For new readers, this story is based off of and is tied into several other pieces of mine. If you're not sure where to start, I'd suggest finding Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken, as well as its prequel Unbroken: Song of Sorrow and the continuation Unbroken: I'm Home. The beginning of this story also has roots in chapter five of Those Left Behind. Thanks for checking it out.
Foreword: A shorter chapter than usual, but that's just how it worked out. Has anyone noticed there seems to be no way to get out of High and Market Street?
May 9, 1959, 10:00 AM
"Back to where this all began, in a manner of speaking…"
Elizabeth whispers to herself as the bathysphere glides through the frigid depths around Rapture, she resting on the rosewood and metal bench that curves along the port side of the vessel's interior and peering out the glass hatch at the shining city in the sea. The plain white canvas satchel rests beside her on the hard surface, Elizabeth hoping to relax and enjoy the ride; her amateur enthusiasm for bathyspheres hasn't diminished any, though Elizabeth has frequently been too preoccupied or exhausted to enjoy most of the trips she's taken on the submersible's as of late. Comstock's standing on the opposite side of the bathysphere, one arm resting against the metal hull beside the hatch as he stares out into the ocean.
But the bathysphere is far from peacefully silent; the shortwave radio rests on Elizabeth's lap, the occasional hiss of static coming from the speaker whenever the calm, measured voice on the other end isn't speaking. "Ms. DeWitt. I trust you and your companion are well rested, and are prepared to continue with our agreement?"
"Yes, I suppose we are." Heaving a sigh, Elizabeth reluctantly turns her attention to the radio. Their employer had contacted them as they entered the Metro Station at Neptune's Bounty, Elizabeth nearly jumping in surprise at the sudden voice at her side and Comstock whirling around with his shotgun raised; their journey to the bathysphere station had been a tense, nail-biting experience after being attacked by Atlas' spliced up thugs. But the psychologist had simply inquired about their cargo and directed them to another safe house, despite the incident with the trio in Arcadia hanging over their heads.
While Elizabeth already had an idea of who those three are and knew better than to broach the subject for the time being, Comstock had been set on confronting Lamb. He'd started angrily demanding an explanation, Elizabeth only barely switching the shortwave off before Comstock could get started in earnest.
A hasty explanation while hurrying into the bathysphere only half convinced the former Prophet that this wasn't the time or place to force Lamb's hand, Comstock only begrudgingly acknowledging that it was unwise once the glass hatch sealed behind them. With that settled, Elizabeth switched the radio back on and focused on the conversation with Lamb, not wanting to give too much away.
Thankfully, Lamb didn't bring up the attackers of Arcadia either, both she and Elizabeth avoiding the subject. Instead, the doctor had been rather direct with her questions, turning the no-nonsense conversation quickly to business and what Elizabeth and Comstock carried away from Arcadia, the genetic samples that had been in Julie Langford's care safely tucked away in her satchel. Lamb had been pleased with their acquisition of the materials, though Elizabeth wouldn't have guessed from the sound of the good doctor's voice, she simply stating it with that same measured tone she always uses.
While Lamb was dubiously pleased that they'd managed to escape Arcadia with the genetic materials, the doctor was less so with their 'seeming' reluctance to deliver them. Any one of the Pneumo tubes Elizabeth and Comstock had passed by would have served passing well to send the small, rectangular metal case and the samples within to safety. Comstock bristled at that, the act of holding his tongue seeming to grow more and more difficult.
In the end, Elizabeth agreed to deliver the genetic materials at the earliest convenience, though she'd arranged for some supplies to help them on their way in return, and the pair had been directed to another safe house. Thankfully, this one was located in a middle-class residential area rather than a red-light district. Lamb had cut off contact while the bathysphere was still in transit, only leaving them with their next destination; the Little Wonders Educational Facility on Market Street.
Their employer wasn't exactly certain whether the objects she seeks is in the facility or not, but the Market Street facility is a damn sight easier to reach than the one in Point Prometheus, Lamb telling Elizabeth the names of a number of complicated compounds to search for. So they're on their way back to Comstock's old neighborhood, while he still deluded himself into thinking he was Booker DeWitt and where he'd lived since 1949.
"The facility is certain to be guarded." Lamb drawls over the shortwave in her distinctly emotionless manner of speech, "But I've come to learn how… resourceful, the two of you are. I trust you will be able to provide your own method of entrance."
