A/N: Really glad everyone likes it so much! I'm taking a bit more time between chapters to give people more time to read, just in case anyone was wondering. Back to it!

Chapter 35: The Boys

Booker's Perspective.

What. . . Just happened? All I saw was Songbird nearly punching me, Will getting the shit beaten out of him, and the rest was a blur of Songbird flying out the window. I rubbed my eyes and stood up. The very first thing that ran through my mind was saving Elizabeth, but then I noticed that checking on Will was probably more important. I ran across the room to look at him, and I didn't quite like what I saw.

He was battered, if that was even a word for it. And I was pretty sure arms didn't bend that way, and I'd seen just about every way an arm could and couldn't bend. His legs were underneath his back, and if he had been awake I might've thought he was doing a circus routine or something, but he was far from awake. I leaned down and jabbed two fingers into his neck; no detectable pulse. I held back a wave of anger, sadness, and disappointment at the same time.

Even if he wasn't family, and I hadn't known him for too long, he was one of those few people I could actually call a friend. Even before Columbia, he was one of my only real friends, and I bit on my tongue until I drew blood. Holding back tears, I grabbed his hands and crossed them over his chest, aligning him more normally. "You're gonna' be okay, buddy. You're in a better place now." I muttered silent prayers and whispered hymns, praying for his passage into whatever afterlife there was. "You're gonna' be okay."

Suddenly, I heard panting on the far side of the room, and I turned around to see Lucy in a ruined dress with a bloody cheek. She was holding her pipe, which actually had blood on it, and was partially bent. "I fought my way up here. W-Where's Elizabeth?" She glanced down at Will and I heard her whimpering. "I-Is he?. . ."

I nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Yeah, he's moving on."

Her eyes immediately went puffy. She stepped towards his corpse and knelt down next to it, checking for the pulse in his wrist and neck. She evidently came to the same conclusion I did, as she grabbed his wrist and started to sob into it. We sat there for a few minutes, even if we needed to save Elizabeth. The whole Will dying thing was more important, for the moment.

She shook her head furiously now, sniffling her head and wiping away tears. "No. No! Not now, you bastard!" She slammed a fist down into his chest. "You've done way too much stuff now for me to just let you get away Scott free, pal! I still need to scold you for getting me into this mess!" It would've been funny if it wasn't so emotional. She started to sob hysterically now. "I'll strangle you again! I'll walk straight up to heaven and strangle you if you don't get up, right now, you little. . ." She grabbed my hand and pointed it towards his chest. "Hit him with a Shock Jockey."

"What does blasting his body achieve us? He's dead."

"He's not bleeding, and I'm pretty sure his spine is intact. His skull's not broken or anything. You can still kick his heart back up again, with a shock! Or, at least, I'm pretty sure!" It was convincing, and I couldn't say no to her sobbing face.

"Fine," I muttered, "But when we disintegrate his body, I'm blaming you." I took a deep breath in, and blasted a bolt of electricity at him.

At first, he didn't move, except the normal fizzling people usually endured when I hit them with this. "Another time," she said, and I did it. Again, he didn't move. "Once more."

But I didn't have to do it once more. He started sputtering, spitting out bile and shaking furiously. "Is this a good thing?" she asked, taking a step back. "Is he supposed to be vibrating, or is he disintegrating now?"

". . . I think he's disintegrating now?"

The electricity faded away, and I saw something I never thought I'd see again; his eyes fluttered open. He grabbed his jaw immediately, but the pain in his hand must have been pretty immense. So yes, he didn't suffer any lethal damage, his heart must have just given out because of all the trauma. And I'd just traumatically brought him back to life. "What. . . What the hell?" he said, looking up at the ceiling. "What did you two just do? Why do I feel like a steak?"

Lucy practically tackled him in a hug, which he moaned and groaned too in response. She leaned back slightly. "Oops. Sorry. Now promise me you'll never scare me like that again, you little bastard!"

". . . Feel free to tell me what I did any time now, Booker. Last thing I remember is one hell of a punch. . ."

I smirked, overjoyed at the fact that this son of a gun wasn't dead yet. He'd be dead some time soon, but that bird wouldn't be the death of him. "Welcome back to the land of the living, pal."

"So something finally killed me." He threw his hands in the air, even if they flailed around in the wrong directions and he groaned in pain. "And when I didn't want it, too. So. . . Where's Elizabeth?" he asked, looking around.

. . . Right. Elizabeth. "I've got to go rescue her. Songbird's taking her back."

He groaned. "Back. . . Back to work." He tried to sit up, but I heard his moan of pain. "J-Just give me a hand, will you?"

