Cold rain spattered against my face, soaking my hair and clothes as the rocking waves beneath me shot up sea spray into the air that set of my tastebuds with their salty contents. A cold wind rushed through my long coat and straight to my bone, the overcast night sky blinding me so thoroughly that I could only see due to the oil lamp the other two occupants of the rowboat had lit for us. I was seated in the back, while the other two took up the seats in the front. They were prattling on about something.

"Are you going to just sit there?" The man asked.

His lady companion responded in kind. "As opposed to what? Standing?"

"Not standing. Rowing."

"Ah, rowing. I hadn't planned on it."

"So you expect me to shoulder the burden?"

As the woman responded, she reached back and handed me a small box with an engraved plaque that had my name on it. "No. But I expect you to do all the rowing."

I frowned at the box, taking a peek inside. There were a few cards in the box, one with the picture of a girl on it that had the name 'Elizabeth' written on the top of it, another that looked like a postcard from some place called Monument Island with the image of a giant angel statue on it, and one final one that simply had drawings of a scroll, a sword, and a key on it, with numbers next to them. There were also a few silver coins, a key with a bird on one side of the key's handle and a cage on the other, and a mauser pistol, fully loaded. I looked back up at the woman who had given the box to me. "What's this?"

She ignored me, her male counterpart drawing her back into conversation. "And why is that?"

"Coming here was your idea."

"My idea?"

"I made it very clear that I don't believe in the exercise."

"The rowing?"

"No, I imagine that's wonderful exercise."

"Then what?"

"The entire thought experiment."

The two were practically speaking nonsense at one another to my ears, and I wanted to get wherever it was I was headed so I could get out of this damn cold. My words were probably a bit more snippy than I intended them to be when I said, "Excuse me?" The rain made my voice sound muffled and drowned out. "How much longer? I'd like to get out of this damn rain. I don't have rain coats like you two do."

The two continued talking as though I hadn't said anything. "One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail."

"But one does not undertake an experiment know one already has failed."

"Well, isn't that the point of him? He was a constant, this is the variable."

"Taking the control out of an experiment makes for an improper experiment. You know this."

"As well as you do, yet look at the other verdicts we reached. We hadn't thought to change this until just now."

"As I said. I do not believe in the exercise."

"Can we just get back to the rowing?"

"I suggest you do, or else we'll never get there."

My brow knitted even further at the two in front of me. These hired guides were odd people. "Hello? Someone wanna answer me?"

Again they just went on. I got frustrated enough to where I just sat back and let them talk. Hopefully we'd get there soon enough.

"No, I mean I would greatly appreciate it if you would assist!"

"Perhaps you should ask him. I imagine he has a greater interest in getting there than I do."

"But does he? This is an untested field."

"There is only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"There would be no point to it."

"Why not?"

"Because they never row."

"They never row?"

"No, they never row."

"Ah. I see what you mean." Thankfully, blessedly, we reached an offshore lighthouse. The rowboat came to a slow stop, the waves still bobbing it in gyrating motions, at a dock with a ladder reaching down into the sea. "We've arrived."

I shivered, wanting nothing more than to curl up into a tight little ball and try to get warm. But I had to move. Debts to pay, and all that. I stepped up and climbed the ladder to the dock's surface. I turned to face the rowboat, and watched as it began to row away. I could still hear those two talking. I could hear the woman say, "Shall we tell him when we'll be returning?"

"Would that change anything?"

"It might give him some comfort?"

"At least that's something we can agree on."

"Hey!" I shouted after them. Were they seriously about to leave me just blowing in the wind like this with no idea what the hell I was supposed to be doing? "Is somebody meeting me here?"

"I'd certainly hope so!" The man shouted back.

The woman piped in. "It seems like a dreadful place to be stranded!"

And then they kept rowing away.

I stood there for a moment, kind of stunned.

What assholes.

There was another wind that tore through my sopping wet jacket, and I shivered. I tried to draw the coat in closer, only to get marginal success. Time to get into some shelter, then.

I turned to face in towards the little island that the lighthouse was sat upon. It was a small thing, to be so far out. You'd think it would be bigger. As it was, the light at the very top was only just visible from where I stood, the storm almost entirely drowning out the glow. It seemed more like a set piece than an actual lighthouse.

I made my way up the boardwalk and towards the wooden doors of the boardwalk. Nailed right to the front of the thing was a note, partially stained in blood, soaked through with rainwater. On it were the harshly written words of, "Blackstone, Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!"

