Comstock House Rescue

“Come and face me, you feathered piece of shit! I will never let you take her, you hear me! I will kill you!”

 

He ran across the bridge, his voice full of rage. He felt as if he could kill it once and for all, put him down, rip and tear him piece by piece. All of the aches and sprains went away as his blood boiled in his mad dash after them. He promised her that he would not let her go, that he would protect her. She knew that those promises could not be kept, so she asked for something far worse. And in the end, she sacrificed herself for him. All he saw in his mind were her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, bathed in that cold blue light as hand of the giant took her away from him, her hand reaching out to him desperately.

 

The storm did not relent, lightning arcing around him as it danced on the metal elements of the bridge. He could still hear the piercing shriek of Songbird as he got closer to the Comstock House.

The palatial estate slowly came into focus as it appeared from the clouds. He checked his shotgun and patted his holster, making sure the revolver was there. He was still running when he rammed the doors with his shoulder, bursting them open.

 

By now, fighting off Comstock's goons was as easy as swatting flies, his instincts mechanically aiming the barrel of his gun at them, his hand tossing lighting and fire down the hallway.

They couldn’t stop him, not the crowmen who were set on fire, not the firemen who found themselves fried in their suits. The mighty Patriots, peppering him with automatic fire now were nothing more than children’s toys as he turned them into scrap.

 

He climbed the big stairway that led him to the second floor, guided by her cries and the mechanical whirring and whizzing of the metal bird. Another phalanx of Columbia’s finest stood in his way, but Booker didn’t wait for them to approach him. He ran straight ahead, summoning a murder of crows and then jammed the skyhook into the neck of the first man in front of him with a swing. Blood sprayed onto Booker’s face from the torn jugular, before he twisted man’s neck and tossed the corpse at another, who soon shared his fate. But they couldn't sate his bloodlust, nothing would until he had her back.

 

He burst through the second door, entering a large chamber with a balcony and enormous windows that allowed the flying monster to enter. Elizabeth’s cries could be heard in the background, behind another doors. And there was. Comstock, standing behind Songbird, about to leave through that door. The bird was poised with its claws to jump at Booker, glaring at him with a red light.

 

“Ah, So you finally came, False Shepherd. You tried to take my Lamb away, corrupted her, but now she is back with me, safe. It is regrettable though, the sickness of the soul that you imparted her with.”

Booker was fuming. “ You locked her up and prodded her like a lab rat, you son of a bitch. How could you do this to her? Your own daughter?”

Comstock continued with his arrogant, sagely droning. ”I saw the future DeWitt, I know what must be done. She will be the one that drowns the Sodom below in flames. And I know there is nothing you can do to stop it. I saw your death, dying in a hundred different ways, always failing here. May Lord have mercy on you, because I won’t” He turned around and left.

 

As soon as the doors closed, Songbird lurched forward with its clawed hand towards Booker. But he saw that claw coming, he remembered how fast the monster was, right before it took her away. But he was faster, lightning striking from his hand at the gloved claw, stopping it as it recoiled in shock, the bird screeching. But that wasn’t enough to completely stop the juggernaut, who swung with his other hand at Booker. But he was already running forward, sliding underneath the monster, hand cannon pulled out. The featherbrain only had scared Vox Popli before, but never before it had to fight for her, the only person that neither of them could live without.  The beast tried to stomp on him, but it only felt burning as it stepped on the fire trap, with Booker on the other side of the room.

 

With a terrifying noise, it spun around and launched itself at Booker again, who this time only narrowly dodged it as the beast punched through the wall. Now was his chance and Booker fired the gun at bird’s eye, which still glared at him with the evil red light. Songbird lost one of its  advantages, fear was nought to DeWitt by now. Only she mattered.

Handgun shots had an effect, as the monster recoiled in pain with cracked lens of its eye. But it moved its stuck hand quickly, ripping the wall apart and knocking Booker over.  

 

Now he was close to the balcony door, which he went for as he got up. The bird jumped after him, and he moved to the side just enough to let it fall outside, but it slapped him on the face with its leather wing as it moved past him. He got up again, eyes darting around, head reeling from the sharp slap. It only made him angrier, as he tasted blood from his cut lip and felt the stinging of the hit. The monster jumped off the balcony, but he could still hear it. And sure enough, it darted past Booker on its wings as it aimed to crash into the balcony. He jumped over the balustrade onto the wide parapet and ran, trying to stay out of Songbird's aim. Come on you flying maggot, try to get me.

