Burial At Sea Episode 1: What Might Have Been
Chapter 1
This is an approximation of the original storyline for Burial at Sea, as such it contains spoilers.
He heard a woman's voice. Hard to make out. "-come - -"
Then a man's. "-tear - unstable -"
"-fine - hurry!"
"-the deal -off -hear me? The deal -give her back!" A desperate voice screamed faintly.
Sounded like his voice.
He awoke coughing. Damn, had fallen asleep at his desk again. There was someone pounding on the door. Must have been what woke him up. Another bill collector?
The only light on in the room was the lamp on his desk. Some light came through the half closed blinds on the left side of the room, but the bright lights of the city outside left most of his office in shadow. The room smelled of old cigarettes and alcohol.
The door opened, allowing a flood of light in, and with that light came a woman. All he could see was her silhouette, but she had quiet the figure.
He cleared his throat. "We're closed."
The door closed, again plunging the room into shadow.
He glanced at the calendar on his desk. "December 31, 1958" it said as the woman sauntered towards the windows.
"You don't look the sort who can afford to turn down legitimate work." the woman told him.
She had a beautiful voice, but it was hard and had more than hint of dislike in it. The woman stopped by the window with her back to him and struck a pose with a cigarette held high in her left hand. She had dark shoulder length hair, white blouse with a black collar and cuffs with a black knee length skirt, fishnet stockings and high heels.
Not exactly business attire.
He coughed again, ignored the bottles of alcohol and racing forms on his desk to stand. "What do you want?"
"How about we start with a light?"
He walked over to her and she turned to face him. Still couldn't see her face that well in the darkness.
With is left hand he snapped his fingers, igniting a Devil's Kiss flame and held it out to her.
"You got a name, miss?" he asked in a measured neutral voice.
"Elizabeth."
She leaned forward to light the cigarette and he got a good look at the woman's face. First thing he saw were her eyes. Those big blue eyes were the kind a man could lose himself in. But for him, all they did was remind him of what he had lost.
This Elizabeth was younger than he had first thought, maybe 20 years old, but the pale makeup and bright red lipstick made it hard to tell. At her neck was a ribbon that matched her lips holding a silver and black pendant of a bird.
She lit the cigarettes and blew out a cloud of smoke.
"You can call me Elizabeth."
"What can I do for you?"
Elizabeth pulled out a photograph and handed it to him. "There's a girl who needs be found. Maybe you know her." As she gave him the photo he noticed she was missing part of the little finger on her right hand and had it covered with a thimble.
A glance at the photo was all he needed. "Where did you get this?" he demanded.
"Do you know her?" Elizabeth asked sternly.
He looked back to the picture, running his fingers over it. The image showed a young girl with big blue eyes hugging a teddy bear. She had dark hair tied in a ponytail and she was smiling at the camera.
"It's Anna, my.. my daughter."
"And *where* is your daughter, Mr. DeWitt?" She walked up took the photo from him as if he didn't deserve it.
"Dead. She's… dead." He couldn't keep his voice clacking a little.
"Lost." Elizabeth declared.
He started to get angry again. "Listen, I don't know what you're-"
"Lost isn't dead, but I need help to find this girl. Do this job and the debt will be cleared."
"I don't follow."
"I think you will." Elizabeth told him and coolly walked of his office without another word.
Booker stood in the dark office a moment feeling more than a little bewildered. Who was this Elizabeth? Was, could, Anna still be alive? No, she couldn't be. She was dead. He had seen…
But… but if there were even the smallest chance… No choice, there was no choice, he HAD to know, even if it meant walking into a trap.
He walked behind the desk picking up what money he had. He'd spent, no, wasted what little he had left on gambling and alcohol these past few months. He looked around the room. His unmade bed, the empty bottles, crumpled papers and dirty clothes on floor didn't make for a pleasing sight. Around the office were a couple tables, some filing cabinets, a large floor mounted heater in the corner. All the furniture had the smooth lines of Art Deco styling, even the fan on the side table was Art Deco.
