Chapter 10
An hour had passed before Dante woke from his small power nap. He straightened out his back, wincing when he heard a pop, which in turn caused Elizabeth to wake up, whom also looked around and noticed that she was hanging on his shoulder.
"Morning." He smirked, letting the girl gather her surroundings whom couldn't help but blush a bit before asking, "Wha-? What happened?"
"You pulled us through the tear. The one to the world where Chen Lin's alive. At least...I think you did."
Elizabeth looked confused for a moment before remembering, and her expression cleared as she nodded. The two got up from the floor, straightening out their clothes and stretching their limbs. "Where's Booker?" Elizabeth asked as she adjusted her bandolier.
"Right here." The PI appeared from under the stairwell. "Been keeping guard, but now that you two are done with your nap, let's see if the gunsmith is alive."
"Of course," Dante replied, though he started eyeing the crates of weapons. "But let me see if I can find a new gun. Carbine is fine and all, but with the noise going on upstairs and lord knows what else is going on outside, I'd like to a weapon that has a bit more pep to it."
Booker gestured at the crates obligingly. "Be my guest, just don't take too long."
He looked over at the table and saw that it had a box of the Vox's take on the average Colombia machine gun—the Repeater. Ammo would be plentiful, but this one had its disadvantages. It burned through ammo at a faster rate, had a smaller clip, and a piss poor rate of fire. 'Gonna have to switch to either a shotgun or regular machine gun later on.' Dante thought before grabbing the rifle and sliding the bolt back, letting a fresh round go into the chamber before hefting it to waist level. "Let's get a move on."
Elizabeth made sure to grab two extra magazines before the three went back up the stairs. It was then that they started to notice things that weren't present the first time they walked through. Mainly, the fact that there were more prisoners in the cells, and who now were members of the Vox. The three could hear the revolutionary advocates crying for their release, pounding on the walls and hanging their fists outside of the bars that held them in their cells. They proceeded forward into the torture/projector room. This time, someone had left the film playing, but as the trio watched, they realized that it showed a different outcome from what they'd seen previously . "Daisy Fitzroy. C'mon, you piece of shit. Tell me about Daisy-" the first guard threatened the beaten man, only to be interrupted by his partner. "Cut him loose."
"What?"
"Scofield says cut him loose. They're bringing his tools to the lockup. That'll keep him clean, I guess.""Why?" the first man, obviously not pleased with being deprived of his opportunity to shed some blood, spit out. "What are you, the Columbia Gazette? The chink's wife got friends in high places. Come on, we need the cell."
The film ended there, the camera resting on Chen Lin's bloodied but still very much alive face. soon as it did, Booker took a step back, uncomprehending. "I don't understand how Chen Lin is alive now," he informed the both of them, frowning.
"We're in a world where he was never murdered. Somewhere we'll find out why, I suppose." Elizabeth answered with absolute certainty, as fi this were not her first time bringing a dead man back to life.
"I don't suspect you can change something like that and have everything else remain the same."
They entered the club floor, now filled with enemies as the spotlight shown on them and Fink's voice yelled, "What is going on here, Sansmark? As my head of Security, I suspect you'll want to find out how these two slipped past your men, and what they were doing in the basement!"
Throwing out a Bucking Bronco, the two managed to elevate most of the enemies in the room before shooting them down. The remaining few that stood didn't last long as they were dispatched quickly. As they were scavenging for extra ammo, Salts and Silver Eagles, Dante pondered out loud to himself, "Sansmark?"
"What was that?" Booker asked, looking up from scavenging some shells for his shotgun.
"Fink hired that Sansmark guy as his head of security. I'm guessing that that means he isn't offering you the job anymore."
"Your point?" Booker replied sulkily, glaring at the other man.
"Well, maybe that's evidence that we are in another world."
Booker just shook his head in dismay. "'Another world'...This whole business makes my head hurt."
"You'll get used to it," Dante replied cheekily, not bothered by the unfriendly glare sent his way.
Our heroes stepped outside, only to find more Founders in their way. One firefight later, they were able to make their way back and inside the workshop. When they walked in everything more or less looked the same-save for one small detail.
"Do you hear anything?" Elizabeth questioned, tilting her head to the side curiously. She looked up at the ceiling, frowning.
Booker looked at her, confused. "Huh?"
"No machines. No tools. Listen."
