Carnival Games
The Patriot's Park boardwalk was even busier than Battleship Bay, with happy couples and families strolling on the oak floorboard amidst thousands of lamps and lights that illuminated the Park, with the deep blue of the nightfall above them. The boardwalk stretched out for a good mile, with everything from rides and shops to theaters and a casino.
The atmosphere of the place quickly dispelled the earlier gloom of the gondola cabin, as Elizabeth took in the sights with stars in her eyes, with Booker following in tow. He wasn't fond of carousels or games, but rather itched for a good drink. But he did not dare to do it, not while they could be watched.
"Cotton candy, get your cotton candy!", advertised a jovial voice as they approached it. The mustachioed man who praised the sweet treat wore a striped suit and a boater, holding a stick with attached pink fluff.
"What's this?" Elizabeth was curious about the treat. "Here you go little miss, cotton candy, a perfect cure for a sweet tooth!"
Elizabeth took the cone of cotton candy from the man and tasted it. Her eyes went wide.
"Mmm, this is amazing. How come I've never tasted it before?" She stuffed herself with the pink cloud as they continued their walk. Booker couldn't help but smile, her chirpy attitude totally disarming the weary agent. It was far too easy to forget where he was and what they were doing, with their leisurely stroll through the boardwalk.
"So Mister DeWitt, do you know why you were hired?" The brunette looked at Booker with interest, her curiosity now turned to her rescuer. Booker wasn't big on personal questions, that stuff could get you killed if said around the wrong person. He did feel like he owed the girl some answers however, before she was sold to solve his problem.
"I don't know. They probably want to meet you. No doubt for your lock picking lessons," he chuckled. He did wonder though, what could they want her for. He saw her do that thing in the tower, and they pretty much kept her locked up and prodded her for what she was able to do. Someone else must have known about Elizabeth, wanted her for their own schemes. It was more likely she was from a rich family or something along those lines, he reasoned with himself. No one offered that much money upfront, although considering the details of the job, he would have asked for more if he knew what was at stake.
"How old are you Mister Dewitt?" She kept up her questions while nibbling at her cotton candy. The pink cloud wasn't getting any smaller, Booker noted oddly. Her eyes still observed him with unnerving interest.
"Just north of thirty, and it's Booker." He disliked the formality and how it made him feel older than he actually was. He was no mister, he definitely did not feel like one.
"Alright, B-Booker," the name rolled off her tongue.
"Why do you ask? Something on your mind?" Booker raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, it's nothing. You just seem like a really experienced man."
"I suppose I am." There was no hiding it, there was far more going on than few innocent questions would ever reveal. Or so he thought.
"Can I ask who you are?" Damn it, why was she so persistent in asking those things about in him?
"I'm an agent, with Pinkertons. Private investigator."
"Investigator? You mean like a detective?" She seemed amazed, enthralled by his every word.
"I guess you could call me a detective."
"Oh, so you are just like Sherlock Holmes then? Taking up cases, solving mysteries, helping people out..."
He chuckled. "That's a nice way of putting it." And it sounded much better what he was doing in reality. Worker strikes and labor union actions were far more common than the cases of a demonic hound.
They passed by several rides and carousels, their music and lights drawing the girl towards them, who in turn dragged in Booker with her big pleading eyes and piteous stare. Or at least she tried to, following the sure-footed agent who did not want to waste any more time in getting to the aerodrome. As they passed by the big cream-white and red shell that formed the entrance to the aptly named "Tunnel of Love", Elizabeth's eyes lit up. She seemed to know it would be pointless to try to drag Booker in there, so she instead came up with a bold question.
"So, Booker, is there a woman in your life?"
The query did surprise him somewhat, not expecting THAT sort of personal question. He could scarcely comprehend what got into the girl's head. It was natural for her to be interested in him though, since he was the one who rescued her and probably was her first proper human contact in God only knows how long. But the question was still forward enough to make Booker pause for a brief moment before answering
"Not at the moment, no. Never had time for it, I suppose." The petite brunette grinned as she heard it.
"You must be really busy then, solving cases, hunting down criminals, rescuing damsels, but you never actually get to know any of them."
