Sitting quietly, Abigail watches as the woman beside her works to mend Vivian's wound. Among her belongings, Mary's mother had brought proper bandages and gauze, nearly the entire extent of her small supply now wrapped around Vivian's slashed shoulder. A wound inflicted by the same sword now resting at her side, on the cobblestone street. The rest of the medical supplies had been used to bandage her shoulder and cheek wounds, and Abigail absentmindedly paws at the bandages on her face.
She'd fired both revolvers over and over into the Zealot, and watching him fall had left her feeling satisfied. But once Vivian was resting easier, Abigail realized she's completely out of ammo; she hadn't brought more than what was in her guns, and Vivian looks to have used her own reserves well before she'd arrived. Effectively defenseless, Abigail had searched the weapons left behind by the Vox squad only to find they were all empty or nearly so.
"At least this doesn't have that problem…" Glancing at the longsword beside her, Abigail sighs quietly; the blade's a little too long and a little too heavy, but she can swing it around well enough. The sheath now hangs from her belt, slapping against her leg whenever she moves.
"There, that should do for now…" The woman wipes her brow with the back of her hand, her fingers bloody from her work, "but she'll need proper care soon. Someone to stitch her up, disinfect the wound if need be… whiskey would do, if we had some…"
"Thank you…" Looking down at her unconscious friend, Abigail allows herself a small smile; while her expression still looks pained, Vivian looks much more at ease now. "You're goin' ta' make it, Viv…" Rising slowly, her legs aching from kneeling for so long, Abigail steps away as she stretches, "I'll bring the barge low, can ya' manage her?"
Her companion nods, and Abigail makes for the cargo barge after sheathing the sword, the oversized ship still hovering at street level. If it was only her that needs the barge, Abigail needn't move it at all, but she doubts the children or their mother could make this jump, much less with Vivian in tow.
But as she steps out into the open, Abigail catches movement out of the corner of her eye. Whipping about, she reaches for her Hand Cannon on instinct as she affixes her gaze on the source of her surprise, and Abigail grits her teeth in frustration; she'd completely forgotten she's out of ammo. But she doesn't see Vox or Founder soldiers, but a tall woman standing quietly as she looks upon Abigail.
The woman's long, raven black hair flutters gently in the breeze, looking like a wave of midnight. She'd come from the direction of the Bank of the Prophet, and now stares back at Abigail from behind black-lensed glasses.
"What're ya' doin' out here? It's not safe, love!" Turning away from the barge, Abigail looks the woman up and down as she moves towards her. The stranger wears a long beige coat of some kind, ankle length and heavy enough to conceal a weapon easily, but Abigail doubts the newcomer's a Founder, much less with the Vox Populi. The stranger also carries a heavy looking, metal sided trunk in her left hand, seemingly at ease with the bulk and apparent weight.
"C'mon," Abigail holds up her hands peacefully, hoping the woman doesn't take her for a threat, "I'm takin' a family ta' safety, you're more than wel-woah!"
A flash of silver, and Abigail finds she's flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her, staring up at the sky in shock. Her mind barely registers pain in her right wrist, where a vice-like grip had closed around it. The woman sneers down at her, "Keep those filthy hands off your betters, tramp."
She barely hears the woman, Abigail still trying to make sense of what happened; the moment she'd gotten into arm's reach, the woman's fingers were around her wrist, and then she was flipping head over heels onto her back. The woman moved with impossible speed, and the wispy streak of silver light she'd seen trail her attacker's arm only added to Abigail's confusion. She'd only seen the light for a split second; could her eyes be playing a trick on her?
The mysterious woman steps away, moving down the street towards Market District. But as the raven-haired woman passes, Abigail spots something strange, something that causes the memories to stir like crazy; a bronze-colored circular emblem on the side of the gray metal of the trunk, of a lighthouse rising out of the sea with the sun on the horizon behind it.
She pushes herself to sit upright once the woman's stepped well away, wracking her mind over what that symbol meant. "Don't sound like she's from Columbia…" Climbing to her feet, Abigail cautiously watches the woman disappear around the corner, a gasp sounding from beyond. From Mary and Peter's mother no doubt, probably surprised by the stranger. "Whoever that is…" Abigail mutters quietly to herself as a gust yanks her braid from her shoulder, the coils of hair dancing in the wind, "best steer clear."