 

He got to the corner of the building and the only way now was up, as Songbird slammed into the facade  of the building, just next to him and already launched its claws at him. He staved it off as much as he could with Jockey bolts but he climbed as fast as the ledges of the building would let him. Arms and legs moved on their own, searching for ledges in frantic climb. The Songbird soon started climbing after him, threatening to swipe Booker off the facade as it trashed the ledges and windows below him.

 

As soon as Booker got to the roof, he looked below but Songbird was gone. He took in a deep breath but knew it would reappear shortly. And it did, with a heavy thud behind him and with a swipe of its hand grabbed him. It squeezed on him hard, threatening to crush his ribs, its cracked eye glaring at him. It looked as if Booker would be squished in the monster’s grip, the grip tightening with every second. He was out of breath, his innards being compressed together, but the pain was nought. He still saw her eyes, crying tears for him, because of him. He yelped when he was caught, but now he only gritted his teeth and squeezed his gun harder, before shooting at its eye again and breaking its grip loose with Bucking Bronco.

Songbird screeched out in pain, clutching its head  as the glass pane of its eye all but broke, while Booker was down, breathing hard. He felt as if he would fall apart at seams as he was breathing, but he collected himself. Red of his anger was mixed with blue of her gaze in his head.

 

“I’m not done with you yet, you flying shit.” He got up, and ran for one of the stone turrets that decorated the corners of the flat rooftop. He was almost out of salts, so he had to make this count. He was now racing against the monster, grinding his teeth down as he fought through the pain.

 

The Songbird finally recovered and it turned its head towards Booker, looking at him with its good eye. He stood in front of the turret. “Come on, you flying rat! Try me, prove your master right!” He flipped the bird to the bird.

 The monster launched itself at him, its hand curled in a  fist, ready to nail the little man to the turret behind him. At the last moment, he jumped to the side, and the clawed fist went straight into the turret, that now was plastered with electric crystals and trembling traps.

 

The power of vigors wasn’t enough to take out the bird, but it was enough to stop him in its tracks as it writhed in pain, trying to take out its paralysed hand out of the trap. But Booker was already on him, firing his hand cannon into its other eye, each bullet cracking the glass more and more. Each shot felt like a righteous hand slamming down on the monster, excitement finally getting to Booker. The pained screeches became unbearable to listen, as Songbird flailed with its other good arm, trying to hit Booker as he got close. He tossed the empty gun to the side and latched onto its breathing tube with a leaping jump, narrowly avoiding the good hand, wrapping himself around the tube as he pulled hard on it, yanking the head down as much as he could. The muscles started to feel like jelly and he ignored the bleeding gash on his leg that appeared after the last dodge. Had this been a New York alley, he would have given up. But not today.

 

By now the trap wore off and Songbird regained control of its arm, but Booker’s effort was not in vain as the breathing tube came off with a hiss, not designed to be pulled on. The bird gave out another pained screech, staggering around as it grabbed Booker again, just as he fell to the floor with the tube in between his arms. But this time there was no squeezing, as it simply held him as it stumbled over the edge of the roof.

 

COMSTOCK HOUSE RESCUE, Pt.2

 

“Take me back! Please take me home...” She said those words after extracting a promise from him, promise that he will not let her go, promise that he will not let her be taken. A promise to herself that she would not return to the tower.

 

And in the end, she sacrificed herself for him, just as Songbird was about to kill him, its mighty claws flying at the downed man. She barely made it to the top, climbing stairs to where Booker was thrown and as she saw it, she acted without thinking.

“Stop! Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” but the giant shoved her aside, dread overcoming her as she stood there, watching Booker die. So she did the only thing she could. She gave herself over in exchange for him. She trembled with fear, choking up as she grasped at the hand of the Songbird, hugging it in a false gesture, her eyes locked on Booker. “I’m sorry. I never should have left, I never should have left...”

 

She loved the freedom he gave her, the life that she tasted outside. She was bursting with joy, back at the beach, running through the streets with him, the rush of the skylines, the thrill of combat as she helped him out with weapons and medicine. She remembered the anger and her escape as he lied to her but in the end, he stood by her. By now, he was the embodiment of freedom to her, he was everything that she wanted in life, loving every moment she spent outside of the tower. And she had to let go.