If there was something to what this Elizabeth said and she left… Better catch up to her fast.
Upon opening it he was blinded for a moment by the bright lights and he heard music playing. As his eyes adjusted the first thing he saw was The Sign. It said "No Gods" "Or Kings" "Only Man." In the center of it was a stylized face with a thin mustache and receding hairline.
Andrew Ryan, Founder of the City of Rapture.
Elizabeth was leaning against the polished metal railing to the left, a slightly satisfied smirk on her face. "It seems my instincts were correct."
"Where's Anna?" he demanded.
"I don't know. But I know someone who does. Follow me." She started to turn to go down the wide curved stairway down to Market Street.
He didn't move. "What's my daughter to you?"
The woman turned back. "What I require of her is my business. But I know where to start looking. A man with your particular talents could be useful."
"What you want with my daughter certainly IS my business."
Elizabeth frowned slightly in irritation. "No harm will come to the girl from me. If you don't believe that, you can go back into your office." She turned around and strutted down the stairs.
He stood a moment thinking. "Damn it." He muttered to himself and walked down the stairs after her.
As they went down the stairs he looked out the huge glass window the city of Rapture beyond. Tall buildings full of shining lights, advertisements and walkways. A whale slowly cruised by the window obscuring the Kashmiri Restaurant across the way.
It was still fairly early, but Market Street was already busy. Women admiring babies, people reading newspapers, taking in the view, discussing philosophy, matters of the heart (or lack of) and current events. And since it was New Year's Eve, many were drinking and wore their best clothes and fanciest jewelry.
Market Street was a mix of apartment and small businesses and rather well to do. Wasn't Olympus Heights, but that was fine with him. The floors were mostly polished tile with geometric patterns in them. Some walls were made of red marble and had polished steel or brass inlays. Chairs, tables and benches were common in this part of the street and most of them allowed you to look out of the city through the multi-story window that made up one "wall" of the street.
Marge called to him as he walked past. "Hey, Booker! If you have spare time, why don't you spend some of it with me? You can even bring your friend."
He ignored her, but noticed a brief look of disgust on Elizabeth's face.
Over the speaker system an announcement about "parasites" played. He's taken to ignoring them. Most were advertisements or propaganda and he had little use for either. Played some decent music on occasion though.
The elevator was at the far end of Market Street and a bit of a walk. First thing they passed was a news kiosk with a blackboard proclaiming that "Fontaine's thugs ROT in Fontaine's Department store." in front of it. He took a few steps towards Sinclair Spirits out of habit, but stopped himself. Wouldn't be needing anything from there today. Next they past the Satyr Lounge and then it was up the curved stairway to "Little Wonders".
Before he got to the stairs, he passed two men with their arms around each other looking out the window. Huh, Robert and James seemed to be back together. While their spats make for good gossip, the two were very happy together.
Up in front of Little Wonders there were two giant statues of Little Sisters in white and red dress's playing that damn song about "being free". The statues were holding a sign that dwarfed them proclaiming "Emancipated Children, Emancipated Ideas". They couldn't walk in front of the statues because of a group of people talking loudly blocked the way.
As they went around the back of the statues, Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks. She was looking at eight young girls standing as if at attention. Four of the girls wore white and blue dresses, the others white and red. The dresses were the same style as those on the statues and they had white paint on their faces. A tall woman in black stood in front of them giving some sort of lesson.
"What happened to these children? What are they?" Elizabeth asked, clearly put off.
"Where've you been, a cabin in Arcadia? They're Little Sisters. ADAM factories." He told her flatly.
"It's grotesque." She said as all the Little Sisters turned to look at him. They were all smiling, but there was emptiness in their faces, like they really weren't there. Then they all turned back to the woman in black at the same moment, almost like a machine.
