December 2, 1912
"There it is…"
A grim smile tugs at the corner of Abigail's lips as the early morning mists part to reveal the pristine golden figure of Monument Tower. She stands on the prow of the cargo barge, the largest hovercraft of the five that left the factories before sunup and are bound for the angelic figure that stands at the heart of Columbia; the other four are gunships, flying close to and around her cargo barge, their crews alert for danger.
The Vox had received some information a few days ago that the Founders were up to something in Monument Tower, and the 'leader' of the Vox supposed they could be setting up a resupply depot to facilitate raids against the Vox Populi. Of course, Abigail doesn't think much of anything about Preston Downs, and she's fully prepared for this to be a waste of time. Even so, her squad was assigned to stopping whatever the Founders are up to; the arrogant blowhard hadn't taken too kindly to Abigail coming to be a leader of one of the factions within the Vox Populi.
"But that's how I got my nickname…" Abigail feels a grin tease at her lips; she'd started singing again, both the songs she'd been taught as a little girl and some of the music her other self had performed in Rapture. And she's gotten pretty good over a couple months, if she says so herself, enough so that Abigail worked up the nerve to try Elizabeth's song; she'd shied away from practicing with that song, both because it was Elizabeth's and that the song 'You Belong To Me' feels like it has some special meaning for Booker and Elizabeth.
But while giving it a less than successful try, she'd been found out. Word got around after that, much to her embarrassment, and it all came to a head as Downs tried to browbeat her; the obnoxious lout called her the 'Songbird of the Vox'. She'd grinned at that, and it's been her moniker ever since.
"Course, I coulda said no to this mission…" Turning away from the golden statue that's glittering in the light of sunrise, Abigail looks over their 'cargo'; crates of explosives, plenty dangerous but not enough to bring down Monument Tower. "Probably for the best… that's for Booker 'n Elizabeth ta' do…" The Siphon can't be destroyed yet, and she doubts she could manage it even if she wanted to.
Since her journey into the future to speak with the elderly Elizabeth, the Vox Populi's revolution against the Founders hasn't gone well; without Daisy's leadership, the Vox began to fragment once their blood settled and tempers cooled, different ideologies of all sorts causing friction and infighting. While the Vox Populi are still fighting their war, discontent is on the rise and more and more groups are starting to act on their own. "An' Downs' failure ta' hold Emporia didn't help matters."
The Vox Populi had been pushed out of downtown Emporia in mid-August, and the fighting still mostly occurs in and around that part of Columbia. And to make matters worse, a squad of Columbian soldiers started turning the Vox's old tactics against them around that time, conducting raids, hit-and-run attacks and stirring up trouble behind the Vox's lines. Their guerrilla tactics especially favored targeting food, weapons and ammo stores for theft or worse.
"What'd Downs' people call 'em? Ghosts… somethin' like that…?" Shaking her head, Abigail heaves a quiet sigh; the Vox haven't had any luck stopping the Founder squad, the revolutionaries far more accustomed to waging a guerrilla war than fighting against one. The Vox are starting to get spooked.
"Well, not all of us; my people are doin' alright…" Stepping back to the railing as the barge approaches a hangar bay cut into the left torso and beneath the arm of Monument Tower, Abigail draws and checks on her revolver again; when the Vox's bloodlust calmed, many of the more moderate members found they were horrified by their actions and with what's become of the Vox, though their numbers are still in the great minority. These soldiers eventually banded together, and without an established leader like all the other factions, Abigail found herself filling that role due to her position as a squad leader.
Of course, Downs hadn't been all that pleased by the group of comparative 'pacifists', what with the Vox Populi already on the verge of becoming completely divided, nor did he much care for the distinction that Abigail's only leader by default of the loosely knit group of moderates; at first he'd tried to publically ridicule her and the others, both with absurdities and the now all-too-familiar suspicions of disloyalty, but when that didn't work he tried to play the other factions against her. But Downs himself is the most hated by the various leaders, and Abigail's managed to keep the others from turning on her group.