Trudging back up the street to where she'd left the family and barge, Abigail stops to check on the mother, she a little startled but otherwise alright. "Good…" Taking one last look at the dark-haired woman disappearing down the street into Market District proper, Abigail steps back towards the waiting barge.
"Here goes…" Abigail breaks out into a run as she approaches the barge, leaping with all her might the second her foot hits the edge.
Though her legs no longer ache, her body still protests as she lands on the deck, Abigail feeling weary and sore. "This day's just getting' better an' better…" Muttering beneath her breath, Abigail staggers to the cabin's open door, rubbing her sore wrist all the while, "Alright, let's bring ya' down a little…" The barge sluggishly obeys, Abigail directing the beast of a vessel low and slightly closer to the street. A 'clunk' sounds, and Abigail leans the busted windshield only to see the metal platform pushing up against the cabin's roof.
"Hope another street doesn't come an' crush us…" Staring at the metal platform's docking 'teeth', Abigail shakes her head as she imagines another of Columbia's floating districts squashing the cargo barge between it and Emporia.
"We're ready, Miss Abigail!" Mary appears overhead, atop the metal docking plate, her bag in hand and her mother and brother appearing a moment later. Vivian's draped over the mother's left shoulder, her own left arm now wrapped up in a makeshift sling and pressed tightly against her chest.
Mary steps down carefully onto the barge's cabin, Abigail reaching up for her and bringing the little girl down. Peter follows suit, his bag clinking on his back as he hops down. "Well, the easy part's done." Abigail groans quietly as she turns her gaze up to the children's mother, the woman stepping off the ledge tentatively.
"Careful…" She mutters the word beneath her breath as the mother and Vivian land solidly on the cabin's roof, a weak moan coming from Abigail's friend, almost as if in agreement. But the mother pays neither of the Vox women any mind, entirely focused on inching closer to the edge of the roof. Soon, she stands above Abigail, Mary and Peter, her expression one of worry as she looks down.
"Okay… here she comes..." Moving the injured Vox as gently as she can, Mary's mother kneels and brings Vivian down into a sitting position on the edge of the cabin roof.
"Alright, I got her legs…" Gripping Vivian's legs, Abigail starts pulling her friend down while the mother holds Vivian's right arm, still kneeling next to the injured woman and trying to guide her descent to the best of her ability. "So far so good…" Abigail breathes the words as she moves her grip up to Vivian's waist.
Finally, Abigail's got her arms around Vivian's midsection, the mother releasing her grip on the arm and letting Vivian drop over Abigail's shoulder. Another moan of protest sounds, and Abigail carefully lowers Vivian to the deck.
"Alright," heaving a sigh, Abigail picks herself up after checking Vivian's bandages, "your turn." Bringing the mother down is far easier, and not a few moments later, Abigail's stepping back into the cabin while the other woman embraces her children.
"Goodbye, Emporia." With everyone aboard and Vivian resting comfortably in front of the cabin, Abigail turns the barge away from the docking port. While the cargo barge is still sluggish, soon they're leaving Emporia, and all the death and insanity within, behind them.
"Oh, holy hell…" Abigail slumps over the controls, a sudden wave of exhaustion sweeping over her, "I… no, no… WE did it. I can barely believe we did it!" Pushing herself up from the steering wheel, she practically cheers as the fatigue is replaced by jubilation; they'd escaped, something she could scarcely have hoped was possible not an hour ago. A wide, goofy grin crosses face, and Abigail turns her thoughts to the family; they'd be safe, at least for now.
"You look pleased, Miss Abigail." The mother rises and turns towards her as Mary and Peter watch the clouds together, brother and sister playing some sort of word game, "Have you decided where you're taking us? To Arboria, perhaps?"
"No… Arboria's probably not a good place ta' drop the three of ya'…" Abigail frowns; Arboria's the 'nature' area of Columbia, mostly farmland where much of the floating city's produce comes from, though some of the islands are forested. While not a high priority for the Vox Populi now, Abigail's certain they'll attack there soon enough, once the city's firmly under control. Not to mention that most of the 'farmers' there are like the workers at Fink's; poor immigrants or outright prisoners, the latter kept under the watchful eye of soldiers. "Don't know, exactly…"
"How about… umm…" the mother steps up to Abigail, her hands on the sill of the empty window, "you take us to New Eden Square? Last I heard, the police were evacuating everyone to there."
