So... this one's massive by comparison. It took a lot longer than normal to check, and the amount of detail I thought was necessary for their first case really made it explode. Apologies for the delay.
December 24, 1894, 3:30 PM
"So who are we meaning to speak with again?" Following Booker into yet another apartment building, Elizabeth reaches for the notepad poking out of his pocket. "A Mr. Giles…?"
"Yeah, last of our client's missing husband's friends. Better get something out of this guy, or we're out of luck." Booker glances back at her as they start up the stairs, taking the notepad from her hands and flipping through it, "Giles, white male, late thirties. All we've got is this fella went out drinking with our missing man the night he disappeared."
A grin teases at Elizabeth's lips as she listens to Booker, and she picks up her pace to climb side by side with him, "I'm sure it'll all work out. Everything we've heard points to this friend of his." A sigh escapes Booker, and Elizabeth's grin only grows as she thinks back on the case so far; the two of them had gone to meet with the client the next day, after Booker had grumpily insisted they meet in the morning.
They'd arrived at their client's home in the morning of the 19th to discuss the case, as well as to meet the client when both she and Booker were well awake. The client, a middle-aged woman, lives in a small house down on Lafayette Street, a far cry from the tenements Elizabeth has spent the last several days visiting. "Not that Booker's apartment is much different…" Thinking to herself as she shakes her head, Elizabeth grins again; after seeing how apartments look elsewhere, Elizabeth can't help but find a new level of appreciation for Ms. Pearl's housekeeping.
The client's husband, a Mr. Douglas, owns a fairly successful shop not far from their home, and has gone missing recently. The client admits she's always pushing her husband to be even more successful, to live up to his potential rather than waste his time on carousing and drinking, but her efforts lately have been for naught. Turning her thoughts back to that meeting, Elizabeth remembers thinking that perhaps her husband simply needed to get away for a while; Mrs. Douglas came off as prudish, incredibly conservative and controlling. Even in the comfort of her own home, the client wore a high-collared, long sleeved black dress, looking none too comfortable, and her expression was more than a little severe.
"Doubt that woman cared to see me there…" Elizabeth remembers the disapproving look Mrs. Douglas gave her when she'd come to her request; she suspects that her husband disappeared into the slums to have a torrid tryst with some wanton harlot or cheap strumpet. She'd looked right at Elizabeth when she said that, and it'd taken more than a little self-control to not snap at the condescending woman.
"Hmm? Still thinking about that?" Booker's voice shakes her from her thoughts, Elizabeth glancing up at him before nodding, "Sorry you had to hear that… but she's our client. Unless we don't care about getting paid, we'll just have to put up with it for now."
"How do you do it, Booker? Deal with these kinds of people?"
"Don't let it get to me. That's about all I can tell you." Booker shrugs as he answers, "You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Elizabeth manages a nod, a hint of a lopsided grin touching her lips; Booker had been more than a little protective of her since the case started. The job had gone without difficulty at first, the two of them questioning the missing man's employees first, but that hadn't yielded anything especially helpful. So then they went on to speak with the friends and acquaintances mentioned by Mrs. Douglas, though Booker was certain the list was anything but complete. That's where things started getting a little rough; more than a few of Mr. Douglas' friends weren't particularly keen on helping, and two of them were anything but cordial.
Booker had to subdue both of them, violently. The first had been aggressive, hostile even, and took a swing at Booker. Naturally, that ended poorly for the fellow, but they got very little out of him before Booker knocked him out. The second hadn't been as openly hostile, but had been incredibly insulting; Booker didn't take kindly to some disparaging remark shot her way, though at least he hadn't knocked this one out. "That one gave up that our missing man was out drinking that night…"
"Elizabeth, how are you holding up? We've been going for hours now…" Booker turns to her as they make the third floor; he wanted to wrap this up before the day was out. It is Christmas Eve after all, though Elizabeth's not sure if that's really the reason; he'd confided that he really didn't care for Thanksgiving, and she doubts he'd care much for Christmas.
"I'm just fine. A little tired is all." Running her hands down her blouse, Elizabeth takes a deep breath as she starts up the stairs once more; she's wearing her white blouse and blue skirt ensemble, but her outfit's already gotten dirty. The only part of her outfit that hasn't gotten dust, dirt or something similar on is her brooch and choker, and she breathes a quiet sigh as she touches her fingers to the bird.
