Chapter 3 is now up! Hooray! Now Booker is finally in Colombia! Let's see how he interacts with everyone shall we?
I do not own Bioshock or any of its characters except for my Original Characters, created by me.
"One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail. But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one HAS failed." Robert and Rosalind Lutece.
~3~
Baptism in Fire
Booker felt the building collide with the capsule before he saw it. Just as he was staring at the giant metal angelic building in the distance, he felt a sudden jolt as the capsule connected with a service elevator outside on the building's roof. Booker's head rocked around when they collided, and he closed his eyes, hoping that the capsule had suddenly broken and he was falling to his doom. After a moment, Booker reopened his eyes to see lots of clockwork. Gears and levers pulled and turned together in perfect harmony, activating one another and finally all coming together to move some part of machinery.
There was a slight clinking sound, somewhat similar to the noise a rollercoaster would make as it ascended the first drop, as he descended. Ahead of the capsule, through all of the metal gears, chains, and levers, there was a giant pendulum swinging back and forth, telling Booker that he was obviously in a giant clock. Beyond that was a glass pane window, that had bright orange light shining through it and onto Booker through the capsule's porthole window.
As the capsule continued on its path down to the ground floor, Booker caught sight of a metal plate that hung on two metal beams on either side of the capsule's elevator. Written on the metal plate were the words,
WHY WOULD HE SEND
HIS SAVIOR UNTO US,
As they continued on their way down, Booker watched as several more plates followed. They all read (in order),
IF WE WILL NOT RAISE
A FINGER FOR OUR
OWN SALVATION?
AND THOUGH WE
DESERVED NOT HIS
MERCY
HE HAS LED US
TO THIS NEW EDEN.
A LAST CHANCE
FOR REDEMPTION.
Redemption? Redemption from what? What was this guy talking about? Whoever had this written down on platelets for everyone who entered the city to see, was obviously a deeply religious man. So full of religion, that it seemed like he was a religious zealot, forcing people to worship him almost. He seemed to have some sort of effect on these people, and from seeing that poster outside; Booker guessed the man he was talking about was Comstock. Whoever this guy was, he could prove to be a problem in the future. Booker decided to steer clear of him as much as he could while trying to find the girl.
Finally, Booker's descending ride seemed to end as a series of a pair of red lights passed by the porthole. Then, the area in front of the capsule opened up into a wide room, which nearly blinded Booker from its brightness.
"What the…" Booker whispered to himself as he squinted to see what was blinding him.
When Booker's eyes finally adjusted to the light, he could make out the giant stained glass window in front of the capsule. From inside the capsule, Booker could make out the picture of what appeared to be the same man on the banner, Comstock, standing in a heroic figure above a group of people. Above him it read,
AND THE PROPHET SHALL LEAD
THE PEOPLE TO THE NEW EDEN
He was right. This mural proved it. This man…Comstock…obviously had immense power over the people of Colombia, and unless he wanted to go through a vast deal of trouble, Booker was determined to steer clear of this man. But if he had to go through him to get the girl…so be it. It was the only way to clean off his debt.
Finally the capsule came to an end, and the capsule halted. With a hissing sound and a gust of wind, the capsule door opened once again, after what seemed like an eternity. The clamps on his legs and hands suddenly opened, giving him freedom to walk around freely once again. Booker rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had given him a small rash, and stood up. The stained glass window was still in front of him. Comstock's figure seemed much larger now, making Booker feel small in his presence. Turning his attention away from the mural, Booker stepped out of the capsule. When his feet landed on the floor, he found that the entire area had a small amount of water covering the floor.