"New Eden Square, huh…?" Abigail brings her gloved right hand to rub her chin; the Square is very close to the Church of Comstock and Raffle Square, as well as not too far from the headquarters of the Zealots. All are places the Vox Populi despise, but as far as Abigail knows, they aren't being targeted. Yet. "Alright. The Square it is, then." It might be dangerous for her, but Abigail knew there'd be danger the moment she'd resolved to protect this woman and her children. "And… just call me Abigail, alright?"
"Alright…" the woman looks Abigail in the eye, "t-then you can call me Patricia… Abigail."
A smile blossoms across Abigail's face, and she nods, "Of course, Patricia."
"Abigail?"
Mary's voice draws both her mother's and Abigail's gaze, the little girl climbing to her feet and walking over to them, stopping right beside Vivian. "What is it, Mary?" Abigail leans out the cabin, grinning at the girl.
"We're safe now, right?" Abigail nods, raising an eyebrow as Mary looks down, the little girl shifting her weight from foot to foot idly before speaking again, "Okay… you said we could sing again after we were… 'well shut of this place'?"
The young redhead laughs out loud as Mary slowly repeats what she'd said back in the house, "Sure did, ya' want ta' sing a little, Mary?" The little girl nods, smiling from ear to ear. Patricia nods as well when Abigail glances her way, Mary's mother stepping away to sit with her son. "Alright Mary, come on in an' try ta' follow along, 'kay?" Abigail takes a deep breath as Mary nods again, and she starts humming the moment the girl steps inside.
It doesn't take long for Mary to catch on to the rhythm again, and Abigail starts singing in earnest, skipping ahead a little.
"She is handsome, she is pretty, she is the belle of Dublin City…"
"Finally."
It'd taken over an hour with how slowly the barge flies, but they'd almost arrived at New Eden Square. The statue of Comstock still stands in in the center of the Square, no buildings docked nearby to obstruct her view of it, and Abigail's not sure how to feel about it; while the statue meant there were no Vox in the area, she still hates the Prophet with every fiber of her being. While Booker had shown her that most didn't deserve to be hated, he himself hated Comstock like nothing else, of that much they'd been of like mind of before their encounter.
"Get ready, darlings!" Calling out from the cabin, Abigail brings the barge around and descends towards New Eden Square, the Church of Comstock visible in the background as she does, "We're almost ready to disembark!"
"Mama, what's disembark mean?" Abigail chuckles as Mary looks up to her mother. Glancing down at the Square again, Abigail spies shapes moving about in the twilight, the shapes turning into crowds as the barge approaches. A pair of police gunships hover nearby, offloading additional refugees, and Abigail can make out the dark brown uniforms of Columbian police as light comes to life around the Square.
"Looks like we're at the right-whoa!" A scream comes from the crowd below, and Abigail can vaguely make out people turning and looking up. Then a bullet ricochets off the barge's hull.
"Get down!" The family does as Abigail shouts, Patricia pulling Mary and Peter to the deck and hugging them close as more gunshots pang off the hull. Abigail can make out panicked screams, the crowd below trying to get away even as the police officers holler for everyone to remain calm. "Dammit, shoulda known a Vox barge'll cause a panic…"
Luckily, the cargo barge's bulk protects its passengers, the firing police officers below the oversized hovercraft not able to see anyone above. And the barge continues to descend, Abigail gritting her teeth as she dials back on the throttle; the back of the Comstock statue's head is almost eye-level with her, and just being near it makes Abigail's skin crawl.
"Hold your fire!" Abigail shouts from the cabin, slipping out the door opposite from where the gunfire's coming from. But the bullets keep coming. "Dammit, I said," anger courses through her veins, and Abigail takes a deep breath, "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Bellowing with all she can muster, Abigail finds herself smirking as the reports of Broadsider pistols fall silent, and she cautiously starts towards the starboard side of the barge.
