Rapture Noir: Goodnight Irene

        December was a busy time in Rapture, just like every year. Despite explicit ban on religion and general frowning on altruism of all sort that came with Ryan's philosophy, people could not be stopped from buying presents and celebrating Christmas in the confines of their homes. It was an unspoken truth that everyone secretly knew, as shops were full of customers and every business always reported highest profits in December. This year was no different, with the Atlas-Ryan conflict doing little to slow people down. But the festivities were public as well, with a party or an event in every part of Rapture, for both socialite and a pauper alike, with gifts changing hands amidst the merry confusion. New Year's parties, hosted in Kashmir or Fort Frolic were considered the finest of them all. To be invited meant that you were someone, and that people were keen to see you.

 

        A dark haired woman in a blue blouse and a black skirt had just the thing, having been invited to Sander Coehn's own event that was a prelude to the actual festivities. Sander considered himself the premiere patron of rising artists, and he liked to present them there before they could join him during the actual New Year's event.

        But that wasn't the reason for the smug smile that graced her lips. She was on her way to Olympus Heights, carrying a purse and in it, a solution to her problems. As she suspected, she was not stopped by anyone and only received looks of familiarity from people around her - after all, she was one of the people living in that place.

 

        She looked around the apartment. She liked how it was decorated, it matched her taste very closely. Settling in that place seemed like a pleasant thing and she could not wait to bring Booker here. That is, once her problems were taken care of. She decided to sit down in the living room. She didn't worry about waiting , she was in her own place after all and no one was looking for her.

 

        Elizabeth returned to her place at a late hour, after drinks in Kashmir, musing over the whole Atlas situation. Strangely reminiscent of another revolution, something she did not relish recalling at all. But she understood the plight of these people. She opened the door to her apartment and entered, turning on the lights. She took off her shoes and took a deep breath. Not much time left, and she already felt so drained. She knew things would go downhill no matter what they did, but Booker seemed undecided, uncollected even.

        Elizabeth stepped into the kitchen to take out a bottle of whiskey. She wasn't big into alcohol, but it was something that felt like having Booker around. Besides, she needed a break of her own. With a glass in hand, she stepped into her living room.  

       

        "Well, hello there beautiful."

        She dropped the glass on the floor. She was seeing herself sitting in one of the armchairs, smiling slyly and looking back at her with those same blue eyes as hers.

        A whole battery of thoughts and questions fired through Elizabeth's mind as she stood there, stunned at what appeared to be a perfect image of herself. Was this herself from another reality? But why would she be here, they are as powerful as they ever were going to be. Maybe its about Booker? But something didn't feel right, Elizabeth did not see nor feel any tears or anything of the sort.

 

        "Who are you?"

        The other Elizabeth laughed, still sat in the armchair. "Come on, isn't it obvious? I'm you, silly!"

        "Why did you come to me? What happened?"

        The other Elizabeth stood up and took few steps towards her.

 

        "I think you know what, or rather whom, this is about."

        "Booker? What happened to him?

        "To him? nothing. But you..." The other Elizabeth stretched out her hand and touched her face, caressing her cheek with back of her hand.

        "You must be gone."  

 

        The hand suddenly pulled back and she hit Elizabeth hard, slapping her with the back of the hand. It took her by surprise and she was pushed to the side by the blow. The other Elizabeth proceeded to pick up her purse from the table and pulled out a black revolver from it.

 

        "I'm almost sad doing this, but far better things await me once you are out of the way." She looked at the gun and aimed it, just as Elizabeth regained her composure. It dawned on her that this was about Booker, but she had no idea about the depth of the burning envy in front of her. Who could be so envious as to seek to replace her just for his sake? Elizabeth knew for a fact that there were no other women around booker, except for one he met before she appeared to him, and the idea alone seemed far-fetched...

 

        "A-Abigail?"

        "So you've finally figured it out, didn't you? Or did you have to take your time to think because there are so many, waiting to kick you off your pedestal?" Abigail was now seething, spitting words out as she held the gun pointed at Elizabeth. "Strutting around the damn town like you own it, with a fancy gig at Kashmir and a place like this... and then you have the guts to steal him!"

        Elizabeth tried to be calm and reason with her, as much as she could. It wasn't a problem to open a tear and make her disappear, but she had an inkling that Booker wouldn't take kindly to that. "Abigail, its not that easy, about me and Booker..."

        "What about it? I have no idea what kind of plasmid you used on him, but the man was dreaming of you even before he MET YOU!" Elizabeth could see Abigail was trembling slightly as she spoke, her eyes fixed in a murderous glare. "I approached him and he accepted me. He was the only man who didn't treat me like a floozy, he was mine fair and square dammit, but you were still in his head. So lets make him both happy and leave only one woman for him shall we?"

