The Lost Love Above | Elizabeth x (m) Reader!

"Hall of Heroes"

I crash through the front doors of the "Hall of Heroes" entrance and crouch behind the closet thing that provided cover, which happens to be an automatic George Washington that starts a scratchy speech that I hardly listen to. I'm too concerned about Elizabeth to focus on anything else.

I release my grip on Elizabeth and apologize for any discomfort I might have invested to you. She gives a small smile and rubs where I had been pulling on her since the firefight outside started.

  "No," she mumbles. "Don't worry about that. You're just doing your job, that's all."

I look down at myself and then go over to her to make sure none of us are bleeding from any stray bullets. It's difficult to gauge pain when your body is riding off such an intense adrenaline rush. "How do you feel?"

She pauses and looks around the room. "Alive, I suppose."

I lean back and feel something soft behind me. I jump forward and spin around, seeing a dead body. I crack a smile. "That's more than this guy can say."

A glare and a disapproving frown meet my attempt to lighten the mood. Then, finally, my lips straighten, and I stand up, helping Elizabeth to do the same with me. "Come on," I say, hearing music echoing eerie from the next room ahead. "We should make sure this room is clear before Booker comes in. We shouldn't be idle for too long."

  "I suppose you are right," she agrees, drawing closer. "I'll be right behind you."

  "If you see anything–"

  "I know," she cuts me off. "I'll let you know."

The girl adjusted quicker to this situation than I thought she would. It's taken me longer than I would like to admit to getting used to getting shot at and the sight of this many dead bodies. There are plenty of inside the Hall of Heroes. There are clear indications of fighting all over the place.

I poke my head inside the room and see that it's empty. Elizabeth trails me as I step in. The open space is decorated with flags and a massive statue with Columbia's favorite person in the sky, Comstock, again.

Elizabeth goes over to the statue and reads the plague listed below. "Our Prophet, Father Comstock, Commander of the 7th Cavalry."

  "No way that man leads the 7th. Booker would have remembered that guy, I'm sure."

Just as I say it, Booker joins us. He looks remarkably unscathed despite taking care of the soldiers that attacked us outside. "You're damn right I would have."

I straighten my back, intending to say something to him, but the loudspeakers above us announce their presence with some feedback before producing a voice. "Corporal DeWitt proved his worth on the field that day."

I screw my eyes up at the spotlights disapprovingly, but Booker seems to be taken aback for a different reason.

  "Well, I'll be... Slate? Is that you?" he says, also looking up. Elizabeth slides in closer to me, but it's too dark for me to see the details of her expression.

  "You've always been different, haven't you, Booker?" Slate says over the PA. "You crave no glory."

  "Look, I see you're..." Booker trails, finding the words to say. "-caught up in some kind of jam here. If you could see fit to let us through where they keep the Shock Jockey, then we'll-"

  "That tin soldier Comstock wants my boys dead," Slate cuts in. "We won't die to his hands!"

The spotlights flip off. I looked around and stepped around Elizabeth; she shadowed me as I closed the distance between Booker and me. "There's gonna be some trouble now, right?"