For new readers, this story is a continuation of one of my previous stories and is tied into several others. If you're not sure where to start, I'd suggest reading Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken, as well as its prequel Unbroken: Song of Sorrow. Thanks for checking it out.


June 2, 1897, 6:40 PM

"Above you!"

Booker slams on the brakes and jerks to the right, Elizabeth's shout giving him a split second to react, the momentum from the flat out sprint still carrying him forward. While the maneuver throws him off balance and sends him stumbling into the mottled gray wall, it's a damn sight better than the alternative; a pair of wicked, razor sharp hooks slice down from the ceiling and through the air where his head had been, the cause of Elizabeth's alarm howling with rage overhead. And even in the dark, Booker recognizes it in a heartbeat; one of the wall-climbing Splicers hangs from the ceiling amid dangling rope, wires and chains, a tattered yellow butterfly mask covering part of the spindly man's misshapen face and doing nothing to hide the fevered insanity shining in his eyes.

The report of a revolver thunders in answer to the Splicer's howl and echoes in the dark hallway, but the wall-crawler's already skittering off into the shadows, Elizabeth's shot punching into the ceiling harmlessly. And with that, the encounter's over as abruptly as it began, Booker and Elizabeth left alone in the dark, silent once more hallway. And now this is starting to make sense; lengths of wire, chains and other long, narrow objects hang from overhead, twisted decorations that obscure the ceiling after only a few from where they stand. They remind Booker of tall, upside-down wild grass, and is the reason the wall-climbing Splicer got the jump on them, the wiry creature having been lying in wait.

"Doubt that's the last we've seen of him." Pushing off the wall, Booker glances back and forth down the hallway before turning back to Elizabeth, "Thanks." Booker had brought Elizabeth to this decrepit building in Brooklyn to follow up on a lead, the same lead they've been working on for the past two weeks; many of the disappeared had vanished in short stretches of time, followed by a few to several more in the coming weeks, until the next batch went missing. And with the spotty record of the missing persons' activities that the Brooklyn police had compiled, it took some work to figure where these batches frequented before disappearing. "You alright, Elizabeth?"

But that hadn't narrowed down their search by much, between the police's account, the number of frequently visited areas in Brooklyn and the sheer number of disappearances not helping any. One thing Booker had realized is that whoever's behind this, they've taken measures to avoid being tracked; the general region where each batch of disappearances occur is usually far removed from the last, and aside from what's publicly known, there's little in the way of credible rumors going around.

"I am…" Holding her revolver at her side, Elizabeth nods quickly, she casting her gaze along the ceiling before looking back. Elizabeth's wearing the 'work' outfit that mirrors his own, right down to the pinstripes of her black shirt and the red ascot. They make quite the pair walking down the street, Elizabeth drawing plenty of curious glances. "What I want to know is where that thing's running to…"

"Good question." Starting down the dark, boarded up hallway again and brandishing his revolver, Booker sticks to a slower, steady pace, he not partial to getting ambushed again. "Let's find out." The hallway takes a left turn not too far ahead, Booker approaching cautiously while keeping one eye on the ceiling and the mess of garbage that hangs from it. He'd practically have to be beneath one of the wall-crawlers to spot it, though.

"This can't be a good thing…" Elizabeth whispers softly, keeping close behind her father and peering back the way they came from time to time. There's tension in her voice, and Booker nods silently; the wall-crawling Splicer seems to be hunting them, but that lunatic isn't the worst of their problems.

When Booker and Elizabeth stepped out onto the top floor of the building and stumbled on a pair of the wall-crawling Splicers, Booker caught barely a glimpse of another in the distance as the first two bolted, but it was enough for him to recognize the twisted features and pale skin of the grotesquely deformed Splicer that had been kidnapping young girls back in February. They gave chase into this hallway, but the monstrous creature is fast, Booker and Elizabeth losing it quickly.

"Can't imagine that thing is happy to see us…" Rounding the bend quickly with revolver raised, Booker stops when he doesn't find an insane Splicer charging or a meat hook hurtling towards him. This leg of the hallway dead ends quick, a door not twenty feet away hanging slightly ajar, allowing soft, flickering light through from the other side. "Great… Elizabeth?"

