Chapter 14: Harbinger
Author's Note: Well, well, well, here we are in the month of December...and on monday, so I do apologize for my tardiness. I hope everyone who celebrated had indeed enjoyed their holiday and for everyone else I hope you had a terrific week! If you haven't already, I made good on my promise to put something up on Thanksgiving Day and you can go and check it out if you want! Oh and before I forget, if you haven't already, check out GuiltyAdonis's The Chosen and the Beloved. He just recently updated and his story is amazing!
That beings said, here we are at Chapter 14, we'll be deviating just a little bit but here's hoping everyone likes the deviation, after all this story was build on being different…literally.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bioshock Infinite, it belongs to Ken Levine!
In the Marine Corps, DeWitt had been renowned for his observational skills regarding his surroundings, of course he had just chalked it all up to instincts but in the end the results spoke for themselves. Countless times, Booker's instincts had led him and his men successfully out of ambushes that they had no business of surviving in additional to planning strategic assaults and counter offensives that assisted in the many victories of the Legation Guard in their campaign across China as well as his other services across the orient. Elizabeth had no way of knowing this particular facet of Booker's life so when she questioned her companion's senses, he had to temper his frustrations as they had barely spent a full day together, much less years where they were forced to depend on each other's strengths and cover each other's weaknesses.
"Mister DeWitt, I don't see anything, are you sure…" Elizabeth trailed off as she continued to look about for the source of Booker's apparent paranoia.
"Oh I'm quite sure, in fact, I'd stake my life on it." Booker confirmed as he gazed up at the roof of the Hall of Heroes. At first it appeared as empty as could be, until the sun peered from behind the clouds and bathed its surface in a warm glow. At that moment, an all too familiar glint captured Booker's eye. The scope of a rifle, it was unmistakable.
"Elizabeth get—" Booker began to shout but his warning was all too quickly drowned out by the overwhelmingly powerful cry that emerged from the heavens. Its deafening roar rivaled the mighty horns that sounded when Booker had entered the code at the lighthouse just prior to his arrival. Elizabeth ducked as she flinched from the overbearing sound and swiftly brought her hands to her ears in a vain attempt to cushion its blow. Booker winced as he looked about and readied himself for another fight, his eyes went upward as he searched for the source of the inhuman scream.
The detective strained his eyes to make out any sort of activity from the heavens above—at first, nothing, but within moments a dark figure revealed itself. It daashed between the clouds before briefly disappearing and then reappearing with a swooping descent at a sharp angle, generating incredible speed and a wake amongst the clouds as they appeared to bend to the beings' will. Faster than any aerial craft than either had seen, the creature sped toward the sprawling courtyard and just prior to impact halted its momentum with a spread of its colossal leathery wings, which revealed an almost human like body covered in leathery armor; its hands and feet tipped with razor sharp metallic talons of an unknown composition. The mysterious creature's head was that of a large eagle or possibly a falcon complete with two colossal yellow eyes on either side, and a massive reinforced hose attached to the tip of the beak leading into the monster's chest cavity. The creature landed with a thud, causing the entirety of the area to shake under the mass and power of this flying monstrosity.
"What in God's name?" Booker muttered as he carefully with drew his Triple R. Here he had already come to believe that those monsters, Mothmen as Elizabeth had referred them, were the worst this city could throw at him, but this was a new kind of hell entirely. For starters the creature probably stood around fifteen to twenty feet tall at least, and if speed was comparable to power in any way, this gigantic bird would prove to be no push over. Booker quickly glanced over to his female companion whose normally serene complexion had turned and awful pale white and her demeanor from chipper innocence to sheer terror and resignation.
"Lord in heaven, it's him...He finally found me!" Elizabeth stammered as she started to back away, bringing a hand to her mouth out of nerves as Booker slowly stepped between his charge and the creature.
"We need to get out of here, now." Booker whispered as quietly as he could, but just loud enough for Elizabeth to catch and, evidently, the creature as well, as it whipped its head about and honed its attention upon them. Its metallic irises narrowed and the yellow light took on a menacing red hue, not unlike the Mothman that Booker had fought in that very courtyard. The creature lowered its head and began to make its way toward the quivering pair in a predatory manner.
"To the hell with this, Elizabeth get back to the station!" Booker ordered and unleashed a hail of gunfire upon the winged beast, targeting its head and upper torso for further damaging affect. Elizabeth hesitated but for a moment before the detective's words registered and pierced the fugue that the creature had created within her mind and she dashed toward the welcome center.
The bird lazily lifted a hand up as the bullets collided with its leathery exterior. It chirped with a curious tone, then it unleashed a screech of unbridled rage and swept its right wing in a solid downward motion toward its aggressor. Booker felt weightless as a powerful gust of wind generated from the aggressive action of the predator lifted him off his feet and tossed him through a set of doors and into a maintenance closet. The force of the impact was quite painful and Booker struggled briefly to rise to meet the creature head on but ultimately failed to even lift but a hand before he passed out.
Elizabeth stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the crash of a hard body colliding with solid wood. She turned and watched as the predator stalked its pray and approached broken barriers to complete its kill. There appeared to be no sign of activity from within and Elizabeth began to panic. Fear spread throughout her entire body, fear of facing her jailor, fear of losing Booker, fear of not making it out of Columbia. She knew she had to do something and swiveled about frantically in hopes of finding a solution. She had no weapons, no combat training, nothing that could assist her in this particular situation, she nearly gave up hope until she spotted a stack of storage crates and suddenly she got an idea.
The girl rushed over and retrieved the Skyhook that she had rested by the abandoned controls and powered deceptively light device and set to cutting the rope that kept the crates from falling haphazardly out of place. Elizabeth looked over at the predator once more and watched with terror as he reached out with his hand to grasp the detective inside the large structure, no doubt to strike the killing blow. At that moment, Elizabeth reached out with both arms and mustered as much concentration as possible given the situation and felt for that energy that she had used before, back when the others tried capturing her in the ticket booth for the First Lady. Only this time her goal wasn't lifting a suitcase or an empty trash bin, but several large and hefty storage crates. It was a far more difficult challenge than she initially anticipated as Elizabeth had very little practice with these powers much less so with moving large objects but for Booker's sake, failure was not an option. With a great upward motion of her arms, the crates shook and lifted slowly into the air at which point Elizabeth strained her face as she turned to face the bird once more.