So far, working with Booker hasn't been quite what she'd expected; it's nothing as dangerous as what they'd survived in Columbia and Rapture, naturally, and while what she's done hasn't been especially exciting, so far she's enjoying the work. Booker's gift hadn't hurt, either, and it's not just the knuckles.
Reaching the fourth floor apartment of Mr. Giles, Booker takes a deep breath and motions for Elizabeth to step back, pounding on the door once she's done so. A harsh, grating voice barks back, sounding irritated and groggy, "Who is it?! Go away, I'm not buying anything, you hear?!"
"DeWitt Investigations! Need to ask you about a Mr. Douglas!" Booker pounds on the door again, already starting to sound annoyed.
"Go suck an egg, dick! I got nothing to say to you!" That doesn't do much for Booker's mood, and Elizabeth can see his jaw muscles tensing as he pounds on the door again and curses.
"Open this door, you son of a bitch!" Growling, Booker turns to Elizabeth, speaking quietly now, "I'm breaking the door down. This could get rough, so…"
"Hold on, Booker." Grabbing hold of his arm, Elizabeth stops Booker quietly and pulls a pin from her hair, "Let me. I'm pretty handy with locks, remember?" Kneeling before the door, Elizabeth goes to work with a hairpin, this lock simple enough that she shouldn't even need her set of new lockpicks. An angry shout comes from within as the door swings open, and Elizabeth hurries to get out of the way as a chair comes hurtling through.
Mr. Giles shouts as Booker marches into the apartment, furious at the intrusion. "Calm down, fella, we just need some answers and we'll be on our way." Holding up his hands, Booker tries to be diplomatic despite how annoyed Elizabeth's sure he is.
"Get the hell out of my home!" This time, Giles reaches for a baseball bat, Elizabeth's eyes widening as Booker jumps back to narrowly avoid the wooden club. But that pushes Booker over the edge; he draws his revolver, leveling it at the furious, visibly inebriated resident.
"Give me a reason." Booker's voice is low, but menacing.
"I ain't giving you nothing, 'specially not to a private dick and his lady friend working for that shrew of a wife." Giles spits back, but the bat falls to the floor with a clatter, "I'm not helping that woman ruin my pal."
"Wait," Elizabeth steps between Booker and Giles just as her father's about to threaten the man again, "May I, Booker…?" Turning back to the apartment's resident, Elizabeth forces a smile as she speaks, "We're here on Mrs. Douglas' request, yes, but we're trying to find him. She's worried about him…"
"Fat chance of that. That woman's always been unduly hard on him, always unhappy with what my buddy's managed." Giles snorts, backing away and dropping onto a chair.
"No, she's worried." Elizabeth takes a step closer, kicking the bat away as she does. She's not actually sure if Mrs. Douglas is concerned for Mr. Douglas or only if he's being unfaithful, but Elizabeth chooses to believe there's still something akin to fondness in that woman for her husband, "She's not the most pleasant person I've met, but she's far from the worst. I believe there's still something between the two of them. Imagine her worrying for so long, Mr. Giles, it's just…" Elizabeth doesn't finish, letting her gaze fall as she heaves a sigh.
Giles seems to soften as she does. "Alright…" He relaxes visibly, but doesn't speak until Booker puts his revolver away, "We'd gone out drinking on the 17th, at a saloon on Bowery… some place called The Dump," Elizabeth nods even as she struggles to keep her expression neutral, the mention of the street she lives on surprising her, "it was the two of us and another, a new friend of Douglas' I'd never met before. I… can't quite remember his name… something with a 'C'."
"Can you give me his description?" Glancing back over her shoulder, Elizabeth nods as Booker pulls out his notepad and pencil.
"Brown hair… a little shorter than me, so maybe 5'7"? Young man, couldn't be much older than twenty…" Giles places a hand to his head, screwing his eyes shut as if trying to remember, "A scar on the back of his left hand. That's about it… we were drinking plenty, y'see… Douglas was complaining that he'd heard some young punk was worming his way into his wife's good graces…" Giles opens his eyes, staring off into the distance, "Can't remember this too good, but I think someone came to him as I was making to leave… a pretty young thing, came up beside my pal, flirty and looking him up and down. Can't remember nothing after that."
"What did she look like, Mr. Giles?" This time Booker speaks up, Giles' face darkening for a moment.