It's not every day that I have to rescue a smartass damsel from a flying city, Booker thought to himself. He knew quite few places in New York where one could buy some female companionship for a night, that was not an issue for him, but nothing he wanted to talk about with her. Nonetheless the subject did start up his imagination, an errant glance at the young woman he was charged with delivering to New York.
Booker shook his head hard, trying to dislodge those thoughts from his head. Steady on DeWitt, you are not that kind of man, let alone the fact that you were promised a swim in the Hudson if the job went sour. He was really itching for a stiff drink now, while trying to make innocent face as they walked along. Elizabeth only giggled as she saw the agent fiddle with his tie and blush ever so slightly.
The signs informed them that the way to the Aerodrome was just through the Patriot Park itself, it many carousels and rides enticing the girl. What seemed to impress her most was the Ferris wheel, turning slowly just at the edge of the boardwalk platform.
"Oh, a real Ferris wheel! I've always wanted to ride on one. Have you ever been on one Mister De-Booker?" Elizabeth inquired for the umpteenth time. This question was harmless though, so he could stand it easily.
"I'm not much for games, but I bet they have one in Paris, wait until we get there."
As they marched through the Park, a large stage was set up on the boardwalk, with two dressed up men wearing oversized head masks, and dancing in tune to a patriotic theme. The stage was surrounded by a large crowd of children and their parents, with the younger audience visibly captivated, unlike the bored adults who dispassionately observed the display.
"Oh look, Duke & Dimwit." Elizabeth pointed at the pantomime. Booker only gave her a blank stare.
"Oh you know, 'Remember boys and girls, don't be a dimwit!' How can you not know that?" Booker only shrugged.
"It must be something particular to Columbia."
"I loved those stories when I was a kid. They are a bit… off putting though," she commented, as the two actors goofed around on the stage.
"This whole place is bit off-putting if you ask me." Booker couldn't help noticing that the carousels, songs and souvenirs weren't exactly preaching friendship or happiness.
"Well, the park as a part of the boardwalk was built in 1903 to acquaint children with idea of national service." Elizabeth recited flawlessly. "Train up a child in a way he should go and when he grows old, he will not depart from it."
"Where did you get that from?" Booker cocked an eyebrow at the lecture he was receiving from the girl.
"From one of the books I threw at you."
They didn't get much further towards the Aerodrome, as they heard lot of commotion and shouting up ahead, panicked screams and people running in opposite direction. The pair slowly walked towards the source of the chaos, which revealed itself to be a police barricade at one of the Columbia Transit stations just next to the park, as well as a hotel building next to it.
Booker and Elizabeth hunkered down behind stacked up boxes and crates at the corner of one of the shops.
"What do we do now? How are we going to make our way to the airship?" Elizabeth whispered worriedly.
"We wait. There's no point in packing yourself into something you have little idea about." The irony of his own words was lost on him, caught up in the moment and looking pensively at the barricade. The fight was shaping up to be heavy, as he noticed several policemen in rather unusual heavily padded clothes and brandishing red bottles with them, another type of vigor no doubt.
What happened next stunned them both. From somewhere in the distance came hooting and shouting, before sparks and grinding of skyhooks on the rail could be heard. A rain of garishly uniformed men dropped on the barricade from the Transit skyline, stomping on the policemen and engaging them in the fight, balls of fire and bolts of electricity being exchanged. From the hotel and the station more hooting and more gaudy uniforms launched themselves into the fray, quickly overwhelming police.
The hooting grew intense and the rebels scattered to all sides of the boardwalk, their faces bearing nothing but bad intent to all whom they would encounter.
"Come on, let's go" Booker finally got up and scurried along the wall of the shop, aiming to get past the barricade to the station, Elizabeth closely in tow behind him.
As they made their way to the station, Booker rummaged through the battlefield among charred and fried corpses. He noted that many of the garish soldiers had twisted features that were not a result of the fight. Crystals sticking out of their hands and side of the head, dislocated eyes and faces as if someone tried to blend them in a bowl. Elizabeth approached Booker, carrying a small coin purse and another Nostrum vial.