"I suppose we'll have to, one way or the other…" Turning her gaze back to the sight of Rapture through the bathysphere's thick glass hatch, Elizabeth frowns slightly; she's not so sure of that, but best not let on that she has any doubts. The Little Wonders facility is controlled directly by Ryan and is at least partly involved in the creation of Little Sisters, it's not great stretch of the imagination to figure that whatever guards are outside will be the least of their problems.
The bathysphere begins to approach one of the towering buildings that make up Rapture, the vessel diving towards the ocean floor on a preprogrammed route. "Very well. I look forward to next we speak, Ms. DeWitt. Do be prompt, if at all possible."
With that, the shortwave radio cuts out, Lamb's voice disappearing as abruptly as it came. "Prompt… that's helpful, Lamb." Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth stuffs the radio back into her satchel, just as their vessel glides into the buildings dock, cutting off the view of the city and plunging the bathysphere into near darkness. Only the dim, orange overhead light illuminates Elizabeth and Comstock.
Their passage through the inky darkness doesn't take long, but it's enough that Elizabeth can't help but squint as the bathysphere surfaces, the meager light that had been filtering through the water around the submersible while it began to ascend only allowing her eyes to adjust slightly before being dazzled. And once her vision clears, Elizabeth finds she's staring at another Rapture Metro, this one more circular and looking much like Market and High Street above in design; there's no view of the ocean or the rest of the city, but the floor's the same white marble tile and the walls and ceiling a warm brown color. A number of slot machines stand near wood and vinyl benches, likely something for those waiting on bathyspheres to occupy themselves with and lose their money on. A single elevator is set into the wall opposite where the bathysphere rose out of the sea.
And there are a handful of men and women in the Metro, several of the nearest picking themselves up and starting towards where Elizabeth and Comstock stand. "Best get moving. C'mon." Keeping his voice low, Comstock steps out of the bathysphere and starts walking towards the elevator.
"Sure…" Following a half step behind her companion, Elizabeth keeps her head down as they go, hoping not to be recognized; she'd made a scene with a few of the shop owners on High Street last she was here, but the one she hopes to avoid most is also the most dangerous by far, her former 'mentor'. "We'll need to steer clear of Cohen's, if he's still here… last thing we need is to pique his curiosity."
"Wont' hear any argument from me." From the tone of his voice, it's clear to Elizabeth that Comstock remembers how their last encounter with Cohen ended, and likely quite vividly. "I've half a mind to put a bullet in the lunatic." Elizabeth can only grimace, the pair stepping into the elevator just as the bathysphere descends into the depths once again; the 'maestro' is a horrible man, and it's best to avoid him if at all possible.
The elevator car is the same cylindrical design as the one Elizabeth took with Comstock on New Year's Eve, but it lacks the back window and view of the city that the Market and High Street one had, though it does bear a panel allowing access to several different floors. Moving to lean against the back wall, Elizabeth peers at the panel as Comstock hits the button for the top floor; it does bring to mind the single-button panel on the elevator further upstairs, "An odd choice…" Thinking to herself, Elizabeth brushes a stray hair from her eyes, the elevator beginning its ascent, "I suppose whoever designed those might fancy having the elevator stopping at every floor…"
"First few floors are for maintenance, shouldn't be a problem."
"I don't imagine we'll have much to worry about, not until we're on Market Street." Briefly glancing over at Comstock, Elizabeth wonders whether her statement's true or not; her companion has both his shotgun and Thompson slung on his back. While the civil war has made carrying firearms more common, Elizabeth can't help but feel that even a casual observer would think Comstock's up to no good, armed as he is. Of course, they are planning something, but that's beside the point.
Letting her eyes unfocus while staring unseeingly at the elevator door, Elizabeth barely notices the floors come and go, her thoughts occupied with what they may find when they arrive and just how they're going to break into what's essentially a guarded government facility. And she's so lost in thought that she doesn't realize it when they arrive, a tap on the shoulder shaking her from her musings, "Huh?" Blinking, Elizabeth finds the elevator door open and Comstock giving her a curious look, a touch of warmth flushing her cheeks as she realizes she hadn't been paying attention, "Err… ah, hell…" Comstock chuckles as she slips past him, Elizabeth hurrying out of the elevator.