"Great…now my shoes are wet…ugh…" Booker said as he lifted his leg to examine his now soaked shoes. With a heavy sigh, he lowered his leg back into the water with a splash, and began to wander around. Booker wandered towards some steps were he was welcomed by a giant statue of Comstock with his arms outstretched as if to welcome him. Booker snorted,
"Pfft. Get ahold of yourself Comstock you're not God…" he said as he looked at the statue with a raised eyebrow. Booker pressed onward past thousands of lighted candles towards a man standing near an archway, dressed in a holy looking robe. Booker approached the man and tried to get his attention,
"Excuse me! Where am I?" Male pilgrim looked at him and smiled,
"Heaven friend. Or as close as we'll see till Judgement Day." He responded. Booker nodded sheepishly before walking down the set of stairs that the man stood near. When he felt that the man was out of earshot, Booker rubbed the back of his neck,
"Better keep such questions to myself, 'less I want to get made." Sounds could be heard as Booker descended down the stairs. As he neared, he could distinguish it as singing. Booker reached the bottom of the stairs where he was met with a most spectacular sight. Ahead of him, was a large pathway (covered by water of course) with candles surrounding it at the sides. There were also other pathways on the side of the main one, where priests and other pilgrims walked, singing some sort of song that Booker didn't recognize.
"And every year on this day of days, we recommit ourselves to our city, and to our prophet, Father Comstock." Booker heard a voice preaching.
"We recommit through sacrifice, and the giving of thanks, and by submerging ourselves in the sweet waters of baptism." The voice continued. "And lo, if the prophet had struck down our enemies at Wounded Knee, and not railed against the Sodom beneath us, it would have been enough. IF the prophet had just railed against the Sodom beneath us, but not accepted the three golden gifts of the founders, it would have been enough. And I say to you again, if the prophet had just accepted the three golden gifts of the founders, and not prayed for our deliverance, it would have been enough!" The man yelled as he escalated in his sermon.
Booker had now reached a group of men in white robes surrounding the preaching man, all with their heads bowed. Booker reached for the two nearest men, and gently pushed them aside so he could speak with the preacher. Thankfully, the preacher noticed him almost immediately, and smiled as he saw him,
"Is it someone new? Someone from the Sodom below? Newly come to Colombia to be washed clean, before our prophet, our founders, and our Lord? " He asked.
"I just need passage into the city." Booker said, not exactly responding to the question that had been delivered to him. He had denied baptism before, and he wasn't too keen on doing it now.
"Passage into the city? Ha-ha! Brother, the only way to Colombia is through rebirth in the sweet waters of baptism! Will you be cleansed brother?" The preacher asked, reaching out his hand. All around him, Booker could now hear the men in white robes chanting for him to accept.
"Hey, I'm just looking to pass through…" Booker said, trying to back off. However, he could not leave the thick circle of men in white robes who had begun chanting him on,
"Go on Brother!"
"Praise the Lord!"
"Reach out Brother!"
"Take his hand!"
"Glory be!"
"Hallelujah!"
Booker sighed and walked up to the preacher and accepted his hand, "Well it's either this or turn around and get back on that rocket…"
The preacher then grabbed Booker, spun him around, and held him, ready to be baptized. He then began to speak,
"Hey!" Booker cried out in surprise.
"I baptize you in the name of our prophet, in the name of our founders, in the name of the lord!" Before Booker could react, the preacher pressed his head underwater, without giving him time to hold his breath. Booker felt the preachers hand on his forehead, pressing him down. He was losing air, and fast. Booker began to struggle a little, for fear of drowning. But, before any damage could have been done to him, the preacher pulled him back up,
"And make him born again, in the bosom of Colombia!" He continued, "I don't know brothers and sisters, but this one doesn't look clean to me!" He said towards the crowd before pushing Booker back under again.
*Booker's mind*
Fire. Fire was everywhere. On the buildings…in the sky…on the people…everywhere. From where Booker was standing, he caught a fantastic sight of the Empire State Building ablaze, its windows shattered, and the people inside crying in pain as their skin was burned off their backs. Some were even desperate enough to jump out of the building, knowing full well that they would die once they hit the ground. It was pure terror.
