A.N: Hey guys soo sorry for the late update. Guess I just kinda hit a wall in my head, but it's all sorted now hopefully. Hope you enjoy!
P.S Still looking for a Beta if anyone's interested
CH10 – Anomaly 1
Roughly one week after the Worker's Strike
The pressure on his head began to grow as the monster gripped him in its enormous paws. Enveloping Bookers entire skull with a single palm, it lifted the terrified officer a full 4 feet off of the ground, shaking his body like a fish. Sparks flew from where another volley of shots pinged off of the creatures' metal hide, but there was no sign that it even felt the powerful impacts. If anything, they only seemed to make it more determined to kill the officer suspended in front of it, and the pain in Bookers skull multiplied ten-fold as the thing squeezed. Fighting for every small motion he made, Booker scrambled to draw his Paddywhacker, unloading the whole cylinder into the things armoured gauntlets. It moaned in pain, the round successfully denting and even piercing the armour in places. It still wasn't enough for it to lose its grasp of the man.
It was too much pain, and in his agony Booker screamed out. The behemoth showed no sign of letting go, and Booker began to lose the fight for consciousness as his body shut down. Subconsciously he still fought back, but in his mind he could only imagine how much relief death would bring. Sure, he'd never find the girl but was any mystery worth the torment he'd endured here? It was better to give up and hope the Lord was in a forgiving mood. Well… whatever judged a man when he died.
Suddenly the pain was gone; replaced with a sense of free-fall as he was launched high into the air. His vision returned just in time for a view of his colleagues still engaged with the red-eyed beast before they were whisked out of sight. He skidded to a stop in another room, having been tossed out of the first and down a grand looking flight of stairs before the tiled floor broke his fall. There was an audible snap as more than one bone in his left hand was pulverised by the impact. He screamed again in pain, tears streaming from his eyes.
That was all the warning the other denizens of this hell needed. Howling with joy, they charged the crippled man. First up was a woman, dropping from the ceiling, bloody hooks already falling as she leapt.
8 hours earlier
It was August 17th 1895. Columbia was currently suspended somewhere in the aether over Nepal, and was in the middle of a blizzard. The mountainous landscape below had forced the floating city far higher than was normal or comfortable for its denizens to endure. Most everyone was staying indoors next to a warm fire, sipping from a cup of coffee. Work throughout the city, even at Finkton, had been cancelled with half-pay due to the difficulty in crossing the various islands in such conditions.
Unfortunately, C.S.O's didn't get the luxury of a day off. Someone had to make sure that abandoned shops stayed empty, or that basic machinery like the reactors continued to function in the cold and the thin air. Still, the snow had brought some good news for Booker and his subordinates; with all the workers on an official leave until the storm broke, C.S.F wasn't asking its officers to break up strikes for Fink. They were still going on, but for a few days at least the tycoon didn't care what the workers did.
2nd MSG had been given the job of escorting less cooperative citizens back to their homes or alternatively to the nearest checkpoint, where a GULL would hopefully be ready to finish the job. The cell had been split up into pairs for the job; it was hoped that they'd cover more ground that way.
Booker and Alex had just picked up a couple of kids who'd been playing in the snow, and were in the middle of getting them back to their home a few blocks away. Booker had no idea how they'd managed to cross the islands - all but the main junctions were closed or had police checkpoints – but it was lucky they'd found them when they had. Any further and they'd probably would've gotten lost in the blizzard, or worse fallen over the edge.
There was a checkpoint down the street, which the pair made their way towards. Booker stumbled over a buried curb and almost fell, much to the amusement of his partner and their two charges. Booker just gave his colleague a dirty look. "Knock it off Sergeant." he growled, but there wasn't any force behind it, and Alex just laughed harder.
Eventually they made it to the checkpoint, manned by a couple of frozen and appropriately upset looking troopers. Nodding to the pair, Booker made his way over to the radio set up in the corner. He navigated the series of button presses and dials much quicker than he used to; practice was paying off at last.
"Compound, Captain Dewitt here. I've got a couple of kids here out in the open. Requesting a GULL for transport. Over." The radio was quiet for a few moments before the man on the other end spoke up.