        The revolver went off as Abigail squeezed the trigger. Elizabeth shouted and both women saw a flash of light, as if something appeared between them, but it dissipated just as quickly as it appeared. A moment later Abigail stood over Elizabeth, who dropped to the floor. A small stream of blood poured from the side of her head, where the bullet apparently struck.  

       

        Abigail took a deep breath and ran her hand through her hair.

        "Must have been some plasmid," she bent over Elizabeth. "But she's dead, alright." She put the gun back in her purse and slowly walked over to the phone. She took a small card out of the purse and dialed the number that was on it. She hated the man in question, especially how he looked at her. But he asked the least amount of questions.

        No one picked up. Did he got delayed? He said he would be at home on this hour. Was he on the job? Or maybe Booker caught him? But what could he say to him? She found him by a stoke of luck, however she knew he would die first than say anything to Booker. No matter, there was plenty of others in Fighting McDonaugh that can clean up the place and dispose of the body later.

        For now, she had a date of her life to attend to.  

 

                                                        ***

       

        Elizabeth was a tough one, although I did get a taste. Man, can that girl could kiss, And she left some dough too, but she seemed in a hurry to get to her sister. Still, Rock Flanagan's fortunes were up and I couldn't imagine better Christmas present.

        The day was full of surprises when I saw no one else but Booker DeWitt enter my office.

 

        "Booker, what can I do you for?" I approached him as he walked in, but only then I noticed how awful he looked. His clothes looked burned and his eyes were red. "Jesus man, what happened?"

        His voice was similar to how he looked, and no doubt similar to how he felt. "You got anything to drink?" I took out a bottle and put it on my desk. I had no clean glasses or cups, but that didn't stop him from going straight for the bottle. We both sat down.

        "Booker, you look like crap."

        "Some... crazy bastard was after me, says he was supposed to keep me 'occupied'". He drained that bourbon like it was water, I could only look on with open mouth.

        "That sounds like something. You didn't step on Ryan's toes, did you? Or messed with anyone from the top?"

        "Heh, I wish."

        Hey, if there's anything I can help you with..."

        "That's enough" he raised the bottle in his hand in a gesture. "but I have a favor to ask later."

        Booker's appearance dampened my mood a little, but not enough to have me singing about my luck. "You know, I've actually had a lucky break. I have this pretty little bird waltz in here and she asks me to find her sister. And brother, she's one saucy gal."

        "I suppose you deserve it," he gave ma half-smile. "whats she look like?"

        Oh, black hair, blue eyes, a figure you would kill for. She knows how to doll herself up and she doesn't mind paying in kind, if you know what I mean. I tell ya Booker, there's only few of those around Rapture."

        Another half-smile, although I see him sit up and pay attention all of a sudden. The man must be on edge all the time, I thought. "Yeah, I can see that Rock. Whats her name?"

        "Elizabeth, pretty name too-"  

 

        Next thing I knew I was pressed against the wall with two big hands at my throat and one murderous glare. I could've tried to break free, but between his size, his state and his plasmids, I'm sure he would waste me on the spot.

        "J-jesus Booker.. lemme go!"

        I see his flared up nostrils and can smell his breath as he speaks. "Where is she now?"

        "I don't k-now. Let me breathe, Booker."

        He retracts his hands and I slump to the floor. Was he buzzed up on tonics or maybe it was just his giant hands but it was as if I was stuck in a vice. I took a deep breath and coughed.

        "Is that your gal or something? Goddamnit man, I never knew, she never said a damn thing!"

        "She never mentioned a sister either."

        Suddenly I was pissed at him. Must he come to me with his shit and fuck up my good thing? "And how would you even know its your woman?" I stood up, massaging my throat.

        "Does she wear a thimble on her missing little finger?"

        I look at him strangely for a moment. "No, she doesn't." Booker sat back in the chair and put his hands to his face.

        "I.. I'm sorry Rock, I'm not myself lately. I got the blues and I'm looking for her as well..." I thought the man would cry, but he seemed more tired than anything.

        "If you want I could have a look around, see if I can..."

        "Thanks, I was going to ask you that. Another pair of eyes wouldn't hurt, I'll drop you a photo once I get some shuteye."

        He got up. "I better head back to mine, I'm sorry about this."

        "Just get better, that'll be a start."

 

        Booker DeWitt left and I was alone with a bottle of split booze on the floor and a roughed up neck. But that poor bastard had it worse, I could see it. I could've only wished that he wouldn't do anything nasty, I knew he wasn't a bad man. She must've been hell of a thing if he missed her so badly...