Comstock House

The foyer of Comstock House was dark. Windows at the back of a great staircase let in flashes of lighting and the twilight of a storm gathering outside. The furnishings of the House were devastated, soiled by dirt, smashed glass vases and torn up paintings. Founder bodies were here too, fallen in their struggle to protect the home of their leader.

The pair quickly ascended the stairs to an empty floor. Here, rooms were either devastated or emptied of their furnishings. They could see stacks of boxes and furniture, wrapped in cloth and packed to go.

"Seems like Comstock was ready to leave." Elizabeth said.

"Rats are first to abandon a sinking ship." Booker remarked. "I wonder how long he expected before problems knocked on his door."

Elizabeth gave the packed items a closer look, curiously looking at the portraits leaning on the walls and covered up with the canvass and half-opened boxes stuffed full of hay and loaded with statues and other art. Booker looked at one of the few paintings that still hung in the long corridor. George Washington stood on the fore of a boat, surrounded by heroic looking men, who rowed the boat amidst the chucks of ice that floated on water.

"That must have been expensive."

"Washington crossing the Delaware. It can't be the original, the real painting is in New York," Elizabeth immediately replied, seeing him admire the painting. Question of where she knew that from almost leaped from Booker's tongue.

"It doesn't matter now, lets move on."

The corridor led them to large double doors. Behind them, they could hear heated discussion. Most of it was muffled and intelligible, but at least they knew the room was occupied.

Booker nudged the doors ever so slightly and slipped inside, with Elizabeth in tow. The large chamber had statues of men, be it with crosses or swords in their hands, bearing likenesses of Washington, Jefferson, Franklin and others, on pedestals lined up and leading to a round dais, where a group of people stood around a desk. Large ceremonial drapes with crosses and stripes, in red, white and blue covered both the statues and the ground, mixed with red banners that were dragged into the room. Two staircases on both sides of the dais led to upper parts of the house.

Daisy Fitzroy stood behind the desk, her face hard, righteous. Two flagpoles behind her, surprisingly, still stood up, bearing Stars and Stripes on them.

The pair crouched behind a sofa that stood by the entrance to the room, carefully listening to the exchange.

"We got most of the city, we can pack up the ships and leave."

"Leave? We barely had it, we can finally set ourselves up and force the hoarders to work for us!"

"Didn't you see what is happening? Not too long ago, half the men in the courtyard started to shine like others and stated gunning down the rest. Hell, the city's falling apart right now.

Hey, if you think I let my buddies die for nothing…"

"Be quiet. We aren't going anywhere until Comstock's dead. I saw him die, I know he will. And I know we do it." Daisy's voice cut short the arguments between her lieutenants, who sheepishly kept quiet, looking at her in anticipation of her next word.

"Have you tried getting to the top floors through outside?"

"They have too much fire bearing on us, and there's nothing to hang on to," one of the lieutenants replied.

"What about that elevator? Any luck?"

"They busted the generator and we're still waiting for Shock Jockey to be brought in."

Elizabeth peered out from behind the sofa and quickly ducked, noticing Daisy turning her head in their direction.

"Hey, you there, show yourself," the Vox leader exclaimed, "or we will get you out of there with guns."

Booker slowly stood up. Elizabeth looked nervous as they rose, but she put on a brave face as they turned to face the revolutionary leader.

Daisy looked at him for a brief moment, then at Elizabeth.

"DeWitt, you are finally here. You brought the girl too."

"Your revolution is wrong, you killed people." Elizabeth launched an accusation, briefly stunning the room. Daisy only smirked.

"And you thought this would happen without blood? Without payback to those that starved and beat us for so long? Humiliated, treated like beasts of burden?"

"You are no better than Comstock, you know that?" Elizabeth retorted.

"What I do is for the people. I know what I'm doing, that there is violence, consequences. Were you expecting something else? That this would be like in some book, written by a man who never saw blood? God made foolish girls like you so He could have something to play with."

Booker tightened his grip on his holster. "We held our end of the bargain, before your folks turned on us. All we want is to see Comstock. "

"I don't think we are quite done, DeWitt."

This surprised him. "What?"

"The fight ain't over until we bring down Comstock," Daisy sounded resolute. "And we need every weapon that we can get our hands on." She threw a glance at Elizabeth, who stood besides Booker, unease clear on her face. Daisy then turned her gaze back to Booker. " You helped us after all, even if you had to put down few of our brothers in arms. There's enough loot to go around for a vulture like you, if you give her to us."

