Chapter 16: The Songs We Were Singing
Author's Note: Here it is, the next chapter. I just want to take the time to wish all of my readers a Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! This is a big one and there's a lot piled in so I hope you all enjoy. This one took a bit out of me so don't be surprised if this is the last one you see before the new year. I'm not saying I won't but yeah don't be totally surprised!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bioshock Infinite or its characters as that privilege goes to Ken Levine.
The remainder of the journey to the Finkton Dockyard undertaken largely in silence on the part of Booker and Elizabeth; Daisy had elected not to release them from their bondage until their departure citing her the relatively unknown nature of their relationship. The veteran gave rebel leader her due credit, for had he been in her shoes he probably would have made the same decision as even now he still debated as to whether or not he could indeed blast them all to kingdom come without he or Elizabeth biting the dust as well. Booker wasn't foolhardy, it wasn't like he willfully threw himself into death-defying situations for the thrills but he wasn't absolutely terrified at the prospect of his eventual demise, he grew up having been taught that all men are appointed to die at least once, the other was a more spiritual matter. But as he looked over at Elizabeth who took in the situation with wide and curious eyes, he knew he had more to live for, more to fight for, and, if necessary, more to die for; her mere presence had begun to change him, whether it was for the better or worse it wasn't for him to make the call, though he could only hope for the best as he knew he was a man in desperate need of redemption.
Elizabeth turned her head slightly and noticed the detective's eyes on her and offered a small smile of reassurance and warmth with a minimalist of nods, Booker gave a slight nod in response as his gut was filled once more with that same distracting warmth that he'd felt over the past few days. Booker began to reflect on their time together and contemplated the future of their relationship. Here was a vibrant and beautiful young woman who wanted to see the world and keep him close all at once, to him her taste in men left a lot to be desired but she didn't see things that way. She had a knack for breaking down his walls and drawing out more laughs in the span of hours than he'd elicited in years. She was drawn to him in very much the same way he was drawn to her and he had to wonder just what did fate or God have in store for them down the road. Would it end in tragedy as all had before or would it be different, he supposed only time would tell.
"Ma'am, we have arrived at the docks." Came deep voice laden with a thick Haitian accent. The woman in question stood from her knelt-down position next to one of her injured men and crossed the cabin to appraise the situation below.
"Better late than nevah, good work and keep us clear of the perimeter defenses. Word's come down that Comstock's locked all of the ports down going in and out, I hear tell they're liable to shoot down their own ships if necessary." She mumbled the last part more for her own benefit rather than to add anything constructive. "Set us down over there, I'll go get our new 'friends' ready." Daisy gestured to her desired location and the would-be helmsmen nodded as he engaged the craft and prepared the dirigible for docking.
Daisy approached Elizabeth first and brandished a large bowie knife from her person. She twisted the knife in her hand and gave the young woman a quick devious grin before frowning and cutting the bindings loose, stepping back in the event that Elizabeth had tried something foolish. Elizabethe merely loosed her arms and shifted her shoulders as the resulting cracks gave evidence to the obvious discomfort at such an accommodation. Daisy then stepped over to Booker and gave him another once over.
"There's a war coming Shepard, a big, bloody, God awful war and ooner or later your gonna have to pick a side." Daisy charged and Booker groaned in annoyance.
"It's Booker and I don't need to pick any sides, this ain't my fight and I don't intend to stay long enough to see the fireworks explode." Booker argued.
"This is just as much your fight as it is mine." She shoved a finger into his chest. "Comstock is the god of the rich man, the pitiless man, the white man…but if you believe in common folk, if you believe in the righteous folk, then you'd join up with us and rid Columbia of this oppressive regime. You'd see this is a righteous cause worth fightin' for, a cause worth dying for!"
"Look Fitzroy, I ain't a revolutionary and I ain't much for politics, I just want my airship." The annoyed Pinkerton detective replied, he wasn't looking to get any more involved with Columbia's situation than absolutely necessary as a means of escape. Daisy huffed and shook her head as she muttered something beneath her breath. The young revolutionary brought her knife to Booker's bindings, made precision cut, and swiftly brought the knife to Booker's throat, hovering the steel blade mere millimeters away from the vulnerable flesh; Booker didn't bat an eye at this as he instead hardened his gaze upon the violent rebel leader.
"You get one shot, Booker, your first chance is your last chance. Don't disappoint me!" Daisy shot forth with a low intense tone. Booker's mind instantly drew back to the light house, the dead man bound to the chair, and the writing on the wall in his blood. The wheels in his brain began to turn but he hadn't the time for deep introspection.
"I'll get your damn weapons and then you and Comstock and all of Columbia can blow yourselves to hell and back." Booker spat back through gritted teeth. Daisy only offered that same demented smile she gave to Elizabeth and withdrew her knife as she took a few measured steps back, and watched Booker's entire form eased as he stretched his now free limbs.
"Preston, give our kind benefactor here his armaments, I have a feelin' he might need 'em for the task at hand." Daisy motioned over to the bounty hunter with her head and stalked off over to the hatch to engage the release mechanisms. Downes bent down and retrieved Booker's leather rig and firearms and presented them to the dour detective.
"You best do as the lady says, boy. She'll tear your throat out just as soon as she'd shake your hand, you read me." He helped Booker with his gear and stepped aside.
"Yeah, I read you loud and clear." The clearly aggravated veteran grumbled as he checked the chamber of his Paddywhacker Hand Cannon before holstering the firearm and readying his Mauser in similar fashion before replacing it to his hip at which point he heard the hissing of air rushing through the seams between the pressurized hatch and the hull as the rebel leader pushed the massive metal door open. The detective reached over and took Elizabeth's hand in his own and led her toward the exit, forgoing politeness in light of their being in a relatively unknown and potentially hostile area. Elizabeth stepped out onto the Dock first and turned back to face Booker who paused when he noticed the bounty hunter hadn't moved a muscle.
"Preston, you coming?" He asked curiously but instead of speaking, Daisy interjected.
"Mister Downes has a few errands to run first, but rest assured he will be keeping a close eye on you." She assured as she pat the bounty hunter on his shoulder. Booker nodded at stepped out of the airship and turned to watch the posh dirigible take flight once more and disappear behind the clouds. Once the airship left their sightline, the detective gave a huge sigh and let loose a few silent curses.
"Mister DeWitt, are you alright?" Elizabeth asked as she stepped up from behind.
"Yeah, I'm just frustrated is all." Booker bit his bottom lip and shook his head in frustration as he turned to face his lovely companion. "Sorry I got us into this mess."
"You have no need to apologize, you had no way of knowing Mister Downes had stowed away aboard the airship prior to our arrival. Nor that he would have aligned himself with the Vox Populi" Elizabeth offered kindly as she stepped forward to give the detective a closer examination.
"Even still, I should have been more aware of my surroundings. If I had been more alert, we'd probably be half way to New York by now." Booker looked off to the side dejectedly but felt a soft hand grace his chin and tilt his head over and down.
"You can't control everything, Booker. You're not God. You make mistakes just the same as I do, so don't go beating yourself up for what you can't control. We're here for a greater purpose, I'm sure of it. We just have to see what that purpose happens to be. But, whatever the case may be, we'll find out together." She stopped thoughtfully and tilted the taller man's head over to the side to get a look at where the bounty hunter had bludgeoned Booker with the butt of his rifle. "How's your head feeling?"
"A little sore, probably sportin' a good bruise, but nothin' permanent." Booker muttered as he endeavored not to melt under her mesmerizing touch. He tilted his head back in her direction and gaver her a serious look. "Back there, while I was out, Downes didn't…uh…that is to say…you weren't…"
"Mister Downes conducted himself as a gentleman" Elizabeth assured and watched him gulp and nod as the feelings of dread washed away from his face. It was heartwarming to see how much he cared for her and the subtle ways he showed such care, even if he didn't realize it himself.