"Roger Dewitt. That's a positive on your transport. Sit tight for a few minutes - grab a coffee or something – and we'll get to you when we can. Should be in about ten minutes. Out."
Booker stood up from the device. He relayed the message to Alex, and then spoke to the two officers who'd been left to garrison the checkpoint. "We've checked the whole area guys. No point in you freezing to death in the snow so you might as well come with." He said. The pair smiled gratefully and nodded in response. A few minutes later, the gentle roar of engines signalled the transports arrival.
Booker ushered the children on-deck whilst the others loaded up some of the gear from the checkpoint; namely the seats and the radio. When everyone was aboard, the craft rose into the blizzard. It didn't take long before the Columbian streets were lost under the unforgiving blanket of powder and hail. The GULL rocked wildly in the turbulence, it's powerful stabilisers providing little comfort to the passengers of the completely exposed deck. One of the kids screamed as he was nearly pulled off by a gust, but fortunately fell into the firmly grounded body of one of the officers.
Eventually, after about a minute of frantic travel, the streets came back into view as the transport descended. Revealed with this was the sight of a small confrontation between a couple and another group of C.S.O's. As they approached, Booker began to make out small parts of their argument: "Out there…curfew…stupid idea…what about the kids" Booker smiled to himself. That's one family crisis averted, though I wouldn't want to be these guys when their mother gets her hands on 'em! The GULL pulled up right next to the argument, and the children almost instantly jumped the small gap to the island and their waiting parents. The mother looked at their children in shock for a few seconds before breaking down into tears, clutching the smaller of the two as if the world was ending. As for the father, he maintained his dignity far better, getting down on one knee to hug the two before turning to Booker and the other officers and thanking them. They waved off his attempts at apologising for the argument, all of them understanding how devastating it could feel to lose a loved one, even for so short a time.
With the family successfully reunited and more importantly indoors now, the officers all got back onto the GULL. The assignments were changing soon, and they all needed to be back at the Compound to receive their new orders now that the radio had been packed away.
The ship took off from the island, its pilot skilfully navigating the treacherous mazes of buildings and hazards despite the deteriorating conditions. "So what'd you two do to get stuck with guard duty?" Booker asked the men they'd picked up at the checkpoint.
The men in question grimaced at the memory before the shorter one answered sheepishly "Back-talk, sir. Well, that and one too many drinks in front of an IA."
Booker chuckled before replying "And the moral of the story is…Internal Affairs is full of pricks. Stay away guys, am I right?" The men responded with a clearly over-the-top "Hooah!", before everyone had another quiet chuckle.
Suddenly the open skies were replaced by darkened blue walls and a ceiling. There was an enormous crunching sound as the GULL crashed nose-first into solid tiled flooring, buckling the front half of the airship and sending the soldiers on the deck hurtling through the air at high speed. The last thing Booker was aware of before unconsciousness claimed him was the cockpit of the ship exploding into flame, and his comrade's bodies smashing into the walls, floors and even the ceiling. That and a sharp pain in his stomach, centring in his left side like a pin-prick, but quickly spreading throughout his body.
00000
"This little fish looks like he just had his cherry popped!"
Booker's vision was warped beyond comprehension, but he could just make out what appeared to be a man kneeling in front of him. Something was wrong though. When the man leant over, the dimensions of his face were all wrong, like a cat's face on a human body.
"Wonder if he's still got some ADAM on him?"
Booker blacked out again. When he came to, there was another figure in front of him as well as the first. A loud moan, unlike anything he'd ever heard, reverberated through the room he was in. The two figures visibly cringed at the sound. The new one seemed particularly frightened by the sound.
"You hear that? Let's bug!" he screamed, before rushing off and out of Bookers sight. The other stood up, clearly angered by the actions of his buddy.
"Weak! You're a weak chopper!" he screamed after his 'friend'.
"This little fish ain't worth toeing' it with no Big Daddy!" came the voice of the fleeing figure, seemingly from some distance away.
"Yellow! Always have been!" the first figure called out. Then he turned his attention back to Booker "You'll be no better off with the metal daddy, little fish. See you floating in the briney..." Then he bounded off to join his comrade.