"I found some money and more hea- oh my god, what happened to these people?" Her eyes went wide, face petrified in a horrified stare
"Beats me, but whatever it is, I'd stay clear of them. It definitely doesn't look like pox to me, or anything for that matter" Booker stated dryly. He was however curious about the odd-looking rifle, with a short, perforated barrel and a magazine sticking out of the side.
"Rolston Reciprocating… whatever it is, it definitely beats the Broomhandle." He slung it over the shoulder and took the loot from Elizabeth's hands, who still looked intently at the fallen men, their mutated features both revolting and intriguing.
"Now what's this?" Booker finally wrested one of the red bottles from the hand of the padded policeman, the top shaped into a body of a female demon blowing a flame with her mouth. He unscrewed the top and was about to drink the bottle down when he felt a small hand grab him by his wrist.
"Booker, are you sure these things are safe? I got a suspicion that some of these people didn't get sick by accident." She looked at him with her blue orbs, worry painted on her brow.
"Hey, we already saw what these things can do, throwing flaming grenades would be mighty handy in a next scrap."
She let go of his hand, but her face still bore worry as he drained the vigor bottle. The taste of ether was mixed with the hottest sauce and liquor he could imagine, burning his innards worse than the worst of the rotgut he could find in New York. After a brief moment, the burning moved to his hands, flesh melting and falling off, revealing charred bones. He couldn't help but let out a terrified cry, staring at his incinerating hands before it all disappeared in but a moment.
"Are you alright Mister Dewitt?" Elizabeth seemed taken aback by the display and the yell.
"Whoah, yeah, I'm fine. These things do have a kick, I tell you."
Gondola station was just ahead, with Aerodrome tethered to the station by cables alight with colorful lamps. The small roofed platform had a lever and a tall generator with a ball of blue energy inside, cracking and glowing like a giant light bulb. The thing and the gondola platform itself bore big advertisements for 'Shock Jockey'. Power company was a thing of the past according to the posters.
"We need to summon the gondola if we intend to reach that airship." Booker approached the lever and pulled on it, holding it for a moment, but the generator did not react to that kindly, instead buzzing, sparking and then finally blowing up, with the crystalline ball of blue energy inside shattering with a loud crackling.
"Looks like it runs exclusively on Shock Jockey," Elizabeth remarked.
"Of course it does…" Where the hell are we gonna find that?"
"Look! Come see the future of power at the Hall of Heroes." Elizabeth pointed at a board next to the generator.
"Ah. Well, that's convenient", commented Booker. But before they could do anything else, they heard footsteps. They quickly ran behind one of the benches that littered the station and hid. Two rebel soldiers entered station slowly, looking around and chatting leisurely.
"Well, we gave'em hell, didn't we?" Said one of the grunts.
"Yeah, we drove the bastards right out. I wonder what Slate got lined up for us next"
"I hope we can hit a place that has more Shock Jockey. I'm getting the shakes and that Vox Populi bitch keeps hoarding vigors for herself. "
"Yeah, but ol' Slate wants us to be nice, otherwise we will never get rid of Comstock and his tin men he says…"
They roamed around the place in apparent ignorance of the pair hidden nearby. They would have to take them out, Booker reasoned, his hand burning with desire to toss a fireball at them to test out the Devil Kiss vigor. But a brief glance at Elizabeth, who looked at him with her big eyes, waiting for his experienced decision made him reconsider. The girl saw enough blood already he had no desire to get messy. He pulled out his pistol and leaned out of his hiding, carefully lining up a shot at the grunts.
Two empty casings and two lifeless bodies hit the ground. "Quickly, let's go" he said, with both of them getting out of the station, scurrying along the walls and trying to stay out of sight. Another big group of soldiers was up ahead and Booker wondered whether it was possible to fight them off. He had vigors and a repeater, something that sounded like it was designed for such fights. The soldiers started to move, and there wasn't much time to think.
"Mister DeWitt, over here." Elizabeth whispered behind him, pointing with her lithe hand towards a locked service door. It looked like entrance to one of the rides, and she already fished out a pin out of her hair. They approached the locked door and after a brief moment Elizabeth got them in before they hurriedly shut the door as the soldiers meandered nearer.
