The Constants and Variables Of Infinity

A Bioshock Infinite Fan Fiction

By TheLifeLongEditor

A/N: Hello and welcome to my newest project, The Constants and Variables of Infinity, my own take on the Bioshock Infinite storyline as well as the relationships shared by Booker, Elizabeth, Comstock, Fitzroy, and many of the other interesting and exciting characters in the story. For starters family will not relate Booker and Elizabeth, but there is something larger than them bringing them together and what that is…remains to be seen. I really hope you all enjoy this and I am going to try to write this regularly or at least semi-regularly as I go through another play through of the game.

Additionally this is going to be a different take on the Bioshock Infinite Universe, more specifically a somewhat radically departed universe but not so much that it's unrecognizable. As the title sort of alludes to, this story takes several constants and shifts them into variables. I don't want to give away too much, but I hope that you all enjoy my particular take on the story.

In any event I don't own Bioshock Infinite or its characters, they belong to Ken Levine and the now defunct Irrational Games…I'm just having fun with them right now.

There was an irresistible compulsion driving Booker Dewitt press onward through the vast emptiness and depths of the ocean before him. He couldn't recall why he was here or even what he was looking for, all he knew was that deep within his brain was a compelling impulse forcing him forward. As veteran continued his journey, swimming through kelp fields and around rocks, Booker took note that he must finally be near his destination. A giant statue of immense proportions depicting a deep sea diver with what appeared to be a massive drill suddenly appeared from the otherwise blinding darkness of the abysmal depths.

Giving pause to observe the strange statue, Booker turned his attention forward and surmounted a rocky hill and upon reaching the top he found what he knew to be his prize. There, illuminated by an unseen light source, was a massive and impossible city. Located God knows where, powered by God only knew what, Booker attempted make way toward the seemingly massive superstructure when a large creature of the deep rushed past him with a flurry of movement and agility.

Taken aback by the presence of another creature, all at once Booker s realized the city wasn't so far away, the creature of the deep wasn't some unknown behemoth of the abyss, and his surroundings weren't exactly natural. With a sudden flash of revealing light, Booker was treated the sight of a model city complete with a placard which read:

1893 Chicago World's Fair

Before booker could even begin to comprehend what he was seeing, a foreign and powerful force latched down and impressed upon the back of his head. Booker no longer felt at ease but instead felt as if her were suffocating and desperately attempted to escape this most recent predicament. Driven by pure fight-or-flight instinct, Booker resisted with all of his might and wrenched himself free of whatever malevolent force that sought to bring a watery end to his already miserable existence.

Releasing himself from his aquatic bondage, Booker took note of the surface which he was fiercely gripping, the great oceanic explorative voyage he had thought he was undertaking had all been containing within a simple fish tank. Before he could further establish any bearing, Booker was jerked away from the fish tank whereupon he rolled around rather haphazardly across the floor, coughing and sputtering up an unhealthy mixture of water and oxygen as he attempted to regain control of his faculties.

Taking several deep breaths and looking about the room, Booker's eyes spied the glowing aquatic container, a lone source of light in an otherwise dark and void room in attempt to ascertain just where exactly he happened to be. Swiftly returning his attention before him, Booker could only watch in horror as the statuette of the deep sea diver, once safely contained within the confines of the tank, was harshly crushed beneath a large metallic boot adorned with rivets and bolts.

The sounds of whirling gears and pumping machinery gave Booker a sense of dread as he allowed his gaze to trail upward where in he spotted an incredible large metallic hand flexing equally impressive metallic fingers. Whatever this creature was, it was not of God's natural creation that much Booker had been certain. Before he could say or do anything, the creature lunged its massive hand forward and picked Booker up by his head, covering partially covering his mouth in the process. Booker could do nothing but pull and gnash at the steely appendage as he felt himself yanked up from a completely prone position to being completely off his feet. Directed away from the room's only stable light source, Booker's eyes were treated to the unnatural glow of what appeared to be a glass container housing a very large heart with wires and tubing running throughout its musculature.