Sure enough, the trio stood absolutely still and listened, they realized that there was no sound aside from the burning of the furnace. Not even the sound of footsteps walking across the wooden floors was heard-never a good sign.
"Let's go find that gunsmith. Maybe he's upstairs now," Booker said with a hopeful air, though none of them actually believed it.
They made their way upstairs, but stopped when they came across the small corner from before. "The shrine...it's a figure of Comstock now." Elizabeth pointed out—sure enough, the statue of Buddha was replaced by a bust of Comstock. They made their up to the top floor and find Chen Lin who seemed...off. Not only was he walking around an empty area like he was working but where there was no tools around, but his face seemed distorted and his nose was bleeding.
"Um, Mr. Lin? Chen Lin? 'Scuse me, Chen Lin?" Booker spoke, trying to get the man's attention.
"Who are you? You speak up! Speak up! Can't hear you over all these machines! Very loud!" The man replied-Elizabeth found at that last bit, since it didn't make much sense since there were no machines around.
Booker tried his luck again, to no avail. "I'm Booker DeWitt-"
"Stand back! These machines very dangerous. Wait downstairs with Mrs. Lin."
Not wanting to seem like a wallflower, Dante decided to speak up. "Daisy Fitzroy sent us. We need to talk to you about getting some weapons."
"Machines very dangerous. No place for stupid people. Want to lose pretty head?" The man insisted, ignoring anything any of them whenever they tried to speak.
"Mr. Lin-"
"Downstairs!" he yelled, annoyed, before going back to "work."
"What is wrong with him?" Booker wondered aloud, looking back incredulously as they headed back downstairs.
"Remember him dead in that cell? Maybe in some way he remembers that, too. How would you reconcile that?" Elizabeth asked, as if they all were semi-omnipresent beings and knew exactly what she was asking.
"Good point," Dante, who was something of the sort himself, added in. "Knowing that you died only to be alive...I mean, wouldn't you be a bit out of sorts, too?"
Before either could respond, they heard the sound of talking, from the landing. It sounded like someone praying at the shrine. Going around the corner, they found a woman there-but it wasn't the same woman as before. This woman was Caucasian, with honey-colored hair wrapped in a tight bun on top of her head and wearing a crisp white dress. Her hands were clasped together in prayer, seemingly not noticing the intruders to her home.
"Heal my husband," she whispered to the shrine as they approached, cautious but curious. "Calm his troubled thoughts. Ease his burden. Bring Chen Lin back to me..."
"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm looking for Mrs. Lin," Booker asked, accidentally interrupting her prayer somewhat rudely.
"I'm Mrs. Lin," the woman replied, turning from the shrine and to them. If she was bothered or insulted by their presence she did not show it, instead trying to smile politely but failing.
"No, I mean a little Chinese lady. She was-"
"Booker. This is Mrs. Lin," Elizabeth told him, gesturing to the woman, who looked confused at the conversation but didn't mention it.
"They took Chen's tools," she told them instead, and her voice was wobbly, as if she were about to burst into tears. "What's he got without his tools?"
"Well, your husband is a bit out of sorts." Booker commented, scratching the back of his head. Elizabeth glared at him, trying but failing to step on his toe for being what she deemed rude, but Mrs. Lin just nodded in agreement.
"If he could work again, maybe...i-if he could work, he'd-"
"Mrs. Lin," Dante cut in, not wanting Booker to seem more insensitive than he's already been. He supposed Booker was somewhat unused to dealing with people in stress-at least in a delicate fashion. "Can you tell me who took your husband's tools?" he asked gently.
"Goddamn police," she spat, clenching her fists at her side. "They took them and locked them up, in the impound in Shantytown. If you're aiming to help return them, we'd both be so grateful. I'm afraid we don't have much, so we wouldn't be able to really make it up to you, but-"
"Don't worry about payment, we'll help you all the same." Dante reassured.
Mrs. Lin smiled, and this time it came easily, though it was still pained. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. That's wonderful, I-I'm sorry….I need to be alone right now. But thank you again." She dug out a handkerchief from somewhere and held it to her eyes as she turned back to the shrine. Elizabeth patted her gently on the shoulder before gesturing to the both of them to follow her out.
As they made their way out, Elizabeth asked, "Is she right? Would having his tools back fix his mind?"
