Chapter 9: Once An Addict, Always An Addict

Back again for another shot at this. Let me just say off the bat how happy I am that this fic has gotten over 10k views and 100+ favs. It means a lot to me and I hope to continue this lucky streak in future. Your continued support means a lot to me and I won't forget this. So have fun and from time of writing, Happy New Year 2014!

Descendance lasted for another week, filled with meetings, briefings and more plans than Elizabeth could keep track of. Dutifully she attended each and every sordid affair reluctantly with an equally of mind Booker, droning out every five sentences or so. 'I see no reason to listen to people who would feed us to the dogs at the drop of a hat.' She pondered in one of those dull, boring moments while her head quietly drooped to the curve of the chair in the midst of another 'riveting' speech.

The rest of the time was spent interacting with the various denizens of Ascendance in favour of the rebellion and practice sessions with her father and Dr. Kessler in the lab. Her day began usually with a trip to the Hubland, a massive centrifuge crawling with hustle and bustle nearly akin to New York's darkest nights. Coin she scavenged from the pockets of her evil counterpart's guards went to purchasing the quality meals she shared with Booker, coin readily accepted with a smirk from every vendor she met. It surprised her that her counterpart's empire ran on human hands primarily, rather than the more mechanized hybrid she was subject to under Comstock's reign. By all accounts, that thought should have comforted her fears of his resurgence. But she remained wary, aware that the nature of her counterpart's powers and that of Alexander's could mean a myriad of possibilities in the long run.

Meanwhile, Booker with the aid of Kessler and his assistants remained hard at work finessing the tonics Kessler stole from the target. Booker would wield his talent over fire on a number of targets laid out at the end of an abandoned brick-laced junction while Kessler and Elizabeth kept watch from afar, Kessler's hand inquisitively musing over his findings and scribbling new data into his journal. It was on the eve of the Ascension event that Elizabeth had the urge to ask about the research, rather than sit back content to watch.

"So, what's all this for?" Anna asked Kessler as his head remained crouched behind his notes underneath horn-rimmed glasses.

"Fascinating..." he murmured, finger slowly slipping across the spreadsheet of data points with gleeful excitement, only letting the tip of his eyes gaze at Booker's handiwork from time to time.

"Ahem..." she cleared her throat deliberately to get his attention.

"Sorry. It's just so wondrous, this display he's putting on. Three days ago, your father could hardly light a flint of wood. Look at him now." Kessler apologized, drawing her attention to her father's newfound feats. With intense concentration and a scrunched face, Booker slowly concentrated a ball of magma in the palm of his searing hand and let loose, a trail of red, orange and yellow culminating in a voluminous shower of superheated rock enveloping the wooden dummy, sending it bursting into flames.

"The question?" Anna recanted, her hands on her hips as she instinctively tossed a small flask of water to Booker in the middle of his break.

"Yes, yes. To put it laymen terms, these tonics could revolutionize the way we conduct our daily business. No more lighters in your pockets to huff your nicotine fix. No more bulky clothes in the winter. And if my designs come to fruition, I will be the first to create an energy machine run solely on the toils of man, instead of the soil from down below." He beamed proudly, rattling off each achievement with pride in his tone.

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this." Anna quipped, following Kessler to his workstation. All it took were for her eyes to follow up to the walls and ceiling to tell Kessler had given this a LOT of consideration, given how scientific calculations and hastily pencilled sketches for designs dotted the place like it was a canvass.

"Wouldn't you, if given such a momentous opportunity? You strike me as the bookish type, the kind more at ease under the wings of pages flapping in the breeze." Kessler mused with inquisitive nature, his irises trained on a Hellmouth tonic bubbling away in flask above a slow flame.

"I..." Anna started, interrupted all of a sudden when the doors to the lab swung open and Daisy Fitzeroy marched in, ever flanked by two of her bodyguards. With a saunter in her step, Daisy quickly closed the distance with her long legs and rudely butted into the conversation.

"Please, continue to bore us with your incessant droning, child." Anna glowered heatedly, but remained tempered, opting instead to flit away so she did not have to suffer her presence any longer.

"Ms. Fitzeroy! I did not expect you to be here in person!" Kessler meekly replied, shaking her hand longer than was necessary.