"A little shorter than you, young lady. Long blonde hair, probably around twenty… hell of a body on that one, would have tried for her myself if I wasn't so damn drunk. She had the prettiest hazel eyes…"
"Thank you, Mr. Giles, you've been a big help. Have a good day." Elizabeth smiles at Giles as she turns to leave, only stopping once she's reached Booker, "How's that?"
Booker chuckles as they leave Mr. Giles behind, a grin crossing his face, "You did good, Elizabeth. Damn good. C'mon, we've got enough to get this over with and head home."
"Wait, what?" Elizabeth grabs his sleeve as they reach the stairwell, looking up at him in surprise, "Aren't we going to look for him?"
"Sounds like he had a fling with this blonde, one way or the other. Jobs a job, no point in getting attached to every hard luck case we come across…"
"Like me?" Elizabeth puts her hands on her hips, staring up at Booker; this isn't how she'd hoped her first case would end. And it looks like Booker knows it.
"Alright… alright! We'll go check out that saloon... I'm plenty familiar with the place."
Stepping hesitantly into the all too familiar saloon, Booker has to fight to suppress a grimace as he recalls the countless unremembered hours he'd lost here. The Dump wasn't especially far from home, and it's a straight shot down the street; easy enough for a drunkard to stumble back to his apartment. He hasn't been back since he'd given up the stuff, and it's just as he remembers; smoke hangs thick in the air, the room dark enough to provide a level of anonymity at any of the tables scattered about the dirty floor, only the bar lit up. The whole place reeks of cheap liquor.
But the suppressed grimace turns into a frown as Elizabeth starts coughing, some of the customers turning to look their way. "Listen, wait outside while I ask around…"
But Elizabeth just shakes her head, crossing her arms as she glances up at him stubbornly. A wry smile appears a moment later, "Come on, Booker. You know I took up smoking to fit into Rapture. The smoke doesn't bother me near as much as back in Columbia..." A small cough escapes her, and she retrieves a handkerchief from her pocket.
"Yeah, about that…" Booker glances down at her, the touch of concern in his voice plain to hear.
She takes hold of his arm as they step into the saloon, her voice quiet and reassuring, "Don't worry; I've no intention of starting that up again; it's a filthy habit anyway…" Even so, she still coughs once in a while, holding the handkerchief up to cover her mouth, and she still wrinkles her nose whenever they come across a particularly foul odor. Many a customer turns their attention from their liquor to eyeball the two of them, and Booker can tell they're taking a good, hard look at Elizabeth. Given who's looking, Booker's glad he's got his revolver on him. But he'd already agreed to let Elizabeth do the talking, something that leaves him a little… nervous.
"Excuse me," Elizabeth steps up to a table of moderately sober looking patrons, the pair of scruffy looking men turning to look her way, "have you seen this man?" She shows them a picture of Mr. Douglas, one of the few things their client had offered to help them on the case. Both look her up and down, no doubt in Booker's mind that they see the naïve, innocent girl he'd met so long ago.
"They're in for a surprise if they think she's still that naïve…" Muttering under his breath, Booker keeps a couple steps back, far enough to not be crowding her but close enough should something happen.
"Hmm… can't quite remember, little lady. Why don't ya' sit for a spell, maybe share a drink with us?" One of the customers leers at her as he leans back in his chair, patting his leg and motioning her closer, "Might jog our memories."
"I don't think so." Elizabeth smiles and deftly avoids his reaching hand, "Thanks for your time." Booker can't help but chuckle as she slips away, leaving the men disappointed.
The story repeats for most of the patrons, Booker keeping a respectful distance while Elizabeth asks around. Most ask her to join, as the first pair did, and Elizabeth treats each of them the same way. A few even try to flirt with her, though the amount of booze that must be circulating in them makes their attempts clumsy; Elizabeth simply redirects the conversation or steps away entirely, if the conversation doesn't look to be going anywhere.
"Hey there, pretty lady." A grungy looking man turns to Elizabeth as she comes up to the bar, his words slurring, and she takes a step back; even from where Booker stands, the smell that comes off the man is something straight out of a nightmare, "What's a sweet young thing like you doin' in a place like this? 'Ey, does your daddy know where you are, little lady? Don't seem right, lettin' a pretty young thing like you wander about…"
He reaches for her, nearly falling off his stool as he does, but Elizabeth backs away, "I'm sorry, but-oh!" Elizabeth runs into another wandering patron as she retreats, and the drunkard manages to get a grip on her arm.