"Who cares," Booker grunted. "We're not getting any guns if Chen Lin doesn't have his tools. Let's head to Shantytown."
"Okay. Not sure if you noticed, by the way, but Lin had a bloody nose." She sighed, moving a strand of hair behind her ear and looking back at the shop worriedly. "This tear...I'm not so sure it was a good idea."
They got outside before once again running into opposing Founders, whom they dispatched easily. Elizabeth huffed as she emerged from her chosen hiding spot and rejoined the group.
"I really wish that we could go somewhere in peace for once. If I never see another Founder or Vox member again it'll be too soon. I'll be happy once we're out of Columbia."
They passed through the doors at the Shantytown entrance, pulling a lever, before waiting for the cargo to move.
"If you want to ask me, ask me."
"About what?" The two asked simultaneously.
Elizabeth huffed a laugh at that, grabbing her hand and squeezing her thimble covered pinky. "My finger."
Booker started stumbling over his words as Dante just shifted uncomfortably.
"It's alright," she calmed them both, smiling nervously. "It's as much a mystery to me as anyone else. Maybe Songbird knows, but he's not talking."
Dante snorted before covering his mouth. "Uh, sorry."
"What for? I get to wear this stylish thimble to cover up my hideous deformity. I hear they're all the rage in Paris," she said slyly, smirking at Dante.
As the conversation ended, the cargo moved revealing a pair of doors. They walked through...only to see more Founders waiting for them. All the trio could do was roll their eyes and groan in annoyance. Elizabeth dashed to the side, finding a nice hiding spot while Dante and Booker tackled the horde. One horde of Founders dealt with later, they made their way into the small station that led to the housing area. Dante spotted the armory but noted that it was locked and along with new vigor that was behind the gate. Thankfully, there was a shotgun stashed right next to the gate so he swapped his current weapon for it, checking to make sure he had shotgun ammo beforehand. The three got inside the elevator, it starting its descent after the button was hit.
It was a few seconds later before Elizabeth spoke. "You must think me some sort of...freak. A girl who can bring dead men back to life...whose only acquaintance is a...giant bird creature. I must seem ridiculous," she lamented sadly, not looking at either of them as she hugged herself tightly.
"Elizabeth, you are anything but a freak. You're kind, smart, and your powers make you indescribably unique." Dante spoke with conviction and truth in his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Booker nodding in approval before speaking himself.
"Elizabeth, he's right. I haven't known you for long, I'll admit, but from what I've seen you are so much more than that."
"Like what?"
Booker was at a lost for words, for once, as although he had much he wanted to say he couldn't find a way to phrase it. Dante, on the other hand, simply said, "You're a good person, which in this day and age is hard to find." He left it at that, but he could see the tension releasing in Elizabeth's shoulders as she relaxed her death-like grip on herself. The elevator stopped as they stepped out into what was essentially a ghetto. While there were apartment buildings, there were also makeshift huts and small shelters that had one too many people crammed into it.
Elizabeth examined the poor living conditions, horrified, before saying, "These people are like this because of Fink? Maybe Daisy's right. Maybe she should pay him back for all of this."
"If they do that, they're not better than Fink's men. Justice over revenge." Dante looked over the scenery around them. "Honestly, there's a lot more places worse than this. Most of the time they have to fend for themselves-meanwhile the Founders are living comfy."
"And nobody helps them," she whispered sadly.
"Not true. Quod erat demonstrandum." Dante dug through his pockets and brought out a purse full of Silver Eagles. He walked over to a woman who held a sign that read: Starving Children. He held it out towards her, earning a wary look from her. "Here, to feed your children."
The woman just kept looking back and forth between him and the purse before Dante took her hand and placed the purse in it. "'Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.' Do you understand what that means?"
She nodded, and he closed her fingers around the purse. "Then go, feed them." The woman silently thanked Dante as she took the purse and hurried away to get food.
Dante walked back to the others as he quoted, "'Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.'"
"Did you write that?" Booker asked curiously, tilting his head.
"No, but Mark Twain did." Elizabeth lightly elbowed the PI in the side, grinning.
"He did, yes, but you see I what I mean?"
Elizabeth and Booker both nodded, and walked into the nearby bar aptly named the Graveyard Shift. They walked in, a few pairs of eyes staring at them before returning to whatever they were doing before; either drinking or playing cards. A few were swapping stories around a table. Dante motioned for the two to hang back while he walked up to the bar. The bartender just stared at them warily. "Whadda ya want?"