"Is this it?" Daisy ignored him and kept her focus entirely on the main attraction, her first super solider. As she watched Booker channel his newfound abilities into varying styles such as a rapid fire burst or a long range fireball, her face remained tepid, unconvinced and just downright neutral.

"I expected... more." She said flaccidly, her acerbic tone sending chills down the normally composed scientist's spine.

"Well, the tonic is experimental and I would like to run some..."

"How far can we push him?" she thoughtfully idealized the myriad of possibilities, albeit out loud.

"Hey! There will be no pushing my dad around!" Elizabeth spun around in utter rage, shoving a quivering finger right in Fitzeroy's face.

"He will, if both of you wish to leave this city. Kessler!" Daisy replied in the same, unremarkable flaccid tone, her final utterance barely a decibel higher than usual.

"Yes?" he muttered back, with slight terror digging up into his throat.

"Make sure Booker is combat-ready for the factory. I want a vanguard of fire burning those insipid toads from our city. And they must know our name, etched out in flames on their precious pedestals." She monologue breathlessly, looking deliriously pleased with her chosen phrases.

"Of course, Fitzeroy." He replied, blinking once as she and her goons traipsed outside with nary an extra peep in their step.

"Perhaps we should stop for now. These data points should be enough for me to refine the Hellmouth tonic." He muttered, setting his pen and pad down on one of the cluttered tables, before signalling with two fingers to his assistants to halt the practice.

"Wait, you're saying there's more of them?" Elizabeth responded incredulously as she looked at her father extinguish his flaming fingers with a simple blow and proceed to be re-examined by the waiting assistants with reluctance.

"Well of course. Miss Elizabeth would look foolish if she restrained herself to only one such flavour." He replied dryly, horned-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Elizabeth shuddered at the mention of her name, a sign that none of the other occupants noticed in the midst of their own plans. With a nod to Booker and Kessler, she dashed away back to her quarters in the lower alcoves with a hurried pace, as if eager to sleep.

Night soon fell across the sea bed, trails of moonlight shining down through the water and glancing off the infrastructure. One such beam trailed into Elizabeth/Anna's window, bathing her cabinet in a simple glow. A calm breeze assailed her senses, long tufts of her brown hair drifting into her face while she slept. All would seem normal on the surface, nothing of note disturbing the peace that followed. In the dreamscape however, that was another question entirely.

"Perhaps you would like to calm down, Miss Dewitt. Your constant encirclement will not conjure an answer any sooner." The voice bemusingly observed, his eyes darting around in a circle to keep up with the swirling figure of Elizabeth spiralling around the edges of white light.

"I'll do as I please, whatever you are!" she furiously shouted, waving a pointed finger at the peerless plume of black air that was its physical representation.

"And what pray tell has caused such agitation?" it demurred.

"What hasn't happened? My father's gone back to wielding that addictive substance like it's second nature. Daisy's her usual infuriating tone. My counterpart is barking mad. Heck, Booker's even starting to recall certain events I'd rather he forget entirely." She bellowed.

"That does sound like a laundry list, one which I'm loathe to touch." It replied with a whiff of indifference in its tone.

"It's your fault I'm in this mess. Fix it!" Elizabeth threw back the remark right into its face, finally stopping midway and shaking with barely concealed rage.

"And ruin what is meant to be an important lesson for all parties involved? Now, there's a proposition..." it sarcastically intoned.

"Do you want me to bisect you?!" she snarled, snapping her fingers with ease and conjuring a rift out of thin air. Wind howled out like a thin, crisp sharp stab and beyond laid a scenery of icy, white tundra snow. The voice scoffed, unimpressed, collapsing the rift in moments even as Elizabeth was slightly taken aback by her resurgence into the food chain.

"Perhaps more familiar faces might temper your anger. I hear they're quite... aggravating to say nothing of their innate... oddity." It grated, slipping out into the inky pitch black caverns beyond, stranding the young woman alone under the bright circle of light.

"Oh, sure. Leave me with the crazy people." Elizabeth barked out loud sarcastically, as she felt the sense of loneliness creep in all around her, with silence ever its faithful companion. Moments later, that veil shattered with a ripping noise and a ripple in the dark to her right, a thin beam of light briefly marking their arrival.

"Well, now that wasn't satisfying." Robert Lutece remarked, bantering with his sister in the distance, their silhouettes inked out in a thin line of white, like a drawing against a dark background.

