Bioshock Infinite: In another Lighthouse

In another lighthouse, there's a new story to unfold. Booker, a young, ex-pinkerton agent decides to follow upon a lead on Project Icarus. To wipe away the debt and to protect his daughter Annabelle, he needs to go to where no one should ever go. Columbia, a hellish paradise where nothing is as it seems.

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Bioshock nor do I gain profit from this. 2K owns the rights to Bioshock, or at least that's what's been told to us.

VIOLENCE AND SWEARING. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

Enjoy.

Who's that knocking on my door?

Who is that knocking.

Why are you knocking?

It hurts.

Make it stop.

MAKE IT STOP!

I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HER!

Chapter I: Project Icarus

With a gasp, Booker sat up from his bed, panting. He looked around his messy room. It was nothing fancy; just a bed in the corner, a bedside table next to it and clothes littered everywhere. Booker groaned and sat up, sweating like it was no one's business. Shirtless, he got up and staggered to his bathroom door. Through the door, was a dusty, stained mirror. Staring back at Booker, was another Booker. One whom had little to no sleep, who had scars stretched over his chest. Someone with ruffled up, brown messy hair almost shoulder length. A straight nose, with traces of blood from the nostrils...

"Dad?" There was a knock on his bedroom door which gave Booker a bit of a jump.

"Anna? You okay?" He called through the bathroom door in his rough American accent. His door opened so Booker went out of the bathroom to meet his daughter.

There Anna stood, fully dressed as if she had just gone out. "I went to the butchers and I ran into-"

"Mr Dewitt?" A man with a rough voice came from outside the room.

"I got it sweetie." Booker nodded, throwing on a shirt, buttoning it up and throwing on his cloak, exiting the door.

There a man of dark skin stood, suited up in a professional manner complete with tail coat. "You have a debt that needs paying Booker." The man growled.

Booker nodded, rubbing his grizzly face nervously. "Now John... ARGH!" John punched Booker to the floor with his right fist alone. On closer inspection, you'd be able to tell that John was not to be messed with. His bulky form was quite well hidden truth be told under all of his clothes.

"Son of a bitch." Booker gasped, getting up and swinging a right hook. With a quick fluid motion, John grabbed his fist and threw it to the side, making Booker stumble then trip.

"You're a mess." John spat.

"Hey!" Anna called from Booker's door. She looked terrified, her brown hair tied up and her freckles more exposed with a flushed face. With shaky hands, she was holding up a Mauser C96, Chinese Luger. John looked to his left at Anna, slowly grabbing onto his own gun.

"Anna." Booker grunted getting up, holding one hand out to her. "Stop. Put the gun down."

"You'd be wise to listen to your father little girl." John said, his gun still in his holster, but poised for combat. After a shaky breath, Anna lowered the gun, giving a glance at her father.

"It's okay sweetie..." Booker said, looking over at the tall figure that was John. "Let's settle this outside." And so with a grunt, John let Booker exit the apartment before going outside himself. Once they were out in the streets of New York.

"You better have the fucking money man. Enough fucking around."

"John. I need another week. Just one week! I'm onto something here.. You know that thing?" Booker lowered his voice. "Project Icarus? I gotta lead. And I bet you anything that-"

"Dewitt." John laughed. "We both know you don't have anything to bet with. Except your daughter." He added. Then he too lowered his voice as a well groomed man came by. "You gonna sell her too? That'll settle the debt."

Booker stared up at him with a slight snarl. John was two inches taller. "Now you lay a fucking hand on her-"

"You'll what? Kill me?" John laughed. "Is that a threat now?"

"It's a promise." Booker said in a quiet dangerous voice.

"Ahuh." John nodded, with a smirk. "Well you know damn well that city could be a jackpot. If your stupid ass is willing to get killed- then I may as well show you to the right people. And hey, if it works out, the debt'll be more than just payed. If not? Then I get the girl and everything you own."

Booker looked over at his apartment seething with anger. "She's not up for sale. I'll find it, and I will NOT die doing it. She's got family in Paris, out of your reach."

John shrugged. "Suit yourself. But project Icarus better be the real deal Or I'll kill you myself. Come on, let's go see my pals."

Martin sat on his fancy chair, which is where he usually was. 'Typical.' Booker thought.

"Mr Dewitt. Please, take a seat." He said in his dry voice. Martin was old, about 54 Booker guessed. He sat down in a regular chair in front of Martin, a polished oak table between them, paperwork spread out neatly along with various other junk that Booker saw no use in. The room itself was covered in velvet carpet, with a fair few awards and trophies, surrounding the walls of the room itself. A window behind Martin showed the ever growing city.

"Now. John tells me that you got a lead on Icarus?" Martin said, resting his chin on his two hands, almost looking bored.

"Yeah that's right. I've been tracking it for a good two years now." Booker sat forward, looking intently at Martin. "It's got a pattern going and I think I know it's next location."

"And where would that be?"

"New York."

There was a silence for a good minute or two, so Booker sat back, looking out the window into the clear blue sky, waiting for Martin to speak. Martin meanwhile poured himself some whisky, taking a few sips before setting his glass down with a sigh.

"Mr Dewitt." Martin stood up and turned to look out the window. "Do you know who I am? And what I do?"

"yes sir." Booker said stiffly.

"Then you'll know why I can't let you do this. You walked out on the Pinkerton's. They're tracking you, stalking you and now they got your number." He turned around to face Booker.

"I'm a business man. A business man that hires people to control things from getting out of hand. I should have you killed for leaving us. And yet I've pulled string after string. Because of HER, Mr Dewitt. Not you. For Annabelle." There was a pause.

"I know what it's like to have no one to look after you. No parents. I've pulled the Pinkerton's off the trails, but they're warm now. Within a few days you and your daughter will either be dead or tortured and locked up until you grow old and die." Martin put emphasis and spit on the last few words.

"I can find this city. I can find whatever you wanted from it." Booker spoke, sitting up straighter. "ONLY if my debt's repaid, AND if Anna will stay safe."

Another silence.

"I promise the safety of your Daughter. And Your debt'll be wiped away from both Pinkerton's and myself."

Booker nodded. "I'll need an airship then.. And I need to know what I'm in for here." Martin sat back down, grabbing several photo's and documents before neatly putting them in a brown file, which then was passed to Booker. "Guard this with your life. Head to the new York Harbour, tonight. From there my man will be waiting for you. That'll take you to the airship and then from there, a boat will take your girl to Paris.

Booker exhaled. "That's risky. And you know it."

"It's the best and only offer I'm giving you. Take it or die. Simple." Martin scowled.

Booker looked down at the files, flicking through them before coming across a photo.

"A girl?"

"Bring me that girl Booker. And wipe away the debt."