"From what I know of Preston Downes, the man's ruthless unto his own cunning, but he's always said to be a man of distinction and class—though in my experience, you can't trust anyone." Booker finished bitterly and Elizabeth gave the detective a look.
"Does that mean you don't trust me, Booker?" Elizabeth offered and Booker fought to keep his composure as she gave him a look that threatened to break every wall around his heart with one swift stroke.
"N-No, I mean, yeah I trust you, but you're different." Booker stammered as he elected to proceed down the dockyard with his curious companion in tow.
"Different how?" Elizabeth asked curiously, the barest hint of a smile graced her beautiful face as she peered up at her suddenly broody companion who did everything he could to avoid eye contact.
"Just…different." Was all Booker would say and the implication of his tone implied that she wouldn't be getting anything more out of the detective anytime soon so she merely smiled inwardly at the progress made and kept in pace with puzzling yet fascinating man. Elizabeth smiled and that familiar warm feeling returned at the signs of her stalwart companion's care and consideration. They both turned around and peered across the way to a massive projection of a well-dressed mustachioed man, when the familiar sound of a public address system activating.
"Now the most common complaint I hear from the working man is that they are unhappy with their lot. 'Why torment yourselves?' I ask. The ox cannot become a lion. And why would you want to? Who wants all those responsibilities and worry? You do your job, you eat your food, and you go to sleep. Simplicity is beauty." The industry magnate cheered through the hovering speakers before the speech ceased with the sound of an instrument being hung back up and the receiver depressed. The visible workers didn't seem to consider the businessman's words as they instead kept at their trades.
"Of all the…" Booker began but allowed the sentiment to die on arrival before turning his head over to his fair companion. "Whaddya know about this Fink fellah?"
"Jeremiah Fink, Columbia's Industrial Titan of Industry. He was one of the original founders of the city way back in the day. He holds a strong manufacturing monopoly throughout the entirety of the city. If he doesn't outright control it, you better believe he has his hand in it somehow." Elizabeth informed as she folded her hands. "In fact, about ten years ago he shocked the world with his creation of what we know to be the assembly line method. There's a nasty rumor going around with such claims that he is, in fact, an atheist."
"Interesting, very interesting, sounds like the sort certain of us Pinkerton's are loaned for upon 'reasonable request'." Booker dryly retorted as he and the girl began their walk down the aerial pier. "Though it wouldn't surprise me to learn of this man's religious afiliations being less than holy, he's probably in love with the almighty coin over the Almighty Lord." He finished abruptly.
"Perhaps so, he seems oddly in love with himself, that's for sure." Elizabeth countered with her own observation at seeing man's name all over practically everything in sight.
"You know anything about that Fitzroy character, aside from the whole…you know." Booker finished a lot quieter and in a more awkward tone as he attempted to navigate the seemingly treacherous minefield that was Elizabeth's past but the young woman gave no indication she was bothered by Booker's inquiry.
"Daisy Fitzroy…she's either the greatest of heroes or the worst of scoundrels, depending on who's doing the telling of course." Elizabeth tilted her head and waggled her eyebrows slightly as to indicate the dual nature of Columbia's informational system. "Do you believe we can trust her to keep her word? About the airship?" Elizabeth questioned, her tone grew more somber and reserved as she went into her own thinking. Booker shook his head light back and forth as if he were batting an answer about in his cranium before he finally offered a reply.
"That's a tough one. Me personally, I wouldn't trust her farther than I could throw her. That woman's got an air about her. It's hard to explain but that look in her eye, I've seen it before and let me tell ya', it ain't pretty when someone like that crosses someone who might stand in their way…" Booker trailed off, his own eyes growing wide with remembrance.
"Someone like you, perhaps?" Elizabeth questioned with a hint of worry in her tone.
Perhaps…" Booker muttered and shook himself back into reality. "Even still, if she's good for an airship, I could care less if she was the Grand Poobah herself." Booker finished tersely but Elizabeth giggled at his words and followed the detective along as he made his way closer to the interior of the docks.
Nocturn in E-Flat Major played on a scratchy record played throughout the public address system, a small comfort for the over worked 'employees' of Finkton Industries as they went about their tasks at the Dockyard. The Docks themselves were constructed of quality material, using what appeared to be highly polished and sealed oak; strong and sturdy enough to take a beating but polished and poised enough to impress any onlooker. The pathways were surrounded by various turning and connected gears, grinding and churning away for purposes unbeknownst to the on looking duo as they strolled about the yard.
The sounds of hammers colliding with hard surfaces echoed about the area with an oddly satisfying 'clank' which each precision strike upon whatever surface they were brought upon. As Elizabeth and Booker approached the projector screen, a large cargo barge approached the central open space and docked with an uncanny grace. Several dock workers seemingly appeared out of thin air under the instruction of a stern foreman who barked orders as the mechanical crane attached the barge began to shift and move large crates marked 'Fink Industries' on and off the craft. The pair were careful as they tread lightly around the workers who scrubbed the dock floor by hand, Elizabeth only taking her eyes off the poor souls to observe a conveyor rail bring three vending machines up for workers to scrub, polish, and otherwise rid of any dirt or grime.
Booker looked onward and saw large piping and other machine work obstructed their present path, however it appeared that they could briefly board the new vessel to cross onto an adjoining craft to make it to the other side; the detective motioned for Elizabeth to follow as they boarded the cargo craft. They pair were about half way across when the grumpy foreman's call halted them in their tracks.
"HEY YOU THERE! YOU PEOPLE ON CARGO DETAIL!" He shouted from across the way and marched directly over to the stunned pair, Booker stood firm while Elizabeth looked somewhat frantically between her composed companion and the irate manager.
"No sir, just passin' through to Finkton. If you'll let us pass we'll be headed on our way without incident." Booker calmly conveyed as the foreman scratched his chin and cast a knowing look between the pair.
"Say, haven't I seen the pair of you 'round here before." He inquired suspiciously as he took another step forward towards Elizabeth and gave her a good examination before looking up at the detective. He noticed that Booker's right hand had been firmly in his pocket and that sent alarm bells ringing in his mind.
"You, show me your hand, now." The man ordered. Booker looked at Elizabeth and back at the foreman.
"Sir, I fail to see why this is—" Booker began but was cut short.
"I don't care what your personal failings may be, your hand, now!" The aggravated worker declared and Booker rummaged around in his pocket and slowly withdrew his bandaged hand and opened his palm to reveal a handful of Silver Eagles.
"As you can see, I'm nothin' special. Just a traveler with his girl, passin' through Finkton. Do we understand each other?" Booker suavely intimated as he offered the bewildered foreman the money, the latter of whom took it and counted without delay. He looked down at the money, back up at Booker and Elizabeth, and back down to count the bribe. Certainly satisfied with his haul, he straightened up and pocketed the currency and looked about to see several of the workers had halted and watched the situation unfold.
"Hey! You lot! Get back to work or I swear by the almighty Prophet I'll have each and every one of you out on your asses before the sun sets!" The man leveled furiously and the workers frantically picked up their implements and set back to work. The foreman turned back and faced the pair once more.
"As for you two, I don't want to see your faces again! Get the hell out off my yard!" He said lowly and walked on to inspect the work being conducted and bark ordered where he saw fit.
"Best do as he says, no tellin' how much patience a man like that has." Booker silently ushered Elizabeth forward.
"I'm surprised that worked." Elizabeth gasped as they walked the boarding plank onto the other vessel.