"Hey, let go of her." Booker steps around the wandering customer and up to the bar, clamping a hand on the drunk's wrist hard enough to make him wince, "Her father's right here. Stop pestering my girl, or you and me are going to have a problem." He scowls at the drunk as he finishes, his grip tightening with each word until the grungy man cries out.
"Go dry out, pal." The bartender appears out of the gloom, taking the drunk's bottle and swatting at him with a dirty rag. "Sorry about that."
"Fine, fine… just let me go already!" The drunkard staggers away the moment Booker releases him, disappearing towards the stairs in the back.
"You alright, Elizabeth?" Booker turns to her the moment the drunk's away, Elizabeth nodding quickly as she rubs her arm.
"I'm fine, thank you. Just didn't expect him to actually grab me." A sheepish smile flashes across her face for a moment. It's gone in an instant, and Elizabeth turns towards the bartender, flashing another grin, "Thank you, too. If you don't mind, could you help me? I'm looking for someone."
"Sure thing, lady." Booker turns his attention to the bartender as Elizabeth shows him the picture; he's no kid, the way he carries himself is more like someone who's been in his fair share of scrapes. If Booker had to guess, the bartender's probably a few years younger than he.
"No, dammit… a few years younger than I used to be…." Booker groans quietly at the thought, though not quietly enough; Elizabeth falls silent and glances back at him, looking a little puzzled and concerned. Shaking his head, Booker heaves a sigh as Elizabeth turns back to the bartender, "This business makes my head spin…" Booker's memories of Columbia are memories of an older man near 40, and occasionally it messes with his head.
"Thank you very much! You've been a big help!" Booker blinks in surprise as Elizabeth spins about, all smiles and looking pleased with herself. "C'mon, let's go, Booker!" The enthusiasm in her voice draws a grin from Booker despite his confusion, Elizabeth grabbing him by the arm as she leads him to the exit.
"Hey! It's no place for a pretty young woman, ya' hear? It ain't safe!" The bartender calls after them as Elizabeth makes for the door, and Booker has to shake his head in disbelief; he'd missed what was said, but Elizabeth seems to think she's got everything figured out. Even so, Booker can't suppress the sigh he breathes; taking Elizabeth to places like this is one reason he hadn't been thrilled about her career choice.
"Whoa, slow down a second." Putting on the brakes once back out in daylight, Booker slips his arm from Elizabeth's grasp, "You mind telling me just what happened back there?"
"You weren't listening?" Raising an eyebrow curiously, Elizabeth turns to face him as she clasps her hands behind her back, "You didn't hear anything about the blonde, or that Mr. Douglas left with her and the brown-haired man?"
"Uh… no, I…" Now it's Booker's turn to feel sheepish, looking away even as he tries to remember, "I… ah hell… no, I wasn't listening. Was worrying about something else."
"Oh… okay." That cocky grin of hers teases at Elizabeth's lips, and she slowly, deliberatively steps over so she's standing beside him, "I thought I was the junior detective here, how're we supposed to solve this if you aren't paying attention?" Booker doesn't miss the amused, teasing tone of her voice, and he heaves an exasperated sigh. This just draws quiet laughter from Elizabeth.
"A-Anyway…" Elizabeth takes a deep breath once the laughter fades away, though she's still grinning ear to ear, "The blonde and 'Mr. C' took our man, and they haven't been seen here since. The bartender told me the blonde woman's been around for about a month, called her a 'real heartbreaker', and thinks she lives in one of the old tenements, somewhere between… umm… Chrystie Street and… Forsyth? I think that's it…"
Listening to her intently, Booker can't help but smile; he'd been surprised when he saw how comfortable Elizabeth had seemed in the saloon, and how well she was doing. Now that they're here, it feels like old times, "Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all…"
But even as he thinks it, Booker remembers another of his worries; Elizabeth's suffered from flashbacks ever so often, aside from the whole Thanksgiving mistake. The worst was when a water pipe burst in their apartment building, and they'd come upon the repairman with a wrench in hand. Booker still remembers vividly the panic on Elizabeth's face, the strangled cry that'd escaped her as she staggered away, how she clutched her head as she whimpered and the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Later, she'd told him it started with the sound of rushing water, and the moment she saw the wrench, Elizabeth said she was right back in that dark tunnel in Rapture.
