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

Another Columbia.

My head was nearly spinning. How could I keep myself sane if this were to continue? I doubted I'd ever experience anything else so... abnormal if I were ever to escape Columbia.

Elizabeth's tears were becoming something unworldly. I suspected to be powerful, but after stepping into another universe– dimension, I wondered how much help she needed from Booker and me.

I leaned against a solid wall as I recalled everything that happened after interacting with Chen Lin's wife and couldn't phantom the changes that we had gone through since then. My head throbbed, but I knew my sanity would have been questioned if I didn't solidify the events.

It was all normal, all considering, at least, even after taking down the Handyman that chased Booker. But, as I thought about it, the exchange with Fink himself might have been where things went sideways for normality. We fought veterans from the Battle of Peking, zealots of the Comstock regime, and automatons with machine guns for weapons and gears for guts. It was a needless slaughter of both time and people for a so-called position of security that Booker DeWitt had no desire in but was forced to participate in nonetheless.

Even when we made it to the cells where they were keeping their "prisoners," the development of our situation continued to degrade. A harsh smell of death greeted us here, too. It tainted everything. We found Slate in a vegetable state. He was unreacting when we saw him, unmoving and gave no regard to us. Elizabeth remarked that Booker was right. Sparing him was no mercy.

When we got to Chen Lin, we found him dead. His eyes were swollen shut and discolored. The other facial features were split and crimson. There was blood all around him and, with it, a spongy scent of iron. I let out a heavy sigh. This wasn't anything new to me, but I still felt my stomach churn. Booker reacted coldly, telling us each that we would have to find someone else to get the desired armory for Daisy and her Vox rebels.

Then, we found ourselves not alone. The Twins came back and did their usual prodding at us. They were speaking in riddles, indirectly hinting at answers. With them was a single coin, the currency of the region. "Heads or tails," they idly spoke to each other, paying our trio little to no attention but giving us an ample supply of thoughts to waddle at.

As Booker talked to them, Elizabeth, still behind me, gasped. A tear came through, and the image of crates bleeding with armaments (and munitions) went through a fuzzy haze. It was another Columbia. Elizabeth said we could go through this tear but wasn't sure if she could bring us back.

There was no way around it. There was no other card to play here. Without any other option, Booker and I agreed to let Elizabeth do her business without any other option. But how does one get ready to jump to a different universe? To a new timeline? What was I leaving behind, and what were the consequences?

The white noise of the tear surrounded us, but as it exploded around us, the color came back with noise, and the room became our reality. Above us, we could hear rioting. Columbia wasn't just searching for the False Prophet and their sheep anymore. It sounded like the entire city was in uproar. I felt incredibly dizzy and slowly walked out of the room where we found Chen Lin (no longer in the cell) and went up the stairs to escape the others. My nose bleed, and for a brief moment, I smelled the ocean. I composed myself while Booker DeWitt spoke to the girl.

I passed another cell; in it were at least a dozen men. Some black, some white, others wounded, others healthy. I shook off the feeling of being sick, traveled further up the stairs, and waited for the others, controlling my stomach from not rejecting everything I managed to wolf down during our stay in this flying hell. Upstairs, it was more of the same. The cells were packed with rebels...At least some of them looked at me. Mixed in were also regular-looking folk, and for that, I couldn't tell why or how they were involved with whatever was happening in this world.