Elizabeth VII
Pulling her fingers from the depths of her crude, makeshift contraption, Liz stepped back and put her hands on her hips, taking in her trap. She'd set up the 'bomb' in a way that it was half-hidden inside a busted wall; the idea being that, if the splicers couldn't immediately locate the source of the sound the noisemaker would create, then they'd be distracted longer. Her backpack full of supplies was already hidden away in a decorative planter full of half-overgrown and half-dead bushes, waiting for her to join it.
"Are you ready for this?" Booker asked, scratching at his chin as he looked over her work.
"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied, trying to ignore the pounding headache thundering away in her skull. "Assuming this works, I'll only have a small window of time to escape and get to the elevator."
"And that assumes that the elevator even works," the ghost of her father added. "Are you going to have time to hide before the splicers come?"
"Yes, I built in a thirty-second delay in between me turning it on and the noisemaker starting. Then there will be a four-minute delay before the actual bomb part ignites," Elizabeth explained. Then, after a moment, added, "And if I can't get the elevator up and running, then I'll just climb up through the shaft. As it stands, it is my most direct shot back up to the safe house."
Booker sighed, "Then I guess it is time to move. Have you been able to get Tenebaum over the radio again?"
"You know I haven't."
The man cocked an eyebrow at Liz, forcing a painful reminder that Booker wasn't real and that she was just seeing things. Her father wasn't there and she couldn't reach her only ally. Elizabeth truly was alone.
"Let's do this," she sighed, flicking the bomb on.
A small red light on the device's face began to flash and that was Liz's cue to dart into the bushes of the same planter she'd hidden her backpack in. The small, sharp branches scratched and poked at her bruised skin through her clothes as dirt stained her clothes. But, uncomfortable as it was, the planter was as good of a hiding place as any. Almost as soon as she'd settled into a good hiding position, the Bring! Bring! Bring! of the noisemaker component of the bomb went off.
At first, nothing happened; even the air in the dying Rapture seemed to stand still. But then there was a scuttling, scratching sound, like rats in the walls, and it was getting louder. It took about thirty seconds before the first splicer -a scraggly-looking woman with chunks of her stringy blonde hair ripped out of her skull- stumbled into the hall, head jerking around erratically as she tried to find the sound. Close behind her was a group of two men, one with brown hair and one bald; the bald one had a bleeding chunk missing from his leg and was limping. Elizabeth held her breath and forced herself to remain as still as possible as more and more splicers filtered into the hall. Soon, there was a hoard of at least twenty-five shuffling around attempting to find the source of the sound and growing more agitated with every moment that passed.
Eventually, one of them grabbed a chunk of the broken wall and yanked it with all their might. Drywall dust filled the air and the splicer screeched when they spotted the flashing lights of the bomb. Like a community of chimpanzees when they find meat, the group of splicers shrieked as they all began tearing at the wall, demolishing it. Soon enough, one yanked Liz's contraption free from its place in the wall. Another splicer hit the first with a crowbar and claimed the device for himself.
Bloody fingertips, the nails having long since been ripped or chewed off, pried at one of the bomb's small panels. Elizabeth held her breath and mentally counted down the exceptionally long four minutes until it would go off. The splicer let out a loud, unhinged swear when he wasn't able to get a panel opened. He was-
BAM!
The actual blasted radius of the bomb wasn't that big, maybe ten feet, but the loud sound and the blinding light stunned the crowd. Almost immediately, the smell of burnt flesh and blood filled the corridor. Liz fought back a yelp of surprise -even if she knew the blast was coming, the loud sound was still startling- and steeled herself, took one less second to tighten the backpack straps around her chest, and bolted from the planter in the direction of the elevator.
After the pound of her own heart in her ears and the chaos coming from the crowd of splicers, Liz couldn't hear if anyone was pressing her. She couldn't imagine she'd go undetected for long, considering the loud thudding of her steel-toed boots on the linoleum floor; when she got further away, Elizabeth would focus more on stealth and moving quietly through the dying Rapture, but, for now, she was just focused on getting as far away from the blast site as possible.
