If you read my first chapter's introduction/caption thing, you will know that I intend to change the ending of this story because I am greatly unsatisfied with the one that the game gave us. Sorry if that's a spoiler but it's true. I just hated the ending, cause it made me think, "Well if I had died earlier on in the game…wouldn't that have saved all of the universes from Comstock ever existing?" Maybe. But then again, was I supposed to have died before given the chance of baptism? Then what was the point of Booker surviving the battle of Wounded Knee. For the story I suppose. Still, if he had died there then he would've at least been given him a decent death compared to the one the story gave us. And then that leads me to a discussion about Elizabeth that I will save for another time because right now you're probably thinking, 'Why the hell am I reading this, it has nothing that I am interested in.' Well, then here you are, the second chapter. Enjoy.

"When I first seen Columbia, that sky was the brightest, bluest sky that there ever was. Seemed like Heaven. Then your eyes adjusted to the light…and you realized people weren't as nice as you thought they were…" Daisy Fitzroy

~2~

Fly me to the Moon

A package had come into his office the next day, but from whom it did not say. It was anonymous, but Booker could guess who it had come from. Most likely the man in the crème colored suit. Still, he took the package into his office and set the small box down on his desk. Booker then made his way around to the back of his desk, where he drew up a chair. Plopping himself down at his desk, he pulled the package closer to him so he could get a better inspection of what it was when he opened it. It was carefully and neatly wrapped in brown wrapping paper with a string around it to keep it in place.

Booker pressed his fingers under a small crease in the paper and pulled on the paper, ripping it off the object inside. After pulling off most of the wrapping paper (except for the small bit on the bottom), he was left with an open view of the object that was concealed inside. It was a brown box made of some elegant wood. All around the edges it was covered in gold plated metal, and on the top of the lid it read,

Property of Booker DeWitt

7th Cavalry, Wounded Knee

Booker was slightly confused as to how these people knew he had been enlisted in the US military and had fought at the battle of Wounded Knee, but he dismissed the thought when he remembered these were the same people who promised to wipe away his debt. He carefully opened the box and found a number of items inside. One of such items was a picture of what seemed like a brochure of Colombia, the so called 'flying city' he had been told about. He ran his hand along the picture, as if unsure if it was real. His fingers ran across the flat surface of the paper as he brought his finger down across the surface. Next, was an oddly shaped key that had the picture of a cage on it. Booker was unsure as to what it unlocked, but he noted that whatever was in here would surely be helpful. Then, there was the metal pistol lying in the dead center of the box. Booker picked it up and recognized it instantly; it was a standard Broadside pistol, much better than his average, run down pistol that he held on to for emergencies. This one seemed to be in top shape and fully loaded. Booker placed the pistol in his jacket and continued to search through the box.

Taped to the roof of the box, seemed to be a combination. Booker couldn't make any sense of it, but he knew it would come in handy in the future.

The last item in the box held Booker's gaze. It was the picture of the girl he was sent to recover. Booker picked up the picture and held it up to his face so he could see it clearly. The girl had some of the biggest blue eyes that he had ever seen in a girl. They were like two pools of the brightest and clearest water. She had dark brown hair that fell down a little beyond her shoulders, but was held up in a ponytail. If Booker had to guess, she was around the age of 18 or 20, but the picture was not of good quality and he could not be sure. Still, he took a mental image of the girl in his mind, so he would recognize her on sight. As he began putting the photo down, he discovered that there was some writing on the back. He flipped the photo around and read aloud,

"Bring to New York, unharmed…hmm…shouldn't be too hard."

Seeing as he had looked at everything in the box, he closed it up and put the box back on his desk. Booker then stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was slightly ruffled and he looked as though he was some sort of bum or mugger. He quickly shot his hands to his hair so he could neaten it. At least he could look somewhat nicer before entering the city.

Last night, more like this morning, the man in the crème colored suit had also given him the coordinates where he would find the people that would take him to Colombia. Booker inspected the coordinates on it before tucking it away in his vest. Looking up from his vest, Booker grabbed his badge from working with the Pinkertons and pinned it onto his shirt. He then grabbed the box and headed out of his office. The paper had informed him to be at the city docks at 1:30 PM, and it was currently 1 o'clock. He would have to hurry to meet his ride there. Hopefully, he would be able to make it in time.