00000
Booker awoke again. He was still all but paralysed on the floor, and now was aware enough to be worrying about serious damage to his system from the crash. Such fears were banished instantly though when a giant armoured boot crashed into the ground inches from his head. He was nearly blinded as his face was bathed in a yellow spotlight, which he just managed to trace to a bunch of 'portholes' in the new figures head. With his vision slowly improving, he could now make out more details about the things in front of him. The creature in front of him was huge, easily taller than any man he knew, and yet still managed to appear hulking or hunch-backed.
Booker also noticed that the creature wore a strange suit. It was made of sheets of metal strapped onto what appeared to be almost leather, giving the creature a menacing and rather invulnerable appearance. For the moment at least however, it remained either indifferent or oblivious to Bookers presence. It merely stood there, making the strange moans he had heard earlier which had scared the other two off. 'So this is a Big Daddy' the part of his brain which had recovered told him.
Then something he did not expect at all happened. A little girl, no older than nine years, stepped in front of the behemoth. Tattered skirt and blouse, and covered in dirt; the girl was certainly not in the best of shapes. What terrified the officer though were her eyes. They glowed bright green.
"Look Mr Bubbles. It's an Angel! I can see the light coming from his belly." The girl leaned closer to him, and then Booker realised she was hefting an enormous needle. He had no doubts that if she wanted too, she could very easily kill him.
For some reason, she stopped and backed away, looking confused. "Wait a minute. He's still breathing…" she sounded very disappointed, but then perked up "It's all right. I know he'll be an angel soon…" and just like that, she skipped off, seemingly oblivious to the unconscious officers she hopped past. The giant lumbered after her, shoving the bodies out of its way as it chased after the small child.
00000
The next time Booker awoke, he was being shaken by Alex. The soldier looked at Bookers face worriedly for a second, but then smiled and pulled the man to his feet. Despite being completely immobile just minutes before, Booker somehow stayed on his feet. When he got up though, the worried look came back to Alex's face. "Shit Booker, you feeling alright?" he asked, pointing to the empty bottle impaled into his abdomen by a two inch needle. The sight of it reminded Booker's body of his condition, and he collapsed without warning, almost taking Alex with him.
"All right sir. Come on. This is gonna hurt, all right?" he said, gripping the main body of the intrusive syringe. Booker just nodded, and then grunted in pain as it slid out through his tenderised flesh, a few drops of blood and whatever had been inside dribbling from the puncture. "Right sir," Alex said, "I don't know what was in that needle, but if you feel off in any way, let me know and I'll do the heavy stuff all right?" He received another nod of acknowledgment in response.
Booker managed to drag himself to his feet. Looking around, he saw the Gull, or what was left of it. The entire front had buckled in the crash, and the fuel tank must have lit because the rest was a charred mess of twisted metal. Booker winced when he spotted the blackened corpse of the pilot, welded onto the windowsill where he died trying to escape the inferno. It was lucky the wherever they'd ended up had a stone floor, else they might have suffered the same fate. Speaking of which…
"Ahh shit…What happened? Where the hell are we? And where are the others?"
Alex had a look around, "Wait a minute…I saw it earlier…there!" He yelled, pointing at a golden sign above what looked like a doorway. "Welcome to…Rapture!"
"Rapture…" Booker said, testing the name "Sounds like something Comstock would've named a ARGH!" He clutched his head as searing pain drove into his brain. Static temporarily clouded his vision, and he swore for a second he could remember escorting Eleanor back to her vent. 'Such a good girl…' Then the memory was gone, and Booker was left dazed and looking at Alex's concerned expression.
"Shit Booker! Your nose!" Booker lifted a finger to his nose. It came back red with his blood. "What the hell was in that syringe Sir?!" Booker wanted to know just as much as he did. Looking up, he saw Alex staring out the window.