"Alright, Elizabeth," taking a deep breath as he pushes the memory aside, Booker starts down the street, "sounds like there's more going on than meets the eye. If it was just the blonde, it'd be another story… c'mon, let's get going."
It doesn't take them long to get to the tenements along the east side of Chrystie Street, only one over from Bowery, though deeper into the neighborhood itself. But the moment Booker lays eyes on the area, he stops in his tracks; the place looks run down, more of a slum than the surrounding areas. He's none too comfortable with the notion of bringing Elizabeth in here, and the more he thinks about it, the less he likes what's looking to be an increasingly dangerous prospect.
"I'd ask if she's sure she wants to do this," glancing sideway sat Elizabeth, Booker shakes his head slightly, "but I already know how that'll go…" Taking a deep breath, Booker turns to Elizabeth a different tactic in mind, "Elizabeth, do you want to head back? Let me finish this on my own."
"Booker, no." She frowns as she answers, crossing her arms, "It's our first case together. We started it together, we're finishing it together." With that, she makes for the nearest storefront.
"Hmph. I guess it's settled then."
While the street bustles with late afternoon traffic, there's few who are willing to speak with either of them. It's not until they start down an alleyway between the apartment buildings that they find something; a woman resting behind one of the buildings with cigarette in hand, looking like she's at home in the shadows.
"Yeah, I saw 'em." The middle-aged woman nods as Elizabeth describes the blonde and shows a picture of Mr. Douglas. "Saw 'em a week ago, snuck into that decrepit old place over there." The woman takes another drag on her cigarette as she nods towards a boarded up tenement across the way, only a corner visible from where they stand, "The young'uns were walking your man there, looked like he'd had too much to drink or a run-in with a bottle of ether or some such."
"Umm…" Elizabeth steps out of the way as the woman exhales a cloud of smoke, "T-Thanks. We'll be going now." Hurrying back to Booker, Elizabeth breathes a sigh before speaking, "You heard her this time, right?"
"Yeah. Still want to find our missing man?" Even as he asks, Booker starts for the building.
"Of course." This time, Elizabeth isn't playful or annoyed, her voice dead serious, "Can't imagine that anything good can come of his disappearance." She falls silent as they approach the building, the windows and doors boarded up on all sides, even on the side facing Forsyth Street. All except for a metal gate in the back, a one-button panel beside it with a severed cable dangling, the other end disappearing into the wall.
"Huh. It's shut up tight…" Elizabeth mutters quietly as Booker inspects the gate, the similarity of the gate to the one in Battleship Bay striking him as an odd coincidence. Similar in all ways but one; no gap along the bottom. "Maybe you could try… ah… to lift it?"
"You were going to say 'forcing it open', weren't you?" Booker grins as he searches for something to get a grip on, but finding barely more than a small lip.
"Yeah… Booker, don't hurt yourself. You don't have near enough purchase to lift it…"
"Never know till you… try!" Booker heaves with all his might, but the gate refuses to budge and his fingers refuse to hold on, and he winds up flat on his back. "Alright… don't say-"
"Told you so." Elizabeth grins as she beats Booker to the punch, and he groans as she chuckles quietly. "Here, let's get you up."
"Much obliged…" Once back on his feet, Booker glances Elizabeth's way before stepping back up to the gate, "What do you think?"
"I think the gate's going to be hard to open with that cable cut…" Shrugging, Elizabeth steps up to the panel, pressing the button to little effect, "Yeah, it's no good without power…"
"Power… huh. Remember that slogan, Elizabeth?" Booker grins as an idea comes to mind, and he grips the upper portion of the cable, "Who needs the power company?"
Shards of obsidian crystals grow from his skin as electricity arcs and crackles around his hand, and Booker directs as much of the current into the cable as he can with what little EVE he has left. And to his mild surprise, the gate shudders and begins to rise. But a panicked, surprised shout that sounds right in his ear causes him to hesitate, the Plasmid fading in an instant. "Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth has fallen back, staring up at his hand from the ground, eyes wide with abject terror and her body shaking uncontrollably. Her breath is fast and shallow, and it doesn't take Booker a moment to realize what he's seeing; Elizabeth's terrified, maybe even suffering a flashback. The tears are already streaming down her face as Booker kneels before her, "Elizabeth. Elizabeth!" He grabs her by the shoulders, "What's wrong? Tell me… Elizabeth!"
