Foreword: Found a discrepancy in Abigail's description, a really old one in Unbroken; added a bit to the chapter to explain why her eyes are green, not blue.
August 21, 1913, 5:15 PM
"Hmm…"
Abigail reluctantly opens her eye as she feels something tiny tickling at her ear, she finding it's just a long strand of grass when she brushes her gloved hand against it. "Annoyin' little…" A yawn interrupts Abigail, and she leaves the sentiment unfinished, instead spreading her arms wide and stretching before letting her body go limp.
The redhead lies in a field of tall, wild grass, Abigail relaxing and staring up at the azure sky, though the slightly cloudy expanse overhead is slowly turning into fiery shades of crimson and orange as the sun continues its descent to the horizon. Her long, loose hair rests beneath her, acting as a sort of blanket and keeping at least some of the swaying blades and strands from bothering her. She barely does more than languidly closes her eyes, enjoying the breeze on her face.
It's nearly the end of summer, and that means one thing; harvest time, at least for this season's crop. Fields of cornstalks sway in the late afternoon breeze, a wall of shifting green leaves, stalks and brown fuzz in the next field over, and Abigail's amazed her people could even get this much grown amid the chaos; aside from the corn, the volunteers had somehow managed to grow wheat, beans and tomatoes as well. The field Abigail lies in rests near the edge of Arboria and not far from the areas barn and stores, and has been left fallow this season.
In the distance, Abigail can hear a number of voices; work should be just about done for the day, and the refugees who'd volunteered to help will be needing transport home soon. Of course, there's tension between the refugees and the Vox who tend the fields, Abigail having no illusions about that; but it's in everyone's best interest to work together, and the young redhead's seen a couple olive branches being offered, by both sides.
"Ah…" Breathing a sigh, Abigail speaks to no one in particular, her voice quiet as she wonders, "Is this really… am I doing the right thing?" A frown touches her lips as her doubts begin to mount again; she'd come here to relax and put her mind at ease, not to worry herself over what she'd started and couldn't stop even if she wanted to. Instead, she breathes in deeply, breathing in the smell of the grass and fresh crops, free of the soot and smoke that fills the air and clings to everything in the factory.
The hour draws near, and Abigail's apprehension grows the closer it gets; even this peaceful place does little to help with that. "Took six months of convincin', an' now I'm frettin' like a mother hen…" A scowl touches her features, if only for a moment. It's her own plan that's got Abigail in knots; she'd finally managed to persuade the other Vox leaders of the necessity of her plan.
They're all usually plenty eager to fight, with or without any support, but the lot of them had been a little gun-shy about attacking Comstock House; they remember how the attack on the Hand of the Prophet went, and the shift in power that followed. She'd argued that because it's the Founder headquarters and their most important stronghold, they needed to strike; without their base, the Founder forces will be thrown into disarray. Even if they can only damage the infrastructure and take out a few high-ranking officers, the disruption will give the Vox an advantage.
All of her arguments were sound, and Abigail wasn't being false about any of them, but she still feels a little bit guilty; naturally, she hadn't said a word about her true purpose for organizing and taking part in this assault.
"I wonder…" Closing her green eyes, Abigail feels a grimace coming on, "I wonder if Elizabeth's still sleepin' in that hall of horrors…" The grimace only deepens as she recalls that bird creature in the cell, how it screeched and cawed like the birds her Murder of Crows Vigor summons. Who knows what else is kept in that place? "Been over a year now, since the lass has been locked up in that cage…" She dearly hopes the Founders have yet to find out about Elizabeth.
Abigail's suddenly reminded of fairy tales her mother had told her as a child, the thought bringing a touch of a smile to her lips, "A sleepin' princess locked away an' guarded by monsters, huh?"
But the grin doesn't last, fading away in an instant; this isn't some fairytale, and Abigail's plan will be the cause of some very real deaths. Committing such a large number of Vox soldiers to attack Comstock House, Abigail has to question whether risking so many to save Elizabeth is justified. No matter how much she'd like to think so, that's a lot of weight on her shoulders.
