Sometimes

Chapter Two.

The guards of Columbia moved in groups of two. Whereas it was for safety measures, or just to have someone else to chat with, was something he didn't know. He passed by a few more couples of lovebirds going to the fair, before gritting his teeth in frustration. He was nearing the park, where the raffle was meant to be, and he had yet to find some random cop to steal the Sky-Hook from.

He wasn't actually going to participate in that raffle of sorts, but if he could get a guardsman alone somewhere…he could deal with two at the same time of course, possessing one and then killing the other. He had a gun after all. He just needed a dark enough alley, and in the park with all the noise that was going on…

Of course!

He carefully grabbed a free soda from a nearby stand and a bag of popcorn, before nicking also two slightly cold beers. Holding them carefully, just like an overexcited pilgrim, he began to walk towards the closest patrolling gents.

"Ehi misters! Ehi!" he loudly exclaimed with a smile, coming close to two guards who were just about to turn the corner. The light of a nearby robotized machinegun passed on him for a split second, before moving back to its usual directions.

The two guardsmen stopped with bright American-approved smiles and nodded.

"What can we do for you on this bright day, citizen of Columbia?" one of the two asked.

He hoped to God they didn't actually talk like that normally —not that he had actually heard many guards talk. Usually he just killed them with a Sky-Hook to the face, burned them to skeletons, possessed them so they committed suicide, and sent crows to feast on their still living bodies or… in general he hadn't actually talked with many of the cops around Columbia at all.

"I'm sure patrolling the streets must leave you thirsty, gents. So I thought, why not give these two nice chaps something to drink?" as he said that, he offered the two beers to the guards, who actually smiled at such a display of…what was it anyway? American friendship?

They both grabbed one, and the taller of the two answered back.

"Ah, thank you citizen! You know, we shouldn't actually be drinking on the job, but with this heat? My, I wonder how those Firemen can get through the day with those suits of theirs."

"The wonder of Vigors always surprises me," the other guard replied. "We should be off then, citizen! Thank you for the cold drinks!" And then they both turned around to leave. He gritted his teeth as he realized they actually drank them in public.

He had expected them to go in a nearby alley, not remain on the public road!

He could take this slowly of course. He probably could find the money to buy one, if only he knew where they were sold. The light of the machinegun behind him however was giving him another idea.

So as he looked carefully around the bustling street, the ethereal dancing figure on his left hand giggled as she flew in the air. The machinegun blared and honked, suddenly turning sharp red on the back of the two cops. The burst of the first bullets caught the cops unaware, slamming on the ground already a corpse one of the two. The second barely turned around, trying to move behind some cover, when the second burst shot him dead splattering his head on the ground.

The crowd was screaming by then, running away.

He ran for the closer of the two cops, grabbing him as one would a wounded soldier. This reminded him of Wounded Knee, holding a fellow soldier as they walked away from the battle. He barely made it with the body behind the closest column, when the machine suddenly beeped and returned to normal.

The machine returned to its normal direction, not even caring in the slightest about what she had done. Being a machine that was actually normal. He grabbed the machinegun from the guard, before removing the Sky-Hook from him.

Booker admired its working once more, letting the metallic arms spin to test them. He felt the bile rise to his throat as he remembered some of his stunts with it.

Not giving the corpse another thought, he proceeded along the alley towards the other side of it, emerging in the main street once more. Putting on his best poker face, he entered the screaming crowd showing the fear on his face too. The screams soon went high enough to be hearable.

"The Vox Populi! It has to be them!" one yelled in the crowd.

"It's Daisy! It's Fitzeroy!"

"On this day no less! Monsters! Anarchists! Communists!"

There was no False Prophet to blame.

Booker DeWitt actually smiled as he took the first Sky Line together with a group of scared Columbia citizens.

His smile died the moment he recalled just how fast those things could go.

The railway linked with the Sky-Hook, sending him through a speed that could rival a galloping horse. He held his mouth shut as the air hit his face. Thankfully the multiple straps made it difficult for his hand to slip, but it did not change the fact that he was several thousands of thousands of miles above the ground. To fall would mean death, without any doubt.

He groaned as he swung aside, pushing himself out atop the roof of a nearby building and landing with his usual grace. Glass skylights gave into an office, the glint of a Vigor showing itself to him. He looked around and the frowned. He had followed the crowd, rather than try and bull-strength his way through the thick of the enemy's lines.

So where in all of Columbia had he ended up in? This seemed a far cry from the industries or the Shanktown, or anywhere else similar to that. The Fraternal Order of the Raven was nowhere to be seen, so just where was he going? The monument of the winged angel, the monument that held within it the prison of his daughter, was sort of mocking him, floating there in sight.

He brought his left hand up to cover his gaze and avoid the fastidious light of the sun, and as he looked through the various rooftops and possible sky-lines to take, he came upon a single white and red striped banner.

"Columbia Residential District

Eagle Nest

Where Sleep is American-Approved."