Booker was getting fed up of stops and stalling. Everyone in this damn flying circus was after the girl. "I ain't here to bargain with you. I fulfilled my part of the deal. We're here for Comstock."

"You have your revolution, now let us go," Elizabeth added.

Daisy slammed her hand on the desk.

"I ain't gonna questioned by the likes of you! You know nothin' of the suffering the Founders have caused us. You see, they ain't nothin' but weeds. If you wanna get rid of the weed, you got to pull it up from the root. It's the only way to be sure."

Booker noticed that everyone in the room tightened their grip on their weapons too and shifted ever so slightly, holding their guns and rifles.

"Is this what your movement is about, Daisy?" Booker knew the answer, but as long as they were talking, there was a way out.

Daisy's eyes narrowed into a vicious stare, as if Booker was Comstock himself.

"Kill DeWitt and take the girl."

"No!" Elizabeth screamed as the Vox around the room suddenly turned their weapons on them, while Booker drew his hand cannon in a split of a second and threw a Bronco at the closest rebel. Daisy lifted up her pistol too, probably knowing that Booker wasn't someone to be trifled with. But she had the advantage, what could go wrong?

The man hit with Bronco was already dead on the floor, and his comrades were getting hit too as Booker put his nostrum-infused reflexes to work. But he didn't throw himself at them, staying in cover behind the statues. Elizabeth read his action easily and was already hiding behind an overturned bookcase, while Booker threw another Bronco in direction of Daisy's bodyguards. Even though it was fair distance, Elizabeth leaned out and pulled a repeater, dropped by one of the Vox, to her with a flick of her wrist.

"Booker, catch!" she yelled and tossed the weapon to him. Booker grabbed the gun and leaned out of cover before taking down the group with a hail of bullets.

Daisy was now alone, but she stood tall, still behind her desk and kept firing one precise shot after another in Booker's direction, keeping him pinned. He couldn't move or run towards the exit, while Elizabeth looked at him desperately. Not long after a flurry of steps and grunting could be heard, as more Vox were rushing to the top floor.

Daisy smirked arrogantly as she heard people incoming.

"It's over DeWitt."

Elizabeth was still staring at Booker, as if looking for an answer or something that could help. After a moment, she took in a deep breath and stood up .She stretched her hand forward and a strong gust of wind hit Daisy, pushing her back her back and disorienting her.

"Hey, knock it off!" The black woman was covering her face and closed her eyes. She was totally exposed.

"Booker, hit her!"

The detective stood up and with a motion of his hand lifted a chair into the air, before launching it straight at the still-disoriented Vox leader.

They heard a loud scream as she crashed through the large window and fell out of the building. The wind stopped and Elizabeth gasped. She ran up to the window. Booker was instantly beside her.

"Elizabeth, we have to go"

"Booker, look, she's alive!"

They were running out of time but this surprised him. Booker didn't know what to expect when he stuck his head out through the crashed window. Below him, on a ledge, he could see the woman in a red scarf, hanging onto the edge of the ledge with her hands.

A thought flashed in his head. She wouldn't relent if they were to escape and would probably destroy Columbia, or what was going to be left of it, if he left her here. It wouldn't take much to push her off, with her dangling like a cherry on a tree.

"Argh, damn you DeWitt!" Daisy screamed as she looked up.

Elizabeth was still beside him, pressure building up on them both. Would he be doing anyone a service if he did it? Probably. But he didn't feel like this was an inevitable choice; this wasn't his place to judge and this wasn't his fight.

"Let's go."

"Are you sure? She won't stop until she has him."

Not if we beat her to it."

The stairs led them up to another floor, where more of Vox stood around elevators. Outside Booker could hear shouts and shots, streaming past shattered windows.

The Vox stared silently at DeWitt and Elizabeth for a moment, while they stood frozen, looking back at the gathered rebels.

"Its them, Pinkerton and the girl!" Shooting begun anew but Booker was faster than most of them and cut down two of their number. Vox bullets were whizzing and grazing him again as he ran forward at them. Elizabeth was right behind him, already summoning a broken faucet on the wall, that showered everyone wet. Booker threw a bolt of Jockey at them right after stopping the group with loud crackling and spastic cries of electrocuted men.