"Nothing to be done for it." He told Elizabeth as they walked around the group. He made sure to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Then it was down another flight of stairs and past the Jet Postal where several people were waiting to send packages. To the left was a Securis Door that slowly opened as the got close to it. Through a huge window they could see a massive figure in a heavy diving suit worrying some rock with a massive drill on the suit's right arm. Yellow light shined from all the small portholes on the suit's oversized helmet. Standing by the railing was a couple who were watching the worker and they wondered who or what was inside the suit. Sometimes he had wondered a little about it as well. The suit was too big for a normal person and was so heavy the floor shook when one walked past.
As he and Elizabeth continued past, the worker turned around and shot the end of the drill like a giant harpoon with a cable trailing out behind it. The Bouncer then pulled itself up after the drill using a winch built into the suit's arm.
Who, or what, was in those suits was somebody else's problem. Had more than enough of his own right now.
A man with blond hair in a dark grey suit walked up to them going the other way. It was Alex Harwich, a businessman who had sometimes made use of his services.
"Nice to see you sober, Booker. Hope it lasts." Alex told him as he gave Elizabeth an admiring look.
"She's a client" he told Alex to keep him from getting any ideas. Alex chuckled slightly, then continued on down the street.
When they got to the 907 Apartments, he took a small detour to go inside. He had an arrangement with the owners, he helped keep things quiet there and the owners made sure that things of interest got sent his way. He looked under the counter near the doors to see if there was anything in the drop and saw an Audio Diary. Always wondered why people left these things all over the place, not that he minded. He'd broke more than one case because of what he had found recorded on one of them.
He noticed there was a new photo of a missing girl on the wall. Lot of young girls gone missing in Rapture the past few months. He's been hired to try and find a few of them, but hit a brick wall. Then a day, sometimes just hours later, he would suddenly be UN-hired. Someone had leaned on the parents and leaned hard. They wouldn't even him give straight answer about who it was. He had his suspicions, but no proof. Got the feeling if he had found something, he might not have lived long enough to tell anyone.
As he walked out the doors of the apartments he played the Audio Diary.
Sander Cohen: Doing Well By Doing Good
December the 10th, 1958
Ryan's been good to me… Few are the patrons who truly understand the struggle of the artist. But even I was a little leery when he shuttered Fontaine's business and sent that bald buck to a grave deep in the briny. But when Ryan buried all of Fontaine's pals in that department store, someone had to find a home for all those freshly minted orphans. And if I turned a dollar or two in the process, you can hardly blame me for doing well by doing good.
Sander Cohen, that was the kind of person had done his best to avoid. He noticed Elizabeth looked a bit irritated. Guess she hadn't liked the side trip he had taken.
They continued up another flight stairs around a bend and past more propaganda. It was impressive the amount of time and money that Ryan had spent on it. Stupid, but impressive. A good example was the 40 foot tall waterfall made of stone with the words Art, Science, and Industry carved into it. If Ryan spent a little money in places like Artemis Suites, he wouldn't need all the propaganda.
As they passed the Andalusian Arms there was a Constable from Rapture Security walking into the lobby, Masterson he thought. The cop was dressed in a long black overcoat, boots and an oversized hat. Always thought they looked more like firemen than cops.
When they got to the steps leading up to the elevator he realized something had been bothering him about Elizabeth. "Funny."
"What?" Elizabeth asked.
"You not knowing about the Little Sisters. How long have you been in Rapture?"
"Let's just say I don't get out much." She told him as she pressed the button to call the elevator.
"You've got eyes and ears don't you?"
She turned around to face him, a hard expression on her face. "If I wanted to share my life's story Mr. DeWitt, I would write my memoirs. If I learned anything about Rapture, I thought it was a place that people understood to mind their own business."
She was up to something and he didn't like getting led around by his nose like this. "Where are we headed?"
"The man we need to see is in the Garden of the Muses."
"How do you know-"
"My sources are my own, Mr. DeWitt. If you have better information as to the whereabouts of the girl, I suggest you avail yourself of it."
As she finished speaking the elevator doors opened. He followed her inside and slammed the button to activate the elevator and it started to rise.
He wasn't going to let it go that easily. "Where are you taking me."
"When's the last time you saw the girl?"
"Her name is Anna." He reminded her.
