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

Taken Away.

The Bank of the Prophet.

I didn't think it could get any weirder. The situation of Columbia— the quest to ease Booker's debt. Between the gunfights, Booker's odd introduction to the city, dead parents... I could feel my head splitting as I thought about it. There were few things considered normal up here. I regarded the gun I had in my hands; even that seemed out of place to me. The shotguns seemed dated, but the carbines and miniature machine guns seemed leagues ahead of time. I almost longed to use the pistols and revolvers again.

Booker was too good at ignoring these aspects, and it made me wonder if he thought about it at all. Elizabeth would chime in to check on me every once in a while, but I could tell she had her own thoughts to fight with, too. So I did my best. To assure her that I was managing just fine. At this point, she knew me well enough to know I was lying to her, but for whatever reason, she didn't pressure me into giving her a response; perhaps knowing talking about it wouldn't do anything because it would create more questions none of us could answer.

We ate when we could and drank constantly to keep our bodies from falling apart. The strain the vigor gave me was indescribable. I could feel the bones in my fingers crack whenever I used it, adding to my already degrading mental state. The one thing I was able to grow used to was the fighting and constant bloodshed. I came to accept that everyone we fought was ready to die for their ideals, so there was no point in pondering what other outcomes there could have been. It was borderline pointless, so add all the weight of the lives on my shoulders. Elizabeth didn't seem too troubled about it either, or at least she was good enough at hiding it whenever we finished skirmishing the endless waves of either Comstock *infantry* or Vox rebels.

The situation only became more dire once we passed through the gate. Thick firefights and hardcore combat unfolded before us. Working closely together, we dispatched Comstock's goons who tried to prevent us from finally meeting the man who was at fault for putting us all through so much trauma, especially Elizabeth— the girl who was locked away in a tower for the entirety of her life. I had grown quite fond of Elizabeth and also grew hateful towards Comstock. I think we all did. The fighting. The lying. He was the source of all of it. No matter how we looked at it, it always returned to him... Father Comstock.

The only place I felt sympathy was the people caught in the crossfire. The greed and disregard of the evil in charge engulfed the innocent people. Despite that, however, I still found myself conflicted about finding true innocence in the mass of the civilian population. There seemed to be no fight or protest against the governing body of their structure– no willingness to change or to get away from what they were. Even now, as everything they knew was falling apart, there was only a growth of hate from the people around us who didn't or couldn't leave.

I wasn't lost in thought when we came to the next tear that crossed our path, falling Elizabeth's mother's ghostly footprints. I was in the process of reloading my battlefield pick-up sub-machinegun when we approached the static rip and crowded around it. Booker DeWitt looked almost pleased that we had a reason to take a breather, even if it would only be a few seconds long. He turned to face Elizabeth and nodded; she knew what to do– no one had to tell her.

The tear was presented like a cut fabric between a trio of statues surrounded by pillars. From what I could gather, the statues were female, and all had the features of angels—adorned by long, wavy dresses and a pair of spectacular wings. The ones flanking the angel in the middle had keys, but that one had a scroll. I regarded the figures closer and thought they looked like Elizabeth. I could see on her face she felt the same thing. Unfortunately, calling her an angel was far from a compliment, considering the situation we were in.

When the tear opened, we heard Fink's voice begin speaking. The world that was pictured for us looked like an old movie screen but with relatively clear sound coming out of it. "And if I do this, this uh...sabotage...all their patents...?"