Booker looked around. What was happening? Just then, a loud BANG! went off. Booker turned towards the source of the bang and was astonished to see an entire fleet of flying warships shooting bombs off towards the city, further setting it ablaze.
Colombia.
Colombia had sent its warships to destroy everything…EVERYTHING! But why? Why would they do this to their home country! Why?! Booker suddenly felt dizzy, and fell over, allowing his face to hit the hard pavement below as he closed his eyes…
*The real world*
Booker coughed violently as he felt the last of the water escape his lungs and fly out of his mouth. After a few spurts, Booker could finally breathe again, and allowed his eyes to open. Blinding light made him close his eyes again. Slowly, he reopened them, allowing them to adjust to his new surroundings.
As he stared up at the sky, there were three male statues staring back down on him. One carried a key, one a scroll, and another a sword. Booker coughed once more, cleansing the last of the water out of his lungs before sitting himself up. His clothes were soaked, and his eyes red from not being able to breathe.
"That idiot priest needs to know the difference between baptizing a man, and drowning one." Booker said to himself, wiping off as much water from his hair and clothes as he could. He stepped out of the fountain he was currently standing on and began to explore. He moved past a series of priests that were worshipping a statue of what looked like George Washington.
"I need to find a landmark and figure out where the hell I am." Booker continued talking to himself as he walked along. He was his only company at the moment, and being lost in this new society was making him begin to speak to himself for comfort. As he walked, he could hear many of the priests murmuring ridiculous things about George Washington, and the other founding fathers. Booker sneered as he walked past them up to a giant wooden door,
"Just 'cause a city flies don't mean it ain't got its fair share of fools." He said before opening the door.
When he pushed open the doors, he was met with one of the most spectacular scenes he had ever seen in his entire life. Before his very eyes, was a picture of peace, tranquility, and order. A little ways down, was another statue of Comstock, this time holding a sword. Surrounding him was a plaza, where a few people mulled around, and conversed with each other.
Aside from the floating buildings, the most interesting thing that Booker could notice was the set of rails that connected each building. As he stared at them, he watched as several freight cars flew past, guided by the rails like a rollercoaster. Even when the buildings wandered too far, some of the tracks twisted and turned to meet the proper adjustment to allow safe passage of the cargo. It truly was a magnificent view. Further, Booker could see many other sections of the city floating around, with clouds flying past them.
Booker was snapped out of his trance when the ground shook slightly. He then noticed that the floating ground he had been on had just connected with the plaza. Booker slowly walked forward, over the teeth that connected the buildings, half expecting it to open up on him, allowing him to fall to his death. Above his head, a sign read,
NEW EDEN SQUARE
Civilians conversed and laughed all around him. Off to his right, a man in a vendor's suit was selling hot dogs, as he leisurely leaned on his hot dog stand.
"Alright Booker…still got a girl to find…" he said to himself as he walked past a group of citizens talking with one another.
Booker walked up to the statue of Comstock and stood before him, summing up the statue from where he stood. He then shook his head, and continued walking down the cobbled street. It had come to dawn on him that there were no cars of any sort. Not to mention carriages. How did they transport things? By hand? That would be quite a burden wouldn't it? Booker wondered. As he began walking down a street surrounded by tall buildings, his question was answered as he looked at a mechanical horse.
"Whoever these people are, they're pretty advanced…I never saw stuff like this in New York…unless the government has been working on some top secret machinery…" Booker exclaimed as he stared at the mechanical horse. The man that accompanied the horse began to stare suspiciously at Booker, and spoke up,
"Hey, keep it movin' pal!" He said. Booker raised his hands up in defense and walked away.
Ignoring what had just happened a few minutes prior, Booker still looked around the streets, amazed at this new city. Compared to New York, it was better in every way. It was cleaner, brighter; less crowded, had nicer people, probably had a lower crime rate, and was full of new innovations that he hadn't even seen back on the surface. The only downside, however, was falling off, but what were the chances of that. It's not like he was just going to walk over the edge.