Elizabeth ignored him. "She was taken from you, wasn't she?"
"How do you know all this?"
"She was taken. Down at Apollo Square and-"
"I had a meeting. It was for-" He stopped talking, she didn't need to know why he'd been down there.
She looked at him with a mixture of anger and disgust, like he had committed some unforgivable crime. Maybe he had. "What was it for Mr. DeWitt?"
"Not important now. There was a raid by Rapture Security, fighting. Anna… disappeared."
"And…"
"Four days later, cop friend of mine, Sullivan. Says they found… they found her floating in the docks."
"You see the body?"
He didn't answer.
"Did you see the body?" Elizabeth demanded.
"Yes!" He yelled back, then took a moment to collect himself. "I saw… She'd been… hit by one of the big fishing submarines. The props..."
"An unidentifiable corpse wearing the girl's dress, nothing more." She coldly informed him. "Something to convince you she was dead."
"What?" Could someone have faked Anna's death? Why? And why was this Elizabeth telling him this now?
"This world values children, not childhood." She threw her cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. "There's a profit to be made and men who make it. I'm taking you to one of them."
"Auh!" His head hurt all of a sudden. A vision of a dark ally and two figures he couldn't make out.
"Mr. DeWitt, you alright?"
"I'm fine. Just get these spells sometimes. It'll pass."
The elevator finally stopped and the doors opened. He turned and found a man in a bright white jacket and black pants. "Refreshment, sir? Madam?"
"We're fine, thanks." He told the waiter.
As he finished speaking the waiter vanished in a red and black cloud. Moments later he appeared half across the room offering a woman a light. Then he appeared at the bar to mix a drink. The Le Temps Perdu's waiters gave some of the best service in the city. Of course when you can use Plasmids to teleport and create ice for drinks, things get done fast.
Elizabeth led the way over to the left past the Robertson's Tobaccoria, Herr Schmidt was working today and nodded to him as they walked past. Guess she didn't want to take the chance he would stop for a drink with one of the many patrons already boozing it up. Still, Melvin saw him and invited him over, but he ignored the invitation.
Then they walked out into a massive atrium over 100 feet tall. To the right was a stylized statue of the city surrounded by flowing water, stairways led all over the place and long green or red banners hung from the ceiling with things like "Liberty" and "Commerce" on them. Everywhere was bright metal, polished red marble and brilliant lights. Unlike Market Street, High Street was all business.
Down a short flight of step directly ahead were men in masks, white jackets and dark pants standing on ten foot tall pillars. The mask the men wore were white with gold trim, like the kind used in masquerades. The odd thing about the masks was that they had large rabbit ears on them. Every few moments the men would strike a pose then change to a different one. Some kind of performance art.
The pillars and men formed path that led up to a heavy steel door with a view window in it. Looked like the door to a speakeasy in an old gangster movie. Above the door was a huge marque with the name "Cohen" on it with blinding lights all around. On top of the marque as another man in white and black changing poses like the others, a spot light at his feet cast a monstrous shadow on the curved wall behind the marque.
"Mr. DeWitt. We'll find my source inside that club." Elizabeth told him gesturing to Cohen's.
"Cohen? What does that lunatic have to do with Anna?"
Elizabeth didn't answer, but turned and walked towards the door of Cohen's club. Didn't have much choice but to follow. There was a large sign on either side of the doorway, but he ignored them. Elizabeth didn't and read the one to the right of the door out loud.
"Private Party. No entry without invitation."
"We'll see about that." He told Elizabeth as he walked up to the door and pounded on it. The small view window in the door opened after just a moment.
"Which business do you represent, sir?"
"Uh, business?" Maybe he should have read the signs after all.
The doorman became irritated. "Yes, which business?"
"DeWitt Investigations."
"Mr. Cohen does not truck with private detectives. Masks of invitation went to artists and craftsmen alone."
Elizabeth had moved up to the left side of the door, out of the line of sight of the doorman inside. "I'm with the Artist's Struggle. We're expected."
"No mask, no entry." The doorman told them stiffly and the window abruptly slammed shut.