Slowly, almost painfully so, Elizabeth's trembling subsides and her breathing slows bit by bit. "B-Booker?" When Elizabeth finally responds, fresh tears well up in her eyes, and she nearly knocks Booker over as she hugs him. Booker feels every sob against his chest as Elizabeth's tears dampen his shirt.
"It's alright…" Hugging her back, Booker strokes her hair like he always does, something Elizabeth always seems to find comfort in. "Was it another one? Another flashback?" She nods, and Booker breathes a sigh; usually he could tell what set her off and why, but all he can figure now is the Plasmid. But why? "I don't understand…"
"E-Electricity…" Elizabeth whispers as she lifts her head, hesitantly slipping out of the hug as she wipes at her tear streaked face, "It… it wasn't anything from Rapture… back in Columbia…" A shudder runs through her body, and Booker awkwardly puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to be comforting. "Thank you…" She touches his hand, a hint of a pained smile tugging at her lips, "In Comstock House, the scientists… they used electric shocks to keep me from… from opening Tears… over and over…"
"The lightning…" Booker mutters as everything starts making sense; her reaction to the lightning, her nervousness at the mention of Shock Jockey, and now, the coils of electricity appearing right in front of her without warning. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth… I won't be doing that again…."
A smile blossoms, Elizabeth nodding before gingerly rising to her feet, "Th-thank you… but I doubt this'll be my last scare… and we still need to get the gate open… I'm alright now." Booker stands as he heaves a sigh, shaking his head.
"Yeah… about that…" They both glance at the gate, the barrier risen only a couple of feet, "That's about it for Shock Jockey; I'm all out of EVE." Turning back to Elizabeth, Booker looks her in the eye, "Can you go on?"
"Yes… I can. I'm just a little… a little shaken up." Glancing at the gate again, Elizabeth steps up to the gap left behind by the Plasmid, "I can get through here, but can you?"
"Probably. But…" Booker joins Elizabeth at the gate, looking it up and down, "I think if I force it, it'll just come crashing down once we're inside. Best leave it alone for now." With that, Booker rolls under the gate, kicking up a cloud of dust on the way in. "Careful, Elizabeth. It's dark in here."
Sneaking into the building, Elizabeth takes the lead despite Booker's whispered objections, and they search each floor as quietly as possible. No small feat remaining silent in this rundown tenement; plenty of loose boards, rotted floors and collapsed walls to get tripped up on. As they go on, Booker notices signs of inhabitation, and as they make the fourth floor, signs of a struggle; the dust bears footprints and a pair of unsteady lines, more than likely from the shoes of someone being dragged along that wasn't cooperative.
"Who would want to live here?" Elizabeth's voice pierces the silence, thankfully as just a whisper.
Booker glances at her, barely visible in the dark; the only light that makes it into the building is through the boarded up windows, and in the late afternoon, that isn't much. "Someone who doesn't want to be found."
As Booker says it, an image of Shantytown comes to mind, and Elizabeth must have had the same thought; she turns to him with a sad look in her eye. "This must be something like where the Vox came from… it's not as bad as Shantytown, but it sort of feels the same…" Booker only nods, and he can't help but wonder if she's thinking about Abigail; the redhead had come up a couple times in conversation, and Booker couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
"Shh…" Booker stops as Elizabeth holds up a hand, she turning back to him, "Hear that?" Falling silent, Booker closes his eyes and listens; at first, there's just the creaking of the old tenement, but after a moment, he starts to pick up on voices in the distance. A woman's voice, then a man's. Then another.
"Yeah… c'mon, let's go." Creeping along, Booker slips past Elizabeth as they start down the hallway. The tenement floors are set up as a hallway with the stairwell at the far end, four one-room apartments that'd make Booker's look spacious along the way, and the voices are coming from the far room.
The door to the apartment hangs slightly ajar, Booker crouching to peer through the crack with Elizabeth above him. "Listen, pal, you need to hurry it up already. Get the old crone to give up something, so we can get the hell out of here." The blonde woman's voice greets them as they spy the room's occupants: Mr. Douglas sits in the middle of the dingy, lamp lit room, tied to a chair and blindfolded; the nameless blonde stands to his right, a small revolver resting lazily in her hand as she complains to the man across from her; the brown-haired 'Mr. C'; and a heavyset, hard-bitten looking older man, streaks of white in his black hair, a revolver about as large as Booker's holstered on his belt. A gaping hole in the wall adjoining the next apartment catches their eye; it's easily large enough to walk through, though perhaps not quietly.