"If I could manage with just me… or even with just my squad…"
Abigail sits up quickly and shakes her head, trying to push her doubts aside; thinking like that will only serve to shake her resolve, and build up on itself until she's a nervous wreck. Not the sort of mindset she wants to be in when entering a warzone. "It's goin' ta' happen one way or the other now, so buck up an' beat yourself up over it in the mornin'…"
The other Vox factions are all preparing for the attack, so it truly is out of her hands now; the fools were getting their people's blood up when she'd left the factory earlier, and from how the rest of the Vox Populi was getting whipped up into a frenzy, Abigail doubts her people backing out of the attack would stop a thing. Rather, it's likely to just cause more deaths.
"None of my people workin' the fields will be goin', that's for damn sure." It's a small comfort, and something she needn't even bring up with the other faction leaders; Arboria's under her group's control, after all, and all the Vox who tend the fields here are comrades of hers. Aside from being somewhere between worn out and exhausted, their fight is less with the Founders now and more with starvation.
Climbing to her feet, Abigail brushes grass from the rest of her as she starts towards the barn and the gathering of workers; it's a good long walk, the young Vox unable to tell one person from the next at this distance. Instead, she idly casts her gaze around the field, spying treetops in the distance peeking over the tassels of the corn stalks.
Arboria is divided into three large chunks of land, each a separate floating island on their own and connected via bridges and pipes. The farmland, with its fields of corn and other summer crops, is the largest of the three, though only just barely; the second largest had been used for raising livestock, much of the meat, poultry and milk the citizens of Columbia consumed coming from there. And the treetops Abigail saw in the distance are on the third island, and by far the smallest of the three.
However, the other two chunks of land are barely of any concern to the Vox Populi, though not for lack of trying; only a handful of workers are on the second island at all.
"Can't tell if it's a blessin' or a curse that all the farm animals are gone… it's a miracle that my people have grown this many crops, can't imagine havin' ta' care for cows an' pigs would have helped 'em any…" Abigail sighs as she turns her gaze forward; when her people had secured Arboria, they didn't find many of the farm animals alive; most likely, hungry soldiers or civilians had butchered them for their meat when food started growing scarce.
According to the soldiers who'd gone to the ranches, the rotting stench was enough to make the hardiest of men keel over. They've only a handful of cows in the barn nearest to the bridge between the farmland and ranches, and the volunteers caring for them have yet to figure out how they're going to manage, aside from occasionally milking the animals.
"An' we don't touch that forest up there…" Abigail glances back at the treetops, shaking her head slowly; the place isn't meant for lumber or anything of the like, but rather is more of an attraction for the 'good' people of Columbia to visit and enjoy a bit of nature. Of course, no colored or Irish were allowed, aside from those who worked there. "Reminds me of someplace… that the other 'me' knew…"
Turning her thoughts from Arboria, Abigail's heart sinks as she goes; when she leaves this farmland, Abigail will be leaving this peaceful atmosphere for one of blood and fire. The young redhead tries to put it from her mind, but it lingers as she draws closer to the crowd and her departure, and the long walk it takes for Abigail to get back gives her nerves plenty of time to torment her.
Instead, Abigail takes to humming the old folk song she'd sung back in Emporia, the upbeat tune helping in some small measure; she'd try Elizabeth's song again, but even though she can get the tune and the words right, it always feels like something vital is missing.
But a different tune perks up her ears, Abigail able to make out the sound of a flute and fiddle amongst the rhythm of clapping. A lilting singing voice chimes in, coming and going with the wind and drawing Abigail forward. The music helps Abigail to pick up her feet, the redhead hurrying now rather than reluctantly, lazily trudging along.
The song becomes clearer as Abigail approaches the clustered workers, and it draws a small smile across the young redhead's lips as she slips through the crowd; at the center of the crowd is a small, circular clearing and a group of Irishman in the middle of it. Three of them are playing instruments, a rough-looking guitar, a well-worn fiddle and an old tin flute, the singer clapping in time with the beat while the crowd follows suit.
"One two three four five. Hunt the hare an' turn her down the rocky road,
An' all the way to Dublin, whack-follal-de-dah!"
All four sing the chorus as one, the one playing the tin flute stopping to do so and even a few of the onlookers joining in. And as Abigail looks around from her place just outside the front row, she sees several of the refugees among the crowd, the sight of them joining in only serving to widen her smile.