The elevator stopped at what could be considered the building's entry hall; a handful of shops and restaurants occupy this floor, but the majority of it is taken up by advertisements for the destinations above, decorative, leafy plants in dark fixtures, similarly dark sculptures, benches and slot machines contrasting with the white marble tile floor. And there are a half dozen more elevators aside from the one Elizabeth just left along the dark and light brown walls, each leading to a different set of the building's upper floors.
But this place of commerce has seen better days, the effects of the Civil War apparent even this far from the fighting and areas of unrest. Half of the businesses are boarded up and dark, the number of Rapture's well-to-do citizens shopping or going about their day far less than when Elizabeth last passed through here.
The elevator to Market and High Street lies on the far side of the hall, and Elizabeth starts across the floor without a moment of hesitation, her heels clacking on the white tile; no point in trying to keep out of sight, the open layout of the floor making that an exercise in futility, and Elizabeth doesn't much care to linger in this place for fear of being recognized.
"You alright?" Comstock's voice is low and quiet, the former Prophet just behind and to her left.
"I suppose… as well as can be expected." Glancing back at her companion, Elizabeth peers at Comstock suspiciously for a moment; she still doesn't know what to make of this Comstock. Then again, all Elizabeth has is uncertainty, so why should this be any different? "Let's just get to Market Street." Comstock nods slowly, and Elizabeth presses the elevator's call button, breathing a sigh and running her fingers through her dyed black hair as she waits. "Huh… I wonder how long it will be before it starts to show…?"
The elevator arrives quickly enough, and Elizabeth and Comstock are on their way to Market Street in short order, she spending the time staring out the window at the ocean again. When the elevator reaches their floor, Elizabeth's paying enough attention this time to turn as the door slides open, and that proves fortunate; what waits outside nearly draws a curse from her ruby lips, Elizabeth suddenly relieved that she wasn't startled by this.
A barricade waits just outside the elevator, a number of Ryan's security standing on the far side with weapons in hand. There is an opening in the barricade, a small line of men and women waiting to get through as the guards inspect the first. "Well… I ain't getting through there…"
"Doubt I can, either." Frowning, Elizabeth slips over to the side of the elevator in an attempt to remain unseen, across the door from Comstock, "Let's head up to High Street. Who knows, we might come up with a plan while we're up there."
Comstock doesn't need to be told twice, the door closing a moment later and the elevator beginning its ascent once again. And neither of them say another word over the short time it takes for the elevator to reach High Street, their job suddenly looking just that much worse.
"Refreshments, sir? Madam?"
"What? No… we're fine." Elizabeth blinks as Comstock answers, both of them glancing at each other for a moment; the moment the elevator doors opened, the spliced waiter that had greeted them last time did so again. Only this time, the waiter looks to be even more spliced than before, a touch of odd swelling on the right side of his face an obvious sign. But the wait doesn't seem too far gone to be called a proper Splicer, he just nodding and vanishing in a burst of red smoke only to appear again some distance away.
Just as with Market Street and the entrance hall, the Les Temps Perdu lounge shows signs of the strain the civil war has put on Rapture, there being less patrons than she remembers, the clamor of the crowd outside more of a murmur, and the shelves behind the bar looking more than a little sparse. "Well, here we are again…"
"Mr. DeWitt? Is that you?" A voice comes from their right as they make their way through the lounge, interrupting Elizabeth.
"Ah, hell…" Comstock groans, glancing at Elizabeth before turning to face the speaker and muttering so that she can hear, "It's that shopkeeper from the liquor store… guess he can't afford to keep turning his nose up…"
Elizabeth remembers, and she spies a man stepping out of the Le Marquis D'epoque, "I'd imagine you brought him a lot of business before…" She falters at that, the memories of what came to pass on New Year's Eve and how cold she'd been causing Elizabeth to wince.
"It's been months since you up and disappeared! What, are you on the wagon? Come, I've still a couple bottles of favorite, though…" The shopkeeper stops at the top of the rosewood-colored steps, a glint appearing in his eye, "Though… most of the establishments here no longer take dollars in payment anymore. Not worth the paper it's printed on, except for renting a room, or for the vending machines."
