underwater city known as Rapture, the building was being used as a torture chamber. Innocent men and women, lured into what they thought was an innocent experiment, only to find out that they were in for a whole lot more than an overnight stay to test out a new plasmid. Here, scientists had caught wind of an experiment done by a woman named Rosalind Lutece. During her experimenting with what were to be known as "tears," she unknowingly had created a small portal from Columbia to Rapture. The scientists stumbled upon this tear, and proceeded to eavesdrop on Madame Lutece and her experiment. Eventually, the tear was closed. Frustrated, the scientists wanted to recreate this phenomena. They took the bits and pieces of what they had overheard, and began to lure in "volunteers" to test on. The experiment has only gotten out of hand since then. 

The screams continue, coming from the gut of one man who had been pushed to his limits. Weeks of experimentation had taken its toll on him. The scientists were relentless, angered by their failed attempts. They continued to push each person the the breaking point, and each day people would lie lifeless on the floors of their cells. Families had no idea what had happened to their loved ones. Questions went unanswered, and the scientists continued to torture the victims with painful and cruel experimentation. Weakened and defeated, the man was thrown back into a makeshift cell where he lay on a cold, hard floor. [i]No more...[/i] He slowly slipped out of consciousness, and lay broken and bruised on the ground. 

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It was a bright, sunny morning in the floating city of Columbia. All of the citizens had risen and done their morning prayers before carrying on with morning routines. Kennedy McIntire had awoke with the rest of her town, no real way to avoid it with Comstock's voice blaring through the streets, preaching nonsense at the people. She shook her head and sighed, and then rose to prepare herself for the day. 

It had been a year now since her father was killed, but everyday she was reminded of it. It didn't hit her as hard these days, but his memory was something she intended on preserving, and that included the Knights. It had started out as a rag-tag bunch of people who took jobs that needed to be swept under the rug. But it has evolved into something more now, with Kennedy at the lead. More members have joined the ranks, many young and ambitious. The Knights of Songbird are a respectable society, known for their willingness to help those in need, whether it be a small task or a big problem. 

Kennedy walked out of her small home into the streets of Columbia, where people were already bustling around. In her hand she held several posters, intended to alert her fellow members of the next meeting, but in a discreet way. She walked down the street and pasted one of the posters on a building in the square. On it was an image of Songbird, and under the picture was a quote: "The Songbird flies where the soldiers fight. Join him in protecting Columbia." Kennedy knew that her trusted Knights would understand the coded message, and she knew most of the regular Joes' would pass it off as a patriotic homage. 

She made her way down the street towards Soldier's Field, pasting her posters on walls and benches as she went...