Booker felt the creature turn him and rear its arm back and it was then that Booker noticed the set of amber stained glass windows before him. A wave of dread over took the frightened man as he had a distinct feeling that he knew what was coming next. In a matter of seconds, the creature tossed Booker across the expansive room and through the ornately decorated glass windows. Having barely any time to put his hands up, Booker cleared through the glassy portal as if it were made of rice paper. Briefly blinded by the intense light of what Booker could only hazard a guess was the sun, his sight quickly became clear and feelings of fear quickly mingled with thoughts of wonder and confusion at the sight that lay before him. He was not in New York City, nor was he twenty thousand leagues beneath the sea as he had originally come to discover, but he was instead amidst some of the highest towers amidst a city floating high above the clouds.

Three abnormally elaborate spires bore three distinct poles hoisting a strange version of the star spangled banner that DeWitt had grown accustomed to serving and fighting for throughout his young life. Booker realized that time had almost seemed to stand still as he took in all this mysterious and impossible city had to offer, but such a moment vanished just as soon as it left and Booker began to plunge downward with increasing speed toward his inevitable doom.

Looking down rather nervously he spotted a zeppelin of unknown make and origin; sure there were better ways to break a fall, but Booker wasn't about to be picky especially when the alternative was falling thousands of feet to his death. With a sudden and profound thump, Booker's body made contact with the the lighter-than-air craft and no sooner did he land did the veteran begin to tumble and roll off its springy surface. Scrambling to grab hold of something...anything...to stay his demise, Booker hooted in success as his desperate hands found a loose sheath of the clothe like covering of the flying machine. Though his joy quickly turned to anxiety as the stretchy material began to tear away. With each inch given, Booker closed his eyes and said his prayers as he just knew this time was assuredly the end. It wasn't until he was jerked to a sudden halt that he opened and saw that the material, for the time being, had resisted tearing any further and was, in fact, supporting his weight.

Booker turned his attention away from his newfound salvation and gave closer note to his abnormal surroudings, more specifically the strange advertisements on three of the monumental towers that floated before him. The furthest billboard from him read something to the effect of The First Lady with an image of an attractive yet modest woman buttressed by a billowing red, white, and blue flag behind her. Furrowing his brow, Booker noted the second large advert adorning a hotel advertised a call to arms reading, "Columbia Wants You!" That name, Columbia, it definitely rang a bell somewhere in the Pinkerton's mind but in his present state he was having trouble recollecting why the name brought up such feelings of nostalgia. Moving his attention the third large advert which gave Booker cause for concern read: "It Is Our Holy Duty To Protect Them From the Foreign Hordes and The Traitorous Anarchists" The display depicted young children in formal wear waving to an unseen third party whilst firmly gripping an modified American Flag.

Shaking his head from the strange propaganda, Booker once more turned to see what else this foreign metropolis of the sky had to offer and was instantly greeted to a large propaganda piece depicting a woman adorned with a star-spangled bodice and a flowing red and white striped skirt with a smiling infant snuggled safely at her bosom whilst holding her left hand out, rejecting a malnourished newborn without so much of a thought. Bold letters above this strange image read, "Burden NOT Columbia with your CHAFF!"

Booker didn't have too much time to consider the strange and disparaging imagery for his ears suddenly perked up to a very familiar tune, a tune that quickly became clear to the former soldier as being a popular diddy in New York over the past few years: Y

"...You're a grand old flag
You're a high-flying flag
And forever in peace may you wave..."

Booker briefly nodded his head to refocus wherein he spotted a well-to-do man in the midst of mock conducting the gramophone playing the popular song, at that moment Booker had found something he'd lacked throughout this entire ordeal, hope. Perhaps this man would kindly assist Booker off this flying machine as well as determining just what the hell he was doing here and how he could get back home.