He looked down at the skylight, then at his Sky-Hanger. The Vigor was a possibility, and judging by the crimson colors it held, it would be a devastating addition…at the same time he wasn't being pursued by the police.

He wasn't being battled by Firemen or Handy-men or Mosquitoes. Robotized Lincolns and Washingtons weren't out for his blood. The Vox Populi didn't know him, and Slate was still alive with his men.

He could do this without the same amount of bloodshed as the last time.

Booker ignored the glint of the Vigor, he ignored the idea of breaking through the Sky-Line, and he took a perilous step towards the edge of the rooftop. The Sky-Line seemed to move parallel to a small park, if he jumped, attached himself and then jumped again, he would end up at the beginning of the Residential District. From there he would be in uncharted lands, but he would be moving closer to Monument Island anyway, so there actually wasn't a problem.

"To go or not to go." An extremely familiar voice piped in from behind him.

"That is the question." Another voice, feminine, remarked then.

Booker spun around quickly, somehow his machinegun was in his hands already, and as he narrowed his eyes the Lutece Twins looked back at him with their usual indifference.

"You're late." He remarked.

"Are we?" the man said.

"Aren't you the one early?" the woman said.

"No, it appears we are on time here."

"Maybe you expected us early elsewhere?"

"Maybe he expected us early somewhere else?"

"That's the same Robert," the woman chided.

"Rosalind you're a sore loser." Robert remarked.

"No I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"If you two are done," Booker commented tapping with his right foot on the ground. "I'll be going to save my daughter."

"See? He doesn't even want to ask!" Robert pointed at Booker with both his hands outstretched. "It shows I'm right!"

"The hand is different. The end is the same," Rosalind sniffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "There is nothing strange in this, Robert: I am right."

"The hand is the same! The end is different, end of the story." Robert snapped back.

"Oh really? I'm not seeing how this changes."

"Because it will," Robert muttered, before turning around to give his back to Rosalind.

"If it does, then why can't we see it?" Rosalind retorted.

"Because it changes things."

"Or maybe it does not."

"It does."

"You know what?" Booker finally remarked, "I'll be going." With those words, he jumped from the rooftop, the magnetized Sky-Hook spinning as it pulled his body forward against the Sky-Line and onto it, sending him through the air again. With the acquired speed, he jumped down at the correct moment, landing with a heavy grunt and rolling on the ground to reduce the damage of the fall. He pushed himself up from the ground, the green grass feeling slightly wet with his hands, as he took in the park's surroundings.

There was a lone tree and a few families having a picnic, a couple of children running around with kites or playing with rubber balls. He actually wondered how many of those fell downwards, when the answer came to him. A rubber ball was hurled by a young boy hard, missed by his playmate, and began to sail above him and towards the edge of the park. As soon as it neared the borders, a jet of water that so much reminded him of Undertow.

He shook himself off his stupor, before calmly starting to walk towards the entrance of the residential district. The sign 'no loitering' hung from the corner of the police checkpoint, that seemed not to care at all for who entered and who didn't.

Four guards were simply talking to one another, every now and then doing the same with the closest passerby. One automated turret gun stood guard atop the police's cubicle, holding itself to strike those who would enter violently. He began to walk without a care in the world towards the checkpoint, hoping the poker face used before could last well through the point in the residential district.

The moment the guards' eyes settled on him, they widened their eyes in panic. He looked back with perplexity. What did they have to…

The moment two guards hurried towards him, he did the only thing he could think of. He flung his possession towards the sentry gun, who sounded her horn as it began to attack the police. As the machine's bullets whizzed in the air, his machine gun rattled out a brief hail that struck through the chest the first of the guards, soon followed by the second.

The guards in the checkpoint began to scream, as the automated sentry fired against them. Booker charged through jumping with the Sky-Hook extended as it landed with a spinning crunch on the head of the closest guard. Swapping to his pistol, the next bullet passed through the remaining guard's head, sending the man to tumble on the ground.

Blood was sprayed over his clothes now, as the last gurgles of life from the closest guard came to his ears.

"Wanted…to help."

And in that moment, Booker DeWitt realized that the guards hadn't been alarmed because they had recognized him as a terrorist. They had been alarmed because his clothes had been covered in blood, the blood of the guard he had brought in the alley and had robbed.

They had wanted to help him.

By his own hand…

By his own hand he now had the city of Columbia on his tail.

And the roaring sound of a Fireman in the distance, that clearly didn't bode well to him.

Author's notes

And cliff-hanger it is!

I made a mistake and called the Sky-Hook 'Sky-Hanger' and the Vigors 'Tonics' (Bioshock 1 remnant and Sky-Hanger I have no idea where I took the name from) In any event, I was actually pondering how to make things different from a mere 're-run' of the levels.

And I realized I didn't have to think much.

The cut content.

The guys who didn't make it in the retail version.

All the stuff that we saw in Demos and gameplay and that in the end wasn't shown in the game itself.

That is what I'll be showing to make this something more than a mere 're-run' of the levels. As well as the good old saying of 'Why should I sky-hook through the world, when I can just burn a hedgerow to get to the other side?'