Booker walked up to a clearing where the bridge was obviously down. A small crowd had gathered, waiting to cross. Just then, Booker saw some small blimps/balloons cross through between the buildings. They each held a dramatic picture of Comstock, and had a narrator speaking in the background,
"After the battle of Wounded Knee, the angel of Colombia did present itself to Father Comstock and show him a vision of the future. And so our prophet led the people away from the Sodom below, up, up into the city, where they created an even more perfect union. But it was the miracle child, the lamb that is the future of our city. For the prophet has said that she in the tower will lead the Sodom below into righteousness!" When the narrator finished, the police officer guarding the bridge announced,
"All clear! Good luck at the raffle folks!"
Booker was confused. Raffle? What raffle? Booker continued onward when he came across a sign.
"'Colombia raffle and fair', Huh." He read aloud. Up ahead, Booker could hear some slight singing. Intrigued, he walked up a set of stairs into a small street. Behind him, beyond the balcony on a floating barge (floating in the air mind you) were four men, singing in harmony and smiling gaily. Booker smiled weakly before remembering why he was here.
The city continued to seem like a never ending maze, leaving no distinguishable landmarks for him to recall, until he saw it.
The Statue. The giant, metal statue of an angel.
Booker held up the photo he had been given of the statue and compared them.
"Yeah. That's where they said I'd find her." He said aloud to no one in particular. Just then, he heard a light, yet slightly annoying voice call out his name. Before him, stood a young boy in a brown coat wearing a paperboy hat. He held out a golden piece of paper with a grand smile on his face.
"Telegram Mr. DeWitt!"
"Huh?"
"Telegram for you sir!"
"What? But who knew I was…hey come back!" Booker shouted as the boy gave him a salute and dashed off. Most likely to send another telegram. Booker sighed and looked at the ticket in his hand. It read,
Colombia Telegram Co.
DeWitt STOP
Do not alert Comstock to
Your presence STOP
Whatever you do, do not
Pick #77 STOP
Lutece
"Lutece…what the?" Booker was confused. Who was Lutece? How did they know of his presence in the city? And what was up with 77? Too many answers and too little time. Booker didn't want to spend any longer in this city than he needed to. Something about it seemed…wrong. People were too happy, and if there was one thing he knew for sure, there wasn't such thing as a Utopia. There just couldn't.
Booker stared back at the giant metal angel and saw that there were fireworks going off behind it. Grand colors of red, white, and blue exploded into the sky, giving all who watched a grand show. Booker watched the fireworks for a second before moving on. He had a girl to find.
The stairs that were before him seemed to lead to a carnival of sorts. On the outside of the entrance, a man in a suit and top hat was trying to sell some sort of potion to customers, but Booker knew better than to take drinks from people he didn't know well. He had had that experience in New York once. Needless to say, he wouldn't do that again.
As he entered the fair, he could hear numerous jovial voices calling out to any customers who were interested to come to their stall and join in the festivities. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and was laughing as they played the games. Booker walked up to one of the stalls which were a shooting range.
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Who will take up arms against these monstrous heathen? C'mon up and defend our dear Colombia from the Vox Populi!" The stall tender announced to the crowd.
"Vox Populi? Who are they?" Booker asked, confused.
"Who are they?! Have you been livin' under a rock? My dear man, they are the people, led by Daisy Fitzroy, who want to rid of us this beautiful land that we call home! They want to tear it all down, and rebuild their 'more perfect union'. Why don't you help us out and take a few down? Just step right up, grab the rifle, and knock 'em dead!" The man said swinging his arm with enthusiasm. Booker stared at him for a moment before deciding that it wouldn't hurt to earn some cash while he was here.