They were in total darkness, the place lacking a single light or window. Booker snapped his fingers and a small ball of fire appeared in his palm, illuminating small circle around them. They were in a small service area, boxes, crates, tools and other lined up against the walls and on the shelves. The door to the entertainment part of the building was just ahead and Elizabeth opened that up with no problem either.
They were now in a tunnel illuminated with soft red light and track on which a cart could move. The tunnel was full of dioramas and painted amorous scenes on walls, where men and women engaged in reciting poetry, gifting flowers as well as scenes from tales like a knight climbing up a tower to get to a fair maiden, who stood on the balcony. And as Booker's luck would have it, they were in front of such mural.
"What is this place? Booker asked with a grimace on his face, but girl's amazed face and the atmosphere of the ride already gave him an answer that he did not wish to hear.
"We're in the 'Tunnel of Love'," said Elizabeth dreamily. "Usually those rides are on a boat and the tunnels are dark, but sometimes, you get something like this." She pointed at the fairy tale scene. "Awfully familiar, don't you think?" she said with a cheeky grin on her face.
"Well, don't get used to it too much, we got a ride to catch." Booker moved forward across the tunnel, looking for a passage to the other side with nervous paces, while Elizabeth strolled behind him innocently.
At last, another back door, another lock picking and they were on the other side, having avoided a large section of the boardwalk, now currently under control of the renegade soldiers. The path to Hall of Heroes was now open.
They scaled the stairs that led to the front gate.
"Hall of Heroes is closed until further notice…" Elizabeth read a sign that was posted at the entry to the park.
"It means we won't have to wait in a queue." Booker quipped. The place looked torn and beat up with crates and other clutter under tarpaulin; no doubt the closure was a recent thing. They got through the battered entry and into the elevator that led to an upper part of the boardwalk connected with the Hall of Heroes proper.
The elevator was relatively simple, one button to move it up and a big poster of Songbird on one of the sides, portraying a Vox supporter with a bomb, scurrying away from the mechanical monster.
A true patriot has nothing to fear from the Songbird!
The elevator stopped all of a sudden with a mechanical grid and the lights flickered.
"Ooh, what the hell?" Booker was growing impatient with constant stops and obstructions in his way.
"Is something wrong?"
"Nothing I can't fix."
Booker turned to the fuse box which he opened and yanked away the metal panel that covered it up. He looked for the busted fuse when he heard faint buzzing.
"Agh! Oh! It's a bee, I-I hate these things."
"Jeez, just kill it" Booker remarked as he changed the broken fuse.
"No, it will sting me!"
"Elizabeth..." Booker couldn't hide his irritation with girl's childish attitude. He finished with the fuses and turned the power back on.
"I have a better idea."
What he saw next beat anything he saw before. The petite woman held her hands forward in front of the poster, just like she did in the tower and was struggling to stretch them to the sides.
"What are you doing?" Booker was puzzled.
"I'm opening a tear." Elizabeth replied with stress in her voice, the exercise putting a strain on her.
A small slit appeared in the poster, the grainy, black and white light seeping through.
"What the hell?" Booker's eyes grew wider.
Elizabeth finally stretched her arms fully and the tear opened up, stretching all over the side of the elevator cabin, opening up to a perfectly ordinary house window, with flowerbed on the parapet.
"Whoah, shit!" Everything he saw in Columbia so far and everything he saw in the tower was toppled instantly by a feat of pure magic, as far as he could comprehend. The bee that Elizabeth was so worried about disappeared through the open window.
"What is that?"
"It's a tear. I used to open them all the time in my tower." Elizabeth replied calmly, treating the tear as a normal fact of life.
Booker was clearly not satisfied with the answer. "B- what is a tear?"
"It's like a-a…a window. A window to another world. Most of the time they are dull as dishwasher; a different-colored towel or tea instead of coffee. But sometimes?" She crossed the threshold of the tear and walked up to the window. "Sometimes I see something amazing, and I pull it through." She picked a rose out of the flowerbed on the parapet. "There." She put the rose in her hair, behind her ear.