Just as DeWitt mustered up the strength to cry out to the man, a blaring horn cut through the air with a deafening bombast of sound. Whipping his head around rather abruptly to locate the source, Booker realized that the the dirigible he had been hanging from was on a direct course for some type of structure up ahead, whatever it was Booker couldn't help but feel awed at its sheer size. It was supported platform of balloons and as Booker's eyes traveled up he found he could clearly focus on the details of the structure and determined it to be a massive mansion. The horn sounded once more and the flotation devices, the likes of which Booker had never seen before, ignited with brilliant fire and propelled the superstructure up and away, out of sight and out of Booker's immediate concern.

Unfortunately while Booker DeWitt had been utterly enthralled by the magnificent marvel that was this great feat of human achievement, he had failed to fully appreciate the gravity of his situation. The sound of rapidly tearing cloth filled his ears and Booker shifted his eyes upward noting the cloth which, up until this point, had been supporting his full weight had torn further until it finally failed completely sending the poor man once again plunging to his death...at least Booker thought right up until his fall was immediately cut short by landing in a floating bundle of ruby red and thornless roses. Booker was astounded to say the least, he felt lighter than air and a sensation of being enveloped by a lover. Curiously he began to hear the softest whispers from the most angelic voice assure him as he felt a slight pull toward a structure to his immediate left.

"It's alright"

"You're safe."

"I won't let you fall, my love."

"Just a little closer…"

Still a little dazed and disoriented from the sudden stop, Booker looked around to find the source of the roses and found the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes upon reaching out to him, arms stretched out as if controlling the very air surrounding both Booker and the roses, drawing him nearer with each passing second. As he moved closer, Booker was able to note the brilliant blue bolero this incredible woman wore, perfectly complimenting a golden corset that accentuated the woman's figure to the highest degree. But it was her blue eyes and gorgeous smile that Booker was drawn to, like a moth to the flame he couldn't help but stare deep into her blue pools and lose himself in their shimmering depths.

Booker reached out to touch this goddess of a woman and her smile widened as their hands almost met; alas it was not meant to be, for merely inches apart Booker noticed that same large mechanical hand from his earlier ordeal emerge from the shadows behind the beautiful maiden and ensnare her lithe waist in a vice like grip. Looking down at the hand gripping her tightly, the woman gasped in surprise before returning Booker's stare. All she could do was scream as the unseen figure dragged her way for God only knew what purpose. As the windows shut and the girl vanished, so too did whatever gravity she had sustained as well. In that instant Bookers fall continued and as he looked down, the broken man knew he was on a collision course with a propeller. Bringing his hands to bear before his eyes was the only thing he could do before meeting certain death…and then…BANG

Pinkerton National Detective Agency,

Main Office, New York Branch

July 4th, 1912

Booker awoke with a start, having slumped over his desk after a very long job. Carefully the young detective lifted his head and found he was surrounded by various bottles of empty whiskey. His eyes still hazy from the activities of the night before, the details of his arrival and the events that occured prior slowly seeped into his booze addled mind. Looking about the room, Booker quickly familiarized himself with his surroundings; this was his office. Against most odds, he had managed to return to his office to write up a full report for his superiors as he had finally secured an arrest of that notorious Fenton fellow that all of the local big whigs seemed to fear. Booker had been assigned to the case partially because he was available and partially because his bosses knew he was among their best. Looking across his desk he noticed an opened envelope and a letter laying just above where he had laid his head down, and iinstantly he remembered everything; why he had really come back to the office, what the contents of the letter were, and more importantly, why he had drank more than three men's worth of whiskey last night.

Before Booker could get too comfortable, three loud wraps came upon his office door.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

"DeWitt, I've been knocking here for twenty minutes, so if you don't open up I'm breakin' the door down and then its your ass on the line!" A very familiar voice gruffly declared from the other side of the marked glass. Looking ahead Booker couldn't help but smirk at the lettering on the door, Booker DeWitt – Pinkerton National Detective Agency – Investigator.