But her roar only caused the shooters to hesitate, and Abigail drops flat as gunfire erupts from below once more. Gritting her teeth, Abigail crawls closer and closer to the edge, if for no other reason than to fling obscenities down at the police. The blade she'd appropriated drags along the deck, and Abigail loosens the clasp holding it to her belt, leaving it behind.
A lull in the hail of bullets leaves Abigail in near-silence as she makes the edge, only the sound of weapons being reloaded reaching her ears. Peering over the edge, Abigail sees a sea of white faces, looking back at her with fear in their eyes, the crowd of civilians still trying to get away from her as quickly as possible. "It'll turn into a stampede..."
Breathing a quiet, tense sigh, Abigail raises her hands for all to see, shouting for the third time, "Hold your fire! I've brought survivors from Emporia!"
"She speaks the truth!" Patricia shouts the moment Abigail's voice fades away, crawling over to join her at the edge, "She just wants to deliver us to safety!"
A murmur rises from the crowd. No bullets fly, no angry shouts tossed up from the police officers, and Abigail rolls to the side to look Patricia in the eye, "I'm… I'm goin' to stand, carefully. Stay down until…"
"No. They might shoot you. We stand together." Abigail stares back at the woman beside her, the implicit meaning of her words not lost upon the young redhead; Patricia's risking her life for a Vox's sake. Slowly, Abigail nods, mouthing 'thank you' as Patricia shouts over the side again, "We're standing up now! Please don't shoot us!"
"Hold your fire… let's see what they want." A woman's voice sounds in response, and Abigail and Patricia rise in unison. Gasps sound from below as they do, and Abigail seeks out the police officers and especially the one who'd spoken up, only allowing herself to breathe when she finds none are pointing weapons at her.
"Umm… anybody care ta' help these three down?"
"Well, that went better than I imagined." Leaning on the controls, Abigail grins; though it'd taken near half an hour, Patricia had managed to convince the police that their Vox companion wasn't going to hurt anyone. Once it'd become clear she wasn't a threat and what her purpose was, the police officers retrieved a boarding plank, and she'd pulled the barge over to rest beside the Square. Patricia's still speaking with two of the officers while the children gather the toys they'd removed from their bags on the trip. Luckily, none had tried to board the barge in the meantime.
"Excuse me! Miss Abigail?"
A voice calls out to her from the edge of the crowd, stirring Abigail from her thoughts. "Ahh… what now? I'm so tired…" She grumbles quietly as she steps from behind the controls, peeking her head out the cabin, "Yeah?"
A man in a suit presses up against the railing on the edge of the Square, perilously close to falling off. He wears a red bowtie and a fedora, and carries a notebook and pen in hand. "Hi there, the name's Ed, Ed Gaines. Just wanted to ask some questions, if you don't mind."
"Questions? Why?" Abigail eyes the man suspiciously; she'd had a long day, and really doesn't feel like explaining herself to some nosy, privileged fool. Or worse, to a Vox sympathizer who'll rat her out to Downs.
"Because, I'm a writer, and not just any writer; Father Comstock asked me to write his biograph. The story of a lady Vox coming to the rescue of a distressed, God-fearing family sounds to me like easy silver. Maybe it'll even change how people look at the Vox!" He bobs his head enthusiastically, a smile plastered across his face, "Just a Vox NOT… uh…" Ed seems to realize just who he's talking to, and Abigail glares daggers at him as he ledges foot firmly in mouth.
"I didn't save 'em so some hack can spin a tale 'bout it. I did it because it was the right thing ta' do." Still glaring at the writer, Abigail keeps her tone as even and civil as possible, "And the Vox don't care what people think of them, not anymore. Their blood's a boilin', an' ya' best not provoke 'em."
"I take it you've a difference of opinion with the rest of your people." Ed taps the end of his pen against his right cheek, and Abigail self-consciously brings a hand up to her bandaged wound. "The young miss over there won't say, but you had a tough time of it, didn't you? How many Vox did you kill? Ten? Twenty?"
"Alright, Ed, step off." A woman emerges from the crowd, pushing Ed aside, "Miss Abigail, I'd like to speak with you. I'm Lieutenant Mailer." Abigail raises an eyebrow in surprise; the woman before her is the same who'd called off the gunfire before, her brown uniform bearing the insignia of her rank on the shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Abigail nods.