 

She climbed into Songbird’s hand, her body going limp as the beast tightened its grip around her. And there he was, lying half-conscious, pain and and sorrow on his face as she decided to leave him behind. She tried to remain strong, but there was nothing left to hold her back, tears flowing freely across her cheeks. She got closer to him as the monster swung its hand around and she reached out in a last desperate move, yearning to touch him, her eyes pleading to him to not let her go. He raised his hand and they almost brushed their fingertips before she was pulled back by the Songbird.

 

She cried, the pain of abandoning him, of their failure, of her return in the hands of the monster that she ceased to see as a friend long ago. Her vision was blurry a they flew towards Comstock House, cold wing lashing against her face, cheeks hot from tears and emotion.

They landed on an open balcony and Songbird entered a large chamber, dropping her gently on the floor. Comstock and his men were already waiting.

 

“So, you are back, my child. Come here, let me see you.” She straightened up, wiping tears from her face. When she saw him, she recoiled, defiance growing in her.

“Stay away from me! Why are you doing this?”

“My child, I only do what must be done. Terrible sickness is wrecking your soul, it must be cleansed.”

 

She took a step back, her mind dreading to know what Comstock meant by this. Two of Comstock’s men slowly approached her, grabbing her by her arms. She threw her head wildly around, looking for a tear to use, for something to get away. But she was powerless, trashing weakly against soldiers’ steely grip..

“I want to go home, please! I want to go back to my tower.” Tears begun to well up in the corners of her eyes again, the desperation in her growing. She thought this would be enough to persuade Comstock, returning to status quo would make everything right, she would save Booker and spare herself. She only needed to endure this much more for him...

 

“But you destroyed your tower, remember? You spoiled your own home once the False Shepherd came to steal you away. And you only obliged him, throwing herself into his arms. Is his poison so strong that you went with him at the first sight? What I do is because I love you, my child.”

 

Sight of him. Love. And now she lost it all, so he could live.

 

Soldiers took her to another chamber, a bigger one, with an isolated glass room and two siphons on the sides. The isolated room had a metal chair with restraints and two doctors were already waiting for her, dressed in surgeon’s aprons and masks. As they entered the chamber, Elizabeth noted trays full of medical tools and needles, gleaming at her viciously.

The dread and panic now completely took her over as she struggled against the soldiers and the doctors that helped to restrain her in the chair, clamping down her arms and legs. She thrashed wildly, kicking and punching, and it took a good moment to subdue her.

 

Elizabeth was all in tears, crying and shouting, struggling against the cold metal and cold hands, as they took her jacket off and put her in restraints on the chair. The soldiers left and the doctors took to attending to her.

 

“Should we sedate her first? It would be easier to take the readings...” One of the doctors said to another.

 

“No ,the prophet specifically stated that she should be conscious while in here. Besides, it will affect her pulse and other bodily functions. We need clean measurements...”

 

He then turned his gaze to her, only eyes were visible from under the mask and cap.

 

“Do not cry Miss Comstock, this will be just a routine test. Blood pressure and a little sample to be taken, nerve reactions, gynecological examination, we also have little something to calm your nerves and relax your muscles afterwards...”

The doctor trailed on as his partner lined up the surgical tools and brought a tray with syringes closer to the chair. Elizabeth still had tears in her eyes, whimpering softly. This was it. But Booker was still alive somewhere. He would come for her, she knew it. She prayed in her mind silently as she was strapped to the chair, pleading with God to give Booker the strength to come here and rescue her. This could not be the end. Not like this.

 

COMSTOCK HOUSE RESCUE PT. 3

 

Booker freed himself from the loose grip of the downed monster and he hit the balcony that they just came from. No doubt he had a broken bone or two as he laid there, breathing heavily.

He got up slowly, sharp pain shooting through his side. Yep, definitely a busted rib. But he got to his feet and walked back inside, looking around for a way to get to Elizabeth. He looked at the door through which Comstock fled and opened it, following a long corridor with a shotgun in his hand. He wondered if prophet saw this coming.

 

He pushed onwards, following the noise of activity and buzz of the machinery, finding his way ot the main chamber. And there she was. Restrained, struggling and with two men in lab coats standing over her menacingly. The rage took him over in a mere split of a second, his battered body pumping adrenaline back into his veins. The rib or the hurting head drifted away into nothingness as his will to murder came back.