"Just wait till I say go, and you can let it loose! Alright? Ready…set…GO!" The man said happily, watching as Booker quickly picked up the rifle and aimed at the newly appearing targets. One after another, he shot them apart. Some on the head, some in the chest…and some in the groin. When he was finished, he had racked up around 31 points. Just enough to earn him the top prize.
"Well I'll be damned! Nice to have you around here sharpshooter! I just know you'll defend our dear city from those heartless heathen! Say, you should join the military you know that?" The man said throwing an arm over Booker's shoulder. Booker lightly shook it off and grinned,
"Haha, no thanks pal, I'm just here to visit. But thanks for the prize." Booker said and claimed his prize. 40 silver eagles. Not bad. Not bad at all. Booker strolled through the numerous stalls, staring at each and every one of them just like the other citizens before hearing a feminine voice call him over,
"Dear friend, have you ever lost a penny to a vending machine? Has a pay telephone ever refused to connect you with your beloved spouse? Well! It's time to take back control from the men of metal! With possession, you are the master! Here sir, we have free samples!" A young girl presented to him a basked full of green bottles.
"With just a whisper, they're all ears…" She said.
"Here, give me one of those." Booker said as she neared him so he could grab one. The bottle was entirely green, and had a knob at the top with a heart on it. Booker pulled the top off, and downed the drink like he would with any alcohol.
Only, this wasn't alcohol. The drink made him feel dizzy as soon as he gulped it down, and it tasted of a thick syrup and watermelon. The girl that had presented the thing to him drew a heart in the air, and blew him a kiss, which woke him out of his daze. She giggled before walking off towards another customer.
"What the hell was that…?"
On his hand, a small green ghost with female features spun and circled around his fingers. It seemed as though it was waiting his command.
Booker wiped his eyes and found that his vision was back to normal. With a groan, he walked up to the giant metal gate that would lead to the raffle. In front of the gate, was an animatronic man from the waist up, with a straw hat atop his head. Booker approached it and noticed that it was selling tickets. On the metal dashboard below was a button, which read: BUY TICKETS. Booker pressed the button and waited to see what would happen,
"Sorry pal, the raffle's all sold out! The Entrance is reserved for dignitaries and very important personages alone. Please accept our greatest apologies! The raffle is at capacity!"
"At its capacity huh?" Booker thought for a moment. What was it that girl said? "With just a whisper…they're all ears. Hm…" Booker said aloud, while approaching the machine. With a wave of his hand, the small green ghost flew at the machine and disappeared inside it. With a metallic groan, the machine came to life,
"Well, if it isn't assemblyman Buford! Your spot at the raffle awaits!" The machine said happily, opening the gate for Booker. "Don't know why I didn't recognize you before. Odd!" The machine said happily before Booker walked past it. Almost as soon as he had walked through the gate he ran into a couple…that seemed oddly familiar…
"Heads?"
"Or Tails?"
"C'mon let me through." Booker said, annoyed that it seemed like fate did not want him to reach Monument Island.
"Heads?"
"Or Tails?" They asked again.
"Huh…heads." Booker said flipping the coin. The coin flew through the air before landing with a CLANK on the plate that the woman was holding. It was heads.
"Told you."
"Hmmm…"
"I never find that as satisfying as I'd imagined."
"Chin up. There's always next time."
"I suppose there is."
And with that, the pair moved off to the side, examining the coin and murmuring to themselves. Booker wasn't exactly sure what that was for, or why they were doing it, but shrugged and moved forward. When he set foot into a small courtyard, where two children were playing, he could hear them singing,
"Warden, Warden, keep her safe,
Keep her from the Black Lamb's strafe,
When he comes to take her 'way,
See to it that he's away,
Never hurt her, never leave
Or the Black Lamb 'll make us greave!"
