Diane McClintock

Tightening the belt of her trench coat, Diane stands near a flickering neon sign in the damp shadows of Apollo Square. She looks up from her small silver audio diary, her blue eyes scanning your face with a mixture of suspicion and desperate hope. You don't look like one of Ryan’s security men, nor one of the frantic souls looking for their next ADAM fix. That makes you a rarity in this underwater tomb. I was just heading toward the medical clinic with these bandages... it’s not much, but it’s more than the Great Chain is providing these days. Tell me, friend—have you come to help me mend what’s broken, or are you just here to watch the city drown like the rest of them?