"A place where my friends and I can cool our heels for a bit." He placed a purse of Silver Eagles on the bartop. "No questions asked and a round of drinks for everyone."
The barkeep raised an eyebrow before grabbing the pouch. "Downstairs, just don't mess with my inventory."
"Much obliged." Dante signaled for the other two to follow as they made their way to the lower level. They followed him while trying to be as quiet as possible, so as not to garner the attention of the other patrons. Reaching the downstairs, they saw a small boy reaching for an orange on a shelf.
"Hi there," Elizabeth greeted, but the boy scurried off under the stairs into a crawl space. She sighed, clasping her hands together and holding them in front of herself. It was then something caught her eye, as well as the other two's. "A guitar. Wish I knew how to play...might dispel some of the gloom."
"I know how to play," Booker commented, awkwardly. Elizabeth turned to him, hopeful, and Dante saw the panicked look in his eyes.
Coming to the poor man's rescue, he said, "I know how to play, too. I think I have a song in mind that might help, actually. Shall I?" The two motioned to the guitar as Dante picked it up and settled it. Fiddling with the strings, he finally began to strum an unfamiliar song-well, unfamiliar to them. He himself had heard this song many times.
"Every time when I look in the mirror...all these lines on my face getting clearer...the past is gone. It went by, like dusk to dawn. Isn't that the way? Everybody's got the dues in life to pay...
I know, nobody knows, where it comes and where it goes. I know it's everybody sin, you got to lose to know how to win...
Half my life's in books, written pages...Live and learn from fools and from sages...You know it's true, oh. All these feelings come back to you!
Sing with me, sing for the years! Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears! Sing with me, just for today! Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away...
Yeah, sing with me, sing for the year! Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear! Sing with me, just for today! Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away…"
Here he stopped, though the song was not over yet-but he figured he should cut it short for the sake of time. He slowly strummed the last bars of the song, not looking up from the guitar until he finished. When he did, he found both of his companions looking at him in shock.
"What?" he asked cautiously.
"What was that song?" Elizabeth asked, walking towards him as he set down the guitar.
"It's nothing really-just an oldie that I know."
"I've never heard that song before," Booker replied suspiciously, eyeing him.
"Well, it's an oldie from where I'm from. That aside," He stood up, resting the guitar against the chair and stretching a bit. "Let's rest up for a few minutes before heading to the police station. I mean, it's gonna be swarming with Founders, so might as well."
"I don't think we quite have time for-" Booker started, but Elizabeth plopped right down into the chair that Dante had just vacated, already settling down nicely. Booker looked like he was about to argue, but ultimately decided against it and sighed, making himself at home on the floor.
"Alright, fine, five minutes. I suppose it wouldn't hurt. The First Lady really isn't going anywhere, after all…" Still, the eldest of the three looked unwary, grabbing his gun and making sure the weapon was operational. The weapon lay across his legs, ready to be used if the owner felt threatened.
"Exactly," Dante smirked, sitting down and leaning against a wall. The trio sat in silence, Booker nodding off while the other two were awake. The little boy from earlier popped up from his hiding space out of curiosity. Having notice this, Dante grabbed an orange from a nearby shelf and held it out. "Here." The boy looked at him and then the fruit warily before snatching it and crawling back to his hiding spot.
Elizabeth smiled at the gesture, first to the boy then to Dante. "That was…" she paused for a moment, searching for the right word before settling on, "...charitable."
"Well, no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted."
"That's very true," the girl admitted, looking back at the space where the small child had fled. "If only more people realized that…then maybe this place wouldn't be so tragic."
He sighed wearily. "It feels like here it just doesn't click. Comstock doesn't see that and sadly neither does Daisy. No chance of coexistence, all the other just wants is to rule."
"Well, I do think Daisy has a far more valid point than Comstock, but I suppose you're right. I wish...I wish things could be different, you know? That they could actually change."
Dante snorted in amusement. "That'll be the day, but I doubt it'll every happen. Though why do you bother? I guarantee within another day or two you'll be...well anywhere that isn't here."
"What do you mean, why do I bother? What exactly are you talking about?"