*City Docks 1:32 PM*

The water splashed against the docks and the numerous boats that were docked there as the sun shone bright over the sea. Several fishermen lined the docks, talking amongst themselves and doing business of all sorts. A light breeze blew in, making Booker shiver as he arrived at his destination. He was indeed two minutes late, and he hoped that they didn't leave him behind. Booker stood at the beginning of the long dock, and looked back and forth. On his left, there were two boats, but were not attended by anyone. On his right, was one singular boat that was owned by two people, both wearing bright yellow raincoats. Seeing as they were the only people present at this dock, Booker approached them.

"Hey, uh…I'm Booker DeWitt? I was supposed to meet someone here…" Booker trailed off before the couple interrupted him.

"Of course you are.

Please, climb aboard." They said, completing each other's sentences. Booker found it quite unnerving and weird, but got on nonetheless.

*7 hours later 8:32 PM*

"Bleugh!" Booker coughed as he puked for the third time. The beginning of their sea adventure had started off pleasant enough, but now the water was choppy and rough, sending Booker's stomach lurching around in his body. Lightning flashed around them, lighting up the path in front of them a bit. Rain had started to pelt them as they continued on their journey. Booker sincerely hoped that they would arrive at their destination soon, and also hoped that these two idiots that were rowing hadn't gotten them lost.

"Are you going to just sit there?" The man said.

"As opposed to what? Standing?" The woman retorted.

"Not standing. Rowing." The man said slightly annoyed that he was doing all the work.

"Rowing? I hadn't planned on it." The woman replied.

"So you expect me to shoulder the burden?" The man asked.

"No but I expect you to do all the rowing." She replied curtly.

"And why is that?"

"Coming here was your idea."

"My idea?"

"I've made it clear that I don't believe in the exercise."

"The rowing?"

"No I imagine that's a wonderful exercise."

"Then what?"

"The entire thought exercise."

Booker had begun to grow tired of these two's quarreling, and decided to speak up,

"Excuse me, how much longer?" How much longer indeed, Booker didn't know how much longer he could stand being on this boat. Maybe he should just drown himself and save himself from all of the agony…

"One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail." The man continued, completely ignoring Booker's question. 'Yup, I'm going to die on this boat.' Booker thought dismally as the two continued to argue.

"But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one HAS failed."

"Can we get back to the rowing?"

"I suggest you do or we're never going to get there."

"That'd be great." Booker chimed in. The sooner the better.

"No, I mean I'd greatly appreciate it if you would assist." The man replied.

"Perhaps you should ask him. I would assume he has a greater interest in getting there than I do."

"I suppose he does, but there's no point in asking." The man replied, but at this point Booker wasn't paying attention. He had finally caught a glimpse of a bright light that was shining upon the sea. Booker could tell it was a lighthouse because the light circled around the sea surrounding it. 'Finally, I can get off this thing…' Booker thought as they neared it.

"Why not?" The lady continued her conversation.

"Because he doesn't row."

"He doesn't ROW?"

"No. He DOESN'T row."

"Ah, I see what you mean." By this point, the two had stopped their quarreling as they neared the lighthouse. They began to pull up along a small dock that jutted out of the small island that the lighthouse was built on. On it was a small shed with a damaged rowing boat in it, and a few other fishing supplies. Booker noted that the boat would be unable to float, and that once he was on this island there was no turning back. "We've arrived." The woman said. 'Yeah, no shit.' Booker said in his mind as he turned to climb the ladder that would take him to the docks. Booker grabbed the wet, soggy wooden ladder and pulled himself from the boat with the box in hand. As he began to climb, he noticed that the two fishermen began to pull away from the docks.

"Shall we tell him when we'll be returning?" The woman asked to her male companion.

"Would that change anything?" He replied.

"It might give him some comfort." She pointed out.

"At least that's something we can agree on." The man said with a sigh. Though, after a moment, neither of them did tell him when they would return. Booker walked towards the lighthouse a few steps before turning to the couple who were just barely out of earshot.