"Take a left here," Booker said, jogging alongside her.
Logically, Elizabeth knew she had no reason to trust her hallucination... but she did. If you held a gun to her head, she would say that -as Booker was just a manifestation of her subconscious- 'he' was able to her directions because she subconsciously remembered the layout from the few times Liz had looked over the blueprints Tenebaum had.
So she took a hard left, nearly skidding on the dirty floors. The overstuffed backpack was heavy and Elizabeth was a decently tall, but slender young woman -easy to overturn.
Retaining her footing, Liz took a chance on a shortcut forced herself through a narrow opening created by a half-collapsed barrier of damaged furniture. She kicked aside some rotten boards and ducked under some rusted piping. Uncomfortable as it was -and as many scratches as it added to her body- her gamble paid off and Elizabeth found herself at the foot of the staircase that would lead her up to the right floor. Fingers curling around the solid security of the Hand Cannon, Liz began to climb the stairwell. Her back against the wall, she moved as silently as possible; after every few steps, she paused to listen for anyone coming her way.
It was exceptionally slow going, but, eventually, Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs; below her, she could still hear the rumbling and scrambling of the human-sized feral rats.
"Not far now," Booker commented.
"Yeah," she whispered back. "The elevator is just down the hall."
"So far so good then?"
Liz felt her lips twitch into a smile. "Don't jinx it, Booker. We've still got about eighty yards to go."
Booker scratched his stubble, his face scrunched up in concentration. "Maybe it is time to break out some more of that EVE?"
Elizabeth twitched and she bit her lip, scratching at the injection site of her last EVE dose. EVE was such a valuable resource and she didn't want to waste it if she didn't have to. But the other, more important reason, was the fear that ate away at her gut that the plasmids would twist her in some way, that it would cause Liz to forget herself and her purpose.
But, on the other hand, if she couldn't finish this supply run, she might not be able to figure out what this 'purpose' even really was.
"Fine," she sighed, pulling the cigarette case out of her pocket. Placing the needle of the second syringe against the crook of her elbow, Liz drew in a deep breath and pumped the EVE into her veins. The flood of power was exhilarating and the pain that still wracked her entire body even lessened. Glancing down at her hand, Elizabeth smiled at the small green ghost that wound his way through her fingers. Using the Possession plasmid used up a lot of energy; Liz would probably only get two uses out of an entire vial of EVE. But, if she used it right, one or two blasts would be all she needed.
The dark hallway stretched out in front of Elizabeth, dark as the abyss of the sea, and she steeled herself for the challenge.
She considered flicking on the lighter to provide some light but ultimately decided against it. The small halo of light it would provide wasn't enough to give her a significant advantage in a possible light but would serve as a giant, glowing target on Liz's back for any splicers lurking in the shadows. Elizabeth blinked against the darkness, letting her brilliant blue eyes adjust to the lack of light, and took a cautious step forward.
And another one.
And another one.
And another one.
On and on again, Liz pushed onward, pausing every now and then to listen for anything suspicious. There was plenty of it, but nothing to raise any immediate alarms. And, about halfway to the elevator, Elizabeth felt her fear and dread start to melt away ever so slightly. Rounding a corner into the final chamber she'd need to traverse, she could see the still-open door of the elevator cab, she smiled.
A smile that immediately fell away when she heard the snapping sound of someone walking on broken glass.
Spinning around -and nearly falling over once more due to the weight of the backpack- Elizabeth raised the Hand Cannon and scanned her surroundings.
"Who's there?" she hissed. "Leave now or- Umpf!"
A male splicer lept out from his hiding place and plowed into Liz, sending her crashing us to the floor. The man pinned her down, landing a hard punch to Elizabeth's checkbook when she tried to kick out. The side of her face throbbed from the hit she took, but Elizabeth pushed through the pain and struggled to maintain her grip on the Hand Cannon.
"Hit her!" the splicer commanded, looking to his side. "Hit her now!"