"Don't see why? I highly doubt a man such as Fink pays these men anything near worth a damn." The detective responded darkly as his mind harkened back to the darker days of his childhood following his father's passing.
"Now some folks just aren't just aren't satisfied with their place here at Fink Industries. But I tell you there's a purpose for all living things. Would the Pharaoh's of Egypt have been able to stand at the top of their pyramids if the Israelites had not made their bricks? Would the captains of industry have been able to ride the rails had not the chinamen laid the track for them? So, I say, chin up! History is build on the backs of men like you!" The public address system came alive once more and the suave business peddled his propaganda like a true professional.
"I swear that man's more full of himself than…" Booker shook his head as he stowed that thought away for another time as his words drew some looks from nearby workers. Getting by the foreman wasn't too difficult but he'd rather not push his luck being knee deep is treacherous territory.
"He certainly has a knack for elocution." Elizabeth chimed up as they departed from the secondary vessel back onto another section of the pier and proceeded in navigating around various crates and cargo storage units.
"That's one way of puttin' it." Booker mumbled as he shot Elizabeth a look and rolled his eyes much to the latter's enjoyment as they approached a path leading to the inner workings of the dockyard. Immediately they were treated to a massive billboard for Finkton Manufacturing; the advertisement boldly displayed 'Eyes Forward' in black font as it depicted a line of silhouetted works marching ahead against an orange and red background. Booker was striken by the piece of propaganda, something about it didn't feel quite right but he couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the men scrubbing the floors all around as the men on the ladders painted the damn thing, but something about it screamed 'wrong'. He looked ahead and watched as Elizabeth approached another projected image depicting a worker with question marks all about him as he looked down in deep thought.
"What do you suppose he's thinking about?" Elizabeth pondered softly as she gazed upward at the depiction as it shifted to another image of Fink Industries. Booker stroked his chin and shrugged.
"Not a clue, perhaps if we wait around more we'll get another earful of Mister Fink's opinions on the thoughtful worker." Booker replied dryly as Elizabeth playfully slapped his shoulder with a short laugh as they headed out onto another section of dock where they had just missed a rather serious collision of containers as a despondent employee stood as he jot down notes on his clipboard, no doubt appraising the situation as he made personal comments to himself. As they approached they could hear a bit of the man's personal conversation with himself.
"This is not good, not good AT ALL! By Washington's Sword, Mister Marlowe and Mister Fink are going to be mighty displeased." He shook his head vigorously and scribbled down notes as Elizabeth and Booker passed by unnoticed. The primary container had undoubtedly been carrying dozens upon dozens of crates containing the once prized Shock Jockey as indicated by the obvious charged crystals shocking the container, the nearby vessel, and the dock itself; in addition, the floor was covered in the same blue fluid as the storage closet in the Hall of Heroes and Booker could clearly see some crates labeled with the same emblem and the same recall stamp. On board the vessel he could spot a seasoned captain screamind down the neck of a much younger deck hand, probably giving the younger man a proper scolding for the foul-up.
"Going up?" Booker reached out and clasped Elizabeth's hand firmly as she offered in response to his request.
"Lead on, Booker. Up, up, and away we go." Elizabeth said with a small amount of glee as she felt his warm hand guide her up through the hull of the container before giving a brief leap down upon the floor below. Once both had set down, Elizabeth thanked Booker for his help and they proceeded forward toward a set of heavy industrial doors. Booker set upon them with both hands and cranked them open with several powerful tugs.
"All right, that's the last of it, cast off, we need to get movin' before this storm rolls though." They heard a hardy captain call out to his crew and watched as the craft pulled away just as the Pinkerton Agent completely opened the doors. There inside was several series of skyrails with 'Columbia Freight' adorned on either slide flying through the air at incredibly speeds bound only by the metal attachement to the magnetized rail.
"We best be careful Mister DeWitt, one misstep and it could be our heads." Elizabeth gulped as she spotted a warning sign demanding workers operate within designated areas with the proper gear.
"You'll hear no arguments from me. I prefer my head attached to my neck and shoulders thank you very much." Booker looked about the busied line of cargo containers and kept Elizabeth close as they made their way up the stairs, careful to avoid finding themselves in the path of any oncoming traffic.
They stood by and watched as a full express of things rushed by with expediency; to Elizabeth this was all exciting, having the ability to watch the same mechanisms she had read about all her life in full effect as Booker saw this all as one monumental accident just waiting to happen. Finally a break in the traffic appeared and Booker seized the opportunity to push ahead wherein they found themselves in massive storage room, with crates covered with large tarps. Stacks on stacks on stacks of massive crates filled the room and were restrained by thick layers of rope. Elizabeth twirled around as she looked up in awe at the scale of it all, her mind abuzz with what sort of trinkets and secrets lay hidden away within their wooden confines.
Booker called for Elizabeth who was shaken out of her daydreaming and quickly fell in line with Booker's stride as they proceeded through the next room. There were pistons lining the walls each line with various gauges measuring pressure amongst other data. The room was filled with pneumatic tubes coming to and from various locations. With a city the size of Columbia there could be dozens if not hundreds of rooms such as this sending and diverting contents from one far off location to another in expedited means. The sound of rushing air filled the room as Elizabeth's eyes widened to almost comical proportions as she closely examined several nearby lines and followed them about the room. Booker walked, content to watch his curious companion observe the world around her; he stepped ahead, careful not to disturb her fun as the days had been taxing enough and she needed some sort of distraction from the hell this city had to offer.
The detective located the nearby exit hall and swiftly made his way over, opting to settle on standing on the frame of the doorway and looking inward to ensure nothing happened to his precious cargo. He chuckled at that inward remark given the nature of their surroundings, but a thought did occur to him. Elizabeth had become quite dear to him in their relatively short time, or rather she had endeared herself to him. Booker watched Elizabeth stand fascinated by the machinations of man, anyone else could have taken a cursory look and thought nothing of it but to Elizabeth it was something amazing, something wonderful, and he loved that about her. He stopped himself before going anything further, afraid of where such thoughts my lead and instead opted to look outward to get a good idea as to where they might be headed. His spirits dropped as he read the banner above the building just up the path.
"Columbian Authority – Defending our Values"
"Oh now that's just what we need right about now. More trouble." Booker said sourly as he thought about his next course of action.
"What seems to be the matter, Booker?" Elizabeth perked up at hearing her silent companion's dour declaration.
"See for yourself." Booker responded and made a motion with his head in the office's direction. Elizabeth rushed up to his side and looked outward, her chipper demeanor disappeared and a disquieting look came about her.
"Oh my, perhaps there's another way around?" The young woman offered up hopefully.
"Doubt it." Booker shot her down as he took a step forward and looked about. "Looks to be a check-in station, almost like a port authority—and seein' as we have neither the means to go under or over it, our last resort is through it." Booker withdrew his Hand Cannon and took a few cautious steps forward. Elizabeth followed suit and looked about for any signs of an ambush. Both stood on either sides of the large industrial doors and nodded as each gripped a handle and pried them open. To their surprise, the office appeared to be abandoned. To top it all off, within taking a few steps inside a brilliant white flash of lightening flooded the entirety of the office via the windows and a bombastic boom of thunder echoed from afar, causing Elizabeth to jump in freight and push directly into the detective who had already been on edge.
"Woah, easy does it now." Booker caught her tight and helped steady the agitated young woman.
"Sorry." She quietly whispered, embarrassed to show such fear in front of Booker. "I umm don't know what came over me just then." She awkwardly tried to explain away the situation and Booker gave a grin.
"S'alright, plenty normal not to like thunderstorms. Though I'd take 'em over a squad of these goons anyday." Booker joked as he holstered his revolver and looked about the room for any sign of recent activity but found no sign of hurried evacuation. Maybe, just maybe, he considered that the good Lord had finally cut them a break. Elizabeth nodded and fought down a blush as she watched her companion look about the room.