"SONGBIRD! YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Elizabeth screamed as she thrust her arms out toward the winged bird of prey and watched as the crates flew with incredible speed at her target, hitting with an uncanny precision. Elizabeth smiled as her plan had worked, albeit a little too well as her former 'warden' shook off the surprise and turned to face her, its eyes widened as it recognized its primary target and it began a pursuit course to capture its newfound prey. By this time Booker had regained consciousness and had just watched as several huge crates collided with the monster, giving him ample time to retrieve his weapon and shake off the lingering effects of being thrown violently through solid wood doors into a solid wall. He stepped over the bits of debris and brought the Shock Jockey to bear in his left hand.
"Hey, asshole! We're not done here!" Booker yelled and concentrated his energy into his crystalized hand reared his arm back. With a mighty yell he tossed the energy directly at the bird's helmeted head, the results of his efforts culminated into a powerfully charged crystal that ultimately collided and caused an explosion of unnatural blue light and wild arcs of electricity. The creature paused mid stride and brought its hand up to its face and began its violent attempts to brush away the source of electrical anguish.
"Huh, distracting, I'll take that over nothing" Booker muttered as he looked around anxiously. "Now I gotta find Elizabeth and get the hell out of here before the damn thing wisens up." No sooner did the words leave his mouth did Booker spot the object of his attention and frowned when he saw her state. The girl was slumped over the safety railing, blood trailing from her nose, her eyes half lidded as she fought to keep consciousness. Booker wasted no time on further futile assaults on the creature as he sprinted toward the girl and wrapped his large arm around her petite waist and pulled his own Skyhook from his rig and pulled the trigger as he leapt from the platform and flew up to meet with the magnetized rail. Together they sped across the rail, Booker's mind raced with questions centered around how such a creature could exist and who would have the means to build such a monstrosity. Of course, Booker soon began to realize that in the flying City of Columbia, anything was possible.
"Elizabeth, I need you to stay with me alright? Can you hear me? Elizabeth!?" Booker pled frantically as he looked around for any sight of the bird as they raced down the rails. He heard the girl murmur a barely conscious response and was about to call out once more when the alarming screech of the predator filled the air. Booker cast a look up to his left and watched as the bird flew in loops as it spotted its prey plotted its intercept course. Booker was at a loss, it wasn't as if he could turn around or run off and hide the both of them somewhere, they were on a fixed rail that was leading them to certain death or slightly less worse fate. Booker fixed his eyes ahead and spotted two individuals careening toward them with incredible speed on Skyhooks. Booker frowned with thought, 'just who the hell would be up here?'.
As Booker and Elizabeth approached the other pair, the detective's eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the individuals as Robert and Rosalind Lutece; he could spot the two anywhere by their signature matching appearance and that fiery red hair. The pairs had nearly converged when Booker had noticed that Rosalind appeared to be making a downward motion with her free arm and Robert appeared to be shouting were on the precipice of passing one another when the detective could finally hear Robert's desperate pleas.
"DOWN! YOU NEED TO MOVE DOWN, FOR GOD'S SAKE!" The normally composed man shouted in the brief moment where the four crossed paths and swiftly continued on their paths. Booker turned his head to catch another glimpse of the strange duo, but they vanished seemingly into thin air. He shook his head and thought on Robert's words, move down.
"No time like the present—ELIZABETH HOLD TIGHT!" Booker yelled as he release the hold of the Skyhook and went into a complete free-fall as he aimed downward and pulled the trigger and said a brief prayer to let his luck with the Lutece's help continue.
"Wha—WOAAAAH!" Elizabeth regained consciousness at the alarm in Booker's voice and screamed at their rapid decent, giving the focused detective a start which caused him to slacken his grip around the young woman's midsection ever so slightly, adding more to her anxiety as she screamed once more out of a very well placed fear of dying.
"EASY, EASY, I GOTCHYA!" Booker shouted over the rush of the wind as cemented his grip on the girl as she shifted looks between the clouds speeding toward them from below and the confident look on Booker's face as he aimed at a rapidly approaching skyrail.
"Where are we?" Elizabeth weakly asked as she fought to speak over the rush of air.
"No idea." Booker flippantly replied as they latched onto the new rail and proceeded ahead. "But it looks like we've lost that thing for the moment." Booker spoke, evidently a moment too soon, as the creature in question let out an angry shriek from above. Booker looked about and noticed the line they rode took them quite close to highrise mansion. Booker spied a window perfect for intrusion on their part but his timing would need to be perfect, and he needed Elizabeth's complete cooperation to pull it off.
"Elizabeth we can't out run the damn thing, but we can try to hide from it. I'm gonna get us in to that house up ahead but I need you to crawl up and hang on to my left side? You think you can do that?" He looked down and she looked off to the house he had referenced and back to him and gave an affirmative nod.
"Great, climb aboard and keep a tight hold, this is gonna be rough." Booker cautioned as Elizabeth lifted herself up and wrapped her arms around Booker's neck and watched him with a worried look.
"Booker, are you sure about this?" She asked timidly as they approached the house.
"Not one bit, but here goes nothin' right?" Booker answered honestly and winked at the nerve-wracked girl before swung himself, and her, off the rail and toward the rail-facing window and with a quick bit of manueverabilty, he managed to shift Elizabeth to his front and pushed his back to the glass barrier. His golden shield came to life on impact as glass and wood collided with clothe and flesh. With a loud crash, Booker sailed through the room all the while clutching Elizabeth tightly to his chest in an effort to prevent harm.
"Oh that smarts." Booker groaned, his shield managed to buffer most of the impact but that didn't mean he didn't get his fair share of pain and discomfort from his less than genius maneuver.
"Mister DeWitt, are you alright?" Elizabeth lifted herself and began to check her savior for any significant damage.
"S-shouldn't I be asking you the same? What with throwing crates of God knows what at the giant bird thing?" Booker stumbled through his words as he rubbed the back of his neck with hope that he could some how rid his body of the more recent aches and pains.