 

“ELIZABETH!”

 

His cry startled the scientists and the Prophet, who observed the procedure from above, behind another layer of glass. None of them could hide their disbelief.

“DeWitt? How is it possible? You are supposed to be dead! I’ve seen you die a hundred times...”

“I’m not done until I blow your brains out, you son of a bitch!” Booker spat through his clenched teeth. The prophet looked shook, but he did not relent.

 

“This isn’t over DeWitt! I know how this ends and it will end my way!”

 

The prophet fled, leaving his lackeys alone.

 

Elizabeth turned her head to see him. She was as surprised as everyone else. He came for her. Battered and bruised, but he was here. Her heart almost leaped out of her chest. He was here...

 

“Booker!” She cried out. The siphons arranged around them came to life as Elizabeth begun thrashing around, trying to free herself.

 

The surgeons looked at each other worried, but seemed intent on carrying on.

“She’s getting restless! We need to sedate her!”

“Prophet said she must be conscious at all times! Just get on with the work.”

 

Booker was already on the move, following the stairs up. A phalanx of soldiers came his way and let out a volley of fire, but he disregarded it and fired his shotgun. There was no fear or despair anymore, but a single thought. Get to Elizabeth. One of the heavier troopers tried to throw a punch at him, but Booker only kicked him away and blasted him in the chest with a shot. Even without vigors he was a monster to fight and the soldiers quickly gave way to him, either dead or fleeing.

 

He didn’t even notice his extra wounds bleeding profusely when he reached the chamber controls up above in the small office, opening up the operating theatre.

 

Both of the scientists scrambled for the exit as they heard it open. They abandoned their procedure with Elizabeth and ran, leaving her bleeding and cut, their work unfinished. But their luck ran out when they met Booker walking down to the operating chamber.

 

“N-now DeWitt, lets not be hasty,” first of them spoke up.

“Yeah, Dr Pettifog has the right-” They never finished as Booker shot them both without a word. But that was no relief. Not until he had her back.

 

He entered the operating theatre slowly, shoving aside the tray with surgical tools that was in his way. Elizabeth looked at him as he approached, her eyes glistening with moisture. He moved quickly to release all the clamps and straps, and as soon as he was done with the last one, she sat up and threw her arms around his neck, tears now flowing freely.

 

“Oh Booker! You came back! You really did...”

 

He wrapped his arms around her carefully, putting his hand on her head and another around her waist.

 

“I told you I won’t let them take you...”

 

She only squeezed him harder in her embrace as she heard it. She sobbed quietly, but her tears eased up after a moment as they stood there in each other's embrace. As she slowly let go of him to look at his face, she noticed something wonderful.

 

Booker DeWitt, the stone-faced killer and her knight in shining armor had tears in his eyes too. She chuckled as she saw it, her eyes still wet, and gave a small laugh as she brought her hand to wipe them from his cheek. He gave a small, happy laugh too as she touched his face and brought up his hand to do the same.

 

They stared at each other for a little while longer, simply enjoying the comfort of each other’s bodies as they stood close together. It was then when Elizabeth noticed something.

 

“Booker, you are pale...”

 

“What?”

 

She let go of him and looked at him, taking her eyes off his face. A large trail of blood could be seen from the door, leading straight to Booker’s feet that wer noww in the middle of a big pool of blood.

 

“You are bleeding.”

 

This reminded Booker of the wounds he took and the pain suddenly came back, although subsided by his blood loss. His knees gave way under him and he collapsed to the floor, the strain of combat finally taking its toll on his body.

 

“Booker!” She kneeled beside him and held him close. “What happened? Was it the soldiers?” She looked at him as if looking for an answer as her eyes suddenly went wide with understanding. “Songbird...”

 

“Y-yes” his breathing was now ragged and shallow, but he looked calm.

“You got past him. H-he’s gone now...”

 

“You can leave now, go to Paris,” Booker was speaking slowly. She felt him grow weaker in her embrace and her hands were wet with crimson of his blood.

 

No no no...” she had no more tears but her voice started cracking as she heard him. She scrambled to her feet and got to the tray with surgical tools and supplies. She brought them close and quickly took to undressing Booker to get to his wounds.

 

“Stay with me Booker, don’t leave me again.” She was working as fast as she could, racing against time. He did so much for her, he came back for her and defeated the odds, he did not let her go. And neither could she let go off him.