Reaching for his revolver, Booker whispers as quietly as he can, "I'm going in, stay here and…"
"Umm…" Elizabeth's just as quiet, but she tugs on his arm, pulling him back down the hall, "Is that a good idea? We're not in Columbia… doesn't shooting people draw some… umm… unwanted attention?"
"Sometimes you have to draw first, Elizabeth…" The memory of being stabbed at Battleship Bay comes to mind, and the ambush that followed. But Elizabeth just keeps staring at him silently, and Booker breathes a sigh, "Alright, we'll do this your way. How do you figure this playing out?"
"Umm… I don't know?" A smile plays across her features, and Booker can only shake his head. "I'm sure we'll figure something out… right?"
"Got my shield, we can charge in and…?" Elizabeth shakes her head in exasperation. "Guess it's too much like my first plan… can't let them catch on to us, or the whole job's scotched. Wish I had some EVE left…" Then an idea strikes Booker, and a lopsided grin starts to appear, "Hey, how much EVE do you have left?"
"Not a lot…" Now Elizabeth starts to smile, "What do you have in mind?"
"It's not something anyone usually looks for, a girl who can turn invisible. You remembered your gift, right?" Elizabeth's smile widens as she nods again, slipping quietly into the room adjacent to the kidnappers. Booker steps into the room after her after about a minute, not surprised to find the trashed apartment empty. Listening quietly as the kidnappers keep bickering, Booker takes a deep breath, "She should be just about ready…" But then something goes wrong; a creak of a floorboard sounds in the other room, the argument fading in an instant as the kidnappers start looking for the source. "Dammit…"
"Hey, buddy!" Jumping through the hole, Booker's fist crashes into the brown-haired man's jaw as he whips around, knocking the crook to the ground. The blonde's surprisingly quick; she snaps off a shot at him before brown-hair hits the floor. Booker grins as the bullet glances off his shield, the small caliber round barely denting the energy barrier, the look on the woman's face as he seemingly shrugs off a gunshot priceless.
And she doesn't get another; Elizabeth materializes behind her, brass knuckles glinting in the lamp light, yanking on the woman's shoulder and swinging as hard as she can; her uppercut catches the blonde on her jaw, and the woman collapses in a heap as her head snaps back.
"Dirty son of a bitch!" The older man charges Booker while drawing his revolver swinging with his free, ham sized fist. Despite trying to block, the blow catches Booker in the ribs, pain shooting through his body as the shield fails to absorb the entirety of the attack; the blow feels more like a mule kick than a punch, and Booker grunts in pain even as he tries to bring his own revolver to bear. "Must be someone's muscle… hell, that hurt!"
"Hey!" A shot rings out, the bullet hitting the wall not two inches from the thugs head, both he and Booker turning to look at Elizabeth; she stands there with the blonde's gun leveled at the older man, cocking the hammer as she speaks, "Now would be a good time to surrender, whoever you are."
Elizabeth can't keep the goofy smile from her face; it'd all been a rush at the end, but she'd just finished her first case, and she feels like cheering! "Did you see the look on those cops' faces when they saw us? I could hardly keep from laughing!"
"Yeah, I did." Booker chuckles himself, "It's not every day that they get shown up by a pair of private detectives, much less the two of us."
"And the look on Mrs. Douglas' face, that was nearly as priceless." Still grinning, Elizabeth practically skips down the street, only stopping to turn about and wait for Booker to catch up, "It's nice that at least one of them was appreciative, the bonus Mr. Douglas gave us should last us a while." Mrs. Douglas hadn't been especially pleased when they'd first showed up with her husband, though she'd softened some when they'd told her what actually occured.
"Alright, alright…" Booker raises a hand as she comes up beside him again, Elizabeth tugging on his sleeve, "It was a good job, and you did great. Now let's just get home… I doubt the Luteces are thrilled playing nanny for so long…"
That gets another chuckle from her, though it does dampen her mood a touch; Ms. Pearl hasn't answered her door the past few days, forcing Booker to either ask her to stay behind to watch Anna, or call on the only people who he'd even partially trust, the Luteces. So the twins have been watching Anna these past three days. "They better have gotten it done, or there's going to be hell to pay…"
"Wait, what?" Elizabeth glances up at him curiously, barely able to make out his muttering, "What're you talking about, Booker?"