"Well what would you have me do, just leave you to—" Elizabeth paused and looked away, not having the courage to finish the thought. Booker leaned forward crossed his arms over his knees with a sigh, he wasn't mad at the girl per se but he was worried about her wanton use of her abilities without regard for her surroundings. He could sit here and give her a small lecture on being more observant, but something inside told him that this was neither the time nor the place.
"Listen, uh, thanks for uh that back there. Without you I probably wouldn't have uh…" Booker trailed off and watched Elizabeth blush at his bumbling gratitude.
"I'm just glad I could help." Elizabeth smiled as she stood and looked about the room. "When Songbird came after you, I knew I couldn't just abandon you, and I played to my strengths just as you play to yours." She said quietly but with a small sense of pride at proving to be of pivotal use in such a dire situation as she noted the utter disarray of the room. Drawers pulled out, dressers over turned, sheets ripped from the mattress, and all matter of belongings strewn about. It looked as if the place had either been ransacked or evacuated.
"Wait a second? Songbird? You know that thing?" Booker asked alarmed as he stood to his full height and crossed his arms in wait of an answer.
"Most Columbian's know him as the proverbial Boogeyman, I know him as my jailer…but he wasn't always so controlling." Elizabeth whispered as she reflected upon memories of old. Booker nearly asked her to elaborate but was interrupted by the shaking of the house to its very foundation as something rather large perched upon the roof above.
"Can't go five minutes without—" Booker muttered as he rubbed a hand through his hair as he looked about the room for a place to hide. "Under the bed, now." Booker whispered harshly as he grabbed Elizabeth's hand and drew her close as they both rushed beneath the large four-poster bedframe. Booker gave her a look that the young woman perfectly understood and did her best to acquiesce.
The spacious bedroom was bathed in a golden light as the leather helmet of the Songbird blocked the window. It's golden orb opened as wide as possible to take in every inch of the room. Carefully, the large flying monstrosity pushed its head through the busted window frame and began scanning the room for any sign of life, specifically the False Shepard and the Lamb. The creature only halted when its shoulders collided with the exterior walls of the house, causing the whole structure groan and shake under the immense pressure exerted by the flying creature.
Elizabeth quietly yelped out of fright as the Songbird thrashed in an attempt to further enter the room. Booker acted quickly and clamped one of his large hands over her mouth. The Songbird twitched and looked over in their direction. Elizabeth trembled as she could feel the creature slowly approach their prone position, all the while Booker carefully retrieved his Paddywhacker and silently prayed for a miracle.
"BOYS GET A LOAD OF THIS! LOOKS LIKE COMSTOCK'S LITTLE SONGBIRD'S COME TO PAY US A VISIT!" A voice echoed from down below, sounding as if it were on the streets looking above.
"LIGHT IT UP!" Another voice shouted and the familiar sound of machine gun fire and other heavy arms unloaded upon both the building and the creature as sounds of violence and war filled the once silent atmosphere. The Songbird twitched as it felt the firepower pepper its form and its inquisitive yellow eyes turned that same blood red from before and the winged creature retreated from the room and attacked its assailants down below with an aggressive cry. Booker motioned for Elizabeth to stay put as he sprung from their hiding place and approached the window, having drawn his Triple R and stood ready to engage if need be, but by the time he arrived the he could only watch with a small sense of dread as the mechanical bird carved a swath through various unknown soldiers, thinning their numbers swiftly with a single pass. Booker noted as the survivors attempted a retreat across numerous avenues and watched as the Songbird took flight to pursue them one by one, having been successfully taken off their scent.
"Psst...Elizabeth, you can come out now. Looks like we caught a lucky break though I don't think I can say the same for our friends on the street." Booker finished quietly as he slung the rifle back around and turned to watch as Elizabeth crawled out from beneath the bed and straightened her skirts.
"Let's just make our way back to the First Lady and be rid of this place entirely, I don't wish to stay a moment longer." Elizabeth declared with an unsteady voice as she folded her arms across her chest and cast a look off to the side. Booker could tell she had been unsettled by this most recent encounter but it wasn't as if he could say anything to comfort her, he had been pretty unsettled himself by the power and dedication of that abomination. So he did the only thing he could, kept a stiff upper lip as the brits used to say and carried on with renewed gusto.
"That's fine by me. Let's get out of here. With any luck we might be able to find a way back up to Soldier's field." Booker offered and followed Elizabeth as she exited the room. Both made their way through the house and finally out onto the street where they noticed the entire area looked like an abandoned warzone. Bullet holes riddled walls, windows, all manner of transportation on the street. There were a few bodies cast about the streets; some of them were counted among Columbia's Finest and the others bore markings similar to the survivors that lead the Songbird away, markings the likes of which Booker had never seen before in all his time in the service.
"Looks like we missed some kinda big fire-fight. You recognize any of these ones in red?" Booker asked as he knelt down to examine the stranger further. His face was covered in dirt and grime; he had the face of a man who had spent the better part of his life working hard in unyielding gaze of the sun.
"No, I've never seen them before in my life. But, then again, that's not saying much, is it?" Elizabeth answered darkly and Booker looked up apologetically. It was easy to forget that she was almost as much in the dark as he was concerning Columbia's recent affairs.
"Well, I ain't sure if these new guys are friends or foes, but I ain't stickin' around to find out. We got an airship to catch." Booker concluded as he stood back up right and looked around the area. Aside from the occasional spark from the automatic equestrians that had been felled in the battle, there was no sign of any activity.
"Mister DeWitt—" Elizabeth began.
"It's Booker."
"Right, I'll be sure to attend to that distinction as soon as there's a moment when we're not being chased, shot at, or assaulted by all manner of Columbia's forces, Booker." Elizabeth finished as she shot a light scowl at the detective who shrugged.
"I'm sorry for interruptin', what was it you were saying?" Booker lightly apologized and Elizabeth rolled her eyes with a huff, muttering something about men beneath her breath.
"I was trying to inform you that I might have found a rather convenient means to return to Soldier's Field." The young woman clarified and waved her arm for the former veteran to head in her direction, an order which he quickly complied and crossed the street to stand at her side.
"A rail cart, well, let's see if the damned thing works. With our luck it'll probably drop us into Comstock's lap." Booker spoke grimly as he made for the Columbian rail vehicle.