I gulped to myself. The connotation of the note were clear. Pay off the debt and don't get yourself killed horribly.

Good. Great. I can do that. Kidnap an innocent girl to pay off a debt that I incurred with less than kind folk who will most certainly do nothing good to the girl.

I'm not nervous at all. Or guilty. Not even the slightest bit.

Thunder struck somewhere in the distance, and I remembered how cold I was. I knocked at the door, which caused it to swing open ever so much. "Hello?" I called out, taking a step in. "It's Michael Blackstone! Am I meeting someone here, or…?"

No answer came to me as I stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind me, cutting off the whipping wind that ripped through my jacket.

Inside was much warmer, both in lighting and in comfort. It looked like a very cosy little entryway, with even a rack by the door for hats and jacket. I took mine off and hung it up, letting the rain slide off it and onto the floor. There were some crates and barrels on the far section of the room, a set of stair off to the right, and random things placed all throughout. Directly in front of the door was a large pillar that presumably ran all the way up the lighthouse as a structure support with a small washbasin in front of it with a handsewn message in a frame that read, "OF THY SINS, SHALL I WASH THEE."

I stepped up to the basin, still looking around, rubbing my arms to shake the cold out. I took a look in the basin, and simply saw my own reflection. Unkempt hair that looked like it need to be cut, slight stubble growing on my cheeks and jaw, sharp features, and green eyes that look almost light dollar bills. Then I looked up and read the message on the tapestry again. "That'll be the day," I muttered. I then made my way up the stairs. There was another cross stitch frame on the wall leading up the stairs. "FROM SODOM, SHALL I LEAD THEE." It read.

More stairs further up.

I reached another room, one that looked much more lived in. Bed and a desk and dressers and drawers and a small kitchen area. Above the desk was a map of the U.S. with red yarn trailing from one city to another to another and looped back around to the beginning, a point in Maine, by the look of it. There was a note next to it on a yellow sticky note. "BE PREPARED. HE IS ON HIS WAY. YOU MUST STOP HIM. -C"

Who was 'he'? Me? I really hope it wasn't me. I'd hate to be so predictable.

I then looked at some of the points on the map, trying to remember if I had found my way to some of those places.

Well, I was in Maine now, so that made sense. Then there was New Jersey, Virginia, Georgia, Louisiana, Arizona, Colorado. I don't remember being to…

My head went fuzzy for a little moment, memories flooding into my head.

Business. I went to those places on business. Yeah. That's it. Pinkertons need people all over the place. Makes sense. I remember now.

Something hot and runny leaked down my lips, and I reached a hand up to see. I pulled fingers away crimson with blood. Must have a nose bleed…

I shook my head and carried on, noting as I did the other cross stitch on this floor. "TO THINE OWN LAND, SHALL I TAKE THEE."

I went up to the next floor, and immediately wished that I hadn't.

Tied to a chair with a bag over his head was the slack form of a man who had clearly been shot in the head. Blood was obviously visible staining the bag, and more of the stuff ran down his shirt and pants, pooling onto the floor. There was a sign around his neck that read, "DO NOT FAIL US."

"Hell's Bells…"

I really hope that message isn't for me.

I really really do.

I grimaced as I made my way past the man, heading to the final set of stairs. There was one final bit of cross stitching on the wall that read, "IN NEW EDEN SOIL, SHALL I PLANT THEE."

Soil that runs red, no doubt, I thought, making my way past it.

I made my way up and out into the catwalk that surrounds the light proper, suddenly shivering at the whirling winds and the icy rain. I abruptly wished that I hadn't left my coat on the rack at the bottom. But I was already here, so I figured I might as well see what there is to see, then get back inside.

And there really wasn't much to see for the vast majority of the catwalk. Simply open space that overlooked the churning sea below. However, when I got the the part of the lighthouse that should have had the door that lead into the section where the bulb was spinning, there was simply a metal wall with three bells hanging from it, with lights above each of the bells.

Confused, I took a closer look, noticing the little engravings on each of the bells. One with a scroll, one with a sword, and the final with a key.

Something clicked in my brain. "Wait a minute…" I fished into my pockets to find that card with the little symbols that I had gotten from that box those weird twins gave me. On the card was the same three symbols; the scroll, the sword, and the key. But these had numbers next to each of them. The scroll- one. The sword- two. The key- two.