"Uh…" Booker hesitates, and Elizabeth narrows her eyes as she stares up at him; he's hiding something, she just knows it. "Just hoping the Luteces fed Anna..."
"… really? You know I'll figure out whatever it is eventually, Booker." But Elizabeth just grins again, turning her attention ahead and letting the matter slide; it doesn't matter right now. "We still make a good team, don't we?"
"Course we do." He breathes a sigh as he answers, Elizabeth glancing up and catching Booker grinning as he nods in agreement, "Thought we were in trouble there for a minute, but you handled yourself damn well." But the hint of a smile fades, and Booker turns to look her in the eye, "Are you feeling any better?"
"I am…" Elizabeth shakes her head, refusing to let the thought of the flashback get her down; she's really doing a lot better, but truth be told, Elizabeth's still shaken up a little. "Really, I'm fine. Anyway… I'm glad we finished today. It'd be a shame to have to work tomorrow…" Booker doesn't say anything, only giving her the barest of nods; of course he wouldn't care much for Christmas. "I guess it'll be quiet tomorrow…"
They walk the rest of the way in silence despite her good mood, returning home just as the sun dips towards the horizon. Staring at the nearly setting sun and at the sky just starting to turn crimson, orange and purple, Elizabeth can't help but grin again; all in all, it's been an exciting day, and she wouldn't give it up for the world. "Suppose I don't mind… but it'd be nice to have a real for Christmas once…" She lets out a small sigh as they step into their apartment building, trading the colors of the sunset for the shadows of their home.
"We're home." Elizabeth's voice sounds cheery even to her as she steps into the apartment, glancing over her shoulder curiously as Booker hangs back. Then she smells something that stops her in her tracks; a smell like a pine tree, fresh and invigorating. "It can't be…"
"Welcome back." Robert Lutece greets her as she stands in the doorway, but it isn't the Lutece twins or even Anna sitting in her father's chair that draws her gaze; a seven-foot Christmas tree stands on the other side of the room from the dining table, still bare of decorations, with a sealed box resting on the floor beside it. And Elizabeth can only stare at the tree in shock.
"Merry Christmas, Elizabeth." Booker appears beside her, placing an arm around her shoulders, "This is what I meant before; didn't want to ruin the surprise." He chuckles as she slowly turns to look up at him, and she can only imagine the look on her face right now.
"I-I thought you didn't care for holidays like this?" Stammering the words, Elizabeth feels a smile tugging at her features even as she tries to get over the shock, "I didn't think…"
"It's almost Christmas, your first Christmas home. Whatever else it might be, it's something to celebrate." A lopsided grin appears, and Booker slips inside, "Glad you could pull it off, Lutece. Not about to ask how you managed it. Hey there, Anna." Elizabeth chuckles as Anna hops off Booker's chair and runs up to her father, Booker scooping her up in his arms the moment she's in reach.
"Oh, one more thing." Rosalind steps up to Booker, producing an letter from her jacket pocket, "A certain acquaintance of yours came by earlier and left this for you." Despite having a giggling Anna in his arms, Booker manages to take the letter, and Elizabeth steps close enough to see the name. Her eyes go wide as she sees the name 'Slate' written in the corner.
"I'll read it later; we've got a Christmas tree to decorate!" Anna cheers as Booker hoists her into the air, and Elizabeth can only smile; it looks like they'll be having Christmas after all.
Author's Note: Well, there's Elizabeth's first case, I hope it lived up to expectations. A few things; first, in case it's not quite clear from this chapter and her reaction to the thunderstorm, Elizabeth's still got some lingering trauma (not hard to see, after what she's been through.) Second, The Dump was an actual bar/saloon on Bowery, and from what I can tell, really close to Booker's listed address. If only I could have found some pictures of the interior. Third, I tried to make the case as detailed as possible without spending paragraphs on scenery, hopefully it doesn't bog down the story.
This' been the single largest chapter to date, and I'm trying to keep everyone sounding in character (accounting for the differences in living situation and from my own perspective, of course. Booker's decidedly different yet the same as he was in Infinite.) As usual, small changes as needed, and I welcome any and all feedback. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and apologies for the delay. Next stop: Christmas.