"Then let us pray that an even higher authority is watching over us on this day." Elizabeth said just above a whisper and loud enough for the detective to catch as she took after the sprinting man. It appeared that Elizabeth's prayer must have had some affect on their situation as Booker found the cart in perfect working condition, he surmised this must have been how Columbia's soldiers or perhaps the others had managed to get their men to this area so quickly. With a pull of the lever, the pair made their way across the rails and each second brought them closer to their desired goal.
The cart moved at an incredible speed without sacrificing comfort or safety and before long Booker and Elizabeth found themselves back at the lower level of the Hall of Heroes entry center, aside from the various bodies left behind by the fire-fight between Booker and Columbia's finest, there appeared to be no sign of any activity whatsoever. Booker rubbed his jaw in thought, he had been expecting reinforcements of some variety once their commander failed to check back in with his superiors, evidently the troops must have had their hands full with Slate and his men. Booker's mind drifted back to Slate, the more he thought about the aging war monger, the more he doubted his decision back in the museum.
"Is something the matter?" A soft voice broke him free of his self-doubt.
"What? Oh sorry, just, thinkin' s'all." Booker muttered as he departed the craft and made his way up the stairs.
"Eagle for your thoughts?" Elizabeth flipped a coin in the direction half in jest and half in sincere hope that she could gain a deeper insight in to the man that captivated her interest and generated such strange and delightful feelings. Booker reached out with his bandaged hand and deftly snatched the spinning metal mid-air.
"I guess I was thinkin' 'bout how there's not a single soldier or police around here." Booker looked about cautiously, something didn't quite feel right. The last time he felt anything remotely similar was back in the orient and he walked straight into a deadly ambush.
"Perhaps they were preoccupied with Colonel Slate? Or perhaps when they saw Songbird they got over confident and decided to allow him to do their work for them?" Elizabeth offered in hopes of mutually finding a sound solution to this quandary. She had been a little disappointing that there wasn't a topic of deeper conversation but at the very least she was being helpful. Booker merely hummed in response as he withdrew the Triple R and cocked the rifle as they re-entered the ticketing hall for the Hall of Heroes, the lack of any sort of noise bugged the detective something fierce.
"We hold these truths to be self evident!" The recorded voice of a patriot sprung to life as a combination of steam and grinding of gears alerted the former veteran to a potentially dangerous situation unfolding before them.
"Elizabeth, to cover!" Booker barked as he noticed the shocked girl standing out in the open, surprised at the sudden mechanical motion. Booker wasted no time and shoved her behind one of the statues of soldiers and kept a fist full of Shock Jockey ready for when the machination stepped around the corner.
The detective didn't have to wait long as the automaton rounded the corner and opened fire upon his position. A hail of machine gun fire riddle the floors, walls, metal shudders, and even found their way to Booker's shield and brought the golden barrier to life. He knew the shield wouldn't last forever and so the detective cast his hand out in the Patriot's direction and fired a powerful bolt of Shock Jockey. The patriot buzzed and whirled as electricity coursed through its metallic frame; the power of the vigor cast a blue aura over the machine. Booker took aim and pulled heavy against the trigger, unleashing the full potential of the Triple R upon the paralyzed Patriot.
"R-Reap w-w-what yo-you sow!" The motorized patriot spat between shocks and Booker continued firing into its form, bullets tearing through its outer façade as they revealed the machine within. As Booker emptied the last of his clip, he reached behind and reloaded ready to fire again when he noticed the giant war machine wobble and fall backward with a small internal explosion, which indicated the infernal contraption had been destroyed. The veteran dashed ahead and checked out the other displays which appeared to be inactive, he took a deeper look at the one he managed to dispatch and noticed signs of a previous fire fight this machine had been engaged. It was any wonder that this one had been dispatched with greater ease than the other, it looked as if it had already gone through hell and back and decided to keep going.
"Elizabeth! C'mon out now, looks like this was the only one." Booker called for the young woman who slowly arose from her spot of relative safely and crossed the hall without any delay and came to a brisk halt as Booker punched the button to open the doors and both stepped into the elevator. Booker pushed the button to engage the lift and with a short jerk, they began to ascend. The detective leaned back with his arms crossed on one side of the cart as Elizabeth absent-mindedly brushed her ponytail on the otherside.
"Hey, uh, Elizabeth. Mind if I ask you a question, if it ain't too personal?" Booker started with an awkward cough which brought the young woman out of her fretful thoughts.
"Oh, I'm sorry, yes, by all means, I'll answer to the best of my ability." She nodded with a smile.
"Those uh, things, the tears, I don't think I quite understand just how you…well…I guess I just don't understand how." Booker finished rather lamely in his estimation, but Elizabeth didn't seem to mind as her brows furrowed in thought as she collected her thoughts on how best to approach the subject.
"To me, I've always viewed them as doors more than anything else." Elizabeth began slowly and methodically, each word carefully measured so as not to convey any errant information.
"Doors? How's that?" Booker asked and Elizabeth continued.
"You see, when I was younger I didn't just open doors, tears, that I found…I actually remember making them."
"…making them? I thought you said that wasn't possible?" Booker asked as the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened with the slightest ring of a bell. Elizabeth continued their conversation as they stepped out.
"Back then I could just throw my hands out and open them, I could go wherever I pleased…" Elizabeth smiled at the thought before she frowned with internal dismay. "…but for some reason, something always told me to come back."
"You mean like Comstock?" Booker asked genuinely concerned if the mad prophet might have had some extra hold on the girl.
"No, it was a voice, it was more of a force or a feeling, I felt drawn to come back, as if I wasn't meant to leave…and I guess I always wanted to come back." She trailed off and nodded subtly as she chewed her lower lip. A brief wind blew by and gaze Elizabeth a shudder and brought her back to reality, at which point she turned to give her confused companion a shrug and a smile. "Besides, if you though my nosebleeds were bad, they had nothing on what I used to get my for my tear troubles."
"I guess I have to take your word for that one…but if you could go anywhere in the world why would you want to come back." Booker asked at the risk of being too forward, but once more Elizabeth didn't' seem to take offense as she shrugged.
"I don't know, perhaps it was the thought that somewhere, out there, my real family might be looking for me."