"Not getting past that stuffed shirt." He muttered. Looking over the door it seemed to be solidly built, would need a battering ram or explosives to get through it. Not the best option, but he would blow the door down if he had to.
Elizabeth had a different idea. "These invitation-masks he spoke of - they must have gone out to local artisans."
"Well... I guess we'll have to persuade someone to loan us one."
Elizabeth went looked at the other sign and read it aloud, like he couldn't read it for himself. "The business of Rapture is business... Says it's sponsored by the Artist's Struggle, the Golden Rule, and Rapture Records."
"I guess those stores would be a good of place to start as any..."
They started walking towards The Golden Rule as it was closest.
He still wasn't sure how far he could trust this Elizabeth. Time to dig a little. "What brung you to Rapture?"
"A man" she told him.
"Really? You don't strike me as the romantic type."
"Wasn't that kind of man."
"Then what?"
"There's a debt that needs repaying."
"I've known my share of shylocks. You're no shylock." Knowing she wasn't a shylock didn't tell him who this Elizabeth was, but it was a step in the right direction.
"Wasn't that kind of debt."
They passed three people talking about the people imprisoned in Fontaine's Department store. One of the trio, a man with a Russian accent compared Fontaine's to a gulag. Support for Ryan was really slipping if people on High Street were being openly critical of him.
Then they were standing in front of the doors to the Golden Rule. Elizabeth stopped him before he could push them open. "Invitations to Cohen's shows are highly coveted. Nobody's going to just hand us one."
"You think you can figure out a way to distract the store owner while I take a look around?"
"You just find the mask. Leave the distractions to me." She told him as he opened the doors.
A distinguished elderly man with a neatly trimmed mustache was looking through a jeweler's loop behind the counter. He told them "Welcome" in a soft French accent, but didn't look up.
He went up the counter. "Excuse me. The lady has some questions for you."
Upon hearing Booker's voice the shop owner, Julian if he remembered right, looked up from the ring he had been examining. "Yes, of course." He said and started to walk out from behind the counter.
"I'm interested in this piece." Elizabeth told the owner. She was standing over by a display on the right hand side of the story that held a single expensive looking ring. The shop owner walked up to her describing ring, how it was a 18 carat gold ring with natural sapphires and diamonds, and a lot of other details. He didn't think it was any coincidence that while the owner was talking to Elizabeth, his back was to the counter. This allowed him to slip into the back of the store without being seen.
Once in back he started looking around. He could hear Elizabeth launch into an angry tirade about the ring being stolen from her mother's grave. That caught Julian off guard, but that wouldn't last long. The back had a few shelves with some boxes, a work bench with tools to clean and repair jewelry, filing cabinets, a desk and a safe.
He looked into the safe and there is was, a fancy box Cohen's name on it. But when he opened it he found it was empty.
"Damn it. Must be somewhere else."
While the safe was open, he might as well take a moment to help himself to the rest of its constants. A ring, some money and a small gold bar. Not a bad haul. The exchange out front was getting more heated, better get back before something happened.
Julian was yelling. "You come into my shop and talk this trash? I don't think so. Hit the bricks, you tramp, or I'll see to it they hit you." Julian didn't have a French accent anymore, it was New York City one now. No surprise about that.
As he walked back to the front he heard Elizabeth yell "Get your hands off me!" He rushed to the door just in time to see Elizabeth kick Julian in the groin, hard. The man hit the floor and didn't move.
Seemed this Elizabeth could take care of herself.
"Might be best if we were gone when he wakes up." She told him. "Any luck?"
"Nothin'. Let's find another shop."
Elizabeth was the first out the door. "Where should we look next? Upstairs at the Artist's Struggle or Rapture Records straight ahead?" She seemed familiar with High Street. Odd for someone who claimed they didn't get out much.
He didn't say anything, but started off for Rapture Records.
As they walked he asked "How'd you know that they got some of their stock by robbing graves? Didn't think that was common knowledge."
