Some details were changed for the sake of the stories, shall we say, essence.

I just want general feedback.









Burial At Sea


　　　　His office was dark. He sat in the ocean-light from his window, smoking. A school of fish swam by the window. The light shone only on his lower body. His legs were crossed and set up on the desk. Booker DeWitt took a deep breath and drew his death from the end of the cigarette. As he exhaled his doorknob began to click and turn. As the door opened he watched the marquee window that read, “Booker Dewitt. Investigator of Public and Private Affairs” turn from his view.
Heels clicked on the hardwood floor as a female figure entered the room. He drew another breath.
“Mr. DeWitt,” said the silhouette.
He exhaled until no more smoke left his mouth.
“Yes?” He spoke.
“I understand that you have an obligation, of sorts, to find missing people.”
“Yes. What of it?”
“I am in need of your particular service.”
Her figure moved closer into the light and he noticed her ruby colored lips. She was granted height by her heels, but she was nonetheless stunning. She moved one hand up to brush a lock of her shoulder length curly brown hair out of her eyes as she moved the other up to set a photograph on his desk.
He leaned into the light to see the picture. It was of a young girl, no more than seven years old. She was wearing a long dress, no shoes, and was filthy, covered in blood and dirt. The only innocence that could be found in her was her bright blue eyes. Next to her stood a dubious figure in the dark. She was holding a teddy bear by the arm letting its leg dip into a pool of blood. Below the girl on the outer frame of the picture was the name, Sally. He cringed at the sight of it.
“This girl is dead.” He said.
“No, she isn’t. I know that before the city fell, Fontaine used to kidnap children and use them as harvesters for SALTS.” She replied.
There was something about this woman…
“What’s your name?” He asked.
“Elizabeth.”
“Why do you want to find this little girl, Elizabeth? How’d you get this picture?”
Elizabeth waited, holding a cigarette between her fingers by her face. “Could I get a light, Mr. DeWitt?”
He moved his hand to the box of matches on his desk and grabbed one. He lit the match and held it up to her. She moved her cigarette into the fire and took a long draw.
“Why do you want to find this little girl? Who is she to you?” He said with a stern tone.
“Mr. DeWitt, I have my reasons and my obligations for finding this little girl. If I were paying you to interrogate me I would say so, but that’s not what my money is for.” She snapped back at him.
He paused, slightly taken back by her reaction. Finally, he put the palm of his hand on his mouth and dragged it down, scratching the scruff on his chin. “Where should we start, Elizabeth?”
She looked at him with a disgusted indifference. There was something nostalgically beautiful about her. He couldn’t explain it.
“She was last seen at Fontaine’s Little Wonders Daycare. No doubt what happened there. After the city fell the daycare was closed and Fontaine Fisheries was relocated. None of the daycare residents were ever found afterwards, either. I am almost positive we would find her in the Fisheries.”
“Relocated how?” Booker asked.
　　　　“They sank it; sent it to the ocean floor.” She replied. “It’s no longer connected to Arcadia like the rest of the city so I’m sure that its oxygen supply is running low. We need to hurry.” She said.
　　　　He walked to the door and touched his fingers gently on the blackened wood of the office door. Tears began to well up in his eyes then fell onto the floor from his cheeks. His hair had fallen into his face. He looked like a wreck. He brushed the hair from his eyes and back up to the side while wiping away the tears. His gaze caught the picture again and he whispered to himself, “Sally. I will find you.”
Elizabeth walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. DeWitt?”
“Let’s go.” He stated dryly. He walked back to the desk and grabbed his pistol and some of the money he kept lying around from previous cases and opened the door. Elizabeth walked out of his home-office and he followed looking back at the room. He had spent twenty-three years of soul wrecking agony, drinking his remorse away in this room. He forced himself to stop thinking and closed the door, leaving his abode, lit only by the ocean light, for dust to quietly settle.