"Huh," Booker paused, one the one hand he would have wanted to be as far away from that tower as possible if he were her, but he knew when it came to family he would do whatever it took for them, he figured Elizabeth would have been the same if given the chance. "So, do you know how you do it then? Like the whole tear thing?"
"I had plenty of time to read in my tower, and do you know what I managed to come up with?" Elizabeth offered and Booker shook his head. "Well I tried to figure it out and—" She trailed off.
"And what did you find?" He asked very much intrigued as they made their way up to the transit station to the First Lady Aerodrome.
"I read a lot of literature on physics and other such things, and all I could come up with was that there's a world of difference between what we see and what is…"
"Doesn't sound like much in the way of progress, if you'll pardon my saying so." Booker answered honestly as he cast a bolt of Shock Jockey into the machine, breathing life into the controls once more.
"I cannot take offense at the truth, it's not as if this is a common phenomenon for scientific study." Elizabeth fidgeted with her hands as Booker took hold of the lever and gave it a solid yank to summon the Gondola.
"Who knows, maybe when we get back stateside, we can get you some journals or somethin' to help you figure it all out." Elizabeth smiled at the prospect, she was always under the impression that Columbia was on the cutting edge of all scientific advancement but that didn't necessarily preclude the possibility of other innovative minds on the surface researching situations very similar to hers, or at the very least, theoretical simulations. Just then, an alert very similar to what they had heard in Monument Tower sounded.
"He will abandon you my sweet Elizabeth! I assure you that once he has what he needs, he will discard and abandon you with haste. What else could you expect from a liar and killer of women and children!" The prophet raged throughout his amplified speaker system.
"Comstock…" Booker muttered in disgust as he felt his heart stop at the mans insinuation. Booker doubted the prophet had meant to garner the reaction from him that he did, how could he know his past, but it didn't change the fact that he struck a very deep chord in his attempt to pain him a bad light. Of course, the detective had to admit to himself that it didn't take much for anyone to see what kind of man he truly was at the end of the day.
"Father!" Elizabeth began shakily and tilted her head as if to try to come to terms with the words as she spoke them before turning her attention back up to the sky. "Prophet…whomever you are, I am leaving and there's naught you can do to stop me!" Elizabeth declared with a firm sweep of her right hand as she kept her left clench up in a fist close to her chest.
"Oh my sweet, dear Elizabeth…that's where you're wrong!" The Prophet ended darkly and cut speaker system off and at that moment two heavily armed troop-carrying crafts arose from the clouds below and began traversing the airspace toward them. There was a sudden flash of light from the deck of the furthest craft which caught both of their attention and Elizabeth lightly leaned forward and brought a hand to her forehead to better shield her view from the sun and get a better look at what just occurred. Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned frantically to the detective.
"Booker! Rockets!" She exclaimed and the detective grabbed her hand pulled the lady close as he leapt away from his position to the furthest side of the platform, barely avoiding the collision of the rocket and flooring as a violent explosion shook the ground around them.
"Just say the word and I'll help however I can!" Elizabeth said with a confident nod and Booker nodded with his own thanks as he watched the craft approach the platform and line up. He furrowed his brow and noticed the miniature freight hooks adorning the bows of the craft and then back to the skyrails just above his head and at that moment the Pinkerton formulated a rather unorthodox idea as he grinned to himself.
"Elizabeth, just sit tight, I think I can take care of this in pretty short order." The detective said as he withdrew his skyhook and brought the machine to life.
"What are you planning?" She looked between him and the Skyhook puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor.
"Something pretty stupid, I reckon. Now if you'll excuse me." He excused himself as he launched from the ground at the Skyrail and grinded up and across the metallic railway. As he rounded the corner of the platform, he watched as the flying craft drew closer and the detective artfully drew his Triple R from around his back and readied himself. Booker could feel the magnetic pull toward the nearest hook and he was reasonably confident that he could make the jump onto the deck.
"There he is men, Fire!" He heard one yell followed by the all-too-familiar sound of gunfire. Booker turned and gave a select couple of pulls of the trigger and launched himself at the nearest hook and latched on with a powerful jolt which caused the craft to rock slightly as the men stood slack jawed at the False Shepard's brazen strategy.
"Howdy!" Booker calmly said with a smile as he dropped down and pressed the trigger completely and smiled as he unleashed a volley of lead death upon his aggressors. He managed to catch enough of them off guard so aim wasn't a necessary feature of his plan. Booker hadn't planned on the rocket trooper off to the side to come upon him brandishing the weapon like a club and, on instinct, the detective lashed out with his Skyhook giving the man a hard hammer to the gut. The trooper stumbled back wildly, so much so, that the rocking motion of the aerial craft led him to tumble off the side and to a prolonged demise.
"That went well…and now for—" Booker muttered to himself as he dove for cover, catching the flare of an oncoming heavy projectile heading for his craft. The explosion rocked the aerial vehicle and groaning of malfunctioning machinery informed DeWitt that he had very little time before the vessel fell from the sky. He slung spent rifle around his shoulder and drew the Mauser from his hip, he aimed his skyhook at the secondary craft and took flight toward his next group of assailants.
"Send the bastard straight to hell!" He heard one cry as he attempted to shoot Booker out the sky.
"For the Prophet! For Columbia!" He heard others echo with similar sentiment as he rushed toward the aerial craft and latched onto the hook. The Pinkerton immediately set down and felt his shield come about as the golden barrier deflected the various arms fire from the troopers sent to end his life. The Pinkerton quickly put his Skyhook away as he opened fire with the mouser and summoned a ball of Devil's Kiss and tossed it at their feet. The soldier closest to the impact was struck down while two others where engulfed in flames. The detective was reloading when he heard the Rocket Trooper fire his weapon.
"You'll never take our Lamb, False Shepard!" He shouted bravely from behind his heavy armor and rocket rifle as he fired directly into the detective's center. Under any normal circumstances this would have spelt certain doom for Booker DeWitt, but things being what they were the shield gifted to the detective by Robert and Rosalind Lutece managed to buffer a significant portion of the explosive potential of the weapon. This, however, did not stop the force of impact from tossing the detective to the other end of the vessel as his shield cracked and fell from the intensity of the weapons power.