"Thinking that Fitzroy or Comstock could change? One's an anarchist who's fighting for a just cause but doing it all wrong and the other is a man who changed his own history and...well, basically made you live a life of lies and solitude."
"Oh. Oh, no...no, I meant things. Like, the way the people here are treated, and how...well, you know. But you're right in that regard, for sure. I doubt either of them ever had many morals to begin with."
"Ah. Well most of the people here are either immigrants or descendants of a bygone horrible way of life. People like Fink, the Founders and anyone living life of luxury were taught or see them as nothing but animals, for lack of a better word. I mean, there are sympathizers, but they're afraid of what'll happen if they speak out. By what we've seen, Colombia doesn't accept that type of thinking."
"That is also true," Elizabeth agreed sadly. "But is there any kind of place that does?"
Dante rubbed the bottom of his chin. "Well, it is where I'm from."
"And where would that be?"
"Technically speaking, New York."
"From what I've read of that place, it's as much the same as anything else, and especially considering your appearance, I can't imagine that they would be too pleased with you having ideas of your own."
"Well it's...complicated. Though I'll say this, life there wasn't all too bad." Dante decided turn to face Elizabeth. "How about this? Tell me about your life in the tower and I'll spill out a bit of my own."
Elizabeth started at that, looking at him warily but ultimately deciding that he could be trusted, just a bit. "Well...lonely, for one. I didn't have any friends or anybody tot oak to. In fact, you and Booker were the first people I'd ever met."
"Well what about Songbird?"
"He fed me, brought me books, played with me, watched me...but he was never really a friend, more of an acquaintance of sorts."
"Well to that of a child, he could be considered an imaginary friend. Well, if said friend was real, could tear down buildings and be utterly relentless. So basically a very overprotective friend."
"I suppose. I never really considered him a friend after the age of ten, though. He was...my warden. He wanted to keep me locked up, to be ogled at and prodded like some specimen."
"Well, maybe it wasn't his choice."
"I'm sure it wasn't," she sighed wearily, suddenly wanting the conversation to be over. "In reality, he's just Comstock's pet, isn't he? Just like me." Absently, she took her pinky in hand and squeezed it tightly.
A pair of hands grasped hers as she saw a look of conviction in Dante's eyes as he spoke with a stern but truthful voice. "You are nobody's pet. Those who've called you a pet would you see as that but are too damn blind to see you as a person. I see you as a remarkable person who deserves to be free and do what they dream of doing." Noting the placement of his hands, he gently removed them from hers. "Now, I know a bit more about you, what do you want to know about me?"
Elizabeth bit her lip, unsure. "Well...do you have any family?"
"Oh yes, a big family. Normally I see or come across them every now and then."
"That's nice. Do you care for each other? Are you one big happy family or a sad big family? It must be nice to have all those people…"
"We do, yes, but happy or sad? Ha! It's more complicated than that. And it is nice but…" Dante sighed, his eyes starting to look distant. "Sometimes...sometimes they leave, or they're left behind and sometimes...not many but...some died."
"Oh. Oh, I'm...I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been rough, losing people you love like that."
"Well they aren't truly lost. The memory of them will stay and they won't be sad ones. I can remember them when I want to, I just have to really want to - to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time they... they sleep in my mind, and I forget. But, I still carry them with me. What they would have thought and said and done I make them a part of who I am. So even though they're gone from the world they're never gone from me."
"That's certainly an odd way of putting it, but I like it. Interesting…that's a nice sentiment, truthfully."
"Thank you, my mentor said it to someone who was coping with the death of a loved one."
"Okay, who exactly is this mentor of yours? He seems to know a great deal and you've mentioned him a dozen or so times, so I'd like to know about him."
Dante, knowing that he couldn't share everything, decided to tell her a bit. "Well he's gone by many names but most know him as The Doctor."
"Oh, what's his practice?"
"All of them."
"...Wow, how helpful. That gives me everything I need to know about him. How could a man possibly have every single practice there is? Ridiculous-it would take several years to master even one, let alone as many as there are."
Dante just smirked innocently. "As impossible as that sounds, he specializes in the impossible."
Elizabeth was completely unamused by his cockiness, shifting away from him. "...Alright, fine. Are you actually going to tell me anything about him?"
All he did was put a finger to his lips. "Spoilers."
"...What? What does that mean?"