"Alex what're you - the hell!" His gaze moved past Alex to the view outside. It was water. Filling over the window and higher up than one could look through the window. And through it he could see lights and even a strange glass corridor, not too far past this corridor was a skyscraper, except as far as Booker could see the top never got close to reaching the surface of the water. It was at this moment he realised they were under the ocean, or at least a body of water deep enough to cover a city. "This is really messed up." Alex just mumbled something resembling a prayer and nodded. "Alex! Do you get this? We're under an ocean! We just went from the bloody sky to the bottom of the bloody ocean in seconds, and crashed into a bloody underwater city!"
"I know that. Important question is, how do we get back?"
Booker didn't have an answer yet. "Come on! Let's get the others and find a way out!" Booker began to search through the rubble for his colleagues. It didn't take too long to find them. Of the twelve men who'd been on the GULL, nine had survived the crash: Booker, Alex, the two from the checkpoint, and five of the men from the other group. They also found the remains of the radio; it was smashed and ripped apart by the impact. About an hour later, the last of them had woken and was up to speed with the situation (or as informed as they could be. None of them had a clue what had happened still).
"Sir, what'll we do with the bodies?" one of the younger men, David, asked. He pointed at the corpses of the three unlucky soldiers and the pilot.
"Guess we'll have to leave 'em till we get back," replied Booker, "because no way in hell are we carrying them through…whatever the hell this place is. We need to find a way to signal the C.S.F, and then get the hell out."
"Sir! We could carry them out."
"Yeah we could Private, but this place seems like it's just waiting to drop an ambush on us. I want everyone combat-ready and we don't have the men to cover our asses and get the dead back." The younger man went silent, looking at one of the corpses, likely a friend, before nodding. "Good, now let's get moving!"
The survivors decided to head in the direction the GULL had crashed from, but were at a loss as to how the relatively large airship had managed to get into the hall. The only entrances were small corridors; far too small for the craft to fit through. Not to mention there was no damage to the area behind the tail of the ship. "You'd 'ave thought that thing would've smashed a hole in the wall." Said one of the officers; a man named Brent.
"Yeah" agreed Alex "it's like it was just dropped into the room. No trail of wreckage or anything…" . The others remained silent, sweeping the corridor ahead with weapons at the ready. A few had lost their main weapons in the crash and were resorting to side-arms, but there was still an impressive arsenal of six Triple R's and Broadsider's scanning the ground ahead.
Booker realised that the direction they were going was also the same as that of the madmen and hulking monster with the mad child. The C.S.O's were making pretty quick progress through the halls, and if that thing was as slow as he thought it was they'd catch up to the monster very soon.
Booker's thoughts were interrupted when a high whistling sound filled the room they'd just entered. At the front of the group one of the officers from the checkpoint, a man named George, collapsed to the ground with a wet gurgle, blood spraying across the men behind him. Even from his position in the centre Booker could see the glistening meat hook lodged in the man's throat. A maniacal cackle from the roof signalled the rest of the ambush, with men and women dressed in ragged ballroom outfits dropping from the ceiling, bursting through doors, and leaping from behind fallen pillars. All of them carried a selection of weaponry, ranging from knives to hammers to bricks and guns.
The officers saw the danger and held their ground, unleashing a withering barrage of fire at the oncoming horde. The number of rounds made the 7th's old Hotchkiss guns look like bolt-action's, but still wasn't enough to kill all of the attackers before the remaining few leapt over their dead to engage the C.S.O's in close quarters. Forced into a melee, the officers faired far worse, most suffering serious cuts and broken ribs as they fended off the crazed mob. Finally after a minute but feeling considerably longer the last of the attackers scarpered or lay on the ground dead. Booker used the respite to search for his own casualties.
Including George, two men had fallen in the attack. The other's name wasn't known by Booker, but the man had taken a lot of punishment before he died; several lacerations on his face, torso and limbs were bleeding over the floor but it was a brick to the temple which had killed him. Besides that, everyone including himself had suffered some injuries from the brawl, but it wasn't anything their predictably dwindling supply of magic juice couldn't fix.
He also examined the dead attackers, though he quickly wished he hadn't. Every one of them was covered with glistening, angry looking tumours and boils. Most had rotted teeth or sharpened canines, and bloodshot or even bleeding eyes were the norm. These features and the ruined apparel left the attackers looking more feral animal than human. "What the fuck did this to them?" Booker asked knowing no-one had an answer for him.