Elizabeth approached the elevator and pressed the button, but nothing happened.

"It won't move."

As he approached closer, Booker noticed a panel in the wall, which was ripped open, tools scattered around. Inside the wall, he could see a generator.

"That's because it's got no power. Stand back, I'll get it started."

Booker was about to fire but the only thing he felt was a bit of numbness in his hand.

"Elizabeth, I suppose you don't have some Shock Jockey on you?"

She only shook her head. "Do you think that there are any supplies still left around here?"

"Well, it's either that or climbing up with zealots taking pot shots at us."

"I could try lift us up…" Elizabeth wondered aloud.

"I don't think that would make much difference to the gunners upstairs."

"I suppose."

Elizabeth looked around while Booker gave the fried Vox rebels a closer look. Maybe one of them carried something, he hoped. He turned his attention to a corridor, which led to another wing with doors to private rooms.

Comstock House, despite being under siege, still gave off the air of opulence, with bedrooms and rooms stuffed with silk and satin, glistening golden finishes, walnut panels and untarnished carpets. Elizabeth was taken in by the looks of the rooms, while Booker only gave them a cursory glance. None of it was of any use to them.

While looking at it all, Daisy's grievances did not sound untrue, but the price everyone kept paying for it was too high. Elizabeth was on the brink, he thought as he observed her turning over the items in a bedroom they entered. The wide-eyed girl was still there, but she was starting to feel the world turn sour. The bedroom held a double bed, but seemed to be occupied by one person.

Booker looked around and noticed that Elizabeth disappeared, but door to another room was open.

"Elizabeth? Have you found anything?" He followed her to what appeared to be a dressing room.

The boudoir was stocked with things a lady would need and still held clothes, but it was clear the room was not used in a long time, with musty wardrobes and drapes on the windows.

Elizabeth stood in the middle of it all, staring at the room with melancholy writ large on her delicate face.

"It's her room, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

"These things, why are they still here?"

"Maybe he kept it as a reminder. It's hard to let go."

"Then why did he lock me up?"

"We will get the answer to that once we get to him."

Elizabeth went for the door leading to the corridor and entered the room next door. Booker slowly followed her.

Tall shelves full of dolls and chest with toys standing near a small bed betrayed the age of the destined owner of the room. Just like boudoir, everything carried with it visible disuse, kept clean, but otherwise untouched over the years.

"I had a room in the tower, exactly like this. The shelf and the bed, the chest and the wallpapers, like for like. I remember being there in my earliest memories, since…"

Elizabeth turned to Booker. He could barely stand the look on her face, her eyes glistening with moisture.

"Forever."

"To tear your own child away from yourself…" Booker spoke up, trying to stay with her, He hardly knew what to say, how to comfort her. This was not a problem that could be solved by drawing first.

The tears were wiped away with a determined hand and deep breath. Elizabeth put her brooding mask back on.

"Let's find something to jump this generator and get out of here."

Across the corridor they found a sitting room, with sofas arranged around a still burning fireplace, the distinct smell of tobacco still lingering in the air. Booker's attention was drawn to a tall cabinet, where he saw vigor bottles standing among liquors, locked behind a glass door. He tapped delicately on the glass to get Elizabeth's attention.

"Little help?"

She took to the task silently.

Booker licked his lips and swallowed. He felt as if the silence was partially aimed at him. Her chipper attitude to things was long gone, but he could see that she lost none of her edge in picking the lock, with steady hands and concentrated gaze.

"What is it that brings in the bird?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't know. But he was always around, whenever I needed him, or when I was in trouble. Little girl with strange powers, a lot can go wrong. I used to be excited when I heard him approach."

"Excited?"

"He was all I had. He fed me. Brought me books. He was my…friend. Then I grew up. And then I hated him. Because he was my warden. But he's just Comstock's pet, isn't he? Just like me."

The bird always knew when she was in trouble. Could it smell her? See her? Maybe it was the tears that attracted the creature?

"It's done." Elizabeth pulled the hairpin out of the lock and reached for the Shock Jockey bottle inside.

Booker took the bottle and drunk it all in one go, feeling the bubbling and acidic flavour of the vigor. Bluish energy again started flowing in his veins and Booker could feel the static in the air around his hands.

"Alright, now we can move that thing again," he said.

They moved through the eerie silence of the house back to the elevators. The gunfire from the top of the House stopped a while ago and the flow of Vox seemingly dried up.