Elizabeth gave him a quick glance. "I didn't." She admitted with no reluctance or surprise.
This Elizabeth wasn't one to let things stand in her way. Up a short flight of stairs and they were in front of their next shop to check. Rapture Records was a big place with records covering the wall along with some musical instruments, including an oversized white grand piano, on display.
They walked in and the man behind the counter was busy reading the inside of a record sleeve and didn't notice him until he was up the counter. When the shopkeep put down the record he could see he wasn't that old, maybe late twenties. Short brown hair, drab colored clothes, even had a sweater on. He could hear Elizabeth humming along with the music playing over the oversized gramophone on the left side of the store.
"You see that dish I walked in with? Well, you give her the star treatment, pal, and I'll make it worth your while."
"Of course, right away." The man came out from behind the counter and walked over to where Elizabeth stood by the gramophone. "What is this piece?" She asked in a low, almost husky voice.
"It's by Trenet, but of course, covered by Mr. Reinhardt."
The shopkeep's back was to the counter and he quickly headed into the back of the store.
"Oh, it's lovely. Isn't it lovely?"
"Oh, yes."
As Elizabeth went to work on her mark, he quickly searched. A couple crates that probably held records, a few boxes, a purse. Needed to go farther in. He went past a workbench where a violin was being refurbished and shelves of violin cases and assorted junk.
"Where is he hidin' that box..."
Then he saw a desk stuck between some filing cabinets, and next to a trumpet was the box from Cohen. He opened it up, but like the one at the Golden Rule, it was empty.
"Damn. Only one place left." He needed to get back out front.
As he walked from in back he heard her say "Can you turn it up? Oh, it's so intoxicating... but also - but also powerful and masculine..."
"Yes, The finest music... touches us... in places -" The man encouraged.
He wasn't really worried about Elizabeth. Had the feeling she would crew the man up and spit him out if she wanted. But no use wasting time. She saw him and quickly finished up.
"I must go... I must go. Even one more note shall prove my undoing." She was making motions with her hands as if she were faint and quickly left the store, almost at a run.
Once outside she stopped and looked at him. The expression on her face was stern, all trace of the flirtation she had been using on the shopekeep was gone without a trace.
"Did you find it?"
"No. Wasn't there."
"Only one spot left, Mr. DeWitt. That mask better be upstairs at the Artist's Struggle."
They walked up another one of the curved flights of stairs, passing a man in a suit praising Fontaine to a friend saying he was a "regular joe". His friend countered saying Fontaine was a thief , a smuggler and "A Parasite." The term that had become quite the insult here in Rapture.
The stairway was a long one this time and end up near Maison Vosges, one of the finer clothiers in Rapture and certainly about the most expensive. As they walked past he noticed an Audio Diary sitting on the floor next to a trash can. Looked like someone had gone to throw it out and missed.
As he picked it up Elizabeth gave him a look. "You're robbing a trash can?"
"Was layin' out on the floor, not in the can." He told her a bit defensively and played the diary.
Yi Suchong: Observation #33
October the 20th, 1958
Suchong observe strangest of coincidences. On other side of window, man in strange hat experimenting on Suchong's own creation. On Plasmid. Man name of Fink. Outrage! Theft of intellectual property! But - man name of Fink is no fool. Through addition of oxidizing agent, turns Plasmid ingestible through stomach lining. Mr. Ryan very impressed with Suchong's initiative. Theft of intellectual property two-way street.
Window? Must mean those holes in the air that started popping up around the city a couple months ago. Would have been hard pressed to believe they were real if he hadn't seen a few himself. A city floating in the sky. Only thing he could think of as ridiculous as city in the sky was a city at the bottom of the ocean.
And look where he was.
He glanced at Elizabeth and she had a strange expression on her face, as if something had left a bad taste in her mouth. Suchong did have that effect on people.
Up another short flight of stairs and across a balcony with a fountain and one of those "Need To Know Theater" machines between a couple slot machines. This one was titled "Taking the Taint Out Of Fontaine". The way Ryan obsessed about Fontaine, you'd think he was still alive.
