I'm hoping that this story will be a little different from the other Bioshock Infinite stories out there. Just imagine that this is one of the untold stories of another lighthouse, another man, and another city. Hope you enjoy!


It was an admirable effort, it really was. It had made perfect sense. Wipe away the genesis of Comstock at Mr. DeWitt's baptism, and thus, all Comstocks should theoretically disappear. Perfectly sound logic. The door to Mr. DeWitt's transformation into Comstock had been slammed shut, never to be opened again.

Of course, there's the danger in altering the timeline. Close one door, and you open a host of other ones. There are an infinite number of worlds, as my other self and I have discovered over our travels through the different timelines of the world. And within those infinite number of worlds, there are always a set of constants and variables.

When Elizabeth had drowned Mr. DeWitt, she had effectively destroyed a variable. Mr. DeWitt's rejection of his baptism became a constant. But there's the problem. Create a new constant, and you create a new variable.

And suddenly, with the creation of a new variable, you suddenly have an infinite number of outcomes, as logic dictates. And within this infinite number of outcomes, there is but a single timeline that is radically different from all others. Yes, there may be only one within the endless sea of timelines, but it exists. And within this timeline, Zachary Comstock is not dead. Far from it. Turns out that Mr. Dewitt's baptism was not the only method through which the Prophet could come into existence, just the most statistically probable method.

Funny how science works, huh? Just when we humans think that we have mastered it, we are reminded of our own pitiful mortality. We are not omniscient, and we cannot foresee every outcome. A man chooses, and a slave obeys. But who are we, if not slaves to the laws of probability and science?

-Robert Lutece, 1912


I have seen the future, and it is glorious! My Columbia, my ark in the sky, it can be completed! I've enlisted the aid of a woman named Rosalind Lutece, and she has shown me what can and will be completed by me.

It is a utopia, with a perfect race of people in a perfect city, governed by a perfect man and a perfect religion.

But, as with any good thing, there are those who will decry it, and attempt to pervert its idyllic nature. You have to understand that I was shocked when I realized that the man who was fated to destroy my dream was none other than Booker DeWitt, my past self.

At first, I had been heartened by the results. One hundred and twenty two times, he came and failed to take away my Elizabeth. But then, on the one hundred and twenty third time, something changed. This Booker DeWitt wasn't like any other, for he succeeded where the others failed, and made off with my daughter, and allowed my Columbia to spiral into violence and darkness.

I know that the same fate is to befall me soon. In but twenty years, Booker DeWitt will come and attempt to destroy my city. But I shall not let him. He will not succeed in this universe, no matter how he tries. I have observed for countless hours, witnessing again and again, the folly of my other selves. However, now, I have resolved to change my fate. I will stop Booker DeWitt. Not with armies or weapons, but with kindness and trust.

Booker DeWitt will trust me, and he will become my own weapon against fate.

Zachary Comstock-1892


Chapter 1

I woke up with water clogging my lungs and a bright light searing my eyes. Coughing out some of the water that was threatening to choke me, I groggily sat up to find myself staring up at three massive marble statues. At the sudden sight, I flinched and scrambled backwards, sending water flying in all directions and disturbing the otherwise serene surface of the small pool I was lying in.

"What the fuck?" I muttered as I realized that they weren't supposed to be angels, but instead, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin. Albeit, they appeared like a trio of Greek statues, but one look at each of the plaques at the base of each of the figures told me otherwise.

I ran a hand through my hair in an effort to sweep out any water that was still there as I struggled to remember exactly where I was, my mind still hazy before a phrase came to mind.

Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt.

Oh, that's right. I was here because of the job I had found to pay off the men I owed money to. I would get into it, but that story's way too long for me to even know where to begin. It had sounded easy enough at the time. Find some girl, bring her back to New York, and my accounts would be wiped clean, no questions asked.

But now, I was seriously wondering exactly what I had stepped into.

I pushed myself up to my feet and immediately, my eyes honed in a set of stairs that wrapped around the statue of George Washington, which I found more disturbing by the second. Look, I'm all for patriotism, but not like this. It didn't help that I had almost been drowned on my way here. I swear that Goddamn priest was trying to kill me.

"Our prophet fills our lungs with water, so they may better love the air." A man dressed in white clerical robes informed me as I made it to the top step, his hands clasped together in an act of prayer.

Yeah, sure thing, buddy.