"It means I can't tell you everything. But tell you what? We get out of this, I'll let you meet him."
"...Alright."
XxxxxxxxX
After a good twenty minute rest, the three were back to it as they reached the Bull Yard. As they approached, they quickly realized that in true Columbia fashion, already there was a problem.
"We're gonna have to get through an army to get those tools," Booker groaned, not pleased with this new development. However, he did not sound surprised as he hefted his shotgun.
"Well, hasn't stopped us so far." Dante pointed out while checking his rounds.
"I suppose not," Elizabeth agreed, hesitantly, as she looked around for any kind of ground cover.
After a minute of examining the terrain, Dante managed to get a sense of what they could do to get inside. "Ok, counting the guards and the very massive turrets that are on the building, the small turret, and the Patriot, someone's gonna have to use the skyway and the other has to be on the ground. The latter will have an opportunity to take out any Founders taking pot shots at them from the intersections."
"Sounds good. Which one do you want?" Booker asked.
"Skyway. Although," he held out his sniper. "Swap you for the shotgun."
"Sure, but I want it back at the end of this." He grabbed the weapon and gave Dante his shotgun in return. He made sure the thing was working and loaded before motioning to Elizabeth. "C'mon, I think I saw a place you can hide. We're going to have to fight our way there but there's a couple of medkits down there you can toss us."
She nodded, ducking behind Booker and readying herself for what lay ahead. Booker cocked his weapon and Dante got ready as well.
"You ready for this?" Dante asked, eyeing Booker.
"Nope. Are you?"
"Hell no."
What proceeded for the next ten minutes was a combination of violence, death and unnecessary swearing. The ground forces that had gathered in the yard were dispatched with a Devil's Kiss grenade and the stragglers were shot. All that was left were whatever stragglers were inside the skyway intersections and the giant turrets. The latter was distracted by bursts of covering fire from Booker's sniper. Meanwhile the former was dealt with as Dante used a combo of his shotgun and his various Vigors to take them out. After the last soldier fell, all that was left was to take care of the automatons. Looking around, he spotted a tear that had a crate full of RPG's. Only problem being, Elizabeth was back on the ground hiding behind cover, and he was up on one of the intersections. He supposed he could try whittling down the turrets with his gunfire, but that was in the game world. In the actual world, he needed the heavy artillery.
He made his way down to where Elizabeth was crouching behind a couple of crates and whistled to her. When she looked up, he pointed to the skyline and gestured for her to follow him. She did with only the slightest hesitance, dodging gunfire as she leapt onto the skyline and dropping into one of the intersections, where she found the tear and ripped it open. He grabbed two of the launchers and set one aside while hefting the other up and opened fire on the turret. In less than two shots, the weapon was spent and the turret was damaged. He grabbed the other one he fired one more and the turret was destroyed. Firing the last hot, it hit the second turret which aimed itself towards him.
"Well, it's been fun," he quipped, shortly before grabbing Elizabeth's hand as the two got to the skyway before a barrage of missiles hit where they once stood. While Elizabeth dismounted back on the ground, Dante stayed on the skyway to get another pass at the turret. An opening presented itself as he lobbed a heavily charged ball of Devil's Kiss which stuck itself on the turret and exploded. The turret itself strained until it faltered and broke, exploding in the process.
"That...was amazing," Elizabeth commented from her position. She gave a thumbs up to him.
Dante returned the thumbs up as he landed near the front door to be greeted by the turret and Patriot he spotted. He rolled away from the gunfire as he threw a Possession at the former which opened fire on the automaton. The turret was destroyed but the opportunity opened itself as Dante loaded all six shells into the back of the Patriot as it collapsed.
'Now all that's left is who's inside,' Dante thought before signaling an all clear for the other two. They all assembled together in front of the door which, naturally, happened to be locked. The two swapped guns while Elizabeth went to work on the lock, and soon enough they were walking into the impound. It seemed almost abandoned but they knew better. After gathering enough supplies, they walked through another pair of doors only to be met with more Founders, which they dispatched rather quickly though the Patriot took a tad longer. They made their way down the basement as Elizabeth spotted the tools, and mentioned as much to the others.
"There they are. The tools!"
"Now we just have to get them back to the Vox, and then we get our airship," Booker muttered, relieved. He lowered his weapon, as it didn't seem there were any hostiles in the immediate area. They came across a locked gate that led down towards them. Once again, Elizabeth worked on the lock as it fell off a few minutes later.
