Disclaimer: I do not own Bioshock.
I should also let you guys know that I'm only familiar with Bioshock Infinite. I have not watched or seen any playthroughs of Bioshock 1 and Bioshock 2. So if there's any information there that is false or wrongly presented, I apologize.
"Bring us the girl...and wipe away the debt."
He never thought of himself as a good man.
His past was riddled with all that were considered sins. Clear blue water he trudged in were stained a revolting murky brown. Guns and grenades were nothing more than toys to play with on a hot summer day. Hands bigger and rougher than his have not been stained by the galleons of blood that his have. And his eyes...who knows what his eyes have seen.
He considered himself a weak man, a dangerous man. Dangerous because he wasn't able to control his weakness, weak because he knew he was dangerous, yet did nothing to stop it. He lived off gambling and alcohol and bad deeds, and what for? To hide from his traumatic past? To be rid of old memories? He was his own biggest joke. Excuses were there wherever he turned; reason evaded him. He simply sat there, on a never-ending carousel of his own mockery.
His wife died for a child that was no more important than his own incompetence and vulnerability. He had debts to pay and nothing to pay it with.
He didn't think that, by giving away her life for his own, he was shutting away the only source of light in the darkness he plunged himself didn't give it a second thought and by the time it hit him- it was too late.
Someone meant to be in his arms was in the hands of a stranger. Someone who breathed, someone who lived, someone who could still watch the sun without feeling burned- he had just destroyed all of that with his own two hands. He traded away what held his life together, wrapped neatly in a silk ribbon, simply to save his own hide.
No longer will he hear the cries and laughs of a new beginning, a new adventure. No longer will he see someone in his life who hasn't yet been riddled by fear or power, or disgusting desire. No longer will he have the chance to hear someone call him "daddy", someone to smile at him and have him see a smile that is meant for him and him alone.
He found his wandering mind had led him further than he expected.
He was facing a building bathed under the glorious morning sun, amplified by the fine display of nature surrounding it. The river was gleaming bright and clear at his feet, the chimes and hums of beauty and gospel washed over his soul. The scene was clean, pure, untainted, polished and magnificent. He couldn't avert his eyes.
He had forgotten what a church looks like.
A church is the symbol of hope and love, purity and kindness. It sang the holy songs of the Lord and gospel, gave hope for the country's daily bread and happy tidings. They took the laws of Christianity and engraved it into the skin of the people. It was no place for a sinner like him.
And yet, the water beneath him did not stain. There was no look of scorn, no disgust nor repulsion. There was no call out to his sins, no discrimination nor sneering. They simply sang, their echoing voices of serenity soothing him.
And there, tall and proud, his beliefs of God empowering him, was the pastor. The pastor watched him, eyes lit with the fire of passion, and spoke.
"Are you ready to have your past erased? Are you ready to have your sins cleansed?"
Why was he here? How did he end up here? How did the man offer him such impossible things without a second thought? He was a man who piled up his sins like collecting food to put on the table, and here this man was, offering to eat it all up for him.
There it was, all the answers, everything he's been tearing himself up for. What was once so much out of his reach was now presented to him on a silver platter. Could he take it? Could he bring himself to take it?
"No...I don't want to."
"But you already did, didn't you?"
What was he looking for?
"Why were you here?"
He watched the man glowing in auspicious glory before him as the man held out his hand.
"Are you ready to be born again?"
I am.
His future was bleak; his past was in disarray; his present was a bridge.
What was he looking for?
"Do you hate your sins?"
I do.
"Do you hate your wickedness?"
Yes.
"Do you want to clean the slate, leave behind all you were before, and be born again in the blood of the Lamb?"
His answer came out quick, rushed, breathless. He held on to the man's hand for dear life, like he held all the answers.
What was he looking for?
He was looking for all that he wasn't, isn't, and would never be.
He was looking for someone that couldn't, can't, and can never be.
He was looking for himself.
"Yes."
With the echoes of the heavenly choir ringing in his ears and the prayers of the Lord himself, he plunged himself below the surface.
A/N: Wow, you haven't updated any of your HP stories. Just what are you doing here writing a Bioshock one?
Writer's block. I can only blame everything on that.
That and laziness. Yes, you have permission to shoot me.
Before anyone gets confused, this is Booker before all the ape shit in Bioshock Infinite went down. You know how after Wounded Knee he wanted to find enlightenment or whatever and washed his sins away and became Comstock and whatnot? Yeah, this is it.
It was a fine little idea that popped into my head about 2 flipping years ago, so it's about time I posted it up.
Thank you for all your review donations. I will make them into tears and jump into all of your worlds.