"No, no way. That's impossible!" The Rocket Trooper stared on in horror as he watched the detective all but shrug off the intense fire power of his rifle. DeWitt, for his part, coughed profusely as the feeling of getting the wind knocked out of his lungs slowly subsided. He felt an intense stinging sensation emanating from the center of his chest growing lighter as it spread outward. He was certain to have a bruise, at the very least; a penance for his inability to dodge the weapon but it was better than the alternative. Booker wavered lightly as he stood and watched as the nervous trooper attempted to reload his weapon, Booker never gave him the chance to finish as he drew his Paddywhacker and hammered a full chamber into the frightened man's torso and dropped him where he stood.
"Good 'cough' 'cough' God, that hurts. DeWitt, you better count your lucky stars." He spoke hoarsely to none but himself as he reloaded the spent revolver and retrieved his Mauser from the deck. As he approached the edge he noticed three other aerial craft approaching and quickly with drew his rifle, and retrieved a few clips from the fallen soldiers. He judged the distance between the craft and the curvature of the Skyrail nearest him and deemed it close enough to traverse. Booker took a several staps back to the point where he stood just inches away from the opposite edge the craft and darted forward with incredible speed, bringing his Skyhook to full operational order once more, and deftly aimed for the magnetized rails.
In seconds, the Pinkerton agent was once again riding the rail circuit that wormed its way through Soldier's Field. Looking ahead he noticed several of Columbia's finest and down below he noticed a large group of soldier's encroaching upon Elizabeth's position. He watched as she nervously looked up at him then back at the soldier's attempting to secure her capture and saw with wonder as she turned to her side and reached out with her hand as she'd done before.
"Ugh!" He heard her grunt with effort as her outstretched hand appeared to have found and taken hold of something and the detective rode amazed as he watched her open a tear and pull through a Motorized Patriot. Elizabeth wavered as she brought a hand to her face and slumped back into cover, allowing for her newfound mechanical companion to complete its task.
"Rejoice! For death has no sting!" The machine cried out as it charged the soldiers and opened fire with its Crank Gun. Unfettered by fear of death or damage, the automaton was a brute force to be reckoned with as he thinned several of their numbers before the soldiers could retreat to a safer position and trade rounds with the clockwork man.
"That'll buy me some time." The detective muttered as he increased his speed down the rails. He watched as several more soldiers leapt down from his rail and began to reinforce their besieged comrades. One of the soldiers reversed course and headed directly in his direction. Booker deftly tossed his rifle up and caught it by the frame as he drew close.
"You're going back to hell, False Shepard!" He cried as he prepared to draw his pistol and slowed his own Skyhook down to acquire a better aim, but Booker had counted on such a maneuver and sped up even further.
"Not by your hand,, you bastard!" Booker grit through his teeth as reached out and bashed the soldier across his head and torso, with so much force as to knock him clean off the rail where he then fell to the deck, dead from the height and angle of the fall. Booker didn't have time to take watch as he acquired a stead handle of his machine gun once more and opened fire upon the troops down below, taking down several as he drew them out of cover and their aim, long enough for the heavily damaged Patriot to reacquire its targets and open fire once more.
DeWitt aimed ahead and fired upon the few soldier's remaining on the rails, short bursts of hot lead into each one lead to their downfall, quite literally in this regard. In any other situation, Booker might have chuckled at the irony but now was no such time. Booker descended from the rail back onto solid ground with a light grunt as he pulled the emptied clip from his piping hot rifle and replaced it with a brand new one and joined Elizabeth by her side as the Motorized Patriot fell to its knees.
"F-f-f-for Fai-fai-faith." The machine sputtered as its internal mechanisms gave way to the overwhelming damage suffered at the hands of its human counterparts and the pair watched as it fell front first to the ground with a thud. Booker continued from where the Patriot had left off and picked off the remaining soldier's with little effort, owing much to the fallen machine.
"All right, that looks to be the last of them. You alright?" Booker asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his bandaged hand.
"I should be the one asking you! I saw what happened on the gunship, how did you survive?" Elizabeth exclaimed with worry as she wiped the remnants of blood from her nose and wiped her hand with a spare clothe she had acquired from their stay in the hotel. She could have very easily used the handkerchief that Booker had given her, but for some reason she felt the strongest urge to keep it safe and unsullied as possible.
"Honestly?" Booker asked and Elizabeth nodded energetically. "Not a clue, one minute I'm standing up right, next thing I know I've got a chest fulla' fire, I'm flat on my ass, and I've got the wind knocked out of me…and this intense pain radiating from my chest."
"Goodness, it's a wonder you weren't blown to pieces!" She exclaimed with a slight amount of panic in her voice before calming back down at the fact that he stood alive and breathing before her. "That shield must have taken the brunt of the blast, you best not tempt fate a second time. Heaven knows whether or not that was a fluke." Elizabeth concluded worriedly as thoughts of Bookers demise flooded her mind. He could practically hear the gears turning in her head.
"I wasn't exactly lookin' to see if I could take a rocket to the face, so you don't have to worry about a repeat performance." Booker chuckled trying to lighten her spirits as he turned to watch for the gondola through the thick fog that had formed sometime between their early departure this morning and their return to Soldier's Field. Booker caught a glimpse of something and strained his eyes further to verify if what his eyes told him was indeed accurate. Elizabeth was about to say something in response when she noticed her savior's hand light up with the familiar blue glow of Shock Jockey.
"What is it? What do you see?" She asked quietly, a tinge of thoughtful concern laced her normally composed tone.
"Looks like Comstock sent us one last parting gift. A Patriot." Booker muttered in return as he swiftly made his way back down the steps and began to rifle through the dead soldier's belongings looking for any spare ammo. He managed to acquire enough for one additional clip, he hoped it would be enough. By the time he turned and made to approach the platform, he heard the call of the Motorized Patriot.
"For the prophet!" It cried out as it set forth on to the platform and turned to face its objective. As it began to crank its heavy machine gun, Booker took to the rails and charged up crystal of Shock Jockey. The clockwork war machine aimed high and began to unleash a volley at the Pinkerton, the latter of whom barely dodged the molten hot led as he rounded the corner and flung the crystal directly into the torso of the Patriot. The crystal exploded on impact and one large blue crystal formed on the Patriots torso and two others formed on the platform on either side, creating a full circuit of electricity which kept the automaton paralyzed in an aura of blue.