"Alright! Let's get moving'!" Crying out as the barge approaches the rectangular opening in the gold painted statue, the entrance large enough to fit any hovercraft, Abigail brings up her Hand Cannon and kneels by the railing. The rest of her squad moves to either side of the barge as well, except for the pilot, and Abigail grins as her friend Vivian appears off to her left with Hand Cannon raised.
But as the first gunship flies into the docking bay, all Abigail hears is… silence. No shouts of alarm or screams, no light, rapid fire sound of machine guns or repeaters and no heavier report of shotguns or hand cannons. Just the wind whipping around the statue and the low drone of the barge's engines, "The hell's goin' on?"
It's not until Abigail's vessel flies into the bay does it make sense; the place is abandoned, and it looks like the Founders left in a hurry. Everything of value looks to have been stripped, barrels and empty weapon racks knocked over in the Founder's apparent haste to withdraw. But why? And how did they know..?
The hovercraft pulls up to a metal pier of sorts as Abigail looks around the bay; it's not especially large, really just a cut out portion of girders and metal ribs with a flat sheet of metal for a floor, maybe big enough to resupply two or three ships at a time.
"Ain't no point in my stickin' around." Now a smile teases at the redhead's lips, Abigail brushing a finger against the scar on the right of her face; it'll take the soldiers a good while to place all of the explosives. "Hey! I'm goin' topside ta' look around some!" Stepping from the railing to the helm of the cargo barge, the cabin's robot pilot still broken and the glass still shattered, Abigail taps her foot impatiently and works her ungloved left hand as the crates are taken from her craft. "Shovin' off!"
Pulling the barge out the bay, Abigail turns the sluggish beast to the starboard and climbs past the second pair of Vox gunships outside; she's been thinking about this ever since she'd heard about the planned assault on Monument Tower. Abigail brought something just for such an occasion.
Flying up to the top of the tower, Abigail grins as she spots the sloped walkway leading down along the side of the statue's face, just as her 'borrowed' memories said she'd find. Though this particular memory of Booker DeWitt's was of escaping the tower while Songbird attacked, Abigail's certain she can make do. And so she pulls her barge up alongside the statue and jumps onto the walkway, carrying a big, empty suitcase with her.
Carefully making her way down the walkway and through the exterior security door, Abigail finds her feet slowing the deeper she goes into the structure; it feels odd, setting foot inside the tower. Eventually, she finds herself at an elevator shaft, the door across the gap left open; seems they didn't care much about the place once they'd removed the Lamb of Columbia to Comstock House. A running leap, and Abigail finds she's staring into the former bedroom of Elizabeth.
"This was her… this Elizabeth's home." Stepping up to the glass and looking into the bedroom, Abigail slowly puts her hand on the cool one-way mirror of the observation room, "No, this wasn't a home… more like a cage." The bedroom is much the same as in Abigail's 'borrowed' memories; the music posters are still of 'God Only Knows' and the singer Yvette Guilmont with a phonograph nearby, but the blanket on Elizabeth's bed is of a slightly different pattern, and a violin sits beside the flute instead of a horn.
"Huh…" Slowly, Abigail steps from the glass and turns to the security door, grinning a little when she spies a bag of lockpicks through the window. But she can't see to her purpose on this side, and Abigail steps through the opening security door and deeper into the specimen observation area, ignoring the darkened 'specimen tracker' boards along the way. "She ain't here, no use lookin'…"
Her booted feet on the wooden platforms echo in the cavernous space within the statue, Abigail focusing on Booker's memories and following them like a map. That is, until she finds an opens security door leading into Elizabeth's cage.
"What… what in God's name happened in here?" Stepping from the cold, sterile observation area to the warm, lavish library of Elizabeth's apartment, Abigail nearly drops her suitcase in surprise; books and upturned furniture lie strewn about on the floor, the scene before her looking all the world like a fight had broken out here. "Looks like our missin' Elizabeth put up a fight…" A small grin creeps onto her face; Abigail had wondered if the missing Elizabeth had gone willingly or put up some resistance when Comstock or his men came for her. Now she knows; Abigail hasn't given up on finding this Elizabeth, and this sight gives her a little hope.