"Something is wrong," Booker spoke up.

The silence was broken up with the sound of approaching airboats and a boom which tore a hole in the windowed glass. Elizabeth yelped in surprise and covered her head from shards of glass everywhere. Booker already had his revolver in hand and just like Elizabeth protected his face from the flying shards.

Score of hooting men in red poured out of the blast hole and opened fire on the pair.

The Vox closest to Booker were first to drop dead, holes in their chests, followed by their comrades behind. Booker stopped their approach with a Bronco and lay few shots at them, helplessly hanging in the air.

"Comstock said that he knew what is right for us, and that we should know our place," agitated voice yelled through a megaphone outside, "and that we should be content with our lot. Today, We make the rules and say whats right!"

Booker reloaded the revolver, while Elizabeth rushed to the elevators.

"Booker, we have to leave!"

He followed her urging and wedged his hand between the panels to get to the generator. He zapped it once and the machine replied with a chorus of bells.

Elizabeth started pressing on the summon button repeatedly while Booker braced for another wave of Vox. The sight of bull helmets and heavy steps accompanied by clanking made Booker's stomach sink a little.

"Can't this thing come down any faster?" Booker managed to speak though the incoming cacophony.

"It moves at a set speed, I don't know how high it goes," the girl shouted back.

Booker barely managed to hide behind a corner of the corridor as the automatic fire from a Patriot and few grenade explosions drove them down the corridor and away from the elevators. Elizabeth was beside him, visibly tense but a lot calmer than in earlier fights.

"Booker, over there, a tear." Elizabeth pointed at a door near one of the elevator.

"Do you know where it leads?"

"Do I ever."

"Can you open it?"

"I think so."

Booker was already half a step towards it.

"Open it."

As he ran bullets ricocheted around him and a wave of hot and cold washed over him neck. He got to the door, while Elizabeth joined a second later, miraculously without a scratch.

"What about the elevator?" she asked.

"No use to us if we're dead."

Booker didn't wait with pushing the door open. They were now outside the House, on a balcony overlooking the assaulted side. Elizabeth ran up to the balustrade, looking at the boats below.

"There's no way out, we're trapped"

"Not quite." Booker approached a horn and a flare attached to it, set up hastily on a rack, and marked with Founders' Stars and Stripes.

"This will call in Columbian Security," Elizabeth remarked.

"And clear us access to the elevator."

"Won't they turn on us too?"

"Maybe, but they won't have time to get us. The elevator should be on our floor by now."

Booker grabbed the release cord of the alarm system and pulled hard, with the device releasing a high-pitched honk and firing the flare.

It was difficult to see it go up against darkened sky, but the flare burst into red above the balcony and the assault at the bottom noticed it.

"That's it, lets get back inside… wait, where is the door?" Booker turned around on heel to face an unbroken wall.

"They're more of a one-use thing," Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably.

The flare disappeared by now, but in its place appeared an airship rising out of the grey sky, with blue-uniformed men on its deck.

"To the ground, now!" Booker's sharp command was followed by a barrage of missiles form the zeppelin, which tore apart the Vox airboats and destroyed the wall completely, with few missiles flying high above them and hitting the wall behind. Booker got up and ran for the devastated wall on the balcony.

They were again inside, with a staircase in front of them. The barrage kept up and now the airship started dropping founder soldiers onto the balcony and the hole in the house. By the time they made their way back to the elevator, the situation was the same as before ,except with Founders and an airship hanging above them.

"There, its open!" Elizabeth pointed at the lit interior of the elevator. They made it inside running and Booker slammed the button up before sliding with their backs against the wall. The doors closed with a small ding and blocked out the ricochets and ruckus of the Founder troops.

"Phew, that was close." Booker gave a small chuckle.

"Heh, yeah," Elizabeth took a deep breath and smiled.

A voice coming through PA system made them both jump and alert in an instant, dispelling the few quiet seconds. "Attention all Columbian soldiers and personnel, evacuation of Comstock House is in progress. The President has been evacuated to the Flagship."

"Flagship? I thought we crashed the First Lady." Booker replied.

"It must be one of those super-zeppelins. We must hurry before they leave."

They didn't have to wait long for the elevator to get to the top floor, but Booker could see the panic already setting in with the girl, anxious to catch Comstock. He couldn't blame her; this was his only chance out of Columbia too.