"Huh…the Warden? Meh, probably not important. Now where's the way to Monument Island…" Booker said moving past the dancing children. Next to the small courtyard was another balcony that gave a great view of a few buildings floating in the air. One of the buildings even had parade balloons strapped to it. Nearby, two police officers were talking with each other. Booker overheard their conversation as he passed,
"Where'd you get that?" The first police officer asked, viewing a spinning metal hook that was strapped to the other police officer's hand like a gauntlet. The second officer laughed,
"What? This little beauty? The whole division got 'em. If we're gonna flush the Vox out of the sky-line system, gotta have the best. Ya know?"
"They got any openings in the group? I'd love to bust some Vox skull…" The first officer commented, admiring the spinning hook.
Booker moved past the two after taking a look at the metal hook himself. What was that for? A melee weapon? Quite peculiar, still, it looked quite lethal. Suddenly, Booker remembered what he was doing here in the first place, 'Quit sightseeing DeWitt! You've got a girl to find! You haven't got time for neat nick-nacks' Booker thought and moved on.
Booker walked forward a few steps before a sign caught his eye. It read:
COLOMBIA
MONUMENT ISLAND
CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
WE APOLOGISE FOR THE INCONVINIENCE
Booker groaned. "Great, now I got to get in there illegally. This will prove to be interesting." He said before walking past the sign. Up ahead, he could hear singing. Maybe that was where the raffle was? Booker moved towards the sound of the singing when he came upon another sign that caught his interest. It was a picture of a hand with the letters B and D on it. It read,
YOU SHALL KNOW
THE BLACK SHEEP
BY HIS MARK!
"What the?" Booker wondered as he raised his right hand. It too, had the letters B and D on it. He had been given this brand as the initials of his name, Booker DeWitt, when he had joined the Pinkertons. Allan wasn't a trusting man, and he had all of his agents branded with their initials. It was a painful experience, but everyone had to go through it.
Booker continued towards the sound of the people singing. It was getting louder now, and he had a feeling he knew where they were judging by how loud they were. If he had to guess, they were just over the large set of stairs, and in what looked like a small, tree filled courtyard. Booker looked back at his hand and quickly ripped off part of his shirt. He didn't know what this had to do with him, or how these people knew him, but he didn't want them seeing his mark, so he quickly wrapped the cloth around his hand.
After admiring his handiwork, Booker walked up the set of stairs past a group of people in line, waiting to get handed a baseball with a number on it by a girl with a basket. Booker finally reached the top of the stairs, and passed a fountain, leading him into a courtyard with a stage. There was quite a large crowd of people, who were singing merrily to the man who was on stage. The man, who was wearing a top hat and a neat suit, was singing and encouraging everyone to join him.
Booker surveyed his surroundings, and decided it wouldn't hurt to join in the crowd. He walked up behind a group of people and watched as the man on stage stopped singing,
"And now, the 1912 Raffle has officially begun!" he shouted happily. The crowd cheered and whistled, obviously excited about the event. What was this raffle? Why was it so important? Were they betting money? Maybe this place wasn't that bad after all.
"Hey mister! Mister!" Booker heard another feminine voice call him over. Booker approached the girl with an eyebrow raised,
"Sorry, no sale." Booker said quickly, expecting her to be trying to coax him into buying something.
"Silly, there's never a charge for the raffle!" She said happily. "You been sleeping under a rock?" Booker shrugged and reached in to grab a baseball. 'Pfft, yeah lady I've been getting that a lot lately.' Booker thought as he picked one up. As he turned it to see his number, Booker was astonished to see the number,
"Seventy-seven." He read aloud.
"Seventy-seven? That's a lucky number. I'll be rooting for you." The girl said before walking off. Just then, the man on stage spoke up,
"Bring me, the bowl!" And so, like he had asked (more like demanded) a girl brought him a giant glass bowl, as the crowd seemed to become ecstatic. "Ah! Is that not the prettiest young white girl in all of Colombia? Haha!" The man laughed as the girl brought him the bowl. The crowd was cheering loudly now, excited to see who the winner would be.
"Alright then…the winner…of the 1912 Raffle is…number seventy-seven!" Booker was shocked when he heard his number called. Usually, he never had this kind of luck.
