After hopping a few freight hooks, I see a flat rooftop that I can land upon. Standing on the rooftop is what appears to be a Columbian Soldier. He is wearing a grey helmet with a matching trench coat, and strapped to his back is a rapid-fire submachine gun.
He is staring into the blue abyss below, his back facing me. This makes the Trooper totally exposed.
Ok Jack, it will be just like a One-Two Punch! You can do this!
I throw myself and my sky-hook off the freight hook with full force, and swinging my left arm forward I ram the spinning sky-hook directly into his unsuspecting spine. It connects with a sickening crunch, and flings him slamming into the wall in front of me. Had he been a few feet to the left, he would have skid off the roof and fallen out of Columbia before landing on the ground a thousand and a half feet below.
Now he lies at the roofs edge, unconscious at best but most likely deceased. I do not feel too bad; he would have killed me readily if given the opportunity.
I scan the rest of the rooftop, and see that there is a swarm of Columbia Soldiers. They don't see me yet, as the dead soldier and I are hidden behind a pile of supplies. I could easily charge forth, guns blazing and kill the rest of the Columbian Soldiers. If I wished to, I could shoot and plasmid to death everyone I encounter from hear to Monument Island and back again.
But that might not be the wisest course of action. I do not know how many of these brutes there are in the city, and I can not afford to bite off more than I can chew. There are no vita chambers in Columbia. If I die, I die and I stay dead. There are no do-overs here.
Of course, I have more weapons at my disposal than my plasmids and my firearms. In Rapture, a clever head has saved me just as many times if not more.
Comstock's thugs will shoot me on sight ... but if they don't see me then I should be able to reach Monument Island unimpeded.
As quietly as I can, I kneel down over the (probably) dead soldier. I begin appropriating from him the clothing I'll need to pass for a Columbian Soldier. His helmet, his army military jacket, his blue army pants, his thick white combat boots, his thick brown gloves, and his brown cartridge belt. Removing these in a silent manner is a painstakingly slow process, but none of the other soldiers come to this area so I am left alone.
Now begins the hard part: putting all of this shit on without making any noise!
First I put on the blue army pants. They are baggy enough that I can wear them over my normal pants, which is good because the wind and temperature at this altitude make disrobing a very bad idea.
Next are the boots: these will not fit over my regular shoes, so I have to remove the latter and store them in my wooden box. My problems do not end there: these new boots are too small for my feet and I can feel them press my toes together. Nothing can be done about this, I just have to bare through it.
After I squeeze my feet into the boots, I have to put on the jacket. Like the pants, this army jacket fits so loosely that I can wear it over my sweater. The extra layer feels kinda warm, but I can tolerate it as long as I need to.
Now that I have my jacket on, I can attach a belt. This belt has a lot of empty pouches around it, which will certainly be helpful. In fact, I am going to transfer some of my items to the belt right now! No more fumbling with a wooden box whenever I need some coins!
I transfer the mysterious key to one pouch, the silver coins to another, the ammunition to yet another, and the pictures and paper to yet another one after that (I'll leave Sally's Toy Boat in the wooden box, as I won't need to take it out until after I am home).
As I am putting the pictures and paper away, I find myself myself stopping when I hold the picture of Elizabeth. I never knew someone could be so beautiful ...
I'll find you, and I'll take you to New York. Nobody's going to force you to break a puppy's neck or to draw ADAM from a corpse, while I have a say in the matter.
Gently, I place the picture in my pouch with the image of Monument Island.
Finally I pull on my gloves. They are slightly itchy, but fit well enough. Them concealing my "mark of the false shepherd" will help, but it comes with a trade off - I can not use Plasmids while wearing these gloves.
Now the moment of truth. Time to see if this disguise works ...