"Are you talking about the interruption or the experiment?" she replied, intoned with a plain-sounding voice.

"Could be both." He admitted with a smirk.

"Could be neither." Rosalind chimed in happily. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, simply annoyed with their weird behaviour.

"I would sigh in despair, but I'm not a teenager anymore." She groaned sarcastically, her forehead throbbing with a minimal bulge of pain.

"Like father, like daughter. They never change." Rosalind chirped with wit.

"Shouldn't it be like mother, like daughter?" her twin followed suit.

"But then they never explained that away." She winked her left eye with a grin.

"Why would they? Certainly didn't explain those walls."

"Or the way she keeps asking to play catch..." Both seemed to burst into laughter at the mention of that comment, conjuring incredibly uncomfortable memories for the twice-born masquerading daughter.

"I don't sound like that!" Elizabeth replied, cheeks flustered with rosemary pink and her lips terse with embarrassment. As quick as the onset emerged, so too did it fade out, replaced by refocused intent.

"Anyway, just tell me what's going on." She queried them. Robert looked at her pensively, before swinging about to meet Rosalind with somewhat concerned eyes.

"Rosalind, you explain." Robert nudged his twin sister in the elbow.

"Shouldn't you explain? Why must I do it?" Rosalind replied with an incredulous tone in her throat.

"You're the original. You know more about this than I would." He lowered his voice to a stout whisper, leaning in near her ear.

"And you're the alternate. If anyone should know what she's going through, it's you."

"Because being sympathetic is your strong suit, sister." Robert wryly remarked. Rosalind seemed to take it with exasperation so much so that she fumbled her comeback.

"And you're a... a... a hypocritical scientist!"

"What about..." Robert started to speak, only to hear Elizabeth shush the both of them, rubbing her eyes as if she was visibly tired of their nonsense.

"Okay, I've heard enough. As much as I have time for this nonsense, I'm getting impatient. Now spill it." Elizabeth demanded, staring down the troublesome duo.

"Well you see..." Robert started.

"It never told you about Booker's new role." Rosalind continued, finishing his sentence, just as twins would.

"What new role?" she asked them, confused by their reply.

"Anna, he's just changed places." Rosalind told her.

"Which means you are now Booker." Robert said matter-of-factly.

"And he is now you." She flourished to Elizabeth.

"I don't feel different... Nor I do look different." Elizabeth's eyes immediately travelled downwards. Neither her significant lady parts seemed to be out of place, nor was there a flopping male counterpart right between her slim legs.

"In ROLE..." Rosalind chuckled at her reaction.

"Not in anything else." Robert did the same.

"We can only say this..." she canted.

"Beware the tainted eagle..." Robert continued, their roles flipping with each line of the prophetic verse.

"For it shall swoop away an egg to take as its own."

"And it will never be the same."

"For neither eagle tainted or owner intended." At the last word, Elizabeth's eyes swung open and she gasped. Her body sat upright on her mattress, breathless and terrified by the vivid yet real dream floating in her head. She shook her head mildly, bleary eyes straining to see in the pitch black dark and the inky seas just outside her window.

"What the hell does that mean?" she told herself, even as she plopped back down and tried to get some more shuteye before the next morn rose on the horizon. In her mind, she juggled trying to decipher the meaning behind the Luteces' verse and figuring out a game plan as soon as Ascendance finally returned to its prime. Those thoughts would continue to follow her even in slumber, at the edges of her ever decaying mental state.

Anna dressed properly for the occasion this time, discarding her formal attire and banishing it to the cabinet for safe keeping. In its place, she donned a snug battle-ready uniform, riddled with small metallic sheets and draped in sickening red. At one point, the sight revolted her, reminding her of the stained blood she witnessed first-hand. She even found considering it a surprise if it turned out to be just crimson dye, considering the psychopathic tendencies Daisy seemed to be displaying in full view. As she finished rolling up the long sleeves into slightly shorter ones, Booker rapped gently on the door.

"Anna, you in there? Can I come in?" He murmured, his voice calm and neutered.

"Yeah, Dad. Door's open." She told him. The door creaked open at her response, Booker stepping into the room with a dull thump on every step of the way. His body laxed, calmly settling in on the bed as Anna brushed off stray particles of dust off her uniform. Once satisfied, she herself ambled towards the mattress, nestling right next to her father.

