OK, so a few things before you read this.
1) I am posting this at roughly 1:00 AM my time so its really late for me and I just got back from vacation and there is work to be done. This was all I was able to make during the little free time I had and I haven't really revised it at all, so sorry for mistakes :P.
2) I am incredibly honored and humbled by the support that anyone who enjoyed the first chapter of OMwF! and I can only hope to meet and soar above those expectations. That being said, I am looking for a Beta Reader. I've never had on so I don't really know how the process works.
3) Time to respond to some reviews (This is only if you had a specific question or criticism or something that made me laugh)
Prince of Havok: I remember PMing you back, but if you didn't read it. I agree with your criticisms to an extent. Chapter length is relative for me and while I myself enjoy reading longer chapters, I find it hard to write longer chapters. With that in mind, I will try to make them longer.
Protagonist7: I also believe that we've discussed this. Jack is really an X-Factor. He will evolve as the story itself evolves. I may or may not write out more specific storyboards for him, but right now they do not exist.
Archer83: I'm fairly sure that by posting this chapter I'm answering that question. Like the reference though, haha!
The Mystery Guest reviewer: Ummmm...no? They don't die. Also, Booker only had a gun because there was one in his box. Jack had no such opportunity. I also don't remember saying what Jack was fully proficient with in regards to weaponry.
VividReederSeeder: o.0'
Lockman776: I know who Harry Dresden is, but I can't say that I've read the books. From what I've researched/heard about him Harry and Jack are ideologically similar, but I won't say any more for the sake of not spoiling character development.
bigstupidjellyfish 1337: Yeah, I very much understand that criticism. The fact is though, I can't write a very good summary and I knew I was taking a gamble by posting the excerpt. I am flattered that you said it has great potential, thank you.
Jaggedlightning has a bazooka: First, I love your name. Second, I'll implement those changes when I update the chapter next time and I'll make sure to not do that again.
I'm really sorry for the huge A/N, but I really wanted to get all of that stuff out of the way first. Please enjoy the second chapter!
-With Love, TTL
Disclaimer: I do not own the Bioshock franchise or any affiliates.
"Fifteen thousand feet." The voice continued to crackle, "Hallelujah."
For a few seconds, neither Booker nor Jack had realized that the pod had stopped shaking and that it no longer rocketed in the sky. By this point, they both fully expected to have gone to heaven, or hell for that matter, in a fantastic example of upper atmospheric pyrotechnics. However, hearing the sound of his own heavy breathing, Booker slowly opened his eyes.
"What the hell?" Whispered Booker as he drank in the scene through the pod's small window, "Jack…open your eyes."
Still cringing in fear, Booker's voice shook his partner back into reality and he too creaked his eyes open.
"Mother of God" Jack softly exclaimed, "Booker, are we dead?"
The pair beheld what little they could see from the window. Rather than struggling in their chairs for survival, they now did it to take in a better view in front of them.
The sight outside was absolutely breathtaking. Flying outside laid a city in the sky, above the howls of the stormy hell below. Fireworks shot into the air and exploded in delight of their arrival and the Sun's rays of light caressed the buildings, giving them a heavenly shine.
As they began to softly descend as if a cloud bore them to safety, Jack turned to his partner.
"DeWitt," Booker's young friend grinned, " I know I said I'd see you there if we went to Hell, but if this is Heaven, I think owe you a drink. You like Bourbon?"
Booker opened his mouth to agree with his friend, but then a voice repeated a message over and over in his head.
"Bring us the girl," the mysterious voice droned, "and wipe away the debt, Mr. DeWitt."
Booker grimaced closing his eyes and trying to forget the voice. But, the voice was right. No matter how pretty this place was, Booker didn't give a damn.
"Maybe in another universe, Jack" Booker laughed grimly, "But we have a job to do, remember?"
Jack's jovial expression faded and his grin turned into a slight frown as he nodded in resignation.
Perfectly on time with Jack's sad nod, the clamps holding the pair released and the pair stood up to stretch and rub their wrists and legs. The door slid downwards to reveal a stained glass illustration of a wizened man guiding people to the flying city. The room hummed with soft chanting of hymns.
Jack took his intrepid steps out from the safety of the pod.
"I think we're in a church, boss." He scanned the room, "But these people are no Christians."
The floor was flooded with a shallow pool of running water and Booker joined his friend to see what he had meant. The area was decorated very much like a cathedral with its windows and cruciform floor plan. However, what set this church aside from its Christian counterparts was that it lacked any dedication to God or Jesus. Instead, it depicted an old man called Zachary Comstock or 'The Prophet' and shrines to a 'Lady Comstock'. As they moved away from the initial room, a carved stone banner flew above their heads.
'The seed of the Prophet shall sit the throne and drown in flames the mountains of man' it read.
"Just a hunch, boss." Jack stated, "But I think people here have their heads in the clouds, so to speak"
"Glorious…" Booker muttered as the beheld the mural again; "It takes a special kind of ego to make a religion about yourself."
The pair began to explore the area for anything they could use taking what little money they could find from the donations left to Lady Comstock, but finding no weapons.
"Nothing" Booker sighed as he exited the last side room, "Not one thing I could use as a weapon."
"It's a church, Boss" Jack scolded, "I'd be concerned if they did have a gun lying around. At least we got some money from the donations."
"At least you have your Bowie Knife," Booker retorted, "But you're right, collectively we have about $100 of these Silver Eagles."
Soon they happened upon a man, his hands folded in prayer, wearing a white cassock.