"So if Columbia's ports operate anything like the ones back stateside, I'd imagine we're near some kinda entry point into Finkton. Like a welcome center or somethin', for processing new arrivals." Booker hypothesized as he found the exit and headed in the direction.
"Then we can find our way to Mr. Lin and be rid of ..of…all of this…" Elizabeth sputtered as she desperately sought to find suitable words to describe the situation but found none that could encompass the totality of what they had been through.
"That's the idea." Booker replied as he pushed the doors open and took a few steps outside. He noticed the amber skies of the late afternoon and early evening had given way to a rush of dark and foreboding clouds.
The detective thought back to the storm, which that captain had referred to back at the dockyard. Another flash of lightening lit up the area followed by another thunderclap, this time a little closer and sooner than before. Booker motioned with his hand for Elizabeth to follow as he spotted what appeared to be a system of skyrails leading ahead, with a little luck he might find one headed in Finkton's direction. Elizabeth followed timidly as the thunder had once more elicited a similar reaction of fear, but this time more contained and manageable. As they stepped out into the steadily worsening weather each were treated to a site of twin towers, each adorned with twin statues of uniformed officers on either side and a projection of Jeremiah Fink's face emblazoned the furthest side, they had no view of the front of the tower closest to them. Both quickly ascended a staircase, which led up and around the tower, holding the promise of quick forward progression. As the pair reached the top they were met by a three man squad of Columbian Police Officers.
"Hold it right there you filthy false shepard. Comstock wants the girl and we aim to give her to 'im." The lead officer brandished his rifle and held it steady. Booker held his hand up in mock surrender and Elizabeth stood carefully behind him.
"See, here's the thing. I don't think she wants to go with you." Booker began and tilted his head back. "Elizabeth, you wanna go with these people?" He asked with joviality to which Elizabeth shook her head profusely in the negative.
"Well there you go lads, looks like she's stayin' with me." Booker shrugged and internally concentrated on brining a desired vigor to bear.
"Well there's three of us and more on the way, and only one a'you." Another officer spoke up and cocked his piece. Booker smirked.
"Yeah that don't really mean much to a guy like me." Booker said darkly and flared his bandaged hand forward rapidly and sent a mighty powerful wave of Bucking Bronco hurtling toward the unsuspecting officers who quickly found themselves suspended in mid air. The Pinkerton was surprised at the power of this effort and he had intended to knock them off their feet, perhaps it was his imagination but he felt his vigors power had grown. Taking the bull by the horns the detective drew his Mauser and opened fire deadly intent upon the incapacitated officers. By the time the Pinkerton Agent had emptied his pistol, all three men had been sent on their way to meet their maker and as the effects of the vigor wore off, the men dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. Booker pulled another clip from within his rig and reloaded quickly, he turned to gauge Elizabeth's condition and watched as the crouching young woman slowly pulled her hands from her ears and looked up at him as she brushed her skirts. Booker was about to say something when he heard an officer's whistle blow from below and the shouts of men offloading from a nearby skiff.
"Looks like duty calls." Booker readied his sidearm and retrieved his skyhook.
"Anything I can do to help?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.
"Nothin' really, just scrounge around for some ammo or even a rifle if you can find it, but above all stay clear of any fire and keep your head down." Booker ordered and Elizabeth nodded.
"Got it!." Elizabeth replied and began her search back the way they came as Booker powered up the Skyhook and leapt out and attached to the magnetized rail. It appeared that they had set the system on a circuit to loop back in on itself, no doubt to lock any traffic in place but this would work well for the former marine. He pulled heavy on the trigger and sped down the rail and aimed downward at the soldiers, opening fire upon them and taking several out before looping through the opposite tower at which point Booker had switched out for his Hand Cannon and summoned the Devil's Kiss to aid him in finishing off the remaining forces.
The officers in question had just begun to step out of cover to get a bearing on the location of their target when Booker set down and opened fire, taking two out and flushing out a third with a rather violent toss of Devil's kiss. The yield was far greater than before and had enough power to light the remaining man aflame, causing him to yell out in pain and emerge from cover desperately flailing about in an attempt to extinguish the molten fire; Booker put the man out of his misery with a single clean shot.
"Booker, incoming vessel!" Elizabeth shouted from on high and pointed outward. Booker's eyes followed and he quickly spotted an oncoming vessel carrying a load of officers as well as an automated turret. At first the detective couldn't make out the munition type but all too quickly did the mechanized horror make that apparent as it fired a volley of rocket-propelled grenades in his direction, two of which collided with a skyrail system that appeared to travel forward, leaving the third to impact about twelve feet from Booker's position. The detective cursed and weighed his options as he thought about how he could get them out this jam when, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Elizabeth waving about.
"Here, I found this for you!" She shouted and threw down a scoped rifle which Booker caught with amazing reflect. Where and how she managed to find such a weapon would be a discussion for another time and place entirely, but for now he was happy to have such a weapon to aid him. Taking a glance along the rifle he saw an engraving on either side, Bird's Eye. He checked the chamber and readied himself, he willed Shock Jockey into his hands and rolled out of cover. A bolt of man-made lightening flew from his outstretched hand into the automated turret, which sputtered and shut down in a puff of smoke as arcs of electricity encompassed it in totality. He was surprised at the power of the bolt and was sure this time that it wasn't his imagination and that he was certain that phial he drank back in the First Lady had made some changes.
Having moved back behind one of the numerous crates littering the area, Booker rested the rifle along its wooden surface and took aim for the approaching airship and the moment he had an office in his sights, he pulled the trigger and ended his enemies life. He cleared and loaded another round into the chamber and fired at another as he was making to depart the vessel as four other men had proceeded in doing. Booker once more cleared the spent round and reloaded, waiting for the first man brave enough to attempt another assault. He wouldn't have to wait long as one armed lawman ducked out to providing covering fire so his others could advance but Booker was quicker than they could anticipate and dropped the man before he could return back to the safety of cover; the detective suffered a few rounds to his barrier before he ducked back under and the three began to open fire on his position.
He was about to attempt another kill when he heard the loud sound of gears and pistons firing up and as the detective glanced out and watched as the once paralyzed turret sputtered to life once more and attempted to locate its target. At first, DeWitt let loose a flurry of curses but then an idea sparked within and he prayed to high heaven it would work as his arm came alive with that familiar green glow of the Mesmerize vigor. Booker set the rifle aside and drew his Mauser, on the count of three he burst forward from cover and fired wildly toward the officer's directions forcing them lawmen into cover. The ringing of the far-off turret indicated that Booker would have to act fast and he did exactly that by casting the green aural wave into mechanical weapon and with a bit of whirling and buzzing the machine took on a green glow and began to target the officers and rained hell upon them.
The turret managed to wipe one officer clean from the face of the earth before the others set upon the machine, opening fire with their Triple R's and narrowly avoiding the explosive rounds in the process. Booker took this time to grab the Bird's Eye rifle and leap back onto the Skyrail where he landed next to Elizabeth who stood by watching the whole exchange.
"Booker, there you are! Did you actually control that rocket turret?" Elizabeth asked rapidly as she lightly checked the detective over for any signs of grievous injury. Booker shrugged and looked beyond her to watch the firefight unfold before refocusing on Elizabeth.
"What's the plan?" She asked as she gave a huff of air from her lips to blow an errant strand of hair off her face before guiding it back behind her ear.
"Figure I'll just let these guys pick each other off and finish whoever remains…which based on that explosion appears to be the unluckiest bastard in all of Columbia right about now. Excuse me." Booker muttered the last part as he readied his rifle and took aim for the lone standing officer who looked about frankly for any sign of the False Shepard. With one deep breath, Booker took his shot and put the last man down where he stood. He laid the rifle down and steadied himself.
