Hello there, Internet! I know I really shouldn't be uploading a brand new story when I already have so many in progress, but this has been something I've wanted to do for a long, long time, so suck it up. Now I know that the whole "OC rather then Booker goes to Columbia" style of story is kind of a dead horse that's still being beaten (at least three that I've read, all of them very good), but frankly I want the chance to offer my own take on it.

Hopefully you guys will get a kick out of it, or at the very least get your fill of Bioshock for the day.

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Bioshock or anything related to it.

How does one do it? How does one guy summon the courage to face an entire army on his own? To stare down wave after wave of foes and not lose himself to an all consuming wave of fear and panic? Honestly, in my personal opinion, it was because I was too stubborn. I had not come this far, made it so close to the end of this just to be stopped now. I couldn't do that to myself.

I couldn't do that to her.

Her.

All for her.

That was what I was thinking when I faced the onslaught of those men in red. Even as their troops, both mechanized and flesh swarmed the deck, even after their airships flooded the sky, I stood defiant because of her. I readied my sky hook and my revolver, a blazing fire burning in my chest. I had already lost her once, I would see myself in hell with all of these bastards before I lost her again.

With a furious battle cry bellowing from my throat, I charged my enemies, knowing that if I was to fall here, I would take a few of them with me.

But...I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I?

Three Days Earlier.

I awoke to the sound of stormy waves crashing upon rocks. Well, that and one of said waves washing over me and nearly drowning me. I rolled over off my back onto my hands and knees, coughing and sputtering sea water as I went. I barely had time to react as another wave slammed into me, forcing me face down against the bare rock.

'Climb, dumbass! Get out of the reach of the surf before you get washed away!'

I clawed at the stone as I pulled myself upward, half blinded thanks to the salt stinging my eyes. When I felt I had crawled a decent enough distance, I paused to run my hand down my face, trying to clear my vision of some of the water. The first thing I noticed was that the rock I was on had a rust tint to it, and it was weathered by years of waves battering against it. The second thing I noticed was the rain that was pelting against me.

Before I go any further, let me clear up somethings so there's no confusion. My name is Sam Roberts, I am a six foot even nineteen year old kid from Wamego, Kansas, and honestly the last thing I remembered up until this point was nodding off in the back seat of my cousin's jeep as we headed out for a camping trip.

With my last known location being a landlocked state, you can understand my confusion at suddenly being nearly drowned in the sea.

Sitting up, I took a better look at my surroundings. Above me towered a massive white tower. A lighthouse to be exact. I could easily see the beam of light against the black storm clouds above as it circled the tower. To my left was a half sunken rowboat trapped in the surf, and just beyond that a small dock with a fishing hut at the end of it.

Lightning flickered through the sky as I caught a glimpse of something on my left palm, the hand which I had used to wipe my face. There was a streak of crimson red down my hand. Blood. Confused, I looked my hands over for any cuts or scrapes, but found nothing. My hands ran over my head in a growing panic, maybe I had cracked myself really hard but just hadn't noticed the pain yet?

I forced myself to remain calm as I felt everywhere, forehead, chin, cheeks, and jawline. Finally, I located the source of the blood. I had been bleeding from my nose, although the flow had long since stopped and it was mostly dry by now. Gingerly wiping away what was left of the blood, I stood and looked about.

The gray sky and sea combined to blot out anything that may have been on the horizon. But the fishing hut had an electric light on it, so that meant there had to be some other form of civilization besides the lighthouse nearby.

Not trusting the look of the waves, I climbed the plank stairs that led up to the lighthouse, taking them slow so I didn't slip and fall. Reaching the top of the stairs, I realized that the roar of the stormy sea seemed to die off a little. Only the patter of rain was left now, with the crash of the waves as a distant backdrop.

I dipped my hand into my jean's pocket and fished out my phone, eager to try and get a call out, or at least use it's features to figure out where the hell I was. Nothing but disappointment filled me as I realized that the small piece of technology was waterlogged beyond recovery. With a bitter sigh, I slipped the now useless device back into my pocket.

Some lobster cages were piled to the right of a pair of wooden double doors, definite sign that someone lived here. From what I could gather, the lighthouse had been built upon a small island, which meant I was probably stranded until the storm let up. But now I could see the distant outline of a coast in the gray gloom, beyond the fishing hut and the dock.