Motioning for Elizabeth, Booker glances back as she steps around the corner herself, his daughter stealing over to the open door without a sound. Her open left hand shimmers translucent for a brief moment, Elizabeth likely ready to use her Peeping Tom Plasmid the second something dangerous appears. "There's… candles, Booker. Plenty of them. And I don't see the Splicer…" Elizabeth trails off, Booker able to make out her eyes moving quickly in the candlelight. It only lasts for a few seconds, Elizabeth turning back to Booker just as he's about to step up to the door himself, "I think… it's a shrine."

That strikes Booker as peculiar, he stepping over silently to join Elizabeth and peer inside himself. And the room beyond certainly looks the part; aside from the candles that dot the ground, a floor to ceiling drawing covers the wall opposite the doorway, prominently featuring a vague figure against a backdrop of white whose head is replaced by a blue winged butterfly. Scrawlings on the rest of the walls and a trio of doors speak of salvation and rebirth, though the manner in which they were written speaks plainly of the creator's disturbed mental state. Similar drawings and phrases had covered the walls of the grotesque Splicer's Manhattan hideout, and Booker doesn't like what he's seeing. "That Splicer's recovering from the Tear…"

"I… don't know what's worse…" Elizabeth glances up at him, a worried look about her, "A Splicer with Tear sickness… or just a… agh!" Elizabeth doesn't get a chance to finish, her voice going from a whisper to a yelp; movement among the hanging decorations catches Booker's eye, the chains and fabric parting as a silent figure comes hurtling at them from the ceiling.

Both father and daughter crash through the door with the psychotic Splicer, Booker hitting the wooden ground hard and landing on a number of candles, the heat of the wicks barely stinging him through his still intact shield. The sound of metal sliding across wood catching his ear, Booker looking around quickly only to find his revolver halfway across the room. But the second wall-crawling Splicer comes crashing down on him a heartbeat later, screaming, spitting and snarling as it thrashes wildly.

"Son of a…!" Grunting the curse, Booker keep his arms up to defend himself against the Splicer, lashing out with as much force as he can muster whenever the insane monster leaves an opening. He can't put enough force in his blows to dislodge his attacker, but keeping it off balance is enough, Booker struggling to keep those vicious hooks away. But his efforts are only met with limited success, Booker feeling his shield collapse and a sharp, burning pain flare up in his left arm.

Chaos erupts in the disturbed shrine as Booker struggles, the first wall-crawler and the grotesque, pale-skinned Splicer bursting through the doors. Gunshots ring in Booker's ears, but he doesn't have the time to look for Elizabeth, his opponent rearing back and bringing both hooks high over its head with a manic, bloodthirsty grin on its disfigured face. And the hooks come arcing down towards his skull all too quickly, the Splicer seemingly intent on ending this now.

"Ah, hell… gotta move!" Surging up and into his attacker, Booker grabs the Splicer's face before the hooks can strike and pushes the psychopath off balance, obsidian crystals forming on his hand as he twists and reverses the pin. There's a brief moment where time seems to slow to a crawl, the Splicer's one visible eye from behind Booker's hand growing wide as Shock Jockey's electricity begins to arc from crystal to crystal. "I ain't got time for this!"

Booker doesn't consider Shock Jockey particularly lethal, but pouring lightning directly into the Splicer's face is far from normal, the lunatic convulsing rapidly and his eyes rolling back into his head. And the moment the Splicer collapses, Booker's dashing for his revolver and calling on his Vigor, the Devil's Kiss fireball forming in his grip as he scoops up his firearm. "Elizabeth, watch out!" The grotesque Splicer whirls towards him as he lets Devil's Kiss fly, the explosion ripping through the room and knocking Booker from his feet.


7:15 PM

"Here, let me help." Moving so she's seated close to her father, Elizabeth carefully unties the loose, makeshift bandage that circles Booker's left forearm and rebinds it, not so tight as to be a problem but enough that it should suffice for the time being. One of the Splicer's meat hooks must've broken through his shield during the fight, Booker sporting a nasty looking stab wound in his arm. Only when they stumbled out of the building and into the weak light of the setting sun did Elizabeth notice the blood covering his arm and dripping onto the sidewalk, and he'd still been trying to wrap one of her handkerchiefs around the wound when this carriage came to a stop before them.