"I have to hand it to you Mister DeWitt, you sure know your way around a brawl." Elizabeth said half jokingly as she surveyed the carnage below. She never approved of his methods, no matter how seemingly necessary they might appear to be at the given time but she internally admitted it was something to see how the soldier operated so fluidly on the battlefield, almost as if he were born to fight.
"But the big question remains, where do we go from here?" Elizabeth spoke up higher over the sudden gust of wind as she looked out at the storm clouds rolling in from behind.
Booker blinked and looked out yonder. The major skyrail leading up to a path beyond appeared to be completely incapacitated thanks to the small misfire of that rocket turret. He stroked his chin as he looked about when he spotted a shimmering light in the distance, normally he would have imagined it being the sunlight dancing off some reflective surface but given the fact they faced dark and gloomy skies, this was undoubtedly not the case.
"Say, Elizabeth, do you by any chance see a tear over in that direction?" Booker pointed for the woman's benefit who peered out across the clouded horizon and, at first, saw nothing until her eyes lit with recognition.
"Sure thing, I see it! It looks…it looks like a…another Skyrail!" Elizabeth clapped and reached out with her hands. "Here, let me—" The young woman started as she reached out with her abilities and tugged the traversal unit in from another reality. The whole of the unit shimmered with an unnatural light and glow as it stood proudly in their own reality, ready and waiting to be used. Elizabeth stumbled backward a bit and deftly brought a hand to her nose to stem a slow trickle of blood. Pulling the rail through the tear hadn't required much effort but it still had a physical effect. The detective had his Skyhook at the ready and reached out with his arm to steady the unbalanced girl as she recomposed herself from her recent efforts. He let go and watched as she walked off and looked about for another Skyhook in sight, but huffed with crossed arms when she found none and turned to find an offering Booker waiting for her.
"Climb aboard madam." He offered playfully to which Elizabeth flashed him a smile as she sauntered over.
"Why thank you, kind sir." She accepted by taking his hand and climbing into his embrace. Booker reached up and engaged the device and leapt up into the air allowing the mechanism to do the lion's share of the work as they flew onto the circuited loop. As they neared the new rail Booker warned Elizabeth to hold tight and he felt her grip intensify. Satisfied that she had him tight, he leapt from the old rail to the new rail and attached to the new with a powerful swing as the device lined up properly and sped them down and entirely knew and uncharted course.
"You have any idea where this thing leads?" Booker asked as the far off rumble of thunder brought to mind the rapidly impending storm.
"H-Haven't the foggiest." Elizabeth's stammered response came as she peered out into the cloudy sky, only breaking to look up at Booker's intense forward gaze. The Pinkerton Agent pulled heavy on the trigger and sped up the inclining rail and around several spirals before arriving just above platform for the "Worker Introduction Center". Booker leapt down and grunted as Elizabeth slight added weight caused a much harsher descent, but nothing the seasoned veteran couldn't handle. He set the young woman down and gave her a look of wonder to which she shrugged and replied, "Wish fulfillment" and stepped forward to examine the various advertisements, namely one of a man who held his child up high as his wife stood behind as it boldly proclaimed "Your Family's Future Is Today!"
"Looks like Mister Fink isn't exactly skimping out on the on the grandiose displays of wealth." Booker surmised as he peered up at the gilded entrance, shimmering under the artificial illumination as the thunder clouds blotted out the sun. The statues of Fink on either side of the entrance too had the same golden make and each appeared to display the man in his most well-dressed form.
"Do you know what Daisy Fitzroy and her anarchist cronies want for you? Uh, "Strike!" they say. "Throw down your tools!" they say. Well, I tell you, the moment you do, you will see what those hyenas are made of! I ask you, where are they going to be when its cold outside and your boy's got the Mumps and you've got nothing on your table but regret? Don't you see what the Vox Populi are selling? They are selling dreams! And dreams, my friends, they don't come cheap!" The recording of Jeremiah Fink blared through a floating contraptions speaker system in conjunction with the built in public address system as it hovered over the mass of people having just arrived, looking for work no doubt.
As they walked about the area they over heard small conversations amongst friends and families. Wives telling their husbands to work hard so as to be recognized and rewarded and friends telling friends about rumors of wonderful opportunities that could lead into management. Booker simply shook his head as he knew all of these good men and woman had probably been filled with lies of hope and success only to spend the rest of their lives toiling away in factories lest their being maimed took them from their craft. Another clap of thunder caused everyone to look up to the sky and a stiff guest caused them to pull their coats closer.
"Let's get inside, no tellin' when the storm might roll through and I'd rather not get caught out in the rain." Booker urged as he made for the left staircase.
Elizabeth nodded and rapidly followed and the pair stepped inside. They were greeted with a large golden statue of the same image that both had seen outside, it depicted the father lifting his child upon his back and shoulders while his happy wife beamed at her hardworking husband as she wrapped her arms around his own. The busy read, "Your Future Is Finkton". Looking off to the left they saw an advert for the man of the hour.
"Chen Lin—Gunsmith and Machinist—Looks like there's our man." Booker read as he stepped forward to examine the prices. They weren't too bad but they were still a mighty bit expensive for what he was expecting, then again if the man had made his firearms then he would be worth every Eagle.
"Do you think he'll help us?" Elizabeth asked. It was a valid question as neither she nor DeWitt had any encounter with the man in question and only had the word of Daisy Fitzroy as per his temperament and affiliations and her word was, tenuous at best in their eyes.
"God I hope so, else this'll be one long snipe hunt for nothin'." Booker responded grimly.
He didn't enjoy bringing the atmosphere even lower, but he wasn't about to go off lying to the girl or filling her head with notions of things being better than they were. Honesty was the best policy as far as he was concerned and it seemed that Elizabeth appreciated it, so why stop now. They walked into the main processing facility where various groups of disgruntled individuals stood in lines before desks where overworked and underpaid Finkton employees sat and hopelessly attempted to assuage the ever growing ire. Looking over the crowd Booker spotted a sign that indicated a main elevator to Finkton, perfect.
"Elizabeth, stick close, I think I may have found our way down." Bookers hand wrapped around hers and he made his way through the crowds with the occaisional 'scuse me'. After a few moments of polite shoving and artful maneuvering they arrived at the opposite end of the room where they stood amongst a new crowd that formed a semi-circle around the entrance to the elevator. As the duo made their way to the front, they finally discovered what all of the hubbub was about.
"Welcome to Fink Industries recruitment! We are not looking for any help! You hear that? No help!" A mechanized man painted as if he wore blue coat with a red-and white breast collar announced in a cheery tone. To either side stood two armed older guards in front of two signs which read "No Jobs Today" as they shouted over the din of the room to try to keep calm amongst the populace. Elizabeth placed her hands on Booker's shoulder and stepped up on the heels of her boots and whispered into his ear.
"How are we going to get into Finkton?" Her soft voice sent bristles down his back, an unintended sideaffect of her attempt to get her point across no doubt as Booker shuddered at the strange effects. He looked about the room for any indication of another way when he noticed a service elevator sign pointing downward.
"Illegally by the looks of it." He said back as he looked down at her perplexed face. "Follow me, I think I've found another way inside." With that he began to shove his way through the crowd with Elizabeth following closely behind so as not to be separated in the all of the activity. A flash of light flooded the room as a powerful bolt of lightening leapt from one cloud to another and in quick succession a mighty powerful thunderclap overwhelmed the raucous din of the room. Elizabeth, having been startled by the display of nature, practically leapt into Booker's back and almost nearly knocked him flat on his face. The detective stumbled forward and turned to face Elizabeth.