They were just preparing to move on when that moan filled the air again. If he'd ever heard one, Booker would've compared it to a beached whale, but as it the closest sound he could think of was a ships foghorn. The beast lumbered into view with the child in tow, approaching the corpses of the dead attackers. Now that he had fully regained his sight, Booker could make out more details. The "Big Daddy" as the men earlier had called it, was huge but a roughly humanoid shape, appearing to be a man in heavy and hugely stylised armour. It looked kind of like the diving suits Booker had occasionally seen worn by the river in Manhattan, but was a lot more advanced with glowing portholes and such. It made sense, he guessed. An underwater city would almost require suits like this. More worryingly was the huge drill attached to the monsters arm, and the bloodstains left on the spinning tip.
Booker wasn't sure who fired. It may have been the Brent, but ultimately it mattered little. The beast flinched slightly as a burst of machine gun fire tore at its armoured hide. When the fire stopped, it turned to look up at the soldiers. It's portholes had changed colour from passive yellow to blood-red. There was a roar as it charged, revving its massive drill even before it was moving. A man was speared by the instrument, and lifted several feet into the air with the still spinning tool lodged deep into his chest. Gore sprayed across the room as the man's ribs, heart and lungs were shatter, ruptured and eventually liquefied under the brutal weapon. His cadaver was tossed to the side as the monster swung its weapon around.
Its next move was grabbing Booker's skull and squeezing.
00000
A burst of machine gun fire ripped through the hook wielding mad-woman's face, and her corpse fell with a splatting noise next to Bookers injured form. At first he though his allies had dealt with the monstrosity upstairs and come to his aid, but then a strange looking machine 'flew' in front of him. The other madmen darted away as more of the machines came into view, firing precise and deadly bursts into the retreating bodies. More than one of them fell to the floor under the onslaught.
The machine was very strange indeed. It was roughly cuboid shaped, and about one and a half feet tall top to bottom, and half as much side to side. It was made of four obvious parts that he could see; a rotary system much like a minute version of Columbia's propellers, a main "body" below that, what looked like an eye on one side and finally a small machine gun. It flew with some difficulty apparently, constantly swinging from side to side as it tried to balance recoil, manoeuvrability and speed all at once.
Booker was still in shock about his unlikely rescue when another machine, similar to its gun wielding kin but instead with a mounted black box. Despite the events of the day, Booker was still stunned when the black screen burst to life, revealing a moving black and white image of a middle aged man. Following this, the clearest voice he'd ever heard from a radio spoke out.
"Allow me to make your acquaintance. My name is Andrew Ryan, and this…" his voice took on a menacing tone "is MY city."
Intel Report
Tears – There have been numerous reports of strange anomalies appearing in the general vicinity of Columbia and the surrounding air-space. These 'tears' appear as small rips in the air, outlined by what appears to be a white energy, similar to light, but much more concentrated. Tears can pose major security risks as well as hazards to both people and structures alike. Best our operatives can tell, they are 'doorways' to alternate universes.
While typically too small to fit a person through, tears are known to dramatically grow at the approach of some individuals. However not all individuals have this effect, and even the ones that do often only affect certain tears. It is unknown why certain beings affect certain tears but not others, but currently the leading theory (compliments of Lutece) is that tears react more to people who are in the same relative space to their 'opposites' on the other side.
People reported to have entered a tear, either intentionally or by accident (see dossier for 1896 Rebirth Incident) experience massive cognitive impairment often followed by amnesia and/or are rendered catatonic by the experience. This coupled with the dangers that may lurk beyond the tear itself, has led to protocol for tears enforcing a 500m quarantine zone being set up around the centre, with no less than two fully equipped airships hovering over it. After a time, the tear will eventually cease to exist.
TOP-SECRET: Our Prophet, Fink, the Luteces and upper body of C.S.F and the US MoD have known of the existence of tears for almost a decade. At time of writing (January 21st 1899) tears are known to the general public of Columbia as "Miracles of God" but the reality is that they are manifestations of REDACTED-REDACTED unique abilities. Even with the installation in Monument Island of the REDACTED it appears there is no way to control her powers completely.