Thanks to the carriage driver, Booker and Elizabeth managed to get out of the area before the police arrived, both of them a little frayed around the edges and in no mood to deal with the Brooklyn coppers. While the Brooklyn police are familiar with DeWitt Investigations and their job, they still detain father and daughter should violence break out. That's something best avoided, Booker and Elizabeth having to frequently duck the coppers whenever they encounter Splicers.

"… at least the bleeding seems to have slowed." Sitting back in her seat, Elizabeth crosses her arms as she peers back at Booker; the wound doesn't look as terrible as she'd expect from that sort of Splicer's attack, the meat hook likely losing power as it tried to punch through his shield. "So, we didn't learn anything of importance… I don't suppose those Splicers knew anything, they seemed more feral than part of anything."

"Can't be sure, and we only found those wall-crawling bastards…" Booker stops for a moment before glancing over to her, "You sure you're okay, Elizabeth? Only saw that twisted, one-eyed lunatic and the Splicer you froze when I threw the Devil's Kiss…"

"I'm alright, Booker." Grinning, Elizabeth shakes her head slowly and holds up her arms for her father to see; when Booker used his Vigor, she'd just turned transparent with her Peeping Tom Plasmid, hoping to confuse misshapen monster and help her father. And the fireball had impacted a little too close for comfort, Elizabeth dropping her invisibility and held her arms up to protect herself. It proved unnecessary, but she'd still feared the worse when she felt the heat and the shockwave of the explosion. "Do you suppose that monster slipped away again?"

"Yeah…" Visibly gritting his teeth as he settles back in his seat, Booker heaves a weary sigh, "But I doubt he's involved with the missing folks."

"I suppose you have a point." Looking out the window, Elizabeth watches the buildings along the Bowery pass by; Elizabeth hadn't allowed herself to relax until they were well shut of Brooklyn, and she's fairly certain Booker's still on alert, but now they're safe and approaching home. "But… you never can tell with addicts, and Splicers are worse still…" Her thoughts turn back to the Splicers' shrine; the Splicers seem to have brought their religion from Rapture, and what little Elizabeth knows of the 'Family's' beliefs, that can't be a good thing even if it's been distorted some by Tear sickness.

Father and daughter fall silent, the carriage continuing to trundle down the Bowery as the last rays of sunlight vanish. The street lamps have already been lit and burn brightly, illuminating the still busy road but leaving the alleyways dark and forbidding, and a train kicks up a racket as it passes overhead on the Third Line El. Rain begins to fall from the darkening sky, the length of sidewalk not covered by the elevated rail line quickly becoming wet and slick, the night air steadily growing cooler for it. Elizabeth's mind wanders as they travel down the street, the gentle pitter-patter of the rain outside soothing and peaceful, and her thoughts don't come back into focus until the carriage comes to a stop before the building.

They'd left Anna and Eleanor with Ms. Pearl, and as Elizabeth approaches their apartment, a smile teases at her lips; the voices coming from within tell her that's exactly how she's going to find them. Booker's only a few steps behind as she reaches the door, Elizabeth giving him a quick grin before turning the doorknob, "We're home."

She's not even through the door when Anna plows into her legs, her little sister giving Elizabeth as big a hug as her little arms can manage, "Welcome home! Did you catch the bad guys?" Ms. Pearl and Eleanor echo Anna's sentiment, Elizabeth grinning back at her neighbor and friend.

"Not exactly." Booker steps into the doorway, grinning as Anna smiles up at him, "You have a good day, sweetheart?" Anna nods quickly at that, Elizabeth chuckling at her little sister's enthusiasm. But her weariness doesn't let up despite coming home, and Elizabeth has to suppress a yawn as she slips out of Anna's embrace.

"Excuse me, little banana, I'm going to get cleaned up." Anna pouts as she slips away, tugging at Elizabeth's pant leg for a moment before turning her attention to Booker. And the moment Elizabeth steps through the door to the bedrooms, she hears Ms. Pearl suddenly start fretting.

"Oh, my! What happened to you, Booker dear?"

"Just a lunatic with a knife."