"Hey! Is someone supposed to meet me here?" he asked. The man in the boat shouted back,

"I certainly hope so."

"It does seem like a dreadful place to be stranded." The woman added. Booker nodded and climbed up the stairs towards the front door of the lighthouse. With his hair soaked and his clothes not any dryer, Booker shivered and said to himself,

"Ah, well maybe there's someone inside…" Booker walked up to the massive wooden doors and noticed a small piece of paper nailed to it, like a notice. It read,

DeWitt,

Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt. This is your LAST CHANCE!

After reading it, he turned towards the massive door and raised his right hand up. Slamming his hand down upon the wood, he knocked a couple times,

"Ah, excuse me? It's Booker DeWitt? I guess you're expecting me…" He said to nobody in particular. When there was no response, Booker felt it wouldn't hurt to push the door open. Placing his left hand on the door, he gently pushed the door aside, leading him into a circular room that had a small staircase to his right. Booker closed the door behind him, silencing the noise of the lightning and rain from his ears. Only by listening carefully, could you hear the light pattering of the rain against the outside walls of the lighthouse. Booker walked around, looking at anything in particular before coming across a large water basin. He approached it and looked into it. His green eyes stared back at him when he peered at the water. When he pulled his head up, there was a small banner above the water basin that read,

OF THY

SINS

SHALL I

WASH

THEE

Booker chuckled to himself, "Good luck with that pal." The banner was obviously talking about baptism, and Booker was quick to refuse the offer. He had been given the chance of 'rebirth' before through baptism, right after the battle of Wounded Knee. He had felt immensely dreadful for the horrendous actions that he had committed at that battle, but he had reminded himself at the last minute that such actions were what soldiers did. It was their duty. And so, he rejected the baptism at the last minute, and fled from the scene. It was a touchy subject for him, and he tried to forget about it completely, but the memory always found its way back to him for some reason.

Booker sat the box he was holding down on the floor and pulled out the items inside. After stuffing them in his pocket he took one last survey of the room.

Seeing as there was nowhere else to go, Booker turned towards the staircase. The light from the lightning cast a bright light from the window on the next floor upon the staircases' bottom. Booker began to scale the stairs, listening to nothing but his own footsteps as he ascended. As he climbed, he came across more banners,

FROM

SODOM

SHALL I

LEAD

THEE

"Is anyone here? Hello?" Booker called up the stairs to what seemed like an abandoned and vacant room. When he arrived at the second floor, he looked around the room for any signs of life, but there didn't seem to be any. There was a desk surrounded by mounds of clutter. On top of the desk were a phone and a typewriter. Booker walked up to the phone and grabbed hold of the receiver, hoping he was able to call someone. Unfortunately, it seemed that the line was dead. He placed the receiver back on its holster and continued his search of the building. A radio played a soft tune in the background as he walked past more desks and a bed. Just like the previous floor, there was another flight of stairs to be climbed.

When Booker reached the third floor, he immediately stopped in his tracks. There, in the middle of the room, was a dead man, with a bag over his head and tied to a chair. Blood was smeared across the floor, making one assume that his body was beaten, dragged across the room, and finally tied to a chair. A lone light shone upon him, giving it an ominous look that made it seem like someone wanted someone to see it. Like they were trying to make an example of him…who would do that?

"…shit…" Booker said as he examined the body. Across his chest was a sign that read,

DON'T DISSAPOINT US

After deciding there was nothing else to see in this room, Booker climbed yet another set of stairs. This time, they led outside, where Booker guessed he would enter the final room; where they light itself was located. Just as he had left it, the sky was dark and the rain was fierce. His hair was once again immediately soaked as he stood outside. As he reached the top balcony, the wind practically slapped him across the face as it pulled on his body. Booker shielded his eyes as he reached a door with three bells on it.

At first, he was utterly confused, but upon closer inspection, he noticed three symbols on it: A scroll, a Key, and a Sword.

"Wait a minute…that card…" Booker said as he remembered. The same symbols that were on the bells were on that card that he had received in the package. Booker pulled out the card from his pocket and held it up in front of him so he could dial the right combination. Booker raised his free hand and rang the first bell once, and the other two twice.