"In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity…"
"To be soon deprived a view of that fine city…" Abigail whispers the next line, the song bringing back memories of a different sort; it's another traditional Irish folksong, one that her Ma had taught her when she was still a little lass. But her oldest recollection of the song was one of her father, singing it while having an after work pint. And singing it badly, at that.
Despite the hard feelings she has for her father, the song has most certainly lifted Abigail's spirits, along with everyone else who's listening, Vox and refugees alike.
Slipping between a pair of shorter Vox, Abigail waits for the next chorus to end as she stands in the front row and claps along, a mischievous smile touching her lips. Once the chorus comes and goes, Abigail takes a deep breath before joining in.
"From there I got away, me spirits never failin',
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailin'…"
The performers greet her with good cheer, not stopping for a moment, Abigail and the singer finishing the verse in tandem; it's no practiced or perfected performance, the two of them making many a mistake, but the crowd doesn't seem to care. And Abigail doesn't stop, though she takes a breath and lets the performers run through the first several lines of the final verse before jumping back in.
"With a loud "hurray!" joined in the fray, we quite cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin.
One two three four five. Hunt the hare and turn her down,
The rocky road and all the way to Dublin, whack follol de dah!"
The performers run through the final verse and the chorus again, but Abigail simply backs away from the circle and through the crowd; she'd spied her squad's cargo barge flying past from the corner of her eye. Breathing a sigh, the redhead turns towards the loading dock; the time's come to leave.
Abigail stands at the bow of the cargo barge as it flies through the night sky, the vessel using the clouds for cover as much as possible. She's started humming the same tune from Arboria, though it's anything but merry, and neither is she.
In the distance lies the reason for Abigail's grim countenance; Comstock House, just as imposing as the last time Abigail had broken into the place and in the memories Booker had left her. There's just something sinister about the towering building, aside from the fact that it is the headquarters for the Founders and the home of the now long dead Prophet. Spotlights search the night sky, lighting up the building's façade, and they're as deadly to Abigail's mission as a Handyman in close quarters.
The redhead isn't alone at the bow, and neither is her cargo barge as it slips quietly through the night; her squad is with her, Vivian and Yoshiro standing close behind, and a dozen gunships bearing the crimson of the Vox Populi fly in close formation.
"They should be making their move soon… I hope." Vivian's voice is quiet, Abigail turning back to her friend to see the worry in her soft brown eyes. Yoshiro just nods curtly, the older Japanese soldier just as taciturn as ever. And Abigail frowns at the mention of the others.
"More who's blood might be on my hands tonight…"
Comstock House is a fortress, no two ways about it; aside from the standing garrison and a comparably small complement of soldiers, the Founders' headquarters and seat of power is now protected by multiple newly installed heavy rocket and mortar batteries. The only thing that Abigail can think of that could attack this fortress on its own would be the long gone Songbird. And it might have, given what happened to his Elizabeth, but the Founders and Comstock had that damn song to keep him at bay. And Abigail's certain it came to that.
"Even if every Vox soldier attacked it, I doubt we could cause a dent…" Turning back to their destination, Abigail bites her lip as she thinks to herself, "That's why we'll be needin' a distraction…" And it's that distraction that has her worried.
Another pair of Vox Populi forces will be launching attacks on the Founders' holdings, one aimed at taking back at Emporia while the other will be assaulting a Founder base in a nearby district. Of course, the heaviest fighting is expected to be in Emporia, so that force was planned to be at two hundred strong.
The truth is, both attacks are intended as feints, with an emphasis on minimizing casualties, but there's nothing to say that either force will be successful in distracting the Founders or escaping without a good deal of casualties. And that doesn't even begin to address the fact that many of those Vox soldiers are just the same as they were in the beginning of the Vox Populi uprising; violent, bloodthirsty, brutal and cruel.
"It won't be matterin' if the attacks are real or not, the Founder bullets are…" Breathing a worried sigh, Abigail shifts the straps on her shoulders, one holding her sword and sheathe to her back and another pair doing the same with a small pack. The purpose of the feints are simple; hopefully, the two-pronged attack will draw Founder forces away from Comstock House, at least long enough to give the main Vox force a chance.
"Heh… Booker an' Elizabeth managed that all on their own… without any help at all…"
"Abigail? What does that mean?" Yoshiro's heavily accented voice shakes Abigail from her musings, and she turns to find him looking at her oddly; she knows the old soldier is one of many who hold a grudge against the Lamb for what happened to Daisy.