"Just a lunatic…" Walking into her bedroom and over to the dresser, Elizabeth mutters softly to herself while retrieving a fresh outfit, "He calls the Splicer just another lunatic… well, we've survived worse, I suppose that's not the worst understatement Booker's said…" Trailing off, Elizabeth tries to stifle a quiet yawn before turning away from the dresser.

Stepping quietly back into the living room with her change of clothes on her arm, Elizabeth grins as she finds Booker seated on the couch with Ms. Pearl still fretting over his arm and little Anna sitting beside him, tugging on his sleeve once in a while with a worried look in her blue eyes. Only Eleanor is keeping quiet, Elizabeth's friend sitting at the supper table with a cup of tea before her.

"Elizabeth… was it them?" Turning to look to Elizabeth, Eleanor keeps her voice low enough that only the two of them can hear, "Splicers?"

"Yeah… we found three of them hiding in a rundown building…" Breathing a weary sigh, Elizabeth runs her free hand through her hair, finding the ribbon with her fingers and untying it slowly. "We still don't know what they're doing, though…"

Eleanor visibly shudders, and Elizabeth can't blame her; the girl from Rapture's fragmented memories are disconcerting enough, but any she has of Splicers are entirely violent and bloody. She may be superhumanly strong and possess a number of strange Plasmids, but Eleanor's still a teenaged girl, one who'd suffered through her own hell. Something Elizabeth's more than able to relate to.

"He'll be fine." Elizabeth gives Eleanor a smile she hopes appears reassuring; she's still a touch rattled from the close calls she had with the Splicers and the fireball, and Elizabeth doesn't much care for worrying Eleanor any more than she already is. "We've dealt with worse… um, excuse me, I won't be long." Looking down at the white ensemble on her arm, Elizabeth excuses herself and heads for the kitchen, flashing another smile back at Eleanor before she disappears through the door.

Despite her assurances, Elizabeth ends up taking her time getting cleaned up, the cold water revitalizing her as she washes her face and hair. Their apartment building still lacks hot water, and while a hot bath is certain to do wonders for Elizabeth's weariness, she doesn't have the time or the inclination to heat enough water for that purpose.

By the time Elizabeth's finished cleaning up and gotten dressed in her long-sleeved white with blue trim blouse and ankle-length skirt ensemble, she can make out a voice coming from outside the door, the sound of Booker muttering something to himself bringing a smile to her lips. "Leftovers… hmm, ain't got a lot left. Guess sandwiches will have to do…"

"Fine by me." Opening the bathroom door, Elizabeth steps into the kitchen while toweling off her still damp hair, "Is your arm alright?"

"I'm alright." Booker retrieves a knife from one of the cabinets and starts making dinner, "I've had worse. Hell, you've patched up worse in Columbia."

"Can't argue with that." Shrugging, Elizabeth starts for the kitchen door, though she stops before opening it to look back, "Booker, do you want some help?" Booker just shakes his head slowly while putting the sandwiches together, and Elizabeth shrugs before touching a hand to the kitchen door. "Probably for the best. Well… I'll be in the other room if you need anything."

"Sure… shouldn't be long here, Elizabeth." With that, Elizabeth pulls open the door and steps out of the kitchen, leaving Booker to his preparations and rejoining the rest of her friends and family. And after another close encounter with deadly Splicers, it's a welcome sight to come home too.

Anna seems to have gotten herself into a tugging match with Lucky over a short, thick rope that serves passing well as a toy for the Beagle, Elizabeth's little sister and puppy falling all over themselves on the solid gray couch while playing. Ms. Pearl sits at the supper table, a small smile on her lips as she watches Anna and Lucky play, and Eleanor's seated beside her and doing much the same. They make quiet conversation as they relax, Eleanor slowly, idly thumbs through a small book of poetry that Ms. Pearl had given her.

Joining Eleanor and Ms. Pearl at the supper table, Elizabeth finds her gaze turning slowly to the near window as she waits for dinner, the drawn curtains revealing little but faint lights, the elevated rail line outside and raindrops splashing against the window. "Wonder if Xiang's caught out in the rain…" The thought draws a hint of a frown from Elizabeth; she hasn't seen Xiang in a while, the last time being a couple days after Eleanor accompanied Ms. Pearl to Green-Wood. "I've been so busy with the case and this business with Rapture, I haven't thought on it much…"

Dinner arrives shortly thereafter, Booker stepping back into the living room with several sandwiches interrupting Elizabeth's train of thought, and everyone gathers around the supper table as he starts setting them down; Lucky somehow jumps up onto Elizabeth's lap when she's not looking and curls up to rest before she can object, Anna giggling at her while Booker pulls his office chair over.