"Alright Jonas, alright, just give me a minute and I'll get the damn door open." Booker half responded as he slowly got up and stretched out, hours of sleeping at his desk hadn't done him any favors, not especially considering the copious volumes of alcohol he had imbibed the night prior. Making his way across the office, he unlocked the door and opened the portal for his comrade-in-arms and sometimes-friend to step through.

"DeWitt, you could sleep though an explodin' bomb factory, ya' know that?!" The taller man jibed as he stepped through and shut the door behind him. Jonas was roughly six foot and four inches tall with very broad shoulders a bright red bushy beard. Clean shaven on the top, Jonas was a formidable threat to anyone who had dared come across his path and impede his progress, but he had never scared Booker DeWitt.

"Yeah, Yeah, Jonas I've had a pretty rough time of it, could you lay off a little." Booker shot back rubbing the back of his head as he returned back to sitting behind his desk, casually gesturing for his colleague to take one of the vacant chairs sitting before the desk.

"Booker, I'm not hear to break your balls, but you gotta listen. I can understand gambling, it's fun and sometimes you make a little money…" Jonas paused and picked up a bottle of whiskey littering the younger man's desk. "But Jesus, DeWitt…this shit ain't nothing but trouble. You're too young to start fallin' in the bottle."

Booker merely shrugged with a sigh.

"I mean it DeWitt, you need to quit while your ahead or you can kiss your job and everything that might mean something to ya' goodbye! Take it from someone who knows first hand, after the war I damn near started and if it weren't for my wife…well...needless to say I was on a one way ticket to hell. Is that what you want? What would your mo…" Booker slamed his fist down upon the desk, jostling the bottles and various supplies littering the wooden landscape, halting whatever line of thinking Jonas had been following up to that point.

"Listen Jonas, I told you I've had a pretty rough go of it as of late and why don't we leave it at that? 'kay? Now if all you wanted to do was barge in, piss up a storm, and give me a lecture then consider your mission accomplished." Booker complained as he rubbed his head, not quite sure if it were the implications of Jonas' words or the hangover that was slowly driving needles into his brain.

"Well Mr. Smartass, I came because there's some girl here to see you and, for reasons unknown to me, won't see anyone else…not that anyone else is here, you're among a very special group of workaholics here that would still be working on Independence Day." Jonas replied smugly with crossed arms. Booker perked up at his friends' revelation, someone looking specifically for him was certainly an oddity especially seeing as to most people one Pinkerton was no different from the other.

"Did she say what she wanted?" Booker asked intrigued by the prospect of another well paying job.

"Nope, all she would say was that she needed to see Booker DeWitt, and that it was of the utmost importance that she speak with you as soon as possible." The taller man emphasized with slight sarcasm as he relayed the information to his friend.

"Well…shit…and she's here now?" Booker asked, rubbing the back of his neck and taking full inventor of his office's current state of affairs. Jonas merely nodded with wide eyes and a full grin.

"All right, ALL RIGHT, send her in, I'll toss these bottles real quick." Booker caved as he stood up and grabbed the nearby waste basked and began tossing the empty bottles inside. Jonas stood to his full height, clapped his hands together, and told Booker to straighten himself out and promptly left to retrieve the mysterious girl In question.

Within moments, Booker heard the telltale sounds of a woman approaching his office door. The sound of heels clicking grew louder and louder and sooner Booker could see the familiar feminine shadow beyond the glass of his door accompanied by Jonas's much larger frame. Jonas made some polite gesture to which the lady returned before the younger Pinkerton saw the knob to his door begin to turn.

"…Here you go, miss." Jonas offered politely.

"Thank you kindly for your help, Mr. Rutherford, it was most appreciated." The woman responded before closing the door behind her.