"… the False Shepherd an' the Lamb. They fought through Comstock House without a lick of help." Yoshiro just stares back at her, and Abigail turns her attention back to their destination.
Now all the can do is wait. Sean seems especially nervous, the young man fiddling with his Repeater while ignoring everything else, even the weight he has strapped to his own back. Abigail's not sure how Wei and Mattie are holding up, though; both are in the barge's pilot cabin, their Chinese medic having learned to fly this thing recently.
"At least we're approachin' from the backside of Comstock House…" Muttering to herself, Abigail tries to peer through the darkness; the signal to move in is simply activity in Emporia, yet she can barely see the district through the gloom. All she can do is fall silently while they wait, nerves starting to get to the young redhead.
A flash of light flares up in Emporia several minutes later; a fireball bursts to life amid the streets and lights up the ruined, abandoned buildings. Then another, and another. Abigail and her squad are too far from the district to make out the report of gunfire, but it's plain to see; the Vox Populi have begun their attack.
And yet, they have to wait, the hovercraft slowing from a crawl to a stop; going in now would certainly land them in the middle of Founder soldiers, moving to reinforce the forces in Emporia. Abigail knows this, and yet she has to take a long, deep breath to steady herself; the tension is growing with each passing second. "Take your positions…" Motioning to back up as she whispers, Abigail steps away from the bow, Vivian and Yoshiro doing the same; they're just asking to fall off if they go into combat while standing unsecured at the edge.
Moving to the center of the barge's wide deck, Abigail breathes a quiet sigh as she runs her ungloved left hand down the back of her head; her hair is tied up in a tight braid, Abigail not wanting it to get in her eyes when she has need to fight. "'When', eh? Not 'if'… not today."
That thought draws another sigh; in the end, it's going to be just Abigail and her squad mates, fighting through to the asylum wing where the unconscious Elizabeth is being held. At least she's ready for it; Abigail's armed with her Hand Cannon along with her sword, as usual, the weapon in its customary place and she having brought along plenty of extra ammunition.
Time passes even slower than Abigail had expected, she watching a time piece she'd brought along, a strange mix of anticipation and dread building with every passing minute. Finally, she can take no more as the tenth minute passes, "Dammit… alright! We've waited long enough; let's go, carefully!" The light from the hovercraft's engines will give them away soon enough, best get close as possible.
The cargo barge and the dozen gunships bearing Vox colors advance slowly, and as silently as possible; the only sound to be heard is the drone of the hovercrafts' engines as it fills the air. For a moment, Abigail allows herself to hope that they might actually pull it off, getting to Comstock House unseen; she holds her breath as the massive building looms overhead, the barge and gunships slowly starting to ascend.
A wailing alarm pierces the nearly silent night, Abigail whipping around in search of the source. "Hell's bells… Wei, move it!" Cursing beneath her breath, Abigail shouts back at the cabin; a searchlight had caught one of the trailing gunships, the other beams quickly converging on them as she speaks.
The cargo barge surges up and ahead a split-second later, Abigail and her squad nearly thrown off their feet by the sudden burst of speed. And all around them, the Vox gunships fly past, the smaller hovercrafts both a good deal faster and much more agile than their sluggish barge.
Loud, thumping sounds reverberate from above a minute later, Abigail and the others looking skyward, the redhead's green eyes going wide; flaming shells rain down from above, a mortar battery having opened fire at the small fleet of Vox hovercrafts as they approach the roof of Comstock House. The Vox Populi soldiers aboard gunships that make the roof jump off the moment they can and scramble for cover from the raining explosives.
But not all of the gunships make it; several shells crash into one of the hovercraft just as it makes it to the edge of the roof, explosions rocking the ships near it and nearly tearing it apart. The flaming wreckage slams into the roof and slides a dozen feet before coming to a halt, only stopping the fight between the Vox and the newly arrived Founder soldiers for a moment.
"Ah, hell!" Hissing as another mortar glances off the nearest gunship, Abigail waves back at the cabin, "Go, go!"