"Well, what do you know?" Booker said eyeing the ball. Suddenly, from behind him, the girl from before started shouting,
"Over here! Over here he's the winner!" She shouted happily to the man on stage. The man came closer to Booker and watched as Booker showed him the ball. The man smiled happily and stood back up,
"Number seventy-seven come and claim your prize! FIRST THROW!" The man said, growling his last sentence with distaste. Something was wrong, Booker could feel it. First throw? First throw at what? Just then, the curtains behind the man drew and a white man and African American woman were thrust forward, tied to a wooden pole. The crowd began shouting wedding music as the bound couple was brought forward.
"Please! Please don't do this!" the woman pleaded looking at Booker.
"It was me. It was all me! Please. Please no!" The man shouted, also looking at Booker. "Please what are you doing!?" The man pleaded, obviously scared and confused.
Just like Booker.
"Come on now, are you gonna throw it…or are you taking your coffee black these days? Hahaha!" The man on stage began to laugh at his racist joke, along with the crowd. Booker just stared as the crowd chanted for him to throw it. 'What the hell? What was wrong with these people?! This was just sick!' Booker thought as he realized what was happening.
"Let her go! Please! I'm the one you want!" The man pleaded once more. The woman just began crying, out of fear about what was going on. Booker eyed the man with the fancy suit angrily.
"Oh, looks like we got a shy one here! Haha!" The man teased. "We've gotta do something about that!" He said. Booker wasn't listening however, as the rage built up inside him.
"Please!"
"Time's a wastin' my boy! Why don't you give her a throw?" The man beckoned. Booker had had enough of this man's ignorance.
"I've got something for you, you son of a bitch!" Booker said under his breath, before chucking the baseball at the man. The man recoiled backwards from the throw, and fell on his behind as the crowd fell silent at Booker's sudden action. A few screams arose from the women. Booker knew this was bad, and he knew it was a stupid idea to draw attention to himself like that, but he couldn't help it. It was WRONG. Just as Booker was about to walk away, two police officers grabbed him by the arms.
"Where do you think you're going pal?"
"Let go of me!"
"Only one person would commit a heinous act like that. Let's just take a looksee at your hand here…"
"Hey! Stop that! Stop!" Booker pleaded as the police officer unraveled the cloth around his restrained hand. Before long, the cloth had fallen off, and he was once again sporting his B.D. initials on his hand, for the entire crowd to see.
"Look! It's him!" The police officer shouted towards the man on stage, (who had gotten back up and brushed himself off). The two officers brought him forward and showed the man his hand.
"Now, where'd you get that brand boy? Don't you know that makes you the back-stabbin', snake in the grass, Black Sheep?!" The man spat. From behind him, Booker could hear the crowd grow uneasy,
"The Black Sheep!"
"He's here!"
"Kill him!"
"Stop him!"
"Beat him!"
Booker continued to writhe in the police officer's grasp, but to no avail. He would have to wait and see what they would do with him.
"And we ain't lettin' no Black Sheep in OUR flock! Haha!" The man said, standing up and addressing the crowd. "Show 'em what we got planned boys!" The man said deviously.
Just then, Booker saw the policeman to his left pull out the sky-hook that he had seen before. Right before his eyes, the blades started spinning, the light shimmering off its razor sharp blades. Booker could see that this would be his end, right here and now, if he didn't do something fast. Quickly Booker tossed the baseball that was in his hand in the air.
The throw had distracted the police officer on his right long enough for Booker to grab him by the back of his neck, and push him forward. What followed his movement was a nasty scene.
The spinning blades went tearing into the police officers, bald head, shredding any flesh that got in its path. Blood flew out of his skull everywhere as the blades continued to barrel through his skull. The police officer holding the weapon desperately tried to pull it out as his comrade's blood was squirted all over him. The crowd around them ran away frantically, afraid that Booker would kill them.