A million questions and absolutely no answers crashed though my head as I banged my fist on the door.

"Hello?" I called out as I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Relief flooded my ears as the noise from the storm and sea seemed to disappear on the inside. The first thing I noticed was an iron green column standing in the middle of the room. A table with a washbasin, a few towels, and a lit candle sat at its base directly in front of me. To my left was a large pile of rope and more lobster cages, while to my right was a set of spiraling metal stairs that led to the next floor. I could hear what sounded like singing coming from that direction.

Walking to the basin, I looked downward and saw my reflection staring back at me. My black hair was cropped close to my head, and my face was clean shaven. Even as water droplets distorted the image, I could still see the remnants on my upper lip from my earlier nosebleed. Grabbing one of the towels next to the basin, I proceeded to dry my head and face off to the best of my ability. It wasn't much, considering that I was soaking wet, but it was better then nothing. As I threw the towel down, I looked up at the framed saying that hung above the basin. It looked hand stitched, like something my grandmother would do.

OF THY SINS, SHALL I WASH THEE

"Have fun with that, pal," I muttered as I turned toward the stairs. I quickly paused in confusion. I may not have attended church every Sunday, but I still believed in and respected God. So why was I suddenly so hostile? I shook my head and quickly cleared it from my thoughts. I had more pressing matters at the moment then a personal theological debate. At the base of the stairs hung another sign, with the same design as the first.

FROM SODOM, SHALL I LEAD THEE

"Is anyone here? Hello?" I called as I began to climb the stairs. My footsteps made a metallic clank as as I climbed. At the top of the stairs, I realized that I was in a living quarters. A roll top desk, grandfather clock, nightstand, bed, radio, sink, and stove were all visible along with a few tall windows.

Standing on my tiptoes, I looked out through the window that was immediately to my right. Instantly I grew excited, I could see the lights of a town on the coast. Looking over to the desk, I spotted an old fashioned candlestick phone next to a typewriter. If there was a town, I could call for help, or at least find out where I was.

I picked up the phone and held the ear piece to my ear, just like I had done in my grandparents basement and in the props room behind stage at school a thousand times before. The only thing I heard was an electric hum. I jiggled the stick a few times, but still could only get the faint hum. The line was dead.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself before setting the phone down. Above the desk was a large map of the continental U.S. Like everything else in the room, it was old fashioned, depicting several rail lines rather then interstates. A red sting was held to the map with a series of pins. If I had to guess, it depicted the route of something.

It started in upper New York state, headed across the Great Lakes to Chicago, veered southwest to Saint Louis, crossed Missouri and Kansas to Denver, Colorado. From there, it headed southwest again to a point in eastern Arizona before it suddenly turned east to Amarillo, Texas. From Amarillo, it headed southeast to a point along the Arkansas/Louisiana boarder before heading due east to a spot in Georgia. Then it suddenly turned northeast, heading across both the Carolina and Virginia to Washington D.C. From the Capital, it headed to the coast before winding its way up to Maine and then circling back into New York, completing its course.

A note was pinned to the map over Bermuda and part of the Bahamas. 'Be Prepared. He's on his way. You must stop him. -C.' On the wall next to the map was the schedule of something called Columbia. I took a half step back, flooded with confusion. Was I the 'he' the note was referring to? If so, how did whoever 'C' was know I was coming when not even I knew?

A glint of brass caught my eye from the table, near the typewriter. It was a fine, polished wooden box was a brass stamp on the lid. Engraved in the brass, in bold letters, was my name. Samuel Thomas Roberts. Either the lighthouse keeper and I had the exact same name, or this had been left here for me on purpose. Opening the box, I found a folded note addressed to me, a C96 Mauser, a black and white photograph of a girl that looked to be about my age, a silver skeleton key with the image of a bird on one side and cage on the other, a post card from some place called Monument Island, coordinates to some place in New York City, a sketch card depicting a scroll, key, and a sword, and several silver coins.

"What's up with this place and antiques?" I asked no one in particular as I sat the pistol on the desk and opened the note.

'Mr. Roberts.