"Huh." After a few seconds, a loud horn sounded, ringing in Booker's ears. Then, there was the red light that shone from the sky, reflecting off the water. It practically blinded him,

"What in the world…" He wondered as the horn sounded again, this time it sounded twice. And, just like it had done before, it sounded the horn once again, twice in a row. After that, it stopped. The horn did not cry out again, nor did the sky turn red. Everything returned to normal. Booker scratched his head in confusion before the door behind him suddenly opened. Booker spun around and carefully approached the inside of the room.

Inside, the room was completely barren except for one lone chair that had red cushions. It sat right in the middle of the room. 'That doesn't look ominous at all.' Booker thought to himself as he inspected the chair. Booker concluded that the chair did not have any spikes or other traps on it, Booker sighed,

"All right. Looks like they expect me to sit in their fancy chair." Booker carefully climbed into the soft chair and sat for a moment, expecting something to happen.

"So now wha-hey! What the hell?" Booker cried out in surprise as metal clamps closed in on his arms and legs. Two metal walls arose from around the seat, and closed in on him, as if they were trying to enclose him in a fancy metal box.

"Make yourself ready pilgrim. The bindings are there as a safeguard." A robotic voice rang as the machine continued to piece together the metal encasing that surrounded Booker.

"This can't be good…ah!" Booker shouted in surprise as the metal walls suddenly connected to each other, enveloping Booker completely. He was now in what seemed like a metal capsule. Then, the chair tipped forwards until Booker was facing what seemed like the engines of the capsule. Booker then felt his loose pistol fall out of his vest and fall out into the engines,

"No, no! Goddammit!" He shouted in frustration as he watched his pistol become obliterated in a column of fire. The voice from before rang out again,

"Ascension…Ascension in the count of FIVE…the count of FOUR…THREE…"

"No…no…nonononoNO!" Booker began to panic as It seemed that he was about to be shot out of a cannon towards the moon.

"TWO…ONE…"

The next moments of Booker's life flashed by in an instant. As soon as the voice finished its countdown, Booker closed his eyes in fear of some horrible sight. He could feel the G-Forces press his skin down as the capsule rocketed towards the sky. He couldn't move. Even if he tried to move his head to the left instead of the right, he would have to put a considerable amount of energy into it.

"Ascension…Ascension…" The voice repeated.

"Just…just stay calm…"

"Five thousand feet…Ten thousand feet…Fifteen thousand feet…" The voice continued.

"Augh! NOOOO!" Booker shouted in agony as the machine ignored his pleas. And just as he thought he was about to die, it said,

"Hallelujah."

Booker could feel the light before he saw it. The new sensation of warmth spread over his face like a blanket as the G-Forces ceased to press down on his face. Opening one eye, Booker looked outside the small porthole in front of him nervously. What he saw caused him to open his other eye, and have his mouth hanging open. It was true. It was real. There, in front of him, was a real…flying…city.

The sun shone brightly on the floating buildings, as if defying the storm beneath it. Fireworks went off around him, as if they were celebrating the fourth of July. They even had giant American flags draped over buildings and hung on flagpoles. They were everywhere!

"Wha…" Booker said, with his mouth still hanging open.

As his capsule descended, there was a photo of an elderly looking man with a large white beard on his chin. On the banner, it read:

FATHER COMSTOCK

OUR PROPHET

Booker didn't know what to make of it. A prophet? Obviously something religious was going on in this city. Maybe it was an important part of their culture? Like, more important than usual? Booker didn't know, that was for sure. He was completely confused as he stared through the small porthole.

Then, his eyes caught sight of a giant metal statue of a female angel with its arms spread out, as if welcoming any newcomers to the city. Booker stared at it wide eyed. Then there were the flying zeppelins that flew across the sky, most likely transporting goods and people. It was just too much. There was so much here that the world down on the surface lacked. It was so grand…so magnificent…so holy looking. Booker's train of thought was suddenly interrupted when the capsule landed on some sort of surface, and began descending into some sort of building.

He had arrived at Colombia.

Booker's at Colombia! Think I did it all too fast? Too slow? Got any questions? Review and I will answer them!