Liz followed her attacker's line of sight and was surprised to see another splicer, this one a skinny twenty-something female with long, ragged red hair and scratched down her face. She clutched a length of pipe in her shaking hands. She glanced down at Elizabeth and froze, giving the smallest shake of the head. The man snarled and hurled abuse at his female companion, shifting just enough that Liz was able to pull her wrist free and slam the butt of her gun into the man's temple.
"Raaaaahh!" the man roared in pain, throwing himself backward and clutching at his head.
Elizabeth squirmed backward and out from under the man just enough to free a leg and kick him in the stomach. Reaching out a hand, a Possession ghost flew from her fingers and into the splicer's chest. After a brief moment of struggle, her former attacker stood up and threw himself on his once ally. Not bothering to stick around to see the outcome of this fight, Liz forced herself upward and booked it for the elevator. Much like before there were no lights or anything to indicate that it was operational.
But she had to take a chance.
Shooting another ghost forward, using the last of the EVE in her system, it flew into the mechanisms of the elevator. At first, there was nothing, but, after a moment, it sputtered to life. Lights turned on and the doors began to close. Elizabeth darted into the cab just in time and slapped the button for the right floor. Sighing in relief, she collapsed against the wall.
Bam!
"You... can't... leave!" the female splicer panted, blood splatters painting her face as she tried to force her way into the cab.
The splicer pushed against the elevator doors, trying to force her way in, but making no progress. She was a thin woman, likely malnourished, and badly injured. At least three of her fingers were broken, judging for the angle they were jutting out from her hand, and blood was dripping down her face from a busted nose, in addition to the many scratches and bruises that covered her skinny body.
Elizabeth leveled the Hand Cannon, reading to use one of her last bullets to blow the woman's head off... only to hesitate.
'She is a victim too,' she thought, lowering the gun ever so slightly as the woman managed to force both of her arms and half of her torso through the doors. The Splicer swiped her pipe at Liz, missing by a mile, as Liz gave her a sad once over.
Then a thought crossed her mind. 'Tenebaum said she was trying to heal splicers. I wonder if…'
BANG!
A bullet clipped the woman's upper arm, sending a vibrant red splatter across the shiny chrome of the inner cab. It wasn't a deadly wound -it wasn't intended to be- nor was it anything that would cause lasting injuries if it was given quick, proper treatment. But you wouldn't know that from the howls of agony the splicer let out. Those same howls certainly didn't help the pounding in Elizabeth's skull; as it turns out, firing a gun in a small, enclosed space was incredibly loud and bad for the eardrums.
Fighting through the pain and disorientation, Elizabeth seized the woman by the upper arm and pulled her through the doors. Slamming her fist down on the 'Up' button, she tossed her new companion down to the floor, still at gunpoint.
"I'm trying to help you," she growled, "but if you try to attack me, then I won't hesitate to blow your head off!"
"Why do you think she is even sane enough to understand what you're saying?" Booker questioned.
"She hesitated to attack me when she had the chance earlier," Liz said, absolutely refusing to acknowledge how the woman's eyes darted between Elizabeth and the empty space she imagined Booker was standing. 'Great, it has reached a point where even a splicer thinks I'm mad!'
"If there is enough humanity left in her to not like killing, then there is something inside of her worth saving," she continued.
"You mean, there is something worth trying to save," Booker corrected. "Remember, Tenebaum said that most of her attempts to rehabilitate splicers failed. They died, Elizabeth."
"Yes, I remember... but I still have to try."
Solidifying her resolve, Liz wrestled a length of cord out from her backpack. Just as the elevator reached their destination, she tied it tight around the woman's wrists, securing her arms behind her back but leaving the splicer's legs free.
"Big Daddies are patrolling this floor, so I'd keep your voice down unless you feel like fighting one," she growled, the barrel of her gun pressed against the other woman's back as Elizabeth led her into the labyrinth of halls that led to the safe house. The splicer grumbled but didn't fight her grip and allowed herself to be led.
Neither got very far though. Just after rounding one of the last corners needed, they came face to face with a Big Daddy, his drill dripping with fresh blood.