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

Finding the means.

Under different circumstances, I might have been impressed with how quickly I drew and presented my firearm, but instead, I was concerned with the safety of Elizabeth, who was already shielding herself behind me as I shot the officer confronting us.

The silence after my shot echoed through the entire platform, and I worried someone might have heard it. The officer was lifeless on the ground, but when I approached him, I found his eyes wide and open, staring into the clear blue. Again, I felt guilty as I realized I didn't bother trying to convince him we weren't wanted. Instead, I had resorted to my gun.

  "Whoa," Elizabeth said behind me. "You move quick when you need to, huh?"

I holstered my gun and nodded at her statement, not yet ready to look into her eyes. "We ought to get going. I'm sure someone heard, and I don't want to be standing around when they come to investigate."

  "Right," she says, pulling me away from the body I made. "Then let's go here where there doesn't seem to be much activity."

We both paused, and in the distance, beneath the sounds of industry, were the now all-too-familiar effects of echoing gunfire and shouting. Then we shared a sigh. "Well, I guess break times are over," I tell Elizabeth. "You doing alright? Nothing hit you?

She turned away, her eyes downward from my gaze. "As good as any girl would be in a situation like this."

I snort. "Trust me. Any other doll caught in this situation would be a complete mess by now. Even some men would have cracked under the pressure you're experiencing."

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, perhaps playfully, or maybe she doesn't believe me. "If what you're saying is–"

  "NOW WE'VE GOT YOU!" A man lunges out from behind me, tackling me to the ground. My head bounces off the floorboards, and for a moment, everything goes black, but I recover and stammer, struggling against the weight above me. "Get the girl too!"

I hear Elizabeth screaming before my arms are forced behind me. I thrash, curse, and try to grab my gun, but I am disarmed and beaten while still on the ground. I try to remember a time when something like this happened to me, but I'm too focused on surviving.

When I'm pulled up, my body feels numb, and I see Elizabeth watching in horror as two soldiers are holding her. She calls out for me; all I can do is shake my head. Whatever she's trying to tell me isn't worth the energy. "Stay calm," I groan. "If they're here, you know he isn't far behind..."

We're brought to a place where there is a police station. There, we are put in with several other men that are silent, beaten like me, but worse. Around us, the place is as active as a kicked hive. In every direction, an officer is running around, looking more like one of the soldiers that grabbed us than an officer of the peace.

Luckily, I am not separated from Elizabeth, and she is not separated from me. However, we are forced on our knees and made to watch what happens to the others here before us. They are placed in stocks and then jeered at by others. Men in blue armed with carbines, pistols, and other armaments made for a small army make fun of the others while we are thankfully ignored.

Smaller airships arrive, carrying more police officers, better armed, heavily armored. I droop my head and groan. "This isn't good," I murmur quietly to Elizabeth. "They're gathering all their forces here. Perhaps it isn't just Booker they're worried about."

Elizabeth shuffles, trying to hide the fact we are conversing. "They're probably here for the VOX, [Y/N]. I know you saw them come in."

In the center of the place we were brought to, I see the others that were placed in stocks get shot. I murmur and wonder if I saw what's about to me. Beneath the now-dead men is a sign that reads: "GUILTY. LABOR AGIRATOR."