"Better look 'round first, before I start packin'…" Carefully stepping around the fallen books, Abigail pushes open a pair of wooden doors and steps through, a low whistle escaping her, "… a cage, huh? A gilded cage, ta' be sure…" Aside from the thin layer of dust on everything, Elizabeth's old apartment looks like it'd fit in well among the wealthiest homes in Emporia.
Exploring the former residence of the Lamb of Columbia, Abigail quickly looks over the bedroom and dressing room, noting a few articles she should claim before the explosives go off; while the explosives are meant to blow out the depot, Abigail just can't shake a vision of the Tower from Booker's memories. A vision where the angel statue stood ravaged, an arm and most of its torso gone, along with the head where Abigail stands. And she's hoping now is not when it happens, at least so that she can save a few more of the missing Elizabeth's personal effects for whenever Abigail finds her.
"Songbird did that the first time… huh?" Opening the last door she's yet to explore, Abigail blinks as she's momentarily dazzled; sunlight streams into this room, though how Abigail doesn't know, but the purpose is plain to see. Dry, dead plants fill this room, mostly flower plants that have withered away without Elizabeth to care for them. A conservatory, two rows of tables stretching from front to back with pots and planters atop them.
"Shame… couldn't have brought 'em with me, anyhow." Taking a slow first step into the conservatory, Abigail idly passes her gaze around the room as she moves between the tables of dead, withered plants. "Never would 'ave thought Elizabeth the gardenin' type…"
Finally, Abigail comes to a small, hip height shelf at the back of the room; trowels, watering cans, small bags of planting soil and packets of seeds rest on its wooden surface, Abigail touching the latter with her ungloved left hand.
"Wait… these are Columbian rose seeds… blue roses?" Blinking at the handful of seed packets bearing the image of a blue rose, Abigail vaguely recalls a memory of Booker's where Elizabeth put a rose in her hair. "Can't find these in New York… heh." She doesn't even bother with the suitcase, pocketing the rose seeds before turning her back on the shelf and the conservatory.
This time, Abigail does more than just peer into the rooms. Starting with the dressing, she carefully removes and folds a white sleeveless dress with a wide black ribbon around the torso and slips it into the suitcase, the young redhead glancing at some of the other dresses in the room with some regret; most of the suitcase will be filled with books, she doubts she can save too much else. "If anyone saw me, they'd think I'm lootin' or robbin' the Lamb…" A chuckle escapes Abigail, the young Vox leaving the dressing room behind and heading for the bedroom, but not before snagging a postcard of Paris on the way out.
Stepping into the first room she'd laid eyes on, Abigail immediately makes for the instruments, laying the suitcase down on the floor and quickly resting the flute and violin atop the folded dress, "Guess that's everythin'… c'mon, there's gotta be somethin' else she'd like saved… like a teddy bear?"
That's the moment Abigail spies the phonograph again. "That's it! Bet the girl had some records…" A short search later, and Abigail's found three vinyl records; one from the singer whose poster adorns the wall, another she'd never heard of nor cares to pronounce, and finally one simply labelled 'Will The Circle Be Unbroken.' That one dashes the smile from Abigail's face, the young redhead all too familiar with the song.
"C'mon, no time ta'-whoa! Hey, what's the big idea?" Scolding herself as she leaves the bedroom with instruments and records secure in her suitcase, Abigail nearly tumbles over when the floor beneath her feet lurches, the distant sound of an explosion filling the empty apartment, "It ain't time yet!" But Monument Tower doesn't plummet out of the sky, no additional explosions going off. Yet.
"Dammit all to hell…" Cursing as she dashes for the library, Abigail lays the suitcase on the floor and starts filling the second half with as many of the books she can; books on the sciences, stories of fiction and nonfiction, even literature on medicine all go into the suitcase before she slams the lid shut and runs for the exit. Unsurprisingly, the suitcase weighs her down far more than on the way in.