I stared at it for a moment, then got what I was probably meant to do. I reached up and rung the scroll bell once. It dinged pleasantly, and the light above the bell began to glow. Then I hit the sword twice. The same happened. I finished it off with the bell with the key on it. The light above this one, as well, lit up.

I stood there wait, taking a step back to see if there was something I was missing. Nothing happened for a few moments. "What am I-"

Suddenly the lighthouse light started to flash as well, but there were slight tones as it flashed. Once in one tone, then went up and flashed twice in a different one. It then finished in a third tone, flashed twice once again.

I waited expectantly. Nothing happened some more.

"What the fu-"

Then there was ungodly noise as the sky pulsed red.

Something in me screamed in terror, and I got down low in an instinct to find some cover. The sky pulsed again, twice, then waited a beat, and pulsed twice more. The lighthouse seemed to respond in kind, flashing again in the same pattern. Then the sky roared once more, the light through the clouds bleeding red.

Then it stopped, the only sounds being the storm around me and my heart trying to tear its way out of my chest. The metal wall where the bells were hanging lowered down as the bulb in the lighthouse did the same, opening up and being replaced with a red velvet chair.

I breathed heavily. That was not a good sound. Like Hell itself trying to reach from the Beyond and grab you, only coming from the damn sky. What the actual shit was that?

The chair sat under the cover of the glass canopy, warm-looking and inviting.

"Okay…" I said hesitantly. "I guess… I should sit in the chair?"

I carefully crept forward, looking out for anything else that might cause the world to briefly end. I couldn't find anything like that, which made me only feel a little bit better. I slowly sat into the chair.

"Alright," I said to myself as I was fully seated. "Nothing is trying to end you just yet. It's just a chair. Comfy. Warm. Dry, which is very nice. You're oka-"

Metal restraints flipped over the edges of the armrests and clamped over my wrists.

"Oh fuck me running."

The soothing voice of a woman in recording played throughout the air. "Make yourself ready, pilgrim. The bindings are there as a safeguard."

"No, no, no!" I muttered to myself, panicked. Then to make things even more anxiety inducing, the chair and the walls began to move as metal sections rose up from the ground and the chair turned over so that I faced the floor.

And suddenly there were rocket boosters beneath me.

As the pistol I had tucked into my pants fell out and between the boosters, all I could say was, "What the shit, man?!" Then I leveled out and was face to face with a small window out to see the world.

"Ascension," the voice said, "Ascension in the count of five. Count of four. Three…"

"No, no, please don't do that, please!"

"Two. One."

"Crap!"

Then the thrusters went off.

I felt the inertia as I was torn through the sky, clouds of grey and white whipping past the window before me. My heart started racing again and panic was soon to follow. "Stay calm, Michael. Calm. Stay calm."

The voice from before kept on talking. "Ascension, ascension. Five thousand feet. Ten thousand feet. Fifteen thousand feet."

I could feel the thrust of the engine start to give out, and I was terrified I was about to fall out of the sky in a metal box that would drown me as soon as I hit water. You know, assuming the impact itself didn't kill me.

Then the clouds broke.

"Hallelujah."

A/N: There's something about Bioshock OC inserts that interest me. The majority that I've read so far do something very... Simple. They take the game and rewrite it. The only difference between the cannon material is the main character, some key lines every now and then, some slight variations, a small but ultimately inconsequential twist here and there that doesn't really change much of anything, and romances that feel somewhat rushed and stiff. I'm not going to say they're bad. Some of them could use a revision or two in so far as actual writing structure, but they aren't bad. They're just... Simple.

I could take at least three different fics that I've read on this sight, make all the names of the characters the same name, and it would practically feel like I'm reading the same fic. Hell, two of them had the exact same line in them at the exact same scene in the exact same context.

I don't hate these fics. I just want more from them.

So, that's why I'm here writing this. In one of my other stories, a reviewer said something that I know to be true. "The point of an OC in a game world is to change things. Not tell the same story with an added character."

So. Here's what we're gonna do. Take everything you know about Bioshock Infinite's story. Got that? Now throw it out the nearest window.

I plan on retelling the story of this game that I love. Make things different. See what happens when I take a character I've already developed (Shameless plug to my other story Arcane Effect: Life is Hard here), and let him run around in Columbia for a while.

Some things will be similar. Some of them have to be. But other things will be different.

Prediction: most things up until Monument Island will be similar as in the game.

Wanna go for a ride, everyone?

~ThatBlueScreenGuy