Ahead was the Artist's Struggle. As they walked in the first thing they saw was a gigantic grey stone head sitting in the middle of the shop. He knew it wasn't actually stone, but it looked like it. On the walls of the gallery were oversized paintings by different artists and around the place were a few small tables and chairs. They walked around the stone head to the counter where a man was seated reading a paper. He was a bit odd by Rapture standards. Dark hair in what he'd heard called a "mop top" haircut, round wire framed glasses, a mouche and a bright red cravat. His eyes were oddly staring.
Elizabeth had gone off to the side to look at one of the paintings, so he walked up to the man. "Hey pal, wanna' help out the little lady?"
"Yes, of course." The man walked from behind the counter to where Elizabeth stood by an ugly painting. The painting showed what looked a like a human face that was screaming and wore a set of long ears. All around the face was a riot of color.
"Interesting – isn"t it? An original Sander Cohen... He calls it: "Miasma.""
He slipped behind the counter while Elizabeth played the man. "I'm sorry, but I know precious little about art." She put just the right tone in her voice to make herself sound like someone who wasn't very smart, but still wanted to learn something.
"How does it make you feel?" the man asked her.
"I don't want to open my mouth, for fear of what foolishness might tumble out."
He was in the back of the shop now. The less time they spent here, the better. Shelves, a few small crates and a lot of whisky. The good stuff at that.
"Would you like me to tell you what it means?"
"Oh, would you? Oh, I would like so much to understand."
All he could see were art supplies, a painting that someone was still working on, more whisky and a few desks. But no box from Cohen. Where was it? There were still some filing cabinets, a safe and one last desk.
"In this piece, Cohen intended to show us the struggle of the great man - condemned to breathe the swampy air of the parasite." The shopkeep told Elizabeth in a slightly grandiose tone.
"You see all that in that little picture?"
There on the last desk was the box. We quickly walked up and opened it. Inside was a white and gold rabbit mask.
"There you are, you little son of a bitch." He picked the mask up and hurried to the front of the store.
"Yes, in fact... Now, did your companion go -". This shopkeep was a little sharper than the other two had been.
"Oh, what's this one? Oh, please, it's so beautiful... What does it mean?"
"Oh my dear, that is something truly extraordinary... Shall I explain?"
He headed for the door as Elizabeth gave him some cover. "You've given me so much to think about... I feel a trifle swoony... Would you mind if I returned tomorrow for further education?"
"I shall be here at your service." The shopkeeper genuinely seemed interested in teaching Elizabeth.
"Good, you have the mask." She told him when they were outside.
He pulled it from under his vest to show her. "Third time's the charm."
"All right. It's best if we head back to Cohen's."
On the walk back he had a few moments to think about Elizabeth and how he played them.
"Fine piece of work back with those shopkeeps. You've got a bit of the grifter in you."
"For that you can thank my father. He was a man comfortable in a variety of roles." There was an odd tone her voice, regret or sadness.
The club was just ahead, men in rabbit masks still striking poses in front of it. "Time to see Cohen." He told Elizabeth.
End Chapter One.
Authors Notes: While this story is likely accurate in its broad strokes in regards to the original storyline, there are some things that are certainly dead wrong just because only a fraction of the original storyline is known, but it's not like anyone from 2K or Ghost Story is going to give us a rundown anytime soon to fix any mistakes. This should be considered an "average" run through of a person playing the game and some stuff will be missed. However everything needed to understand what happens will be found, though I will have to cheat a little to do so. You may have already noticed a few of these cheats.
I must also note that I am not putting all the removed material from the original plotline into this story. That is because some of the cut material does not mesh well with the story and because there are better ideas in the final version. Things get cut for reasons. A good example is there was originally a required quest to find the Radar Range to power open a door. I really have no idea how that was supposed to work, but this quest seems to have been replaced with one where Booker and Elizabeth have to find Shock Jockey. Using Shock Jockey to open doors is a well-established trope in the BioShock series, while providing power to a door with the Radar Range is not. sm