"Hey there, you alright?" He asked, concerned as he looked around to see if anyone had elected to get cross with the girl. Yet, all he saw was Elizabeth nervously rubbing her shoulder and looking downward, almost embarrassed.
"Sorry, I um must have got a little startled again." She replied in the quietest of voices and Booker had the sudden and nigh-irresistible impulse to pull the young girl into a warm embrace. But he stood firm, he couldn't act on such things lest he give the girl and himself a certain impression…but he wondered, would that have been so wrong? Such thoughts would need to be examined further at a different time as his window of opportunity was diminishing by the second as nobody appeared to be paying attention to their detour down the steps and he aimed to keep it that way.
They made their way down the carpeted steps where they came across a locked-gated door. Booker gave a few meaningful tugs on the metallic bars but evidently it seemed that Fink wasn't one to cheapen out on his own security. Fortunately he had the best little lockpick in all of Columbia at his side.
"Elizabeth, think you could take a crack at this?" Booker asked as he stepped aside.
"Oh…you mean, that little thing?" Elizabeth playfully bantered back as she stepped up and set to work on the lock, having already pulled a bobby pin from her sleeve. She bent over began to manipulate the inner mechanisms and before Booker could say anymore the loud 'click' of the lock opening stopped him in his tracks. Elizabeth lithely pried the gates open and pushed the doors outward.
"There we are, child's play." The young woman said haughtily with a false air of superiority about her as she made to aristocratically fix her otherwise perfect hair. Booker couldn't help but give a rare laugh in her direction she whirled around with a grin to meet his gaze. "Something funny, Mister DeWitt?"
"Not if you don't count you being all high and mighty over a simple lock pick." Booker chuckled and Elizabeth huffed as her cheeks took on a scarlet hue.
"I don't see you doing any better." She shot back playfully and Booker raised his hands up in defense.
"Hey, never said I could. All I'm sayin' is, that whole display was so—what's the word—cute." Booker finished as he walked down the steps toward another row of golden fink statues, focusing more on the sign indicating the way to the service elevator than anything else. Elizabeth merely stood at the top of the staircase with a beaming smile on her face.
"Cute, finally, making some progress." She mumbled to herself.
"What was that?" Booker called from the bottom of the stairs having only been half paying attention as he turned. Elizabeth took breath and composed herself.
"Oh, nothing, I was just saying that the service elevator is nearby." She readily responded to which the detective nodded in agreement and motioned with his head for her to catch up. He waited as she descended and they both crossed the way to the far off staircase leading to the center of the room. By all appearances this looked to be another off-shoot of the Columbian Authority, but as they made their way to the base level it appeared that the whole of the area was bereft of any life or activity.
"Huh." Booker's comment erupted from the silence as Elizabeth looked over some documents at one of the desks.
"What is it?" She asked.
"Guess I was expecting people still at their posts." He responded as he took out his watch and checked the time. "Perhaps we caught them in the midst of a duty swap. Better hurry before we find out." He concluded as he went over and pushed the button to summon the elevator. He heard the machinery come to life as the lift began to rise to meet them, meanwhile Elizabeth was inspecting an open locker.
"Booker, look at this, it's Slate's locker!" Elizabeth exclaimed, surprised by her own discovery as she rifled through his belongings.
"Slate? Odd. He must've worked here then at some point or another." Booker put his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall and waited.
"Oh my God!" She shrieked and Booker stood immediately at full attention.
"What? What's the matter!" He approached the girl in a panic as she whirled around clutching a black leather journal with golden in-laid words that he couldn't make out due to the girl's grip over the reading material.
"This—this is her diary. My mother's diary! I wonder why Slate would have it." She finished with a murmur as she opened the tome and began to peruse its contents. As Booker went to ask if she found anything insightful the lights shut down and plunged the whole of the room into darkness givng Elizabeth cause to call out in surprise and Booker to step closer to her last known location as he drew his weapon. A whistle blow cut thought the darkness and soon the room filled with the sounds of boots marching across the floor and down the stairs and, along with them, the horrific whirling of gears coming to life nearby gave them both a start. When the lights flickered back on, they were surrounded by a contingent of men wearing olive green uniforms, backed up by a Motorized Patriot armed with a crank gun.
"Booker…" Elizabeth worriedly began as the man in question ushered her behind him as he held his revolver out ward, shifting his aim amongst multiple targets as he assessed the situation. Armed with his vigors he stood a fighting chance, but given the small area of battle, there was a huge risk of Elizabeth getting caught in the crossfire and he couldn't abide by that.
"Stay behind me, Elizabeth. I'll get us outta' this, somehow." He finished which did very little to ease her tensions. Just then the sound of slow moving footsteps across the polished wooden floors filled the otherwise silent room; moving through the crowd, a longhaired well-manicured man stepped forward before the lead of the contingent. He wore a grown double-breasted long-coat.
"You must forgive the zealous-ness of our efforts, but Mister Fink is well aware of your capabilities and couldn't risk sending any less than the best." The man's low voice clarified a somewhat as he motioned for the armed officers to lower their weapons.
"And just who might you be?" Booker asked cautiously as he refused to lower his own Hand Cannon and kept the firearm trained on this newcomer.
"My name is Flambeau…Martin Flambeau…at your service. My employer has…well…just listen for yourself…" The man offered as he retrieved revealed his other hand to be carrying a voxophone and opted to play the device.
"Booker James DeWitt. My oh my, you are a tough man to nail down! This is Jeremiah Fink here! Listen my boy, we've had our eye on you for 'quite' some time and I can tell you right now, you are our top candidate. TOP! Now, my associate, Mister Flambeau will help you with anything you need, ha-ha. I've made some arrangements for you to stay at Fink Tower for the evening. Due to my busy schedule we won't have the opportunity to meet today to discuss the opportunity as I would like but I am in the process of re-organizing my calendar and…well…we'll pen something in for tomorrow. I'll have Mister Flambeau fill you in once the details are determined. Ciao!
The playback ended and Martin placed the device in the hands of a junior officer who walked off to place it on his desk. Booker looked down at Elizabeth who appeared to be pleasantly surprised at the whole exchange, her face going from a worried scowl to a delightful smile.
"What the hell was that?" She asked in utter disbelief.
"I have no idea." He softly chuckled in spite of himself.
"He seems oddly pleased to make your acquaintance." Elizabeth motioned with a twirl of her hand as she traded looks between Booker and Flambeau.
"If that is all, might I ask you to accompany me. I have a private rail that will take us to the Empire District of Finkton." Martin interrupted as he gestured with his hands for the pair to follow. Booker looked at Elizabeth for her input but she seemed to be of a positive opinion and so he shrugged as it appeared that he they finally were given a break.
"By all means, we'll follow." Booker accepted as he holstered the Hand Cannon and relaxed his stance.
"Excellent, if you will please, and step lively. The storm is presently upon us."