The barge veers to the left, pulling away from the roof and quickly circling around the left spire. The rest of the Vox are too busy fighting to notice, and Abigail silently wishes them luck as their craft pulls out of sight; her squad won't be using the roof. "Take her down, Wei…"
The medic swings the barge around the side of Comstock House as it descends. And this is where Abigail feels another twinge of guilt; the rest of the assault force is on their own, while Abigail and her people fight her own personal battle. The great metal double doors of Comstock House come into sight a moment later.
The hovercraft pulls as close to the stone floor as Wei dares, and Abigail turns to the Chinese medic as he steps out of the cabin, "Wei, bring the barge back 'round in ten minutes, then every five after."
"You got it." Wei nods; she'd asked him to stay with the ship, she needing someone to keep the barge safe when they return. They'll need a quick escape when they come running through these doors again. "Try not to bring too many 'friends' when you come running back."
Abigail grins as she steps to the edge of the deck, and she jumps off the barge a moment later, rolling the moment she hits the stone tile to break her fall. The rest of her squad follows shortly after, and Abigail peers up at Comstock House, the gnawing sense of dread coming back to her.
"Abby… you sure about this?" Vivian puts a hand on her shoulder as the barge flies off, Abigail only nodding slowly; they stand at the main entrance to Comstock House, statues of the Founding Fathers lining either side of the walkway and a grand wooden staircase ahead of them, a short break in the steps about halfway up.
"Sean… care ta' 'knock'?"
"Ya' bet I do!" The brown-haired kid nods with a smile and unslings his newest 'toy'; a Barnstormer RPG. The first rocket slams dead center into the entrance, the explosion warping the metal and causing the double doors to buckle inward, whatever lock is holding the thing in place straining to keep it closed. But the second blows the doors wide open, the metal banging against the walls inside.
Inside appears deserted, Abigail leading her squad through a stone hallway with many burned out candles lining alcoves along the way; another pair of double doors stand at the far end of the hallway, these made of the usual wood.
"Whoa…" Sean and Mattie let out a low, awed breath, and Abigail can only nod slowly. Stepping through the doors, the redhead and her squad find themselves in a cavernous room made of the same stone bricks as the hallway before, six columns rising up to the roof only to form archways with their opposite. Four windows many times larger than a man line the sides of the room, only barely visible behind great tapestries depicting Founder ideology, and a monument to Comstock rises up to the ceiling in the back of the room.
"Ugh…" Abigail suddenly feel lightheaded, the sight of Comstock brandishing a sword, not so different from the statue that once stood at New Eden Square, bringing back memories of Booker's. And she recalls his panic, just as potent as the first time she'd felt it.
"Abby? You…" Abigail just waves Vivian off, she cradling her forehead and shaking her head to dispel the memories. The statue that stood in Comstock's place in the future especially leaves her shaken, the sight of Elizabeth bearing the sword instead of the Prophet more than a little worrisome.
"Let's just… just go. Yoshiro, you an' me are up front…" Advancing towards the stairs that circle around either side of the Comstock statue, Abigail takes point while Yoshiro follows close behind, Vivian and Mattie in the back while Sean takes the center. But even as they go, Abigail keeps getting flashes of the frozen prison Booker had fought through and she'd visited.
The room beyond the monument to Comstock sends a chill down her spine; windows line the room to the left and right, a series of circular columns standing near the center of the room, where steps lead down into a depression. And in the center of that depression stands the elevator that leads up to the asylum proper, and Abigail knows the barred door that would have led to the elderly Elizabeth lies beyond it. And Abigail recalls the… thing, with the brass helmet with a mouth shaped as if screaming and the pair of horns sticking out the side, the memory terrifying her.
"Least the door's open." Slipping around the elevator, Abigail finds wooden double doors there in place of the barred and locked gate she recalls, the right side hanging ajar. "C'mon…" Waving her squad forward, Abigail steps through as she gives silent thanks that she needn't take the elevator up yet. She'd learned of a floor plan for the first two floors, and she'd much prefer not having to go up to the main asylum floors.
The hallway beyond is much like the memories of Booker's had showed her, though the window at the elevated end of the hall is blown out, the curtains ragged, and furnishings are left scattered on the floor and on the steps. "Alright…" Abigail takes a deep breath, glancing around as she reaches into her pack and withdraws her makeshift map. "To the right's… the operating theater…" she shakes her head violently, instead glancing down the hall, "an' the two doors at the end… leads ta' hallways and stairwells…" That's her next destination, and Abigail quickly advances down the hallway with the rest of her squad close behind, her Hand Cannon drawn and at the ready.