Time passes quickly from then on, Elizabeth's mind wandering and concentration losing focus as a wave of weariness sweeps through her, fatigue from working all day and fighting the Splicers catching up to her. She's vaguely aware of the conversation buzzing around her and the shifting of her puppy on her lap, Elizabeth's world coming into focus slightly whenever someone asks her a question or for her opinion.

And when she utterly fails to stifle a yawn, Elizabeth decides she can't ignore it anymore, "Excuse me, but… I think it time I went to bed." Climbing to her feet, Elizabeth heads for the bedrooms even as her eyes threaten to close on their own, yet another yawn escaping. "Goodnight..."


"Oh no…"

She has to be dreaming. That's the thought that repeats over and over as Elizabeth takes in her surroundings; she stands on a grassy hill with a solitary tree, Elizabeth sitting with her back against its rough, gray-brown bark and in the shade of its leafy green canopy. And all that she can see aside from the hill are fluffy, white clouds in every direction, the sky clear and blue overhead. "Is this Columbia? Why am I…?"

But Elizabeth's not alone, her whisper trailing off as she realizes that; a figure stands a good distance away and staring out into the clouds, hands crossed behind his back and clad in a black suit. But before she can bring herself to realize who that is, the scene around her is already changing, the clouds, the grassy hill and the man all fading away in an instant and leaving Elizabeth in darkness.

What appears next doesn't come as a complete surprise, but Elizabeth still feels a quickening of her pulse as she finds herself in Rapture once more. "This must be Arcadia… I don't remember Rapture having this much plant life…" And Elizabeth isn't alone; Comstock stands a few feet away. Not the Prophet who'd imprisoned her in Columbia, but the Comstock who'd fled what he'd done and tried to forget it all. The same Comstock who protects the other Elizabeth.

The dream doesn't stay in one place or time for long, Elizabeth shifting between different locations seemingly at random; she sees Splicers tearing through the streets and halls of the city, a blonde woman in glasses that Elizabeth suspects is Sofia Lamb, and places that dredge up old regrets and painful, vivid memories.

Comstock isn't present in most, but he reappears as the dream seems to come to a close, the edges of Elizabeth's vision beginning to darken as she finds herself in the Toys Department once again; a drill has just skewered Comstock through the back, but the monster on the other side isn't the Big Daddy that had killed the former Prophet; this one sports an oval-shaped visor, glowing a baleful red.


Elizabeth's eyes snap open as she wakes with a start, still hearing the sound of a mining drill even though it's little more than a memory. "Just a dream… just a dream…" Hesitantly sitting up while whispering to herself, Elizabeth grits her teeth and rubs her eyes; she's more unsettled than in a panic, but the lingering sense of unease still has her feeling out of sorts.

"At least I didn't scream…" Whispering, Elizabeth lifts her head from her hand and looks over to the bed beside her. Eleanor's still fast asleep and curled up some on her side, and Elizabeth thinks she can pick out a smile on the girl's lips in the dim light that filters through the curtains. Peering through a gap between the curtains at the dark gray, cloudy sky and the beating rain, Elizabeth groggily runs her fingers through her hair, considering just going back to sleep despite the unsettling dream.

"It's Thursday… I suppose Booker will want to get back to work should the rain let up… huh? Booker?" Listening to the sound of the rain, Elizabeth's able to make out quiet voices, Booker's and one other coming from the living room, one that she'd guess belongs to a man.

"… only reason for a caller at this hour and weather would be for a job…" Climbing out of bed, Elizabeth quickly pulls on her boots and smooths a few wrinkles out of her white blouse and skirt before slipping out the door, thinking it best to look presentable before meeting a potential client. "Booker? Is someone…?"

The voices fall silent the moment Elizabeth steps into the living room, and she finds Booker standing at the open front door with a man in a suit and hat on the other side, both of them looking her way. "Morning, Elizabeth." Booker nods towards their visitor, Elizabeth flashing the man a small smile as she approaches, "Fella's got a job for us."