I didn't bother to respond and I walked past him without a second thought. I've never been one for praying and all that. I tried it once, but it didn't do me any good. Not after Little Bighorn. A couple of words weren't going to change the fact that I had done terrible things, so why even bother, right?

And besides, religion was the last thing on my mind. What was more important was finding the girl, and quickly so that I could get out of this place. There was just something that felt out of place, from the moment I had woken up. Almost as if something was very wrong, beyond the obvious.


My nose crinkled in disgust as I took in the sight of the half-man and half-machine monstrosity standing in front of me on the stage. It was a massive creature, with gangly metal limbs that were currently being used by the "Handyman," as the sign informed me, to cover his face as he whimpered in a combination of fear and pain. A part of me almost felt bad for him as I watched him stumble back and forth blindly, almost like a child of some sort, whispering softly, "It hurts. It hurts."

Somehow, it seemed that no one else could hear it, and the assembled crowd of Columbians gasped in awe at its appearance, seemingly oblivious to its suffering. As if they weren't being cold enough, one person actually took a photo, and clearly, the sound was painful for the Handyman, who recoiled instantly at the noise.

Feeling guilty just staring at it, I decided to turn my attention elsewhere, and my eyes immediately landed at a sign that declared, "Free Samples!"

I casually strolled over to the small booth, which was manned by a nice looking brunette, who offered me a green bottle, along with a flirtatious wink. Without even thinking twice about it, I grabbed it and downed the whole thing in one gulp, immediately feeling a strange sensation coursing through my veins.

My body quaked and the edges of my vision darkened as I struggled to stay on my feet, my entire body falling numb. I swore that I was on the verge of throwing up when the feeling subsided and I found the nausea disappearing. I gave the girl a look, which she reciprocated with the same blank smile she had on her face when she had handed me the bottle. Did she not just see me almost pass out? Suddenly, she seemed a lot less attractive to me and instead, I found that her presence was more unnerving than anything else.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered, feeling an overwhelming desire to get the hell out of there.

Luckily, there were an overwhelming amount of signs pointing to the raffle, the memory of a telegraph I had received earlier coming to mind.

Don't pick Number 77.

I stopped in front of a ticket machine, which was manned by a robotic torso of an overly patriotic robot, only to be met by, "Sorry pal, the raffle's all sold out."

I grimaced. I had definitely not come this far to be stopped by an uncooperative machine. Suddenly, I felt the inclination to use the drink I had just swigged from the woman's booth. Acting on instinct, I placed my right hand in front of me, and I focused for a second as a green…something was flung out of my hand and into the machine.

The effect was immediate, with the automated worker turning a bright hue of green and the gate swinging open to reveal two figures, a man and a woman, who looked shockingly similar. They must have been twins or something.

Intrigued, I stepped forward to face them.

"Heads?" The man began. I noticed that he was wearing a chalkboard with an absurd number of heads, while the tails column was completely empty.

"Or tails?" The woman finished, holding a platter out in her hands. The man tossed me a Silver Eagle, and I obliged with his request.

I flipped the coin towards the plate, calling out, "Tails."

As it landed on the plate, I saw the woman's eyes widen in surprise, as if she had seen something incredible.

"It's tails." She announced shakily, and the man's expression changed to one of amusement.

"Thank you." He said before he placed an arm around the woman and led her to the side, so that I may pass through. However, before I completely passed them, I managed to catch a few words in passing.

"The constants, they've changed."

"We knew that coming in, didn't we? That's why we're conducting this experiment in the first place."

Experiment? Constants? I whirled around to ask the two exactly what they were going on about, only to find that there was empty space where they had stood earlier. Damn it, they must have run off while my back was turned.

Making a mental note to keep an eye out for some identical twins, I decided to head towards the raffle once more. After all, I came here to find a girl, and I was going to pay off my debts. I saw the glint of something inside of a trash can, and I reached a hand in, pulling out a Silver Eagle. Well, that wouldn't pay off any of my debt, but it was a start, I guess. The bigger question was why exactly it had been there in the first place. Then again, the people of this city were so clueless that I wouldn't put it past them to accidentally have tossed it in with their trash.