This woman was an oddity to say the least, she looked to be anywhere between her mid-twenties and early-thirties. This woman was very petite as far as the fairer sex went, and was very trim overall. Booker surmised the lady was around five-foot-five maybe even five-foot-six, thought she was undoubtedly wearing heels so his estimation might have been off by an inch or two. Her hair was up in a Gibson style, kept in check beneath a rather large and haughty wide-brimmed black hat. This mysterious woman further adorned herself with a pale blue chiffon tiered dress with a wrap around her narrow waist, which served to accentuate her female features without sacrificing modesty.

Booker stood instantly upon her entrance into his office, an automatic response after years of instruction by his mother, the woman had been hellbent on educating Booker on the finer points of chivalry and courtesy. Of course Booker was certain it was an attempt to make him a respectable bachelor in the days where he would start looking for a good wife.

"Ma'am, would you like to take a seat? Perhaps I could fetch you a glass of water for your trouble? I do apologize for keeping you waiting I was…erh…preoccupied" Booker finished rather sheepishly.

"I will gladly take a seat Mr. DeWitt, though I will decline that water at this time as Mr. Rutherford saw to my needs while I waited for you to finish your business." The woman responded with an unnerving smile as she glided across the room, radiating pure elegance poise with each delicate step. Booker paused, something about this woman set him on edge but he couldn't put his finger on it. Booker chalked it up to the unnerving dream he'd just experienced and tried to shrug it off.

"Well then Miss…uh….why don't we start with your name?" Booker inquired, he needed to get a handle on this situation; he wasn't the type of guy who handed over control easily.

"My name isn't important Mr. DeWitt." The woman began with an unsettling laugh. "What matters most is what you can do for me…and what I can do for you."

"Look lady, I don't know what you think you know about me, but if this is about my rate I can only tell you I follow the standard Pinkerton…" Booker stopped when he noticed the woman before him shook her head another toe curling laugh. Booker didn't like any of this, he didn't like it one bit.

"Oh I know you quite well Booker James DeWitt…" locking eyes with the Pinkerton, the woman pressed on. "Born April 19th, 1884 to Jonathan B. DeWitt and Ruth C. DeWitt, the middle of three children."

"O-Okay…look…any of that could be found in my service..." Booker tried to interrupt, but the lady continued unabated.

"Your eldest brother Jonathan DeWitt Jr. passed away two weeks ago from apparent overdose…you would have had enough money to help him but you had other obligations at home so you gambled and took out loans in attempt to get him cleaned up and on the right track…and unfortunately it was all for naught and now here we are, Mr. DeWitt." She finished with a saucy grin, as if watching Booker squirm gave her a sick sense of superiority and satisfaction.

"H-How the fuck do you know all of this?" Booker tried his best to maintain composure but everything she had laid out, his brother, that was personal information, nobody had known about his brother and he had made damn sure to keep it that way. Out of all things, Booker was a private man, he didn't like to air out his laundry in a manner of speaking and he certainly didn't go babbling around town like some school boy about every bit of drama in his life.

"I know what you're thinking Mr. DeWitt…I know everything about you. I know about your time in the marines, I know about your tour in the Chinese campaign, in Peiking, I know what you allowed to happen under your watch, I know about the people you slaughtered…" she stopped to see Booker's eyes get wider and wider, she knew she had him.

"I even know about A.D…" Booker stood abruptly, his chair flew into the wall behind him with a dull thud. Wrapping his scared right hand in his left, Booker was careful not let his eyes wander away from this creature masquerading as a woman. "Yes that's right, I know all about your sordid past and your pitiful attempts at redemption." Booker's heart rate sored at this point, here he was just waking up from an all night binder and now this woman, whom he had no prior acquaintance, basically came in and spoke as if she had lived his life right next to him.

"Relax Mr. DeWitt, I'm not hear to blackmail you, though it wouldn't be too terribly difficult. No, I have a job for you, if you would like to hear it?" She offered, pulling a manila envelope seemingly out of thin air and set it down gently upon his desk. Booker cautiously surveyed the scene before him and slowly recovered his chair and returned to a seated position behind his desk.