Lucy put a hand on his chest. "I'll make sure he's okay. No one's going to be coming up here any time soon. You go take care of Elizabeth, please, will you? We'll be here when you get back." She started to do a thorough damage report on Will, shooing me off. "Go on, go. I cleared out the downstairs area. You ought to be fine."

I trekked through the deserted tower, and damn, Lucy'd done a nice job. People were bludgeoned over the head, beaten, and generally unconscious. I wasn't sure how many of them were dead, if any, and I didn't care to check. I looted them for ten or so shotgun slugs, shoved them in a pouch, slung it over my shoulder, and set across the bridge.

The most important thing I noticed was the bridge getting hit by lightning. Different parts were unfolding, and the storm was going absolutely crazy. I heard one of Songbird's screeches, and I felt by blood boil. "Hey, you!" I shouted, hoping to get his attention. "I'm going to get you, you hear me, you feathered piece of shi-" Then, I felt the world wrapped in white around me, and some strange sensation in my head.

When the sensation was gone, I was staring at the front gate to Comstock house, which was surrounded by giant, sculpted faces of the Founding Fathers; or, at least the ones Columbia worshiped. Flanking the bridge were statues of the same people, wrapped in sheets and holding their respective objects of worship; though, I don't remember Ben Franklin being that muscular in any pictures I ever saw. But other than the religious zealots who build this place, there was something unusual about it; and what was that?

Snow. Mountains of snow. And I mean literal mountains, stacked up on top of the roof and the bridges. I was marching through snow. "Snow?" I said, aloud. I had been so used to travelling with others and voicing my thoughts that it was weird to just think things. "It's July," I muttered. "And it was raining just a few minutes ago."

Inside, there was a hallway, the carpet made of velvet and the walls lined with candles. They looked freshly placed, which was odd, considering I just got in here and no one had been placing any candles when I arrived. There was no residue of people, either. They don't pay me enough for this job. Then I took a moment to thoroughly analyze the room, and I noticed a ripple in the air, and a voice coming from inside. "Please!" shouted Elizabeth's voice. "Please take me back to my tower!" She was begging and pleading for help. How come I can hear this? This doesn't make any sense.

I sighed to myself and walked up to the door, shoving it open with my shoulder. I raised my shotgun to a readied position, until I saw that no one was inside. But even if someone had been inside, I would've been taken aback by what I saw; A statue of Elizabeth, made of beautiful white limestone, holding the mighty Sword of Columbia. A banner said "Our Lady Elizabeth: Godspeed thy Judgement". And that could not have been right. First of all, if they built this just now, they had a damn good sense of what she was going to look like, and secondly, they shouldn't have been able to build it if they'd just gotten her. Had it been there for long?

Other than that, there was nothing significant in the room. Portraits of Lady Comstock and whatnot, but what was more interesting was the voice recording of Elizabeth. "Some men dream of money. Others, dream of love." She spoke with the same tone as her false father had in similar messages. "My father dreamed of a flood of fire!" she shouted. There's no way in hell she'd call that bastard her father. "We were given Eden, but we turned it to Sodom. Why do we deserve salvation, pray tell?" She chucked slightly. "The Lord gave Noah a fish in the form of a flood. But he was not so easy on me. He said, 'Prophet, I want you to train a nation of fishermen!'" It was like the propaganda Comstock would've used, but it was . . . her voice. I could never picture her saying any of that. Let alone hear it.

Around the statue of - dare I say it - Elizabeth, there was another room, and directly in front of me, there stood a poster that said: "NO SIN EVADES HIS GAZE", depicting a man wearing a large mask with horn-like shapes sticking out the side, along with a large light like thing in the center of his face. A tear spoke from next to me: "What is this place? What do you want to do to me!?" Elizabeth's voice called through again, and I felt pained, wishing I could reach through and help her in any way. But I couldn't. As that one closed, I heard the sound of her voice. "P-Please!" It didn't sound distorted at all; it was her. "I don't understand! What did I do!" She screamed out in pain, wailing in sadness.

I rushed forwards with my shotgun in hand, failing to notice the tear-manipulated men banging on walls and wallowing in their filth until it was too late. I came face to face with the creature depicted in the drawing, and it stared at me with a burning intensity. The red light in its eye glowed, and then it wailed at the top of its lungs, before disappearing in what looked like a tear. Wait, a tear? And then those tear-manipulated men I mentioned became a significant problem. They popped out of the tear and pulled wooden clubs out of no where, batting them against the wall. And then, they started to run towards me.

They looked a little like what I imagined Founding Fathers would look like if they'd been ripped through tears, didn't have eyeballs, and had plastic heads. So basically, they were some of the most obscene things I'd ever seen; dressed in full white dress uniforms, waving their clubs around wildly, and wearing the faces of famous Founding Fathers. That's a new experience for me.