We understand that you must be brimming with questions right now, but the important thing for you to do is stay focused on the task at hand. Know this: we saved your life. You may not recall the event at this time, but you will eventually. In order to repay us for saving your life, and to be able to return to your home and your family, you must find the girl and bring her to us. Unharmed. Inclosed in the box is everything you will need to get your journey started.

Good Luck.

-R&R. Lutece.'

Setting the note aside, I looked over the contents of the box again. The picture of the girl wasn't a good one, as she was mostly turned away from the camera. But it was enough to get an idea of what she looked like. The coins were roughly the size of a Morgan Silver Dollar, but it wasn't any currency that I had ever seen. One side depicted a crossed scroll, key, and sword, while the reverse depicted an angel holding out the three items with the word Columbia above it.

"Might be worth something," I said to myself as I flipped the coin in the air and listened to the clear ring it gave off. Who knows, it might be real silver and I could use the cash to buy a new phone. Carefully pocketing the rest of the items from the box, I picked up the Mauser and gave it a quick look over. For an antique gun, the damn thing looked brand new.

"Gotta be a replica," I muttered as I slid the magazine out and looked the bullets over once before sliding it back in. As I turned and looked across the room, I took notice of the mess for the first time. Pots, pans, broken plates, various bits of food, and a table turned on its side rested at the base of the next set of stairs leading upwards. Blood was spattered on the table, as well as the next framed saying that waited next to the stairs.

TO THINE OWN LAND, SHALL I TAKE THEE.

I cocked the pistol and held it at the ready before I began to climb the stairs. It was obvious some kind of struggle had happened here. About halfway up the stairs, a bloody hand print was stained on the wall, along with a few stains on the railing. At the top of the stairs sat a bookcase that looked like it had been shoved from its place and had almost taken a tumble down the stairs. Books were scattered about the landing, and the window at the top was cracked like something had been slammed into it.

As I turned to look at the room I was in now, my felt a chill enter my veins. The blood trail led to a pool of blood at the feet of a body tied to a chair beneath a single light. There was a bag over the man's head, along with a single bloody red spot in the middle. The various tools that sat on the tables on either side of the body told me that they had tortured the poor bastard before shooting him in the head.

"Shit..." I whispered as I felt myself grow a little queasy. The sight of blood had never bothered me, and I had been to enough funerals that neither did dead bodies. But this was my first time seeing someone like this. Needless to say, its nothing like the movies or video games. The note that was pinned to the man's chest didn't help matters either.

'Don't Disappoint Us.'

Was this encouragement from my 'savors', or was this the work of 'C'? I didn't know, and I didn't really care. I had a loaded gun in my hand, there was no way I was gonna wind up strapped to a chair with my brains blown out. Turning away from the body, I walked across the room to the next set of stairs. Yet another framed sign hung at the base of the stairs.

IN NEW EDEN SOIL, SHALL I PLANT THEE.

"Why do I get the feeling that this isn't the stairway to heaven?" I asked myself as I paused and looked back at the body. I then realized my wording and cringed at the reference I had unwittingly made. The climb led to the top of the lighthouse, right outside of the light itself and back out into the rain. I shivered once as I looked about. Aside from the dead guy back downstairs, there was no one to be found anywhere.

The door that led into the light chamber was interesting though. It had an angel with outstretched arms over three brass bells. Looking closer, I realized that there was something engraved into each of the bells. A scroll, key, and sword.

"I've seen this before," I said before digging in my pockets. I found the note card that had the three symbols on it. Next to the scroll was a x1, while the key and the sword had a x2. I rang the scroll bell once and was rewarded with the light above the bell activating.

'Well, curiosity may have killed the cat, but you're not a cat, Sam.'

I rang the key bell twice, and repeated the process with the sword. All three lights above the bells were lit up. But nothing was happening. The door didn't unlock, or open, or even so much as give a hint to opening.

Then what sounded like a fog horn echoed through the storm. A red light shined down through the clouds with the horn, illuminating the area whenever the horn sounded. I looked at the sky completely dumbfounded. If a flying saucer appeared, I was pressing the pistol to my temple and praying that this was all a dream before I pulled the trigger.

The horn echoed my ringing of the bells, one, two, and two. After a moment, I heard the growing sound of electricity, followed closely by a low clunk. Turning, I realized that the light had stopped it's turning and was now flashing back with the same color and number of tones. The lighthouse and whatever was in the sky were signaling each other.