"I represent someone who wishes to employ your services. However, she cannot come here in person; one of her… reputation would find it disagreeable to be seen in this part of the city. I'm sure you understand her need for… discretion." The man tips his bowler hat as he addresses Elizabeth, a polite smile appearing beneath a thin mustache. "If you would kindly come to my employer's place of residence, she will give you all the details, and I'm certain you will find your compensation more than satisfactory."

Glancing at Booker as the visitor goes on, Elizabeth cocks an eyebrow when Booker shrugs; they've both heard stories like this, the clients in question occasionally the sort who think themselves above consorting with folks from the Bowery, though the precaution is usually necessary in some manner or another. But it seems that they have a job, something the DeWitts could certainly use. "I suppose I should get changed, then."


5:40 AM

"Huh…"

Booker gazes up at the building as their carriage comes to a stop, their new client's home lent a foreboding air from the pouring rain and the cloudy gray backdrop; it's a two-story house located in Manhattan's Upper East Side, the white brick walls pristine aside from a few marks where rain drains from the shingled, gabled roof, several more like it lining the rain-slicked street. Few of the neighborhood's residents are out and about in this weather, only carriages plying the street in any great numbers. But their client's home looks a touch empty, only the windows on either side of the front door lit up, the rest of the house remaining dark.

"I'll settle up with the driver, Booker." Elizabeth climbs out of the carriage and onto the rainy street, turning up the collar of Booker's heavy leather raincoat to protect herself from the elements; she'd changed into her white blouse and blue skirt after breakfast, and Booker had given her the raincoat before they stepped out the door. Elizabeth only took it after remarking that they should've bought another a long time ago.

Stepping out himself, Booker trudges over to the front door while Elizabeth pays the driver, the building providing a bit of protection from the rain. And Booker can pick out a handful of quiet voices through the door as he waits, a man and woman's complaining about the weather. "Suppose that could be our client... wouldn't surprise me if she wasn't."

"Okay…" Footsteps splashing in a puddle on the sidewalk announces Elizabeth's approach, even with the pouring rain, and she shakes off her raincoat as she comes up beside him, "Time to meet our mysterious employer, I take it?"

"Sounds about right." Nodding, Booker raps his knuckles against the unpainted door, the stained and finished wood opening a heartbeat later, a man in a pressed black suit, shoes and a bow tie standing in the doorway. A butler, as far as Booker can tell.

"Mr. DeWitt, I presume?" The butler asks quickly, and Booker barely has time to nod before the man continues, "Right this way, our employer is eager to make your acquaintance."

Following the butler into the house, Booker finds he'd been off in his estimation earlier; two more men and the woman sit around a fireplace, all well dressed and turning to look at the DeWitts as they enter the building. There's a door to either side of the room, and a staircase leading to the second floor along the left wall. But the butler stops at the foot of the stairs, turning to Booker and Elizabeth and barring their way, "Excuse me, miss, but our employer wishes only to speak with Mr. DeWitt, alone."

"What? But why-?"

"So sorry, young miss, feel free to wait in the parlor. Would you care for a drink, perhaps?"

Booker grits his teeth, the butler's insistence irking him something fierce; this happens more often than he'd like, at least a couple times a month. And while Booker would much prefer simply walking away from those sorts, the simple truth is that they need the money, and so he just settles for proving them wrong.

Elizabeth isn't happy about this, either, father and daughter sharing a sideways glance before she looks back to the butler. "If you insist, then I suppose I'll wait. And no, thank you." The butler shrugs slightly, stepping away from the staircase and motioning for Elizabeth to take a seat beside the fireplace.

"Won't be long, Elizabeth." Starting up the stairs, Booker eyes the butler and the other three for a second, "You ain't coming, pal?"

"No, my place is here. Last door on the left, Mr. DeWitt, our employer will be with you shortly."