Running as fast as she's able, Abigail grits her teeth as another detonation makes the floor shudder beneath her feet, "Son of a… the hell's goin' on down there?" By the time she reaches the open, empty elevator shaft, Abigail's breathing hard and fast, the weight on the suitcase, the urgency of her situation and her running tiring the young redhead out. Still, she manages to heave the suitcase across the gap and onto a wooden platform on the other side, though her shout of frustration as it lands on the level below echoes in the shaft.
"Whoever's gone off half-cocked's gonna get my boot up their ass!" Grumbling as she leaps across the gap and retrieves her suitcase, Abigail hurries up the ramp and towards the exit, "Hope nothin' broke…"
A deafening screech fills the air around Abigail as she steps outside, wind whipping about and clouds obscuring her vision. Her right hand clenched around the handle of her suitcase and her left griping the chain railing along the walkway, Abigail fights her way up the sloped path, praying that she makes it back to her barge before another explosion throws her off Monument Tower.
Climbing one foot after the other, Abigail hauls herself and what little of Elizabeth's belongings she could save back up to her cargo barge, the vessel hovering only about a foot from the edge. "Alright… here goes! One, two… three!"
The suitcase leaves her hands and lands with a 'thud' on the barge's deck, but a sudden gust of wind knocks Abigail away from the edge. And the moment she recovers, the young Vox freezes as she makes out the source of the gust; glowing eyes, powerful mechanical body, great wings and clawed hands. Songbird, the beast flying past without paying her any mind.
"Maybe he knows where she is…" Abigail has to grit her teeth at the thought; her namesake should be the missing Elizabeth's protector, but she's still missing while Comstock and his scientists torture Booker's Elizabeth.
"Better get some answers today, or me an' the Luteces are gonna have a talk…" Returning to the barge and flying back down to the hangar below, Abigail keeps an eye on Songbird; the flying bird creature doesn't seem to have anywhere to go, simply flying about and frequently passing the golden, pristine Tower. "Maybe he's lookin' for her? He doesn't know what ta' do with himself…"
The thought sours whatever feeling of accomplishment Abigail felt over salvaging what she could of Elizabeth's belongings, the barge flying in silence as it approaches the hangar bay. But what greets her when she arrives can only draw a sigh from Abigail.
Several injured Vox lie on a docked gunship, parts of the bay burning and twisted by an explosion of some sort. The Vox's own explosives look partly set, but none are detonated as of yet. "What happened in here?"
"Abby! The Founders set traps before they abandoned the place!" Turning to the sound of the voice as she pulls up to a pier, Abigail heaves a relieved sigh as Vivian runs over to her, alive and well. "The others are panicking; what should we do?"
"I…" Glancing around, Abigail focuses on the crates of explosives they'd brought, any hesitation she might've experienced being pushed aside by the need to survive, "I say we prime the explosives now an' get the hell out. Let's get ta' work!"
It takes all of ten minutes to get the explosives primed and the panicking Vox to retreat. But as Abigail's backing her floating barge out of the bay, she can't help but have a bad feeling about this. And it doesn't take long for her feeling to be justified.
More explosions rip through the bay as the barge's pulling away, collapsing the hangar and dropping a burning support beam on top of the crate of explosive. And while Abigail's no demolitions expert, even she knows that fire and gunpowder don't mix safely. "Hold on!" Swinging the prow of the barge away from the hangar, Abigail pushes the engines as hard as she can.
Next thing she knows, her barge's pitched forward and everyone on board's clinging to whatever they can for dear life. It takes a second for the deafening sound of the explosion to register at all, a cloud of flame licking at the stern of the ship and all around the pilot's cabin. The flash of heat manages to shake Abigail from her state of shock. "Hold on! Hold on, everybody!"
The craft levels itself out after a couple harrowing seconds, and only once the barge's steady does Abigail loosen her death grip on the controls and releases the breath she's been holding. "Hell's bells… let's not do that ag-agh!"