"Hey there. How's my precious little thing doing?" he spoke up.

"As fine as I can be, given the circumstances." Anna sighed, her head leaning on his shoulder.

"I know. I know." He reassured her, cradling her head and brushing his fingers through her hair as he usually did when she slept soundly as a child.

"Listen, as soon as we get home, how about you make me one of your signature salads?" Booker suggested with a smile, staring down at Anna.

"As long as you tell me a story like old times." She smiled back receptively.

"What would I be without my tales of old?" he dryly remarked.

"Hahaha..." Anna paused, lost in thought. She remembered a blurry figure at the edges of her memories, a piece lost to time. Booker never spoke of her mother, not when she was Elizabeth, nor as Anna Dewitt. Whenever she broached the subject, she was reminded of how fast his mouth spun tales not related to the matter.

"Dad, I've been meaning to ask. What was mom like?" She asked, wondering if she would strike lucky. Predictably, Booker's facial expression soured near instantaneously. Brows furrowed, he looked away towards the window, out into the deep sea wonders just outside a pane of glass. He sighed, before finally latching his eyes back to Elizabeth's.

"Your mother... was a bright little bird. Smart, beautiful, a determined little firecracker... Whenever she entered a room, you would swear that the atmosphere felt different. You know when I met her, she regaled me with a story about the origins of art. She had to rattle me awake so I could pay the bill." He recalled, pulling out memories long since buried underneath more minute ones.

"Really?" she asked incredulously.

"Really... Your mother was a supporter of women's rights. Always going out to rallies and protests. But she always knew not to take it too far."

"Did she... suffer much when she died?" she meekly queried.

"She died happy. The last thing she ever did was beam with joy as she held you in her arms, her little blue angel of the skies." Booker tearfully implied, his emotions remaining bottled up for the most part. Anna saw the pain he was experiencing, her somewhat surprising maternal instincts kicking in.

"I didn't want to upset you, dad." She told him, wrapping her arms around Booker tightly in a warm embrace.

"It's okay, Anna. I do wish sometimes that your mother was here with us. She knew more about parenting than I could ever muster." Booker laughed awkwardly.

"Well, you did well enough. That's all that matters." She told him.

"Hmmm... I love you, Anna." Booker smiled, pecking Elizabeth's cheek gently.

"Love you too, Dad." She did the same.

"Ahemm..." They heard a meek voice clear his throat. Both father and daughter quickly flicked casually to the door, where Kessler still clad in his lab coat leaned against the frame, apparently having bore witness to the touching scene. Elizabeth almost couldn't believe her own eyes, seeing the normally emotionally stunted science whizz shed a single tear, a tear brusquely wiped away just as quick.

"Don't mind me. Just wanted to let you know, Miss Fitzeroy says it's time." Kessler sputtered out hastily, speeding away with a starkly moribound face.

"We'll be there in a second." Booker called out from the room, his echo reaching Kessler's ears. Anna looked to Booker for a split second, then burst out laughing along with her father about the whole embarrassing situation. The two took their happy attitude in stride, taking the hallway trip in a fit of giggles like little schoolgirls on sunny days.

Hours later, Anna, Booker, Daisy, Kessler and a small squad of troops gathered at one of the few topside exits, anxiously checking their watches in accordance with a specially designed clock tapered to the wall. The clock's arrow ticked and ebbed closer towards a intricate blue cloud where the 12 used to be, the sound mirroring Elizabeth's own still beating heart. According to Daisy, the best times to strike are usually in the two or so hours after Ascendance or Descendance when all services, specifically police opposition were at its most basic and most understaffed. Her head spun about, taking in turn to watch every combatant and participant shuffling as nervously as she was, though some seemed less jittery and mousy. Kessler in question was a standout. By the way his body seemed to vibrate in fear and the number of times he would gaze upon his field kit, she might as well award him first place for it. Booker meanwhile played about with his powers, briefly illuminating the dim room with each burst. Despite Daisy's standing order to keep her father on his feet, Anna noticed at least two pairs of eyes, mixed feelings swirling behind irises of pained expressions like they had seen the wrath of God first-hand.