The second story is dark and quiet, the gray light from the mostly drawn windows giving the floor a washed out look, reminding Booker of a Tear. Most of the doors on this floor are locked, only the second on the left opening when Booker tries it. "What kind of woman lives like this? The place is like a ghost town…"

"Ah, excuse me. It's Booker DeWitt. I suppose you're expecting me?" Silence, Booker pushing the door open slowly. Inside, Booker finds the room a touch more comforting than the rest of the floor; a round carpet is spread across the center of the floor, a desk with a pair of chairs resting atop it, and there are a few paintings on the walls and a two-cushion couch to the left of the door. There are no windows, but a brightly burning lantern sits on the desk, the light warm and welcoming.

"Guess I'll just take a seat…" But the lantern flickers out the moment he does, plunging the room into darkness. "Ah, hell…"

"Hell has nothing to do with this." A woman's voice echoes in the darkness, though Booker can't tell from where, "This is not the first time I've introduced myself, Mr. DeWitt, although I suspect you are not the same man. My name is Dr. Sofia Lamb, Mr. DeWitt."

A trap. Booker realizes this the moment Lamb identifies herself, jumping to his feet and knocking his chair over while cursing himself for not noticing. Sounds come from somewhere in the distance, muffled by the walls and the rain, but Booker doesn't need to hear them clearly, "Elizabeth!"

"Spare me the theatrics, Mr. DeWitt." Lamb's voice continues even as Booker moves to the door as best he can in the dark, finding it shut up tight and cursing loudly, "What I do, I do for the greater good. You have someone that doesn't belong with you, or with anyone at all; she belongs to the world, Mr. DeWitt. You have my daughter, and now I have yours."

"You leave her be!" Drawing his revolver, Booker calls a burning fireball to his hand, casting the dark room in a hellish glow.

"Oh, but I can't, Mr. DeWitt. Just as I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance before, so too have I known your daughter. She who was known to Rapture as Cohen's Songbird, Ms. Elizabeth Comstock, though she insisted that she was DeWitt and her companion Comstock."

Despite the panic swelling within him, Lamb's words give Booker pause; Elizabeth and Comstock? When the hell did this happen? From what the Luteces had shown him, Elizabeth never met Lamb when she'd led Comstock into Fontaine's Department Store.

"What do you want?" Turning around and peering into the dark, Booker tries to find wherever it is Lamb's talking to him from. But his thoughts quickly turn back to Elizabeth, and what the men and woman he'd left her with might've done to her.

"You will bring me my daughter, Mr. DeWitt, and I shall return yours. More than a fair trade, considering the difficulties she's caused me." Lamb's dispassionate voice pauses, and for a second, Booker would think she's gloating, "If you refuse, I cannot guarantee her safety. And I know you have another daughter, Mr. DeWitt. Think of their safety before attempting something rash, carefully. We shall be in touch."

Lamb's voice disappears, and Booker's Vigor-born fireball flares brightly as anger surges through him. "Son of a bitch!" Stomping to the middle of the room, Booker turns and hurls the Devil's Kiss fireball at the door, not even flinching as the explosion lights up the room and the heat licks at his face. "Elizabeth! Answer me!"

Running downstairs, Booker finds the parlor completely empty, his raincoat left on the floor and a rag fallen beside it. Snatching it up, Booker doesn't even have to put the rag to his nose to notice the sweet smell coming off of it, "Ether. Dammit!" Tossing the rag aside, Booker bolts for the door; he'd only been upstairs for a few minutes, maybe they haven't made good on their escape yet.

But the street is completely empty, Booker running out into the rain with his revolver in hand and looking around frantically. And once he realizes that they're gone, a powerful rage and a sense of dread and desperation wells up within him, ripping from Booker's throat as a roar.

"Elizabeth!"


Author's Note: And Sofia Lamb makes her entrance, something I'm sure many of you have been expecting. Now that Lamb has Elizabeth and is threatening Anna, do you think Booker will hand over Eleanor in exchange for their safety? Or will he try something 'rash'? There's also the question of what Lamb knows exactly; Elizabeth is helping her other self in Rapture, the very situation Lamb spoke of to Booker. Does the past she remembers reflect only what Elizabeth and the Luteces have done so far, or are there still constants and variables, and her memory recalls events that Elizabeth has yet to influence?

I should have found most errors in the chapter, but because I tried something different and had to go back and fix a number of issues, there might be parts that don't make any sense or are just incomplete. In that case, please feel free to let me know, and I'll be giving it another lookover in the near future. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.