Resolved to continue on my path, I hadn't taken another step when I realized that I was staring at a very familiar picture. I know, because I had the same exact picture in my house. It was a perfect replica of a photo I had taken before Little Bighorn. As in dead on, with special care taken to replicate every detail, down to the number of buttons that I had undone that day, and the same bright and naïve eyes. Of course, I no longer looked like that, with four additional years of age on my frame, which was now more built than the skinny body I had once possessed, along with the extra wrinkles and scars that marked my face after that day.

But the fact remained that there was a picture of me in Columbia, standing on top of what seemed to be a pile of rubble and illuminated by a sort of heavenly glow, almost as if they were trying to make me out to be some sort of angel, which of course, I wasn't. If anything, I was a sinner who was headed straight to hell.

"Be prepared to welcome the Guardian." I read aloud, scanning the caption, which had been proudly displayed in large red text at the bottom of the picture. What the hell? Thoroughly confused by what I had just seen, I shook my head and continued on, trying to wrap my head around it. If they knew that I was coming, then I definitely had to be wary, but something told me that they weren't intent on hurting me. Not if the way that the picture had depicted me was accurate.

Finding myself standing in front of a stage, I assumed that I was in the right place, if the assembled crowd was any indication. I took short glances at the Columbians, doing my best to keep my head down, so that they could not see my face, which I assumed was recognizable to anyone who had that poster in mind.

"Hey Mister, come and join in the raffle!" A young lady with a low cut dress called out to me. I shrugged. Why not, right?

"How much is it?" I asked, reaching into my pockets for some Silver Eagles.

The woman giggled, "Have you been living under a rock? The raffle's always free!"

Well in that case, I guess it wouldn't hurt to try my luck. I grabbed the first baseball I saw and turned it towards me.

"77." I read out, grimacing as I did so.

Don't pick Number 77.

Well, shit.

She peered into my hand, "That's a lucky number. I'll be rooting for you."

With a wink she walked off, leaving me feeling pretty good about myself. I guess that there's something about me that's just attractive to Columbians, and I wasn't complaining. I took one more look at the girl, who had moved on to handing out raffle tickets to some other people in the crowd. Yep, I definitely wasn't complaining.

"Bring me the bowl!" The announcer, an older man with a slicked up moustache and a top hat cried out, prompting the girl to cross up to the stage.

"Now is that not the prettiest young white girl in all of Columbia?" He asked the crowd, receiving raucous applause in response.

"Now, the winner is…" The man began, reaching in the bowl and pulling out a ticket, "Number 77!"

Well what do you know? I guess that I'm just lucky or something.

"Come and claim your prize! First throw!" He bellowed, stepping back and allowing the curtain to come up, revealing two people chained together.

Okay, what the fuck were all of these people cheering about? How was this even a prize? I froze for a minute, just trying to register what I was seeing.

"Well, are you going to throw, or are you taking your coffee black these days?" The announcer prodded, making a thinly veined insult at the color of the woman.

Look, I know I've done some shitty things before, but I sure as hell am not a racist. Immediately, I knew that the only choice I had was to throw the ball at that announcer to shut him up. I reared back and stepped forward, putting all of my strength into a nasty fastball, but right before I could release the ball in my hand, a policeman grabbed a hold of my wrist.

"Wait a second." The man said as I struggled to free myself from his grip, sweat staining my brow as I realized that he had definitely recognized me. And by his tone, it definitely wasn't a good thing. He studied my face, which I tried to turn away, but from behind, a pair of hands gripped the back of my skull and forced me to face forward.

Suddenly, the man's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, "It's the Guardian. It's him!"

As he said those words, the crowd collectively exchanged gasps and the announcer bent down to his knees in front of me.

"Well now, this is interesting, boy. Don't you know who you are?" He asked me with a smile that sent shivers down my spine.

"Who I am is none of your damn business!" I spat in reply.

"Looks like he needs to be enlightened. Take him to the Prophet!" He ordered, and my arms were roughly shoved behind my back before I was smacked in the back of my head once, sending me to the ground, where I lay, sprawled out in front of the astonished crowd.

I lolled my head over to the side and locked eyes with a small boy for a moment, who stared back at me with a certain something. What was it? Fear? Awe? I glanced back up at the policemen, who had their batons raised up in the air before they brought them down on me and the world went black.

Columbia was turning out to be a great place, wasn't it?


So, I hope you guys are intrigued! I you want to see this continued, please, leave a review and tell me, because I don't want to write something that no one has any interest in reading. Thanks!