I pick up the soldier's machine gun, and load it with nearby boxes of bullets. The boxes reveal the gun to be called a "Rolston's Reciprocating Repeater", though I am just going to call it a machine gun. This gun's main difference when compared to the machine guns in Rapture is that it's ammunition magazine is a rectangle loaded into the side as apposed to a circle shoved into the guns underbelly. No idea if it works better or worse, but it's better than no weapon. Plus it completes the image, and increases my already slim chance of fooling these thugs into not recognizing me as their False Shepherd.
I walk across the roof, slowly and hesitantly. Some fog has gathered in this roof area, and out of the fog walks a Columbian Soldier. I brace myself, but he does not fire.
"Whoa there! It's just me. No Voxy Foxy up here."
I ease up a bit; the disguise worked!
"Are you all right?" The soldier must be wondering why I am just staring at him.
I nod in response. He nods back, and allows me to pass. I walk past him, and ten of his buddies, and then I reach the edge of this rooftop. The wind is whistling all about me, and I begin to understand why these soldiers wear such thick coats. Why everybody in Columbia does not wear thick coats at all times is beyond me.
Ok Jack, time to evaluate the situation! There are two gunships on either side of this rooftop; one to your left and one to your right. The one on the right is out of the question; it is too high to reach and it has a turret that can blast you to bits in a moment's notice. Wait, shouldn't they both be out of the question? Hmm ... I do not know how to fly one of these things, but I do know that the gunship to the left is close to another rooftop ... but it has a turret as well. Damn ... but nothing a firm smack can not cure. Come to think of it a firm smack can cure most things-
Focus Jack! Ok, you need a distraction ...
And I know what it is. While hiding behind a crate, I spot a big fella covered head to toe in padded armor and wielding a hand cannon. I carefully unbuckle the glove on my right hand, slip it off, and place it into my left. Then I shoot a burst of Posession at the man.
The green cloud leaves my hand, swirling in the wind right over to the target. It envelops him, and immedeatly he lots out a feral howl.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"
With this war cry, he begins firing rounds at his own brothers-in-arms. Two are blown to bits, and the rest scurry behind cover.
"Biff's gone rogue! He's one of the Vox!" one Columbia Soldier shouts from behind a corner. As they try to shoot at him, I use my Posession on the two Gunship Turrets. The Turret on the right immedeatly wheels around with a metallic screech and provides supporting fire to the Posessed Trooper.
I do not wait to see who won. I instead bound towards the left Gunship and jump aboard. I shove my right glove back on, and jump from the Gunship to the next rooftop as bullets and curses ring out behind me.
On the rooftop lie two dead Columbia Soldiers. Their bullet-riddled corpses imform me that the turret I posessed from the left gunship caught them off guard as well (as well as the dozen dead pigeons lying around them). Without hesitation or reverence, I begin to loot their corpses. Digging through their pockets yield more bullets and more silver coins.
From there I see a Freighthook hanging off the side of another building, providing me the means to reach a balcony that would normally be out of jumping range.
With a running start, I lunge for the freight hook with skyhook in hand. With a jolt the two hooks grab each other and suspend me in the air directly over oblivion. Looking anywhere but down, I swing myself forward towards the balcony.
"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I land with a stumble, and that stumble turns into a roll as I tumble forward. Eventually the extra momentum is burned off and I can breathe easy. At least for now.
The balcony I am on is a large stone one, with lots of lunch tables scattered around it. Monument Island - Elizabeth - is so close I am literally standing in it's shadow.
I can rest when I am in New York. For now I keep moving forward!
I find a pair of double doors, and push them open. They lead to a small kitchen room. Connected to the kitchen on the left is a large pantry with shelves filled with various foods, to the right is a wooden door, and on the wall of the kitchen directly in front of the door is a poster.
The poster depicts a dark-skinned man on one knee, holding his hands up in a pleading manner. Above this image are the words "A Meeting of The Columbia Friend To The Negro Society - July 9, 1912", and below the image are the words "Pastor Atkin's sermon topic: 'Until the Negro is equal, none of us are equal".
Well, at least not everyone in this city likes to throw baseballs at dark skinned people. Perhaps this group might be helping others, but I can not dwell on this for long. I can not end Columbia's Raffles any more than I could have rescued the Big Daddies in Rapture - no matter how strong I am or how many plasmids I pump in my veins, it is not enough. It is never enough.