"First, on the behalf of the citizens gathered here, I'd like to offer you our thanks. It may not look it, but your actions have lifted the spirits of many here, and are much appreciated. Now, on a more personal note," Lieutenant Mailer leans closer, and Abigail steps from the cabin so they're face to face, "I'd like to ask what you intend now. The war is still raging, and for one like you, the Vox are as much a danger as the military."
"The Founders are still my enemy, Lieutenant." Abigail crosses her arms, "I can't just forget about what they've done ta' me and mine. But babes like Mary and Peter, and their Ma, they don't deserve ta' be hurt…" She heaves a sigh as the police officer nods, Abigail shaking her head, "The Vox don't know anythin' yet, I should be fine for the time being."
With that, Abigail turns to step back into the relative safety of the cabin, only stopping to glance at the Lieutenant one more time, "Umm, Lieutenant Mailer… is your name Esther, by any chance?"
Surprise registers on the police officer's expression, "Yes… how did you know?"
She shrugs, scratching her head, "Just... a hunch. Take care of 'em, will ya'?" A smile tugs at Abigail's features as she steps into the cabin, carefully stepping around the unconscious Vivian. She and Patricia had moved Vivian inside after docking, and Abigail's friend still slumbers in relative peace.
Staring out into the clouds, Abigail lets herself relax, keeping an eye on the ramp as she waits for the children to finish packing their things and enjoying the relative peace of the moment. Moments become minutes, and Abigail vaguely notices Peter stand with his backpack in place. Minutes more pass, and Abigail wonders what's taking so long.
"Abigail?"
Mary's voice catches Abigail by surprise, she turning quickly only to find the child standing just outside the cabin, staring at her through the broken windshield. Stepping out, Abigail kneels before Mary, wondering how the little girl kept surprising her, "What's the matter, lass?"
"You aren't coming with us?" The little girl's voice is low and sullen, almost sulking. Her head hangs low, but she looks up at Abigail, "Mama said I have to say goodbye…"
"That's right, Mary. I can't go with ya'. But it'll be alright; ya' got your Ma and brother, right?" Mary nods her lower lip trembling a little, and she lifts her head to look Abigail straight in the eye. But what happens next catches the redhead by surprise; Mary wraps her little arms around her neck, hugging firmly and not letting go.
Abigail doesn't know what to say, or do. The child had grown fond of her, this much she knew from before they left the house back in Emporia, but this just leaves her shocked. Tentatively, Abigail brings an arm around to encircle Mary, gently returning the hug. A smile touches Abigail's lips, and they stay that way for a good long moment. When Mary finally slips out of the hug, it's with no small amount of hesitation, and Abigail finds herself not wanting to let go.
"Goodbye, Mary." Abigail waves as Mary stops at the top of the boarding ramp, the little girl waving back and smiling before running to her mother.
Left kneeling there with the still suspicious gaze of some of the police on her, Abigail only rises once the family she'd brought to safety disappears into the crowd. "Alright…" stepping back into the cabin, Abigail turns to her still sleeping friend, "Let's get you back, Vivian."
"… mmm…"
Her eyes open, and Abigail finds herself in a dark room. No, the room itself isn't dark; windows dot the wall she's facing, but all she see can see outside are stars.
Sitting up in bed, Abigail yawns quietly, rubbing her eyes as her mind begins to wonder how she got here. "Last thing I remember is… sayin' goodbye ta' Mary…" Confused, she picks herself up from bed, her eyes adjusting to the darkness even while her mind tries to wake up. She still wears her uniform, though the holsters, hers and Vivian's Hand Cannons and the sword she'd taken from the Zealot all lie on the floor, dropped apparently without a care in the world.
Then it all comes back to her. Upon returning to the factory, she'd only found a few Vox left within, all disaffected by the path the Vox Populi had taken. Luckily, one was a field medic with some actual medical training, and he'd taken care of Vivian. Abigail smiles as she relives the relief she'd felt upon hearing her friend will be alright.
"And after that… I…"
"You fell fast asleep. For eight hours straight, I might add."
Somehow, the sudden appearance doesn't bother Abigail much, and she turns towards the new arrival, "What do you want, Rosalind?"