Finally, the other police officer had managed to pull himself free of the sky-hook, allowing it to cease its rotating motion. With it still stuck halfway through his half chopped up brain, the dead police officer fell to the ground, lifelessly. A small pool of blood immediately began to form on the ground.
"You bastard!" The other police officer shouted pulling out a police baton. Booker quickly pulled the sky-hook out of the dead cop just as the officer charged him.
Booker swung his arm as an attack towards the advancing police officer, catching him off guard. The blow cut right up his chest and into his throat. The metal blades had cut him open like a stuck pig, and blood squirted out of him like a damaged water pipe.
"Stop him! Stop him! The Black Sheep's come to lead our lamb astray!" the man on stage shouted before disappearing behind the curtain.
Booker kicked the second cop's carcass aside and watched as the last cop in the courtyard scrambled to climb the stairs.
"No you don't!" Booker said as he pursued the fleeing officer. Just as he had climbed to the top of the stairs, Booker was met with three other officers waiting for his arrival. Booker didn't have time to curse when the first officer approached him.
Police baton in hand, the first officer charged Booker, screaming madly. Booker quickly parried the attack and knocked him down the stairs as the second one charged. This time, Booker spun up the sky hook and rammed it into his gut. The blades cut into his flesh, ripping open his stomach and tearing into his organs. He didn't even have time to yell as he was torn apart. Blood poured onto Booker's face as he literally emptied the man's innards.
Behind him, the third and fourth cop were hesitating with shock, however the third one continued the assault and charged. Booker quickly flicked the officer's (whose body was on his sky-hook) carcass towards the third cop, which hit him straight in the neck and sent him flying into a wooden stall. Wood flew everywhere as the stall exploded.
Booker was about to advance on the last cop when he heard another angry yell from behind him. The officer whom he had knocked down the stairs had returned with a bloody and broken nose. Booker dodged his attack and jumped out of the fourth cops attack. Quickly, Booker retaliated by using his possession vigor on the other officer (which stood idly by, somewhat confused at what was happening) while he swung his sky-hook at the cop with the broken nose. The blow sent the cop flying back down the stairs, this time for good.
Meanwhile, the possessed cop stood next to Booker, wavering now and then. Booker stared at him warily, before he watched the green scent the vigor gave him wear off. Booker took a step back, expecting the man to attack, when he fell down on his knees and gripped his baton.
"What have I done…what have I done!" He shouted before beating himself in the head. Booker just watched as the man practically beat himself to death. With one final swing, he cracked his skull, leaving his face bloody and bruised. Booker stared at his body, before moving on. He didn't have the time to dwell on what had just happened. He had a girl to find.
Booker ran around the corner of the path, sky-hook in hand. Just as he rounded the corner, he ran into another pair of cops.
"There he is!"
"You're not such a tough guy! Get him!" They shouted. Booker groaned he didn't have time for this! Booker quickly smacked the first cop dead with the hook, before ramming the hook into the second one. The second cop fired a shot from the pistol he was holding as Booker flung his body away with the hook. Quickly, he searched the bodies. After finding some money, he picked up the pistol and moved on.
"Out of the frying pan and into the fire…" Booker said to himself as he walked up a wooden plank to a floating boat.
Ok, so first things first. The fight scenes. Yeah, they're cool, and they're quite interesting to read after just reading Booker wandering about, but let's get serious here. You and I both know that this game is a first person shooter/RPG, so we both know there's gonna be tons of fighting. AND we both know that's gonna get boring. So, I've got a sort of problem that I'm trying to work out. I'm gonna try and keep you guys entertained with the fight scenes, without making it repetitive. I will try my best, and I cannot guarantee that it will not repeat itself, but I will try and make every fight scene unique or different somehow, so that we all don't get bored.
Oh, and just so you know, or if you were wondering, yes. I did change the song the children sing. Why? Because I've done a little tweaking that's why.