A groan of metal giving way sounds from behind as she mutters, followed by a pained, angry shriek that makes Abigail's red hair stand on end; Songbird swoops past and heads for the Tower, a clawed foot crushing a nearby gunship as he goes. But the attack seems merely an accident as Songbird ignores the rest of them; Abigail runs out of the cabin and leans over the side, her green eyes going wide in horror.
The explosion did more than just blow out the hangar, a gouge appearing from just beneath the angel's left arm all the way up to her right collarbone. The entire torso above the gash begins to crumble and slide off the statue, the head, and Elizabeth's old home and cage, topples from the angel's golden neck.
And Songbird's trying to stop the collapse, grabbing part of the falling upper torso and holding it to the rest. But for all his strength, Songbird's efforts are in vain; the metal of the tower just falls apart, leaving a couple beams and scrap metal in Songbird's hand and holes where his claws dug into the still intact part of the statue.
"He wanted ta' save her home…?" Stepping away from the edge as the cargo barge flies away and Songbird's screeches fade into the distance, Abigail slowly steps back into the cabin and drops onto the wooden floor. "Heh…" a quiet chuckle escapes her, Abigail grinning for a moment despite seeing what she knew was to happen come to pass before her very eyes, "guess we both wanted ta' save her old home…" But the smile fades and Abigail grits her teeth, the young redhead pulling her knees up to her chest and whispering an apology, both to Songbird and the missing Elizabeth.
"Vivian, how's the supplies look?"
"Everything's in good condition, even the milk." Vivian Monroe nods as she closes up the last crate of supplies, the wooden box one of many lashed to the deck as she and Abigail fly through the night.
"Good… doubt they'd be glad to see us with spoiled food…" It's been about an hour since sunset and nine since the explosion that destroyed part of Monument Tower. Turns out, the whole thing had been a trap, probably orchestrated by the 'Ghost' squad, but Downs hadn't cared much; according to him, the 'effect on the Founders' morale more than outweighs the Vox's losses', something that had made Abigail's blood boil for a variety of reasons. Being partly responsible for the destruction of Elizabeth's home didn't sit well with Abigail.
Now, she and Vivian are out on an altogether different mission, unknown to most of the Vox and with only one other from their squad along to help; the young Irish boy this time around. But he's on guard duty for when they get to their destination, which means no talking. Hell, Vivian's taken off all Vox red from her uniform and now looks like a card-carrying member of the Columbian military.
"There it is, New Eden Square. Viv, get on the spotlight an' give 'em the signal."
"Sure."
Below, the Square's dark and completely devoid of activity, the buildings looking a little run down and abandoned with a thin layer of snow covering them and the streets. But Abigail and her squad members know differently; a spotlight flashes back at them, and she slowly brings the barge down to street level.
"Produce an' milk from our people in Arboria, blankets from Vox stores… it is winter, after all." Muttering as she pulls up beside the Square, Abigail grins as half a dozen figures emerge from the buildings. Refugees, abandoned by the Founders and hated by the Vox, and while they're still suspicious of Abigail and her people, at least they're usually grateful for the supplies.
"Here ya' go." Stepping from the cabin and up to the boarding plank the refugees lowered onto her barge, Abigail nods as she makes out a pair of Columbian police officers among them, looking a little worse for wear, "Your twice monthly supplies, hope it helps."
"Thanks… miss."
"You're welcome." Stepping down the boarding plank quickly, Abigail chuckles quietly; the tension between the Vox and the police in the past made most officers here even less happy to see her than the other refugees, and having to accept her group's aid makes them even less happy. "Where's Esther? She and I need ta' chat."
"Lieutenant Mailer's in the church."
"Alright…" The mention draws a grimace from Abigail as she and Vivian leave the unloading to the coppers and refugees, more figures appearing from the shadows; the Church of Comstock still stands tall, relatively unblemished by the war and permanently docked now with New Eden Square. It offends her just seeing the Comstock statue in the Square, going into the Church simply makes her skin crawl.