"Simply curious." Rosalind Lutece stands by the door, hands clasped as always and looking as bored as ever. "And, I wish to test a hypothesis. Would you care to see them again?"
Them. Booker and Elizabeth. The pair who'd rocked Abigail's very being. Hesitantly, Abigail answers, the ordeals she'd been through already fading and losing their edge after a good night's sleep, "Y-yes."
A Tear opens, and a smile touches Abigail's lips; Elizabeth stands in an apartment, Booker's New York apartment, holding a baby in her arms and singing. "That must be Anna…" No sooner had she spoken than Booker appears, stepping into the apartment and carrying bags of all sorts.
Abigail sinks down onto her bed, a cot, really, as she watches the family have breakfast. Rosalind stands in the corner in silence, as impassive as ever. But Abigail notices that the scientist is also watching the family, with a degree of interest far greater than she'd expect of the scientist.
Out of the blue, Elizabeth jerks around to stare straight back at Abigail, and the young redhead can't help but gasp as their gazes lock. Elizabeth's eyes seem to search for something, but even then they seem to see more than she should.
"That's… not possible." Abigail looks away just as Elizabeth does, the Tear closing as she focuses on Rosalind Lutece. For once, the unflappable Rosalind looks surprised, though the scientist manages to reassert her calm demeanor a moment later, "The girl shouldn't have been able to notice us." Touching her chin with thumb and index finger, Rosalind looks lost in thought for a moment. "Perhaps someone else was watching, as well…"
"Doesn't matter much, anyhow." Abigail rests her arms on her knees, leaning on them, "They're both safe… and look happy." A smile spreads across Abigail's face again, though she's not sure why.
"I suppose this proves my hypothesis." Rosalind nods, "Good day…"
"Wait." Abigail rises, "Where are they now? Not the Booker I met or his Elizabeth. This… the Booker and Elizabeth we saw at your lab."
Rosalind turns slowly, peering at Abigail as one might a precocious child. "Why?"
"Because, I…" Abigail stops mid-sentence, her jaw hanging open slightly as she tries to finish the thought. Why does she want to know? Finally, Abigail takes a breath, staring Lutece in the eye, "I don't know, all I do know is I want to."
Rosalind Lutece stares at her silently, the unchanging expression of hers betraying nothing. "Very well. Telling you now won't do any harm." Abigail raises an eyebrow in surprise as Rosalind speaks, "The girl has been captured, and is being held in Comstock House. She's undergoing mental and physical persuasion, of sorts, by Comstock's scientists."
"W-what?" Her own voice catches her by surprise, and Abigail covers her mouth with both hands.
"And as for him, he's been taken through a Tear by an older version of the girl. She'll send him back into Comstock House on December 23-"
"Wait… DECEMBER?!" This time, Abigail's not at all surprised by her voice, and she jumps to her feet while shouting, "She's… Elizabeth's being tortured, and has to suffer for six MONTHS?! Why?"
Rosalind remains silent as Abigail shouts, only speaking once the young woman's finished, "I don't know why she went about in such a manner, only that she did. I suppose I could ask…"
"No." Abigail rubs her eyes, an idea forming, "I… can you let me talk to her? This… older Elizabeth?"
Now Rosalind stares back at Abigail, an eyebrow rising in surprise, "It's… not an impossibility. There is a Tear I can send you through, but such an act would certainly threaten-"
"There're questions needing answers, and if ya won't tell me, I hafta ask someone who will. And… the more I learn 'bout their story… the more I need to know how it all ends." Abigail steps up to Rosalind, her voice pleading, "Please, give me a chance. Send me there before Booker finds her…"
The redheaded scientist stares back at Abigail, remaining silent, but neither does she refuse or disappear. Finally, she nods, "I shall consider it. Just know the risks you're taking, all in the search of answers."
Author's Note: So, a few things. In regards to the mentioned Arboria area, I've always thought that Columbia had to be a hell of a lot bigger than what we saw in Infinite, and on top of that, they must've had a way to produce their own food. Given Columbia's isolation, importing that much food gets to be a handful real fast. Also, yes, the police lieutenant near the end is Esther Mailer, who died in the first reality. This is the third.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if there's anything that you'd like to say, I welcome any and all feedback. And as usual, small fixes will occur from time to time.