The horn in the sky repeated its tones again, only this time on the final tone, I was rewarded with a bell ringing and the door opening. Inside, the light had retreated into the ceiling, reveling a red velvet barber style chair. I cautiously stepped inside out of the rain and looked about the room. The only thing visible was the chair itself, everything else was bare. Whomever had designed this obviously wanted me to sit in the chair.

"Okay, what's the catch? I sit in the chair and Sweeney Todd bursts out of the floor to slice my throat?" I asked. I wasn't really expecting an answer, and I never got one. But seeing as how I had come this far on curiosity, I might as well go a little further.

'Only live once, Roberts.'

Securely tucking the pistol into the back of the waistband on my jeans, I cautiously stepped forward and climbed into the chair. It was surprisingly comfy, the fabric felt just right, the head rest cradled my head just right, and the foot plates were at the perfect angle.

And then the cuffs slammed shut over my wrists.

"I knew this was a trap," I said to myself as I strained against the restraints. The chair began to rotate as panels on the floor began to lift up. Sections of metal rose from beneath the panel and came together around me, sealing me in some kind of chamber.

"Make yourself ready, Pilgrim. The bindings are there as a safeguard,"said a female automated voice. Okay, I didn't like the sound of that. The metal sections finished their sealing with a hiss of steam as the chair came to a halt before a small window. I wasn't going to panic, until the chair suddenly tipped forward, and I found myself starring at four rocket engines just below me.

I felt my eyes grow to the size of saucers as one after the other, the engines began to ignite. Forget being tied to a chair and tortured, I was about to launched like a fucking bottle rocket!

"Ascension."

"No, no not fun anymore! Let me out!"

"Ascension in the count of Five."

"No, no, no!" The chair rightened itself out and I found myself before the window again.

"Count of Four."

"No, no, not good!"

"Three."

"Somebody stop this thing!"

"Two."

"NO, NO, NO, ABORT, STOP!"

"One."

"...fuck." I felt myself pressed into the seat by the forces of gravity as the engines fully came to life and hurdled me skyward.

"Ascension. Ascension."

I watched as the coastline faded into the milky gray clouds and before long I could see nothing but the clouds outside. It was a real struggle to keep the panic in my chest from setting in. There had to be a safe way out of this. If not, what was the point in sending me after this girl?

"Five Thousand Feet."

Okay, screw calm. Panic it was.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" It was like my brain had gone into shutdown mode and that was the only word it could remember. My knuckles were snow white I was gripping the chair so hard.

"Ten Thousand Feet."

'Look at the bright side, at two miles up, your heart will give out from fear before you ever get anywhere close to the ground.' Oh great, now my conscious was being a morbid smart ass. So nice I had that to deal with in my final moments on this green Earth.

"Fifteen Thousand Feet."

"I hope you fuckers installed a parachute or something!" I shouted at no one. At this point, I was so blinded with panic that I was amazed that I hadn't soiled myself. The engines suddenly shut down, sending the rocket through one final cloud bank and into shining daylight.

"Hallelujah."

The view I saw was the absolute last thing I ever expected to see. It was a city, a flying city. Perched right here on the top of the clouds like some kind of fairy tale.

"Wha...?" I asked, baffled at the sight. It was like I was looking at heaven. A zeppelin passed close to me as I gently drifted downward. As I passed a church steeple, I noticed a flag flying proudly in the breeze. It had the red and white stripes of the American flag, but it rather then stars over blue in the corner, it had a blue shield with a single star in the center. I didn't have long to ponder this as I drifted down further, passing a massive bill board on the side of the church depicting an older looking man with white hair and a beard.

"Father Comstock, our Prophet?" I asked, reading the words. Maybe that's who 'C' was? From the looks of things he was the one who was in charge. Or was this place's version of Jesus. Or both.

The rocket landed on a rooftop with a bump before beginning a descent into darkness. Looking back, if I had put all the pieces that I had encountered so far together, I would have known the truth, and probably thrown myself over the side of a building the first chance I got just to try and get away. This wasn't heaven. This, was Columbia.

This was hell, suspended at twenty thousand feet in the sky.

And there it is, the intro is done! I don't mean to sound like a review whore, but I am one. So please, please drop a review or a PM and let me know what you think!