"Well you could refuse…but then, what would happen to those you hold dear, hm? We both know you have certain obligations that have required increasingly higher sums of money, and then there are your creditors, I'm sure they would just love to find out where you sleep at night." She clicked her tongue at the last sentiment as she gave his office a full once over, making note of several commendations and awards for service he had adorning his walls before returning her intense gaze upon his green eyes.

"You see there's always a choice, but I suppose you could say it's all a matter making the right decision." She finished politely. Booker scoffed and opened the envelop to find a folder folder with no labels of any kind. Booker slowly opened the folder and found set of grainy black-and-white photographs of a young girl in various states of being, all of which involved her turned mostly away from the camera. Additionally booker noted a piece of paper with several numbers letters but hadn't concerned himself with that as of yet, at this moment all that concerned him was this vaguely familiar girl.

"What do you want with her?" Booker asked with furrowed brow, examining the young woman in the photographs. That feeling of knowing and belonging nagged him at his core, but Booker couldn't place where he would have seen such a beautiful young girl. He was certain he would have remembered running into a beauty like her.

"Simple Mr. DeWitt, Bring ME the girl and I'll wipe away your debts…spiritually and financially." The mysterious woman blithely declared while she looked upon her nails in a manner similar to a person making a decision as to what appetizer they would order a restaurant.a

"Spiritually? Look, you might be powerful and connected and all that, but I don't think even you can absolve me for my sins." Booker shot back darkly.

"The road to hell is paved with good intention, you've just about paved the whole city at this rate and you're only twenty-eight. You need to realize that this is your last chance to truly redeem yourself for what you've done." At this Booker, looked at the photographs once more and a separate piece of parchment containing coordinates for reaching the girl as well as delivery.

With a heavy sigh, Booker weighed his options his options carefully, what little of them he had at any rate. One the one hand he could tell this woman to go pound sand really figure out just how much power and influence she really wielded the hard way. Or he could take this deal with the devil in some vain hope of redemption. All he knew was that there were people who depended on him and there were people who were gunning for him, and he needed to take care of both in their own way. Booker rubbed his face in defeat and with a heavy sigh nodded in acceptance.

"Alright…alright, you got a deal…I'll get your girl for you."

"Wonderful, I'm so glad you see things from my perspective, Mr. DeWitt." She gingerly extended her gloved hand for a shake to seal the deal and as Booker clasped hers felt a cold chill overcome his entirety, as if hell itself had frozen over.

Once the woman departed his office, Booker took a huge sigh of relief and retrieved a cigarette from his breast pocket. Lighting up the tobacco and nicotine infusion, the Pinkerton agent took in a deep breath and exhaled with a powerful sigh.

"Just what the hell have I signed up for?" He thought to himself as he looked over the photos again. Poor girl, she looked to be twenty maybe twenty-one at most. Christ, she was just a kid, hell he was still a kid in most people's eyes. As far as Booker was concerned this world was one screwed up place that ate kids up and spewed them out broken and hollowed out men and women. After a few more puffs, Booker put out his cigarette and picked up his dial line and dialed the office secretary.

"Hey Denise…yeah it's Booker…yeah, swell. Listen I need to place a call for me…yeah Sarah again…thanks." Booker listened to the dial tones and waited for a very unpleasant phone call to begin.

End Note: Well there's the first chapter down. I really again hope you all liked it. I wanted to reveal some information about this changed Booker to give a taste of the differences while attempting to keep as close to character as possible. Trust me as we go into the story more, we're going to learn a lot about our characters.

It might be a little bit between now and the next chapter, but no worries I have no intentions of letting this story sit idle. Reviews are always welcomed and greatly appreciated and I check my private messages regularly if you have any special advice or feedback.

Until next time this is….TheLifeLongEditor,

Signing off!