The hallway they're in is paneled in the usual rich wood typical of upper class homes in Emporia, and the door Abigail opens leads to a similarly lavish hall, this one stretching far; it leads to the spire opposite the one Wei had swung them around on their approach. But that's not what she's looking for; an elevator and stairwell are set into the wall on the left, no more than thirty feet from the door. "Nobody's here," glancing back over her shoulder, Abigail whispers despite her assertion, "let's get goin'…"
She leads her squad towards the stairwell, Abigail wanting to avoid elevators as much as possible. And they're almost there when the sounds of footsteps echo down the stairwell, Abigail and her squad coming face to face with half a dozen Founder soldiers. Both sides stare at each other in shocked silence, if only for a moment.
"Move!" Vivian pushes past Abigail and Yoshiro, casting her left hand out as her skin appears to crack and glow, a wave of yellow light pulsing out from her and launching several of the soldiers into the air. And that ends the shocked moment, the Founder soldiers caught in the grip of Bucking Bronco screaming while the rest scramble to bring their weapons to bear.
"No." A blur passes between Abigail and Vivian, the distinctive sound of a blade clearing sheathe sounding a half second before one of the soldiers screams; Yoshiro slammed through their numbers and cut one of them in half, his blade working well with Charge. Two more fall in rapid succession as he scythes his weapon through them, leaving only the handful still held by Bucking Bronco alive.
"No guns!" Hissing as she breaks into a run, Abigail closes the gap with the remaining soldiers, Vivian close behind; one gunshot, and anyone on this or the next floor will know they're here. It doesn't take long to dispatch the incapacitated soldiers, Vivian using the butt of her Hand Cannon while Abigail draws her own blade.
"Someone's bound ta' find this…" Sean looks like he's about to be sick as he steps up to the stairs, Mattie stepping up beside him and nodding slowly.
"Don't have much choice. Let's hurry." Abigail simply turns and climbs up the stairs, sheathing her sword after cleaning it off and drawing her Hand Cannon once more. Yoshiro and Vivian follow close behind, though Mattie and Sean hesitate for a moment.
Once up the stairs, it doesn't take them long to find the sealed off wing of the asylum, Abigail recognizing the shadowy hallway the moment she peers down it, the elaborately decorated door at the end of the hall and the elevator doors giving it away. "Listen… keep well away from the doors. Don't ya' dare try ta' sneak a peek; trust me, it ain't pretty."
The others nod slowly, and Abigail slowly starts creeping down the hall towards Elizabeth's gilded cage. But a strange sound fills the poorly lit corridor as they approach the halfway point; a sound like rusty metal on metal, quickly turning into a squeal that ends in a heavy 'clunk'.
"Oh… oh no…" Abigail manages to whisper just as she turns her gaze to one of the nearby security doors. Her eyes go wide as it sluggishly swings open, just one of a handful of doors; a mottled, slick-looking 'hand' appears, two long tendril-like fingers gripping the side of the door, octopus-like suckers clinging to the metal. A cold knot forms in the pit of Abigail's stomach, "Monsters, huh…?"
Author's Note: And here we go, a look at Arboria and Abigail returning to a much more dangerous Comstock House to rescue Elizabeth. Some of the recent chapters have been more of a 'how life could go on in war-torn Columbia', and we're finally back to some action. I wonder, how many of you figured something like this would happen when I described the first 'Vigor test subject'?
Now, a couple things I'd like to mention; the snippets of the song I wrote into the first part is called 'The Rocky Road To Dublin', and I had to use a more contemporary version of the song. I couldn't find a performance of the version penned before 1912. As for the mortars on Comstock House, I figured that, at this point in the war, the Founders would most likely fortify Comstock House with the biggest guns they could, and the huge, multi-barreled mortar/rockets from the Bull House in Shantytown felt like a good example of that, if not exactly the same.
I'll be making checks for grammar and the like at a later date; I didn't have time before posting to clean the chapter up as much as I usually do. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Now, how do you think the doors in the asylum wing were opened, and what do you think will be stepping out of those doors?