That piques Elizabeth's curiosity, and she takes a step closer, "If you can't use money, then what form of currency is accepted?"
"Why, ADAM, of course!" The shopkeeper's cheerful demeanor doesn't falter in the least, though he seems to have only just now noticed Elizabeth. But from the way the blonde man said ADAM, Elizabeth thinks she can sense a touch of desperation in his manner. "You… do have ADAM, yes?"
"Not a drop, pal." Comstock shakes his head and starts walking away, Elizabeth turning to follow. The shopkeeper doesn't say a word, Elizabeth watching him slowly trudge back to his shop from the corner of her eye. "ADAM… the city's going to hell if the Rapture dollar ain't worth a thing…"
"Yeah… best we avoid the shops for now… but that doesn't leave us much to do other than gamble or watch the ocean. Perhaps we should ask around some?" But Comstock just shakes his head, Elizabeth not particularly fond of the idea, herself.
"Let's take a look around, I'd wager we'll find something of use in a place like this."
Half an hour later…
A sigh escapes Elizabeth as she takes a seat on the black, vinyl upholstered bench outside the Golden Rule. Comstock had suggested they split up to search High Street, and Elizabeth had been all for it, thinking she could use some time to think alone. But all she'd found as she looked around were a closed clothing store and some spare change lying around, and Elizabeth has been giving the Artist's Struggle, Rapture Records and the Golden Rule a wide berth, at least up until now. "I'm not looking forward to this, but… I suppose there might be something we can use in the back, perhaps a rope…"
Elizabeth distinctly remembers falsely accusing the shopkeeper of the Golden Rule of grave robbing before giving him a swift kick, and she's positive the fellow will remember her, looking exactly as she did back on New Year's Eve. "Comstock's drawing plenty of attention with his carrying firearms, but at least no one has called for security yet…"
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth allows herself to rest for a minute, rubbing her face with her hands once its passed. "Alright… suppose I best get to it. Hopefully…"
But Elizabeth doesn't get far with that sentiment, she spying a familiar face coming towards her. Comstock's casting his gaze about as he comes down the wooden steps that lead the Golden Rule, only turning to Elizabeth as he comes to a stop before her, "Found anything?"
"Not yet." Frowning, Elizabeth glances back at the jewelry store behind her, "I was just about to see if I could search in there without causing another scene…"
That draws a blank look from Comstock, but it doesn't last, a lopsided grin slowly replacing it, "Heh… I'd forgotten about that. Well, don't, I think I've got something. C'mon." Comstock steps away and heads for the hallway to the right of the Golden Rule, "Been looking for you for a while."
"If you came from here, how did you miss me…?" Elizabeth tries to remember what lies down this hallway, and after a moment she recalls a restaurant whose name escapes her, and a maintenance room locked with a four-digit code. "As I recall, there isn't a way out down here…"
But Comstock doesn't say a thing, instead coming up to the double doors with the maintenance sign overhead and quickly punching in the code, 2-0-7-6. The doors open without complaint, Comstock stepping through and waiting for Elizabeth to do the same, clearing the code so none can follow. And it's readily apparent what he means to show Elizabeth; a ragged hole has been torn into the floor at the very end of the room, out of sight from outside the door. A ladder has been bolted to the side of the circular hole. "It'll take us to a room in the Andalusian Arms. Ready to do some climbing?"
Elizabeth nods, but gives Comstock a sideways glance, "Okay… but I'm going first."
Author's Note: Yep, Market Street's closed off and someone dug (or drilled) a tunnel from High Street. Like I mentioned above, after wandering around High and Market Street for a while, to refresh my memory of the area, I realized there wasn't anyway to get out the area, no Metro, bathysphere station or doors that could lead out into a tunnel or the like. There are only four locked, unused doors on Market Street, and those all belong to businesses; from the elevator, the Souvenir shop, the Little Wonders Educational Facility, the Satyr, and Rapture Tribune. Not exactly prime avenues for foot traffic.
The chapter's title came easily for once, a poem I ran across striking me as appropriate given the setting and where Elizabeth and Comstock are headed. It's part of a line from an Edge Allan Poe piece, and is sort of a play on Rapture itself, and the Little Sisters.
The chapter should be fairly well looked over, but I'll give it another once over at a later date. As usual, I welcome and feedback in whatever form it may be. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