I snickered as the first one approached me, loading a slug into his chest. I expected blood to shoot out and for him to fall down to the ground, his insides ravaged and his face lifeless. But while his face was lifeless, everything else wasn't. The slug didn't even leave a wound, it just bounced into the tear and a little blue circle was left at the point of impact. The creature struggled for a moment, and then it slammed the club down into my forehead. If it wasn't for the magnetic shield, I'd probably have been knocked unconscious, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. I jumped backwards and shot it twice more, and surprisingly enough, it dropped dead. And then it dissipated into nonexistence, because apparently, people do that now.

But that left, what, five of them to handle? And I was all alone. Goddammit, Will, don't get near killed next time. They all rushed me at the same time, and I hurled down a Shock Jockey trap, enveloping them in a web of electricity. It stalled them for a moment and gave me just enough time to kill two of them, but two wasn't even close to enough to get me out of this. A club slammed into the back of my right leg, and I staggered forwards, falling to my knees. I spun around and loaded a slug into his chin, and fortunately enough, his body dissipated. So two left. Should be easy enough. But damn, did that hurt.

They rushed me together, and I hurled a Devil's Kiss towards them. I couldn't use Return To Sender, because they didn't fight with bullets, so the conventional vigors would have to do. They were lit aflame, and even if it barely phased them, it was the valuable second that I needed to hop to my feet and unload the shotgun into the air in front of me. After three or so shots, they were dead on the ground, and then they evaporated into a tear-like mist. I reached onto my belt and prepared to reload my shotgun, but then I noticed there weren't any slugs on my belt.

And there weren't any slugs in the gun, either. I was dry on ammo. "How the hell am I gonna' kill these things without ammo?" I muttered. With luck, that would be the last of them, and I liked the thought that I'd used up all my bad luck by now and deserved a little good luck. I approached the gate which led into the next room, and found that it was locked shut. "Elizabeth, think you can get this lo-"

Wait. Elizabeth's not here. So that doesn't work. I pressed down on the intercom button next to the door. "Hello?" I shouted, into the wall of static. "Look, I just want to see the girl. We don't have to make this hard."

Then I noticed the sign next to the door. "Entrance can only be opened from the Warden's Office." Which meant if no one replied, I'd have to go all the way up to the Warden's office - which was apparently on the third floor - just to get this thing to open. And I didn't have time for that. Elizabeth was getting tortured over on the other side of this thing. I punched the wall before spinning around to approach the elevator, which was the only way up that I could see.

"I can't deal with this shit," I muttered to myself, slamming my fist into the button. A tear was perfectly placed in the very middle.

"Look, I don't want to do this, just take me back to my tower!" called Elizabeth, in more rage than pain.

"You and I both know it's too late for that," replied a male voice. "Your father gave you a lovely home, which you destroyed."

"He is not my father!" replied Elizabeth, with fury being the only word I could use to describe her tone. Then the tear shut, leaving me in silence once again, save the whistling of the snow from outside, which I could hear thanks to the ruined and broken windows.

I leaned against the wall and stared at the Sky-hook on my hand, figuring it was my only chance of survival. I've successfully cocked up this situation more than anyone could have possibly done. There's no way in hell this is going to end well for me. But I've got to save Elizabeth, and then we can save Will. . . But will it really be the same? There's no way we're just walking away from this. Too much emotional turmoil on everyone's part. We might never recover from this kind of stuff.

The elevator spoke as it raised. Elizabeth's voice rang out over the PA, "I believe you've noticed the displays throughout the house. William R. Foreman, say the kinetescopes, praising his work. The photographs around the room were taken by him. He was a man I knew once; a man who affiliated himself with the False Shepard. He was courageous, headstrong, and for whatever reason, I fell in love. I fell in love, hopeless love, with this man, and when I was cured of him, I did not realize it until it was too late. I could not see past his charade until it was too late, and by the time my Father told me the truth, it was too late for me to correct my mistakes. But like all other sins, that was remedied. He lies dead now. At first, I was filled with sorrow. But now I see the joy I should've felt."

Well that's interesting. The PA shut off, leaving me to rise through the levels in silence. The glass screen in front of me was covered by the floor of the next room, until it slowly rose. I saw a pair of feet; then, I saw a man's legs. His pants and shoes were black, which didn't consist with anything I'd seen in here so far. Once we'd risen all the way, I came face to face with the barrel of his gun, and the door slowly slid open. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. There was a woman cowering behind him as well.

Will Foreman stood in front of me, lowering his gun and tipping his hat down over his eyes. The woman beside him was Lucy, but that didn't make any sense. I'd left him, dying, not even thirty minutes ago. How?. . . I need a vacation.