Martin Flambeau led the duo back up through the crowded room and across the way to a locked passageway, for official use only, as the labels above the door clearly indicated. But for a man like Flambeau, who had access to virtually all of Finkton, every use was for official business. He ordered the remaing men either to stand vigil or return to their posts before leading Booker and Elizabeth through a maze of corridors all of which lead to a private station where a pristine SkyTrain lay in wait. On the outside it appeared just as the written description of the old railroad magnates private locomotives were described; well painted, highly polished, and kept in pristine condition. The small group boarded and the internal appearance definitely matched the exterior with red leather seatings, various highly artistic paintings and even a full service bar. The personal assistant gave a small tug of a rope and the entirety of the line began to move with haste around the welcoming tower and down a separate line into a portion of the city that easily rivaled, if not surpassed, the achievement that was New York City with its high rises and skyscrapers galore. As they approached empire-like city, a new recording began:
"Greetings! My name is Jeremiah Fink and I want to share with you my personal creed. What is the most admirable creature on God's green earth? Why, it's the bee! Have you ever seen a bee on vacation? Have you ever seen a bee take a sick day? Well my friends, the answer is no! So I say, be…the bee! Be the Bee!" Finks cheerful speech ended as they wound their way through the sky of the small city within a city. To color Booker impressed at the marvel of this man's achievement was an understatement, that was until he realized the price that must have been paid for such a colossal undertaking. Booker turned to address Elizabeth and seek her opinion on the scale of this 'Titan of Industry's' achievements when looked down to see her tearing through the diary with great haste, her face held a mixture of emotions as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Her breath hitched and she brought a hand to her mouth before slamming the book shut in her hand and turned her head toward the window, her eyes clamped shut as her body slightly wracked with controlled sobs. He wanted to inquire but the unceremonious jolt of the SkyTrain detatching as it met with a magnetized rail on the ground shifted his attention. The train moved with incredible speeds as it cut through the otherwise hectic traffic of the district with ease. Never halting, never ceasing, continuously pushing through until it reached its intended destination. Fink Tower.
From the windows of the car, the tower was absolutely massive. It was like a black obelisk standing amidst the rest of the grey and ashen skyline. It stood fifty-eight stories high by Booker's count. It was a reinforced concrete construction with a dark glass curtain wall. The tower itself had a jagged façade with many sides, Fink's means of maximizing wealth and use simultaneously. The train came to halt directly in front of the main entrance and a calvacade of Fink employees rushed out into the rain and stood in a complete row that stretched from the double doors of the building to the exit of the train. They each expanded their umbrellas and held them out, so as to create a perfect defense which zero rain penetrated.
"Right, if you'll follow me, we'll get you two checked in and you guy enjoy the remainder of the evening in luxurious comfort." Martin encouraged as he opened the door and gestured for the pair to step out. Booker looked to Elizabeth who gave a stone cold look of anger and bitterness.
"Elizabeth are you—" Booker began but was cut short.
"I'm fine, let's just get inside." Her sour response shot out and Booker winced at the vitriol in her normally happy self. He wanted to get to the bottom of it but given that they were in a public space with many eyes and ears on them, he thought better and would wait until they were alone inside.
He helped the young woman out of her seat and let her step out first onto the drying pavement as the sound of raindrops collided with the umbrellas. Booker followed shortly which Flambeau then exited the train and stepped between them to lead the way into the tower. Once inside they were free to enjoy the grandeur and splendor of Fink's personal monument. It reminded Booker considerably of the First Lady Hotel but everything was far more impressive. Large marble tables atop marble floors, massive fireplaces, huge sitting rooms adjoining other rooms, like a palace that never seemed to end and in the center of the room sat a large desk with a towering waterfall behind it. The high ceilings and the marvelous columns only served to add to the wealth and progress the hotel exuded. The group approached and Flambeau addressed the man directly as Booker spun around slowly to take it all in, even after all of this time in Columbia, he could never get used to the displays of wealth. He looked down and saw Elizabeth nearly lose her composure and straightened himself up.
"Hey Elizabeth—" Booker began but was once more interrupted by Martin who handed him a key with a room number.
"If you'll follow the attendant, he will see you to the elevator wherein you will find your room. Now if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave. Ah, but before I go, Mister Fink has rendered the services of a highly acclaimed medium to conduct a séance tonight. With all of the sightings of Ghosts and other such things throughout the city and even unconfirmed reports in the dreggs of Finkton, Mister Frink wishes to take every precaution to ensure that the majority Finkton remains unaffected by the sins of those below." Elizabeth perked up a little at prospect of an actual medium and looked over at Booker. She had read a great deal about them in the very little literature on the subject provided, and though her religious upbringing would have her steer clear there was something of a morbid curiosity she held that couldn't be avoided.
"Perhaps we can attend this evening?" She offered in a small voice, it was the first time she had spoken since prior to boarding the train and Booker wasn't about to let the opportunity to help pass him by and the detective gave her a soft nod before turning to acknowledge the offering man.
"Splendid, Mister Fink has already taken the effort to secure you seats at considerable expense. Please take these two tickets and keep them on you for tonight and please be down by nine o'clock pm." Flambeau nearlu took his leave when the operator at the desk called out and let him know that Harry Flagler and Frederick Vanderbilt both were on hold to make arrangements for their annual upcoming visit with Mister Fink. As Flambeau stood aside ot sort matters out the aforementioned attendant stepped forward and asked for them to follow. The small group then proceeded toward the elevators and once summoned, stepped inside as the attended pushed the button for them and away they went; It surprised them both that they found themselves on the fifty-eighth floor.
"Here we are, you'll note there are only four rooms on this floor. The room at the direct end of the hall is Mister Fink's private penthouse suite. Your Penthouse suite will be room will be at the end and to the right. If you have any wants, needs, or any questions, please use the interior phone, as that will route you directly to the front desk. Thank you for your patronage at Fink Tower." He ended as he bowed and stepped back inside the elevator and departed without much further word. Booker looked bewildered at the now shut elevator and back at Elizabeth who had folded her arms. He needed to get them inside so they could talk, so he quickened his pace and approached the door to their room.
He inserted the key and nearly fell flat on his face at the display of luxury. The room, or rather rooms, were so large they could fit his apartment back in New York comfortably inside with plenty of room to spare. To his right was a sitting room surrounded by windows looking out into the city. The room possessed a complete set of leather furniture all arranged around a gigantic fireplace. A sizeable bar was situated in the far corner of the room, composed entirely of rich mahogany and boasting of the finest liquors this side of North America. On the center table, Booker spied a wooden guitar, complete with a few sheets of music. Surprising to say the least, but it could have been left by the previous guest. The walls that weren't lined with windows were they themselves lined with ceiling high bookshelves, lined with various tomes and volumes only separated by book ends, busts, and trinkets from global expeditions.
Looking ahead through an open doorway Booker could see a sizeable golden fainting couch with a small black coffee table, modern literature and periodicals littered its surface. Behind it on an elevated platform rested a mattress of incredible size, more than befitting of two people with linens that looked so soft they could put one quickly to rest and float them to the best of dreamscapes. He leaned through the doorway and spotted a set of doors on either side, probably leading to closets and restrooms. He couldn't see much more without stepping inside, but he imagined he would become more-or-less familiar with the room as the night wore on.
Off to the right, was an elongated mahogany conference table, lined with leather rotating chairs. On the front and left side of the table where glass doors leading out onto an expansive balcony outside complemented by weather-resistant furniture and an outdoor fire pit. Booker stepped up and spotted a swimming pool. The detective doubted he could ever make enough money in his entire life to actually warrant an honest stay in such an establishment. But Booker quickly regained control of his thoughts as he needed to get to the bottom of Elizabeth's shift in attitude and demeanor.
"Okay, since we got on the train and you started reading you've been all outta sorts. What's going on?" Booker asked as he turned to face the curious woman whose eyes currently fixated on the chandelier above them.
"I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind." She spat as she turned away from them.
"Not on your life little missy, now you got some explainin' to do. You damn near broke down in tears on the train and the same could be said for the lobby, and now you're pushing me away. All of which are very un-Elizabeth-like of you. Now are you gonna tell me what's going on or are we gonna have to play twenty questions until I figure it out?" Booker pushed and Elizabeth gave a huff of her shoulders and sighed as she walked into the sitting room, Booker following, his eyes never leaving her as she sat on the couch and held her head in her hands as she began to sob. He rounded the chairs and sat directly next to her placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and all at once she leaned into him.