"Perfect." Booker gasped as the vigor had taken a little more out of him than expected, but he shook off the feelings of exhaustion as he threw himself down behind the stricken Patriot and opened fire upon his exposed gears as Elizabeth had pointed out at the Hall of Heroes. The Triple R heated up to a scalding hot red as steam poured from the barrel. Booker quickly discarded the clip as he emptied it into the Patriots back and began to reload. In the meantime the severely damaged Patriot managed to break free from the snare of Shock Jockey and slowly turned to face the Pinkerton and began to open fire.
"For the Col-u-umbi-bi-bi-a!" It's voice box sputtered as small fires burst out from the inward machinery behind the patriotic façade. Booker ducked and rolled from the initial onslaught and soon traded fire with the Patriot and felt the machine's bullets pepper his shield, leaving welts in their wake. Booker was beginning to doubt he could make it as he felt the shield nearly give way, yet just before the barrier fell the motorized Patriot dropped do a knee and exploded sending gears and pistons flying all around. Evidently the vigor managed to not only keep the machine at bay but deliver enough damage to see him through the fray.
"Booker!" He heard her beautiful voice cry out behind the smoke. "Are you alright!"
"I'm fine, just need to catch my breath." Booker stammered as he leaned back along the rail of the Gondola and tossed the overheated and emptied rifle to the ground, he figured he wouldn't need such a weapon where they were going and there was no sense carrying about an empty firearm. Elizabeth stepped around the smoldering ruins of the war machine and flew to his ailing side and checked him over.
"Perhaps you're pushing yourself just a little too hard, Booker. You could have died back there." She lightly chastised as she observed the welts beginning to form along his arms and neck.
"Only very nearly. But as you can see, I'm in tip top shape." He tried to assure her only to wince as she checked his shoulder. "Okay, mostly tip-top shape."
"Very nearly, if you die where does that leave me?" Elizabeth challenged as she crossed her arms.
"Better off." He muttered looking down at the ground. He heard a grunt of disapproval and held up his arms to prevent another argument before it started. "I'll be more careful, I promise. Besides, all we got to do now is ride this baby off to the aerodrome and its goodbye Columbia and hello New York…" He groaned as he stepped away from the rail, having gathered his strength and led the worried young woman over to the control room.
"And after that?" She asked as they stepped into the room and watched as Booker pulled the lever and engaged the Gondola.
"After that, well, wherever you want I figure." Booker answered honestly and watched as a wide smile graced her beautiful face. In fact the more he stared at her, the more he realized he that she stirred something within, something that he hadn't felt in a little over a decade now. Of course she was beautiful, any idiot could see that. From her gorgeous blue eyes, to that soft rounded face, to that lithe yet perfectly curvacious body, she was everyman's dream. But for Booker, it was more than that, she was was smart as she was beautiful, which was a dangerous combination. She had a naivety about her, but she also had an appreciation for everything that transcended inexperience, truly for Booker DeWitt, Elizabeth was the ideal woman...and that scared him.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" Elizabeth called out to him as she noticed he was staring at her. Booker fought to hide a blush of embarrassment as he coughed and looked back ahead.
"No, no, I was just uh, thinkin' is all, forget about it." He muttered as Elizabeth cocked a brow with a smirk. Her mind turned back to a pressing thought that had been rolling around in her head since they escaped the tower and thought that now might be a suitable time to bring it up.
"Hey Booker, can I ask you something?" She inquired lightly as she still attempted to muster the courage to go along with this line of thought.
"Course, go for it." Booker said absent-mindedly.
"W-when you were unconscious on the beach, you kept repeating a woman's name, Annabelle." She said quietly but with curiosity in her tone. Booker felt his heart nearly stop at the mention of her name. He gripped the lever tightly in his hand and clenched his eyes shut as he struggled with all his might to will away the memories of old.
"I…I don't…I don't want to talk about that, if you don't mind." Booker said darkly, struggling with the feelings coursing through him. On instinct he wished to lash out at the mention of Annabelle, but the rational side of him knew she had no idea and as such didn't deserve his wrath.
"I-I'm sorry, I thought she was perhaps your wife or—" Elizabeth began to apologize but was interrupted by the detective.
"No she would have been—but it couldn't be, then she died." Booker revealed, internally kicking himself as he did so, this wasn't a line of inquiry he wished to continue and here he was practically spilling his guts when compared to what he told others.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry, how did she die?" Elizabeth asked as she approached the detective, she watched as tears formed in his eyes. He wanted to tell her she was being too forward, that she had no business asking such personal questions. He wanted to push her as far away as fast as possible, but that small voice within managed to take the reigns and answered for him.
"…giving birth..." He replied quietly as he turned away from the girl. He had never spoke that aloud to anyone in his life, not his family, not his comrades, not even to his Uncle.
"You...you have a child?" Elizabeth asked slightly reeling from these small but powerful revelations, not quite certain what to make of the situation or the feelings that swelled within her chest.
"…no…" Booker felt a tear slip down his cheek, a single solitary tear for the child that died thousands of miles away while he was out killing strangers in that strange land. He had never allowed himself to properly grieve, perhaps deep down he knew he could never face it the moment he read the letter, so he buried it behind duty and rage, and now he would bury it again. Booker froze as he felt two small arms draw around his frame and he felt Elizabeth press her body to his back and rest her head upon him.
"Mister DeWitt…Booker…if you ever wish to speak of it, I'm here." She spoke softly, her voice filled with heart-warming compassion. It took all of the strength in Booker's body not to break down into a fit of sorrow and anguish, but he couldn't bring himself to fall apart and unleash his troubles upon a woman he just met. Luckily, fate gave him a way out in the form of their arrival onto the docking platform of the First Lady Aerodrome.
"This is our stop. C'mon, let's get out of here and put as much distance between us and Columbia, whaddya say?" Booker asked as he turned around in her arms and offered her a thin smile. Elizabeth cast a sorrowful look into his eyes as she could see the troubled man before her hide years of self-loathing, fear, anger, and loneliness behind a veneer of confidence. She pulled him in for brief tight hug and smiled.