"Who are we really helping by getting guns for the Vox Populi?" Elizabeth asked as they walked down the steps and turned the corner into the opening.
"It's gonna help us," Booker said with a note of finality and indifference.
"Daisy can make a change, can't she? Make things better for the people here."
"Sure," Booker mentioned placatingly, which Elizabeth obviously didn't pick up on.
"Don't be too sure," Dante commented under his breath.
They find Chen's tools...all of them gigantic and heavy. Booker groaned dramatically while Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and stared. Dante, however, looked thoughtful, examining the pile in front of them while the other two cursed their bad luck.
"Well, we sure as hell aren't gonna be able to carry this all back to the shop. God, we didn't think this all the way through." Booker lamented, looking like he wanted to punch a wall.
On cue, he cleared his throat to get the others attention. "What's that then?" Dante asked, knowing the answer but wanting them to figure it out for themselves.
They looked to see the same ripple appear out of mid air in front of the tools as it did back at the Good Time Club. Looking through, instead of the tools they saw confiscated weapons and crates. Elizabeth gasped while Booker gaped.
"It looks like a tear...to another version of this room that doesn't have any tools in it."
"Well, if the tools aren't in there, then…" Elizabeth started.
"Then they must be-" Booker continued.
"-back at the shop!" All three said at once.
"But.." Elizabeth faltered, fiddling with the thimble on her pinky. "If we go into this tear...I don't think there's any turning back. Are you sure about this?"
The two looked at each other before Booker nodded. Once again, Elizabeth grabbed the air in front of her, making a pulling motion, as the world around them was consumed in a flash of light. Once the spots in their eyes subsided, they find the area their in full of guns instead of contraband. Dante took a second to swap his machine gun for a burst gun, making sure to grab some spare magazines.
"Well, that did...something." Elizabeth commented before staggering, Dante stepping in as she fell back in his arms. Thankfully she did not pass out, although she did let out a yawn. "I'm fine, just need a minute. Thank you though."
Booker shifted the gun in his hands. "Come on, let's head back to the gunsmith and finish our deal. I aim to be on that airship, and well shut of this place 'fore long."
After regaining her footing, Elizabeth said, "Daisy can make a change here, Booker. We can be a part of it! Just think-"
"I don't want to be a part of anything, Elizabeth. What is it with you? First you want to go to Paris, abandon us for not taking you, and then when we ARE going to Paris you suddenly change your mind and want to help folks you don't even know. Make up your mind!"
They started back the way they came, Elizabeth and Booker arguing back and forth all the while as Dante wished they'd stop. They had just reached the doors to the main entrance area when Elizabeth decided to be a little more authoritative in her mission statement.
"Booker," Elizabeth tried again, pursuing the subject even though Booker made it clear he couldn't care less. "If the Vox get their weapons, there's going to be a revolution just like in Les Miserables! These people are gonna have better lives." Her arguments were in vain, however, as Booker just shook his head. Dante actually agreed with him, albeit silently.
"If I recall correctly, Elizabeth, Daisy Fitzroy is more of a Javert than a Valjean."
Elizabeth, although understanding the reference, sighed and shook her head as they neared the doors. "You guys just don't understand. These people are being oppressed and brutalized, and Daisy understands them. She wants to help them. We can help people, too, instead of running away from our problems and pretending that that kind of injustice doesn't exist or doesn't affect us. Booker, Dante, you promised you would take me anywhere I wanted. Well, I want to stay. Here."
Knowing he'd have to cut in somehow, Dante decided make his voice heard. "Elizabeth, look, I know you mean well and I understand you clearly. But all Booker was tasked with was to get you outta this place. I was hired to back him up. Nothing more, nothing less. I get that you want to help these people but," he had to word this very carefully otherwise he'd compromise everything. "You can't save everyone. The Doctor, despite he and I traveling and passing through so many places, we couldn't save everyone. The world has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. But everything has its time."
"'I...alright, I suppose you have a point, though I loathe to admit it. But...but I don't expect to save everyone. Just as many people as I can...but. But I suppose we can figure all of this out later, once we've gotten the weapons back to the Vox."
"Fantastic idea," Booker muttered, obviously very pleased with this answer. "Let's get to it then."