She pondered this, this reversal of roles. It was a relief and yet something that she could not seem to reconcile with. Once the woman who struck fear into the hearts of those who could not understand now watched her own father pay that price as well. And as the clock chimed and the whole city rumbled alive like a sleeping giant awakening from hibernation, what little fear lost in her heart grew ten-fold at the consequences to an otherwise sound decision.

The city lifted upwards, breaking the thin sheet of water like a whale, gallons of water trapped within its nooks and crannies washing away over the sides like monstrous tidal waves, cascading with its native lands with a roaring splash. Propellers clogged with underwater fauna shredded it. Balloons were pumped full of air and buoyed the city's edges, keeping it afloat. All across the city, the exits mechanically whirled open one by one, the more heavily flooded ones held off until maintenance crews can clean up the mess.

The small group assembled clambered out one by one, right outside the very factory they were looking for. Anna looked high, the architecture necessitating such action to take it in its entirety. Billowing plumes of grey vapour funnelled through smoke stacks, layered and formed by brick and mortar. Coloured glass panes with images of holy figures standing out strikingly amidst the uniformity of its grey halls. As the group marched forth with nary a peep of resistance through wrought iron doors, a sense of complacency tempted them at every corner they cleared. True to her words, the ground floor was soon ruled by Daisy's militia.

"Okay, we're in business. Kessler, my men will escort you to the laboratories." She nodded to the men under her command, who swiftly followed behind Kessler and his intrigued band of merry assistants.

"Excellent. Come now, Mr. Dewitt. We have much to do." He spoke quickly, hastily making mental notes of the factory as he did so. From the look on his face, Booker could guess as much that Kessler wasn't one for morals, especially when it would get in the way of scientific progress.

"Be there in a sec." Booker shouted his reply, putting both palms on his daughter's shoulders, taking a breath before he opened his mouth again.

"Stay safe. If anything happens, you come down here and let us know."

"Got it, dad." Elizabeth nodded politely, her words fuelling his desire to get this over with and go home.

"See you later, sweetheart." And with that short reply, his figure melted away amidst Kessler's entourage, leaving his daughter alone with unfamiliar faces. In his mind, that nagging thought kept clawing at him. Maybe I should stay, perhaps find a different way... Alas, far too late to change his mind, nor would it make much of a difference aside from alienating their only potential ally in this city of monsters. So he marched down the flight of stairs, deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast that fell below.

In those depths, Booker, Kessler and Daisy came across what appeared to be the heart of the Tonics development facility. Scores of empty bottles with the Fink brand clattering out in wooden boxes, aching to be filled with the miracle fluid and released onto the general public. On the tables, the foundations of chemistry scattered the table from test tubes to beaker laden with dangerous materials.

"This must be like a candy store for you, doc." said Booker, whistling a low tune.

"Indeed. Were it not for the time sensitive nature of our visit, I would much revel in learning exactly how far Miss Elizabeth got."

"Get to work, boys. There's too much here and too little time left afforded to us." Daisy sternly replied, nodding towards her bodyguards to aid in the recollection. For the next few minutes, hands and feet trampled over the facility, nicking everything in sight of note into large rucksacks. Vials of experimental tonics sealed within Kessler's satchel, laced with a metal lining just in case of the unthinkable. Booker meanwhile acted as both mover and security, flitting between roles as needed.

"Alright, I think that was the last one." He finally chirped, lugging one final rucksack over to a small alcove containing a tunnel grate, their agreed upon escape plan. Daisy nodded compliantly, swivelling her finger around as a gesture to call upon her men.

"Perfect. Call the men down. We're leaving." Before Daisy could speak any further, a worried bodyguard was pulled aside by one of the defenders topside. The trio watched as both their expressions start to cease being anything close to cheery, a sour mood swinging in out of nowhere.

"What is it?"

"Seems the Prophet has sent her goons our way... They'll be here in minutes." The bodyguard dutifully responded, addressing her with respect.

"Booker, defensive position. You, escort Kessler back to the hideout." With those two simple words, the plan was set in motion. Booker harried up the stairs two at a time, his rifle drawn without a second thought. Halfway up the stairs, a searing pain shook his cranial systems and a loud echo howled out in the otherwise empty hallway.