"Excuse me!" Booker grabbed the man's attention, "Could you tell me where we are?"
The man smiled that reminded Booker of a parent explaining something to a child. It annoyed him.
"Heaven my friends." The man answered simply before returning to his silent prayers, "Or as close as we'll see till Judgment Day."
Rolling his eyes Booker continued down the stairwell and Jack followed. At the bottom, the partners faced a lane filled with water flanked by short walls with floating candles. As they stepped forward, they realized at other people surrounded them. To the sides and beyond the walls, men and women alike stepped forward slowly, muttering prayers as they marched. To the front a preacher was addressing the crowd before him. But, beyond the priest was a tunnel.
"As much as a hate priests and religious crap," Booker spat, "That looks like out ticket out of here."
As his older friend continued on, Jack lingered ruminating on not only what his friend had just said, but his overall demeanor. Booker DeWitt was by all means a good person, Jack knew this. However, some days, life really got dark, Booker would go on a drinking binge and start ranting about the horrors he had seen. How he had seen streams run thick with blood coursing through them. Other times still, Booker would start talking about his dead wife and daughter. His brow furrowed in concern.
'Booker,' Jack thought before dashing to catch up, 'what happened at Wounded Knee? Just what did you and my father see that day? And just what happened to your family?'
When they had reached the back of the crowd in front of the tunnel, Booker and Jack muscled their way through to the front. Booker opened his mouth to address the bombastic preacher. However, seeing Booker's annoyed expression, Jack interjected.
"My apologies, father," Jack gave a slight bow as he interrupted the old man, "But could you give myself and my friend here passage into the city?"
"My dear brother," The priest drawled, "Our true fathers are only the Great Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin as well as their Prophet, Father Comstock."
At this Booker gave a heavy sigh and even rolled his eyes, but the priest seemed to take little notice and continued on.
"And should you both seek passage into our city of Columbia, the only way is rebirth in the sweet waters of holy baptism. Will you be cleansed, brothers?"
The old man offered his hands to Booker and Jack. The crowd behind them encouraged them with words of hold praise. Although his face contorted into a mix of anger, grief, and annoyance, Booker nodded as he grabbed the preacher's hand and Jack followed suit.
"Very well, my brothers" The Priest began, "I baptize you in the names of our Founders and their prophet Father Comstock. I-"
Booker and Jack couldn't hear the rest as the wizened fool forced them under the water. They thrashed against the cold embrace of the waters as their lives faded away. Suddenly, the priest pulled them up and out from their watery doom.
"The hell was that?" Jack breathlessly questioned as he fell to his knees in exhaustion, gasping for some air.
Booker had no breath at all and as his lungs cried out for air, two men restrained him and Jack. The priest took a long stare at them both.
With a malicious grin the priest began again, "I don't know, my brothers and sisters, but these two still look dirty to me!"
The crowed cheered for the sick ritual to continue and the priest again turned to Booker, Jack, and their willing guards. The fool then gestured to the guards.
"Would you kindly show them the light of the Founders and our Prophet?" He ordered.
"Shit" Was all Booker could say before they forced him under again. However, this time there was no reprieve. The pressure of the two men restraining Booker kept him under the water. As the last of his air bubbled away, Booker's vision faded into darkness.
When Booker opened his eyes again he was in his office, a loud banging on the door served as his alarm as he awoke. Booker glanced down at his desk. It was littered with useless horse racing tickets and forms, all of them bust, half a dozen empty bottles of whiskey, vodka, and beer, a few packets of empty cigarettes, his pistol, and his Pinkerton badge and I.D. He looked around, but he couldn't see Jack. Then, Booker remembered where he was.
This shit was his life twenty years ago, when he had lost his wife and daughter to 'birth complications'. After that, he drank himself into oblivion and begun to nurture a gambling habit which gave way to a gambling addiction. When Jack found him, Booker's life was in the gutter. In fact, Jack was more the reason that Booker had decided to try to fix himself up.
The banging on the door continued and snapped Booker out of his stroll down memory lane. Suddenly, an ominous voice boomed from behind the door.
"Mr. DeWitt!" The male voice beckoned, "Mr. DeWitt!"
"What?" Booker asked, "Who's there?"
"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt, Mr. DeWitt!" The voice answered.
"What do you want?" Booker yelled angrily as he made his way over to the door.
"We had a deal, DeWitt!" The voice continued to nag, "Open this door right now!" It demanded.
Heaving a sigh of exasperation, Booker grasped the handle.
"I told you…" The detective said wearily, "I'm-I'm not gonna do it! Now go away!"
But the voice didn't do as he asked. It kept banging on the door, over and over again. Yelling his name in fury. Finally Booker couldn't stand one more moment of this torture and he opened the door. But behind the door, there was no man, no hallway, no building. No, what laid behind the door was Hell itself.
It was New York City, but not the New York City that Booker knew. It was different, changed. The buildings were full of light in the dark of the night. Two huge towers seemed to scrape at the sky. But that was not what made it Hell. The Hell was borne in the tongues of fire that licked the streets as giant zeppelins rained down showers of explosive nature onto the city. In the distance Booker could hear the cries of people as they perished and he could see the ominous outline of a city in the sky. Before he had a chance to act, an airship reared its head and sent a ball of flame that once again sent Booker tumbling into the darkness.
There you go! Once again sorry for the long A/N at the top. I have another chapter about 1/4 of the way done right now and if I finish my school work fast enough and get home fast enough, I may be able to post it tomorrow. Please R&R if you wish to, I really like to see the feedback!
-Graciously, TTL