"Good God". Booker still couldn't comprehend what he was seeing, the tear shimmering with the grainy light ever so much. "I don't suppose you got an airship in there?" He asked half-jokingly.
"I don't think so. But- but there is…th-there is something.. I-" Elizabeth gasped, her eyes growing wide with shock. "Oh no!"
Behind the window, among the slowly floating clouds an outline of big wings and worrying orange light could be seen, as it flew closer and closer with a terrifying screech.
Booker backed away from the tear. "Close it!"
Elizabeth now struggled with her arms stretched out, trying to pull the sides of the tear together. "I'm trying!" The screeching and the bird got closer as Elizabeth with pained effort finally managed to seal the opening in reality in a one swift motion.
The power in the elevator returned and they began their ride up, with both of them leaning on the sides, trying to recover from the encounter.
After a brief moment the lift stopped and the doors opened, revealing to them the upper level of the park.
"I don't understand what I just saw back there, but it sure looks like a shortcut to getting us killed." By now, the sky was the limit in number of the things that were beyond Booker's comprehension since he arrived in Columbia.
"But I could help…" Elizabeth replied insistently.
"I already told, you, I can handle whatever comes along. Trust me."
"Have it your way I suppose." The girl stared at him with disappointment, face scrunched up in an annoyed grimace. The rose in her hair added to her looks considerably even when she made faces, Booker thought randomly, before shaking his head to regain composure.
They moved across the vandalized corridor and out to the open area of the upper boardwalk, signs pointing them to Hall of Heroes. The signs shared their space with ominous looking 'Wanted' posters.
"Who is that?"
"Cornelius Slate. A war hero, back from the war with the Indians. Did stuff in Peking too, I heard."
"Huh, I wonder what did he do to get on Comstock's nerves."
The upper boardwalk wasn't as large as the main section, hosting fewer shops and a single hotel, "The Fellow Traveller". From here they could still see the brightly lit cables that hung between the boardwalk and the Aerodrome, suspended in the distance against the Parisian blue of the night sky. They were so close, yet so far.
This area wasn't free from police barricades either, but those were manned by renegade soldiers by now who seemed visibly bored with their guard duty, sitting around and playing cards, talking or drinking. Booker hoped he could sneak past them too and he quietly motioned to Elizabeth to follow him. They moved slowly behind the boxes and emptied carts that littered the area, crouching and making sure they stayed out of sight. They would have made it to the other side if not for a soldier that was behind the stacks of crates. he was all but done relieving himself, zipping his pants when he saw Booker and Elizabeth. The pair, still crouching froze at his sight like animals caught in the headlights.
"Who are you, skulking around like that? Boys! We got co.." The trooper did not get to finish, as his malformed face was covered in red, bullet from Booker's pistol catching him in the throat.
Elizabeth gasped in shock, but it was too late, as they heard the others get up and cock their guns, shouting at them to come out.
"Elizabeth, stay put and don't get out of hiding." He gave her a terse command, before slinging the machine gun from his arm and jumping from behind the cover, peppering the soldiers with fire.
First two men fell, while the rest scattered behind cover. Booker ran for the next set of barricades when a blue bolt of lightning flashed in front of him. "Whoah, damnit!"Fighting was getting harder, now that his enemies seemed to be on par with him in terms of their powers and he was alone. He got to another cover and tossed a fireball at a barricade in front of his, the fire exploding and burning the men hiding behind it. As they ran from the cover, flapping their arms around, Booker took aim and pulled the trigger in few short bursts. There weren't many men left and he ran ahead to close the distance between himself and the last barricade.
"Booker, behind you!" He barely heard the young woman, dodging the gunfire from the barricade ahead of him, to turn around and see a crate flying towards him, tossed by a bullish grunt, who managed to avoid Booker's earlier sweep. It was too late to get out of the way but the crate suddenly stopped in the air in front of Booker, before flying back at the soldier, knocking him out.
DeWitt stood there dumbfounded for a moment, and so did the remaining troopers behind the stack of barrels. Booker turned around to see Elizabeth standing up with her arms stretched forward, breathing hard though her nose. He didn't waste time and quickly fired Bucking Bronco at the still confused soldiers, forcing them out of the cover and dispatching them quickly with the Repeater.