Shifting my thoughts to the next goal, I make my way through this house. As I sneak past two large printing presses, I overhear a man and a woman conversing. They are probably the residence of this building, and I suspect they are discussing my actions at the Raffle.
"Violence is not the answer!" The man insists, "As much as I support her cause and her people, blood must not be shed."
The woman, possibly his wife, appears to disagree. "What do you expect these poor negros to do? How they treat them — it was bound to happen!"
"Violence is not a foregone conclusion." the man states. Truth be told I find myself agreeing with the woman on this.
When I reach the hallway the two see me. The immediately freeze up with fear, perhaps thinking that I am one of Comstock's brutes. They can be forgiven for thinking this, considering I am dressed like one. I have
At least this means my disguise is working-
Knock Knock Knock!
"Police! We're in need of your assistance!". Ugh: actual Comstock Thugs.
That they are knocking, as apposed to busting down the doors, suggests they might think no-one is home. I place my finger to my lips to signal for the two people to remain quiet until these fellows pass; just in case the Columbia Soldiers actually come in I have my repeater rifle.
After a minute, the guard gives an order to his men. "Alright, let's move on…". We wait five more minutes, until I am sure they are gone. Once they are, I take the glove on my right hand off and show the man and the woman the chain tattoo on the underside of my wrist.
Atlas gave me this tattoo so as to mark me as a slave; I thought bad memories would be the worse they could bring, but now Comstock is using them as a mark by which others can identify me as a "False Shepherd". But right at this moment it might convince these two that I mean them no harm.
It works, as both are overcome with a combination of relief and surprise.
"It's him ..." the man gasps, "You're the one they're after."
Maybe now I can learn a little about this city I am in.
"Please, I mean neither of you harm. I am here to rescue a friend from a grizzly end, and to do that I need to know about this city. Who is Comstock, and why is he stoning people every year?"
The woman smiles, though both she and her husband appear apprehensive. "Zachery Hale Comstock founded this city, and claims to be a Prophet. Everyone is expected to worship him, and the worship of any other religion is illegal."
Why does this not surprise me? Neither Comstock nor Ryan liked for people to have loyalties that weren't towards them.
Truth be told I do not know much about the metaphysical; in Rapture there was one group called The Saturnine but I have the feeling that their beliefs began and ended with ADAM. After Atlas died my mentor Brigid Tenenbaum spoke of a Deity named "Yahweh" whom she was raised to believe in - she renounced Yahweh when Auschwitz murdered her family but, when Rapture descended into ADAM-fueled insanity Tenenbaum was pushed by desperation to pray once more. I never asked her for more information on "Yahweh", nor have I read any of the religious texts scattered in the crates in Fontaine Fisheries, nor have I done research on it since going topside. This avoidance is done largely out of fear: I am well aware of how unnatural my existence is, and I am afraid of what attempting to delve too deeply into the philosophical will mean for me and my existence.
Is my anima real, or an I merely an abomination and a freak?
The woman continues, oblivious to my internal struggles. "A major tenet in Comstock's Theocracy is the superiority of the white race. He thinks the other races should only work in the worst jobs, and he hates the ideas of any type of racial mixing."
"Is that why the couple at the raffle was going to be stoned? Because one of them had darker skin than the other?"
The woman nods, "It was very brave of you to disrupt the Raffle."
That is wrong: bravery did not enter into it. It was just the right thing to do. Whether or not it did any good is a different question, but it was still right.
The woman's husband shook his head at his wife's statement, "Did you really need to burn all those unarmed civilians?"
It's not like I premeditated it - it just sort of happened. I nod to the two, and place my glove back on.
"Thank you for hiding me. I hope you suceed in making your friends equal."
With that, I exit the door to their house as quietly as I can. I can not rest easy until Elizabeth is free. Rescue Elizabeth: that is why I am here.