"I can think of nothing more pleasant than that right now." Elizabeth spoke honestly as she grabbed the detective's bandaged hand and dragged him outside and across the platform inside the ticketing station. The whole of the area was abandoned, clearly evacuated either some point in the middle of the night or that morning as they had made their way to the Hall of Heroes, to them it just meant fewer obstacles in their path. Elizabeth lead the way up the dual staircase and Booker pressed the button which opened the elevator doors. Once inside, Booker pressed the activation button and the lift began to move.
Elizabeth gave a slight squeal of excitement as she twirled around, her life long dream was soon to be a reality and she could hardly contain her excitement; Booker just smiled at the display of genuine happiness. As she came to a halt she realized what she had done and blushed as Booker lightly laughed and shook his head. The young woman looked about the propaganda posters and addressed her protector once more.
"So, it looks like they call you the False Shepard." She charged, her tone filled with mirth as she gave a sly grin.
"Yeah, and I hear tell they call you the Lamb of Columbia, fancy that." Booker responded with equal mirth and a grin of his own as Elizabeth playfully frowned in dismay at the title.
"How about we don't call each other that." Elizabeth declared with a light chortle.
"Hey, suits me just fine." He crossed his arms and leaned against the opposite wall.
"You know, something's been bothering me." Elizabeth spoke once more as she crooked her jaw.
"Oh, what's that?" He asked with interest.
"How do you figure they'd know you specifically would be coming for me?" She clarified and Booker stopped as he thought upon his next words. It was a damn good question, admittedly when he saw the poster's yesterday it was a tad concerning but when the prophet referred to him specifically by name, that was damn uncanny.
"Well, the way I see it, either they've got a prophet on their side—" He started and shot Elizabeth sardonic look.
"Har Har." She chided as she rolled her eyes at the detectives terrible attempt at humor.
"Or someone back in New York ratted me out. For what purpose, that's beyond me." Booker finished with as much insight into the situation as he could provide as he brought his bandaged hand into view and gave it a once over. Truth be told, for as much as he prided himself in his detective work, there were too many unknowns for his liking and too many coincidences for them all to be chalked up to random chance. The doors opened and the First Lady Airship stationary and awaiting further instruction.
"This is like a dream come true! Well don't just stand there Mister DeWitt, let's go!" Elizabeth called out as she raced into the dirigible. Booker sighed and followed her inside and found himself taken aback at the posh interior. Bookcases lined with expansive tomes, ornate wooden desks, and expensive furnishings lined the interior of the craft; definitely more-than-suitable for one such as Lady Comstock. Booker stepped forward and tilted his head to the side, there on the desk top sat another vial of that Lutece Infusion that he was given just before he began this whole mission. Beside it there was an envelope addressed to him, he picked up the small piece of parchment, opened it up and began to read.
"Mister DeWitt, you will need this for what lies ahead. Take note we have refined the process so the experience will not debilitate you in any way. By the way, sorry about your head.
Robert."
"How'd they? My head? You know what, I'll just go mad trying to figure it out." He muttered as he uncorked the class vial and downed the contents. It tasted less bitter this time around and the effects weren't as painful either, he felt his shield come alive briefly before it vanished and he felt a brief tingle through his veins before that too faded. A slight dizziness came about him and he stumbled lightly before leaning on the desk as the world spun.
"Mister DeWitt, is something the matter? Perhaps you need to lie down." Elizabeth came to his side and began to heft him over her shoulder until he gave a violent shake of his head and stood up straight.
"No, no, I'm fine, I just got a little dizzy for a second." He explained as Elizabeth made an "o" with her mouth signifying her comprehension. "Okay, let's get this ritzy balloon moving!" He clapped his hands together, rubbed them vigorously, and approached the flight controls and began moving the levers to enter the appropriate coordinates.
"Aaaand…there. Forty degrees north by seventy-four degrees west." The coordinates were locked in and the dirigible's engines fired up and the craft departed the station.
"I can't believe it, this is actually happening. Thank you! Thank you so much, Booker!" Elizabeth jumped in place as she leaned on the control panel. "I want to see Paris, I want to see everything." She declared excitedly as the craft maneuvered itself on course.
"Once we take care of business in New York, you can see all there's to be seen." Booker said as he looked out onto the horizon as the craft rose above the clouds and fog.
"You know Booker, I meant what I said the other day." Elizabeth began happily as the man in question furrowed his brow and looked at her puzzled.
"When I said I wanted to travel the world with you I meant it." Elizabeth said with a light pink hue painting her cheeks. Booker was flattered to say the least, he had chalked up the whole exchange as a heat of the moment sort of ordeal, but it appeared as if she was deadest on the idea and, if he were being honest with himself, it wasn't exactly unappealing by any stretch.
"Tell you what Elizabeth, if you still feel the same way by the time we get you to New York to see those two, I'll look into what sort of time I can take and I'll travel with you. I won't promise anything, but I'll do my best." He responded and Elizabeth's smile grew even wider as a twinkle of joy filled her eyes. An all too familiar feeling filled Booker's gut as he looked at the beautiful girl, he'd only felt the feeling truly once before and while part of him was curious as to where it might lead, a bigger part was afraid of repeating the mistakes of his past.
Elizabeth was about to say something when her face turned to an expression of horror. She reached out to warn the detective but it was too late as he felt a rather heavy blunt object collide with the back of his skull, sending him to the ground, his vision spotty and blurred, and his frame heavy. He turned up to see his assailant raise a scoped rifle with a grin.
"Preston Downes always gets his man!" The intruder exclaimed as he brought the rifle down upon Booker's head once more. Elizabeth calling out to him was the last voice he heard before the darkness and pain consumed him.
Endnote: Here we are, I do apologize if this chapter seemed a bit all over the place at times, I've been a little scrambled lately but I didn't want you guys to suffer…I just hope this doesn't suffer for it.
So it looks like Booker and Elizabeth won't be leaving Columbia anytime soon. Up next we are introduced to Daisy Fitzroy, we learn more of Preston Downes, and our heroes find themselves on a new mission with new dangers waiting in store.
Thank you all for your amazing reviews and continuing to read, your support really does make this worth it. I hope you continue to enjoy and until next time…this is TheLifeLongEditor, signing off!