But the sea of faces that greet her when she steps inside doesn't help her mood much; most are just normal refugees, momentarily startled by her appearance and worrisome. There are a few friendlier faces, however; a particular little girl starts smiling a moment later. "Mary!"
"Abby!" The little girl slips through the crowd quick as a sparrow before running into Abigail and hugging her. "You're back!"
"That I am! How's your mother and brother?"
"They're doing just fine!" The little girl beams up at Abigail, drawing a chuckle from the redhead.
"That's good, Mary. But I need ta' speak with someone. We can talk later, love."
"Aww… alright…"
"How 'bout you stay with Viv? Remember my friend?" With that, Abigail slips away as Mary and many others turn towards Vivian, the tension of their arrival noticeably easing thanks to the little girl. Mary and her family aren't the only ones here who'd been saved by Abigail and her people, and they tend to be much friendlier than the rest of the refugees.
"Hello, Abigail."
The redhead's just turned a corner and tossed her braid over her shoulder when she finds her contact; Esther Mailer, the ranking member of the Columbian Police here and de facto leader because of it, and one of the few that Abigail's developed some sort of relationship with, if only a cordial one. "Good ta' see you're still doin' well, Esther." Pulling a chair from the table Esther sits at, Abigail takes a seat across from the police lieutenant.
"And to you, as well. I take it you came for the same reason?"
"I did."
"Well then, Abigail, you're in luck. I may have found someone who can help you." Rising quickly from her seat, Esther gestures for Abigail to follow, "Come."
"Okay then…" Following with a nod, Abigail nevertheless heaves a quiet sigh; though she's still armed, she's glad she left her sword in her quarters today, the suitcase from earlier now resting beside it. The weapon always seems to intimidate the refugees.
Approaching the back of the Church, Abigail spots a woman sitting alone on the grass beneath the three statues of the Founding Fathers. "That's her." Stopping just out of earshot, Esther glances back at Abigail, "She was brought here by one of your patrols, so she may cooperate. She used to be a nurse in the asylum in Comstock House." That gets Abigail's attention.
Stepping slowly towards the woman, Abigail raises her hands peacefully when the nurse notices her and shies away, "Easy now… my name's Abigail. Esther tells me you used to work in Comstock House. Is that right?"
"Y-yes, Miss Abigail."
"Please, just Abigail." She smiles; 'Miss' and other honorifics are starting to become a more frequent occurrence, "I'm lookin' for someone who might be in a… isolated or closed off part of the asylum. Do ya' know of any such place?"
"I… I do." The woman nods hesitantly, as if she's unsure she should continue. But she does, "Near the back of the asylum, there's a small wing that was closed off in July… the Prophet started visiting that wing at the same time. Then… then your… the Vox uprising began."
"The Prophet… that's gotta be it…" Thinking to herself, Abigail nods again, still smiling, "Thank ya', miss. Do ya' know of a way in?"
"It's… heavily guarded. But…"
"But?"
"Well, work crews started coming and going from that section… there's talk that an elevator was installed very quickly at the Prophet's orders. After they were done, we never saw the Prophet entering that section anymore…"
"An elevator into a closed off section of the asylum…" Abigail's grin widens as she stands, thanking the woman even as she makes to leave, "That's gotta be where she's bein' kept. I'll be seein' ya' real soon, Elizabeth."
Author's Note: It's been a while, but we're back to Abigail's story again. Like I've said before, I always wondered where the final universe's Elizabeth disappeared to, and the fact that Infinite overlooked it never sat well with me. And in a similar vein, I also wondered how Monument Tower got as damaged as it was before Booker and Elizabeth destroyed it; Songbird only damaged it in the first universe. With Abigail going to Monument Tower, I couldn't see a reason why she wouldn't check out Elizabeth's old home. And for the record, this chapter takes place shortly before the end of Infinite and roughly a month and a half before the Splicers appeared in I'm Home.
There'll be at least a few more chapters in this particular line of Change of Heart, and as usual, I'll be making fixes as I go. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Now, with the mention of the missing Elizabeth's possible location, what do you think happened to her?