His mind was thrown back into the sinking madness he attributed to alcoholism. Instead of dreams of another time, another place, he was instead greeted by a shadowy figure looming at the edges of the dark room, illuminated only in outlines by a singular fractured bulb hanging loose right above them.

"We have much to discuss, Booker Dewitt..." it crooned with a sinister smile etched into its features, stepping forward to whisk its guest into its home.

Meanwhile, the battle was starting to rage topside. Daisy's followers and Alt Elizabeth's police forces traded shots with one another, the main entrance swung open on its hinges. Elizabeth ducked below the makeshift cover as a hail of bullets ripped right above her long wavy black hair, riddling the wall behind like swiss cheese. Daring not to peek entirely out of the safety cover offered, Elizabeth peeked out the barrel of her rifle to the side and fingered the trigger in short-controlled bursts. Her shots went wide, hitting no-one in particular yet still allowing some form of suppression on the enemy for her allies to rake in some aimed shots.

"Lady! Get on that repeater over there and give us support!" a random soldier barked out in the middle of the din of gunfire, tightly clutching his carbine in hand as he motioned to a hastily put together repeater rifle latched onto a gear-primed mechanism.

"On it!" Elizabeth quickly moved her lithe feet, hammering home whatever advantage Daisy's forces could muster. Her eyes darted between the steady influx of troops swarming in and the repeater machine. By some stroke of luck, she managed to get behind the damn thing just as most of Daisy's forces were taken down by the sheer volume of gunfire.

"Remember me?" With that single one-liner, Elizabeth scrunched up her facial features and with a howling rage, depressed on the trigger and sent a volley of continuous fire straight down the middle of the group, cutting them down piecemeal while sending the other ends scattering for anything to shield them from the arc of fire. Elizabeth held onto the button, ignoring the burning sensation emanating from the gears and the hissing of white, hot fumes gasping for air with each round sent down range. Those who did not fall in the assault rallied behind the machine for one last desperate stand, slugging away with what little remained of their stockpile of ammunition.

"There's too many of them!" Just as the horde of police officers seemed overwhelming, out came Booker from his absurdly long chat in his mind to save the day.

"Dad!" As Elizabeth's focus faltered for just one minute, the wall of gunfire eventually made contact with a key part of the machine, rendering it unusable in a shower of sparks. Elizabeth, startled by the burst, stumbled back for a split second, covering her face to avoid potentially blinding light. Booker meanwhile was itching to take the fight to them. As he ran straight into the fray, he readied a fireball in his hand and lobbed it in a swift arc. It landed at the feet of five officers, before it erupted like a volcano, showering the unfortunate hapless saps with magma that seared their skin and weapons into slag.

The terrified officers at this point refocused all their efforts into taking Booker down, a wise choice given the circumstances. One of them dashed forward with a cavalry sword, sharpened at the tip. His body lunged forth, sending a wide arc in Booker's general direction. He ducked in time to see the blade sink deep into the wooden table, stuck like Excalibur in stone. Opportune moment at hand, Booker shot the officer repeatedly, his body crumbling backwards and blood staining the marble white floor. A short burst of fire erupting from his hands seared off the faces of those who dared look out of cover, the officers crying out in miserable pain as their hands attempted to allay the pain of the flames. And just to cap off his feats, Booker emptied his reserves channelling a wall trap just as the survivors attempted to charge him pell-mell with shotguns. The trap exploded, sending charred bodies flying smack dab into a brick wall, acrid black smoke rising from the mutilated flesh.

Another platoon opened fire on Booker as their boots barely hit the floor, forcing the detective to seek cover behind a pillar when one bullet clipped his right calf. His daughter took advantage of his distraction, escorting what few fighters remained back into the safety of the basement. This left Booker to his own devices, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Forces advancing on his position with haste, his eyes trailed downwards to a small green bottle with a heart logo tapered to the front. The veins in his body ached for more of that juicy taste, his mind spiralling from one addiction to another. In the heat of the moment, all Booker could do was dull the relapse and swig it right to the hilt. Change soon arrived within him as his body quaked with power unforeseen, his mind melding with the intoxicating substance and his irises temporarily adopting a deep shade of green. It was time for him to get back into the saddle... And no better time than today...

Well, finally got that down... Hopefully after June, I'll be back to some sort of schedule and update when I can... Until then, see you guys later and be CO-OPERATIVE!