Elizabeth approached him slowly as he stood there, looking around and trying to gather himself. It seemed like the job was throwing a new thing at him every five minutes. He turned to her and smiled weakly, seeing her worried expression.
"On a second thought, I think we can use those tears of yours next time we're in a scrap. I didn't know you could do more though."
"Yeah, I have couple of other tricks that I can do, but manipulating things is much harder than opening tears. I get exhausted pretty quickly when doing it. Besides, there must be a tear for me to use, I can't just pull them out of thin air."
Booker noted that in his memory; even though he did not know what a tear would look like. He checked the magazine of his repeater before tossing it away and picking up new one from one of the fallen troopers. "It would help too if you could scrounge up something for me to use when we're in a pinch next time."
Elizabeth gave him a resolute look."It will take some time, but I'll see what I can find." She looked up to the task and was eager to help, he saw. As far as these kinds of jobs went, this was a first one where the person escorted proved themselves useful and he had someone watching his back. He couldn't recall the last time he worked with someone but it felt good.
Whoah, work with someone? Easy there DeWitt, the girl could be a liability as much as she is help. Don't get too comfortable with her, one way or another. Soon enough it will be over, or so his mind kept repeating to him. He wasn't doing it for her, he was doing it for himself.
Nonetheless, he did give her an acknowledging smile and nod as she responded to his query. Maybe she wouldn't be around for long, but he would enjoy the experience.
They roamed the upper boardwalk for a little while, exploring the 'Fellow Traveller' and picking up more supplies, money and the odd nostrum that Booker swallowed without hesitation, but squirming as he gulped it down. Despite being similar in its cough syrup flavour and texture, this one made him feel tender and bit pumped up, like a balloon. The feeling quickly moved into his muscles, pushing them ever so slightly against his clothes. Elizabeth must have noted it too, since she gave him an impressed look as he went through the effects of the infusion.
Booker was finishing emptying the cash register of the hotel as he saw Elizabeth approaching from the back, carrying white doctor's bag. "Well Mister DeWitt, aren't we well-heeled?" she quipped as she saw Booker stuff coins into his jacket. Truth be told, all that silver was getting cumbersome, with coins weighing on his pockets and the waistcoat. Why weren't they using notes, like the rest of America?
"Mister DeWitt, can I see your hand? I found some supplies to saw up the wound." They sat at the bar counter and he gave her his injured hand. She carefully unravelled the blue cloth and looked at the wound. She took out a piece of clean cloth and soaked it in disinfectant before cleaning the wound, with Booker wincing ever so slightly.
"Mister DeWitt, do you usually get in a lot of fights?"
" I already told you, it's Booker." He replied. "And I generally try to stay out of a fight, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't in few." She finished with the cleaning and took the earlier prepared needle and the thread.
"It will hurt a bit but if you hold still-"
"I'm fine Elizabeth, I'm not a little chil-ough."
"If you hold still, will be able to finish it faster." She concentrated on Booker's hand, but she continued her barrage of questions.
"Did you always want to become an investigator? You seem to have a knack for it."
She did not know the half of it. "It's not exactly a kind of job one chooses of their own volition. It sorta happened for me."
"Happened to you?" Her voice rang with a hint of skepticism. But she had to learn a lot about world outside.
"Yeah, I wasn't really good with books and it happened rather quick…" He recalled trying to make a living in New York, leaving the Army and doing the only thing he knew how to do. Pinks took him in, kicked him out and he was back in for the last job with them. But she couldn't know. He gave her a curt reply to end the matter, hoping she would pick up on it, forgetting that so far she sheltered girl was bit unaware of how people really worked.
"Done." She finished stitching the wound and moved to putting the wrapping back around it. "It looks like no major cartilage or bone was damaged." He took back his hand and moved it around. The girl did a flawless job.
"You seem to have a knack for being a medic, thanks."
The girl perked up. "You're welcome. I'm always behind you if you need me."
They finally reached the gondola to the Hall of Heroes, and activated it. Elizabeth stared through the window at the Aerodrome and the airship hanging in the distance amidst the night sky, moon illuminating the clouds around it with a silver light.