Electro-Bolt/Salts:Electro-Bolt was a product transported through a tear during the first few cases, before protocol barred all but the highest official's access to tear's discovered. From Electro-Bolt, Lutece Laboratories and Fink MFG were able to reverse engineer a creation known as Plasmids, and also develop and produce their own in multiple variations. Though currently there are numerous examples of Electro-Bolt copycats in society, the most popular is currently the much hyped Shock Jockey, which receives great praise for its ability to produce and maintain a long-term energy source capable of powering any and all electrical products.
Like all Plasmids, Electro-Bolt requires a high concentration of the chemical know as EVE to function properly. Attempts to use the plasmid without sufficient reserves of EVE will result in total failure and/or damage to the user. In light of this, Lutece reverse engineered the substance to create what is commonly referred to as Salts. Salts are similar to EVE in almost every way, and provide the same effects for Plasmids as they do Vigors. However, Salts also have several other benefits outside of Plasmid/Vigor use, and are ingested, resulting in a more convenient and considerably less painful alternative to the original syringe injections.
Dossier - 1896 Rebirth incident
During a routine security search for Vox Populi contraband, the CSV Rebirth and the ship it was docked with disappeared entirely from Columbian airspace, in full view of almost 40,000 people around Memorial Island. Witnesses reported a strange energy engulfing the vessels, before the just vanished without a trace.
Columbian Security Vessel's Rapture and Samaritan both searched the surrounding area for evidence of the vessels location when another vessel appeared from seemingly nowhere. The vessel engaged the two airships, destroying Samaritan and killing all hands whilst Rapture suffered crippling damage and was abandoned by its crew after the engines failed. The hostile vessel proved to be a treasure trove of technology unknown to any civilisation on the earth, advancing several of the sciences years ahead of what would have been possible.
It was later uncovered that the CSV Rebirth had stumbled through a huge tear, and following this discovery, all the airship and its crew were listed as KIA. There is no confirmation on the vessels ultimate fate, but considering the emergence of a hostile and advanced warship from the other side, it was likely destroyed. The tear itself closed naturally after a period of 32 hours.
NOTE: This is the largest known tear to have ever manifested, but it is unknown of tears can become larger. The reason for this is that due to the dangers of tears, the REDACTED was installed at REDACTED just two weeks after the incident, so as to prevent further situations developing. It was only partially successful.
A.N: Ooo Big Daddies, Tears, Mr Ryan and Spider Splicers all in one chapter. Talk about spreading yourself thin. Guys and gals if you think this chapter was a bit meh please let me know. I'm fairly confident it's okay but it was mostly action/dialogue (neither of which are my strong suits) so there's a good chance I effed it up.
Hope you can all deal with the lore breaking. I always figured if tears exist randomly throughout Columbia then how has no one supposedly ever entered one but still managed to nick technologies like plasmids, automatic weapons and robotics from them.
And before any of you complain at how they should all be "tear-affected" aka stumbling around phasing through reality, you're partially correct, but I can justify it. In-game, you see people are only affected by tears under certain conditions, namely a living human still experiencing the concept of death (i.e. the guards in the Good Time club), and also a human spotting certain stimuli (i.e. Booker seeing the poster which said he was a martyr/Comstock mentioning Anna at the start)
You'll find that Booker quite happily travels through multiple tears throughout the game and usually only feels negligible effects much later on rather than immediately collapsing. One could argue that this is because he's already gone through a tear prior to the game, but I respond by saying that it seems very unlikely that because the Booker jumps universes to one where he is very much alive (aka the first jump with the Lutece's taking him), that he will adapt to jumping to any universe whatsoever, particularly one where he is already dead (aka Booker/Liz's jumps in Good Time Club/Shantytown). By that logic, because Booker doesn't feel the effects – at least not to the extent of tear-affected npc's – we must assume that tears aren't quite as dangerous to the mind as the Lutece's make out.
If you followed that, you should really be a quantum physicist… or an English teacher.
As always, thanks for reading and please leave a review