"Hey, hey, what's all this about?" Booker spoke softly as Elizabeth looked up from her hands as tears streaked down her perfect cheeks.
"She…she…she didn't even want me. But of course she wouldn't after all I'm not even hers!" She cried out once more as she sunk her head back into her hands. Booker reared back slightly and tried to make sense of her words.
"Slow down now, what do you mean? Who didn't want you? Whose aren't…um…you?" He finished awkwardly.
"My mother…no…Lady Comstock!" She finished bitterly as she stood and opened the diary once more and shifted through the pages until she found what she was looking for and began to read. "My husband claims the child was created from whole cloth by divine will. I am a believer but am not a fool. His…b-bastard s-shall not be r-raised under this r-roof." She finished, barely able to keep her composure before falling back into the couch once more.
"First I learn that it was my father, the Father Comstock, who kept me locked away as far back as I can remember! Then I learn he wants me to lead the whole city and usher in a new era of God's glory! And now, I come to find out that the woman who I'd briefly come to know as my dearest mother, not only wasn't my mother but held me in complete disdain and locked me up in that accursed tower to start with!" Elizabeth clutched the sides of her head as she rocked back in forth trying to digest all of these blows as they come. Booker figured it was only a matter of time before she cracked and he had a feeling he was seeing the end result.
"Why me? What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this? I just wanted a normal life! I just wanted a normal family! I just...I just...wanted to be loved for once, to know that I was wanted." She cried out and curled into a ball on the couch and sobbed emphatically, letting loose the pressure and sorrow of the past few days as it all came flooding out.
"Elizabeth...hey, it's...I mean...ah damn it." Booker muttered as he made several false starts in an attempt to comfort the sobbing girl. "Elizabeth, hey you're an amazing girl, I don't know why Lady Comstock felt that way, but just because you did doesn't mean you deserved it or did anything wrong. For all we know she was just as dirty as Comstock!" Booker tried but Elizabeth continued to sob unabated by his words.
Booker nearly gave up when he spotted the guitar once more. He got an idea, something that his Uncle had tried with him and his siblings long ago, far back into the earliest days of his childhood just following the loss of his own father. Back then he'd held himself in the deepest pits of despair, but the older man would have nothing of it and instead letting the younger DeWitt wallow in self pitty he would pull out his own guitar and sing a bevy of songs until the young Booker cracked a smile and would do the same for the others. He looked between Elizabeth and the instrument and made his decision. He began to tune the fine guitar, though it didn't need much in the way of adjustment as the previous owner had kept it in fine order. He strummed his fingers across a few of the strings and began playing one of his early childhood favorites, something that always brought a smile to his face, even thought it was meant to be played on a very specific time of year.
"Good King Wenceslas Looked out, on the Feast of Stephen, when the snow lay round about, clear and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night, tho' the frost was cruel, when a poor man came in sight, gath'ring winter's fuel."
Bookers deep melodic voice ceased as he played on, his eyes shut as memories of him, his mother, siblings, and Uncle dancing and cheering around a fire on a cold winter night flooded him with warmth. He hadn't noticed that Elizabeth rose her head from the couch and looked on at her companion with a look of surprise.
"Hither, page, and stand by me, if though knowest telling, yonder peasant who is where and what his dwelling." Booker was about to continue when a soft voice began from other side of the couch.
"Sire he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain; Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes' fountain." Elizabeth finished softly, her voice only marred by the soft sobs that she quickly reined in. Booker smiled as he stopped playing and gave shared the same look of astonishment that she wore.
"I didn't know you could play Guitar, much less sing with such a beautiful voice Booker." Elizabeth wiped her eyes with her cuffs as she gave a chuckle at the sight of the light scarlet hue on Booker's cheeks. "I'd say you definitely missed your calling, you could make a great career for yourself.
"Hm, come one, come all, and see the singing gunslinger?" Booker mused and laughed. "I rather doubt that'd play well for my sensibilities." He judged himself and Elizabeth lightly frowned.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, I could easily see you finding success. Thought one thing does have me baffled." Elizabeth crooked her jaw in thought.
"Oh? What's that?" He asked.
"Good King Wenceslas is a Christmas carol, and we're in the early weeks of July." Elizabeth retorted and Booker made an 'ah' motion.
"It was my favorite growing up as a young lad. When I lost my dad and Uncle came to live with us, things were hard in the beginning. I would sulk and withdraw from everyone, mean, it was hard to go through that. But my Uncle wouldn't let up, he refused to see us down and would sing us songs until we'd all but forgotten what made us sad." Booker paused with a wistful grin. "I figured with everything you've been through today, you could use a good song." He responded back with a wink and Elizabeth blushed with a smile.
"Well I don't know if a song will make me get over it all in a day, but it certainly helps." She laughed and nodded. "Say, Booker, would you mind playing something else for me?" She asked somewhat timidly, afraid of his response.
"Oh, uh, sure, if I know it, I can probably play it." Booker shocked at her request answered honestly, he wasn't about to tell her yes only to disappoint.
"My favorite hymn, it called…it's called, 'Will The Circle Be Unbroken', do you know how that goes?" Elizabeth asked nervously and Booker furrowed his brow as he made a few minor adjustments as he played and strummed his fingers along the chords to get the proper tune.
"I-I think I've heard that one before, here give me a second. I think it goes something like this, by all means stop me if I'm wrong." He offered with the utmost sincerity and began to play.
"There are loved ones, in the glory whose dear forms you often miss. When you close your earthly, will you join them in your bliss."
Booker began with the softest tone Elizabeth had ever heard. The sheer emotion and power of his voice nearly brought her to tears and she didn't dare interrupt as he continued.
"Will the circle, be unbroken By and by, by and by? Is a better home awaiting in the sky, in the sky?"
Booker finished singing and was about to ask if it was the proper song when Elizabeth began her own melodic tone and he rapid picked the song back up to keep up.
"In the Joyous, days of childhood, oft they told of wondrous love, Pointed to the dying savior; Now they dwell with Him above.
Elizabeth sang out with more soul than Booker had ever heard in any church choir or anywhere else as a matter of fact. Even the heavenly singing when he first stepped foot on Columbia's shores paled in comparison to the sanctity of her voice. Together they sang the chorus.
"Will the circle, be unbroken, By and by, by and by. Is a better home awaiting, in the sky, in the sky?"
Elizabeth wiped another tear from her eyes and huffed with a smile on her face as she looked to the detective who himself had done the same. Booker blushed as he couldn't outright interpret Elizabeth's emotions so he couldn't tell if he made matters better or worse. He watched as she stood and looked over at the clock and then approached him and leaned in forward and pulled the man into a heartfelt hug and whispered.
"Thank you, Booker." She lightly kissed his cheek and looked back. "For caring enough to make me feel better. Nobody in my entire life has ever done something so sweet." She clarified truthfully and stood back up as the baffled detective gaped like a fish.
"It's eight thirty, we have some time to get washed up before the séance this evening. I'm going to take advantage and I suggest you do the same." She remarked playfully and made for the exit as hung a left into the bedroom, hoping to locate a nearby washroom while Booker sat perfectly still, unsure how exactly to handle what just transpired.
"I-I think I'm in trouble." He muttered as he brought an errant hand to brush the spot on his cheek where her rose-pedal soft lips had collided with his abrasive cheek.
Endnote: A slight tardiness on my part but this was a long one and took a lot of editing and a lot of effort. I really do hope you all like it. I'm hoping to have a small Christmas one-shot out by tomorrow evenings, so keep an eye out for that but anyway thank you all for reading. I hope you like this gift from me to you.
Thank you all for your reviews as well! They really do help!
Respectfully,
TheLifeLongEditor.