He stepped out into the Columbian Plaza and shielded his eyes from the intense light being emitted from the fixtures hung high above him. The only time he left his office, and in turn was exposed to light, lately was when he needed more booze. He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the light and stretched his arms out into the air causing his shirt to come untucked. Elizabeth looked at him with a strange grotesqueness as he continued on without tucking it back in.
“A question, Mr. DeWitt.” She said as they walked down the staircase that led to the lower level of the plaza.
“What?” She said, making sure not to sound enthused.
“What is the point of all of this?” She asked.
“I don’t know.” DeWitt replied.
“Mr. DeWitt, I understand you’re probably not the happiest person in the world but if you want your money and, in turn, your precious liquor you’ll humor me while we’re together on this case.”
Booker stared at her, sighed, and hesitated. “Of all what?” He asked.
“This city. Its magnificent. Who built it? Why under the ocean?”
Booker squinted his eyes and then began to speak.
　　　　“Andrew Ryan and Frank Fontaine built the city after they discovered a new drug that allowed people to do the unimaginable. IT basically gave them super powers. Fire at their fingertips, electricity coursing through their veins. The drug was named SALTS and upon their discovery during WWII they brought it to the Füher’s attention. Being against such things, he immediately called for their execution, but they ran away to the United States. Their government politely declined the offer to feed their soldiers the drug because it was a sin and had them removed from the U.S. Ryan was furious that religion and dictatorship had turned down his new scientific revelation and, having come from old money, went back to his hometown in Austria and borrowed a sum of money from his family and began to manufacture a city at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean so as to not be ruled by others. Thus...” he paused and exhaled. “Columbia was born.”
“Why would the Füher turn down a super drug like SALTS?” Elizabeth asked.
“I don’t know. Honestly, but I will say that the history books on land have it wrong. Ryan came back to him with a vengeance and a fistful of fire. Suicide is a mask so people on land don’t discover the drug.” DeWitt replied.
The two continued walking down the Plaza until they reached the doorway with an arch that read, “Fontaine’s Little Wonders Daycare.” The door was chained and locked and upon requesting entry from a nearby Columbian guard, inaccessible.
“Damn.” DeWitt said, “I don’t know of any other Bathyspheres besides the one behind that door.” He pointed to the chained entry.
Elizabeth gave him an odd look. “You really don’t get out much, do you Mr. DeWitt?”
He grunted at her, dismissing her previous comment.
“Come on.” She said. “I know another way. Sander Cohen has his own personal Bathysphere in his office. We need only gain entry.”
“How do you propose we gain entry to Cohen’s office? That lunatic artist only lets his most fanatic followers enter the gallery.”
She pulled a small hairpin out of her blouse and whispered, “If you really want something, Mr. Dewitt, you make a point of getting it.”
The guard, having not heard of their plan, bid them farewell as they began their trek to Cohen’s Gallery on the other side of the Plaza. Along the way, DeWitt could have been caught giving Elizabeth quite long periods of his attention. It was only when she caught him gazing at her that he broke his stare. He pulled out the case record that he had kept in his coat pocket. It was merely a small notepad but it held details on every case he had ever investigated. He flipped to a blank page and scribbled down,
Case number 63.
Booker DeWitt.
Details:
Strange woman.
Feels familiar.

“Watch and learn.” Elizabeth said as she bent down to the lock of Cohen’s Gallery.
“Do you really think that you can open an industrial lock with a hair pi-“ DeWitt was interrupted by the clanging sound of the lock hitting the concrete floor of the Plaza.
“What was that again, Mr. DeWitt?” Elizabeth said dryly.
Booker looked at her for a minute… There was something he couldn’t put his finger on about this young girl. She was beautiful. She was smart. He couldn’t seem to figure her out. He put his thoughts aside and opened the door. The hall was dark aside from a small spotlight. At the end of the hall in the light stood one a lone man wearing a bunny masque and a sleek white suit. He had perfect posture and welcomed the two of them as they entered a second door, “Mr. DeWitt. Elizabeth.” He said.
　　　　“How’d he know my name?” Booker said.
　　　　“Don’t worry about it, and don’t ask questions.” Replied Elizabeth. She waved her hand and an entry way showed itself. It seemed to materialize out of thin air. She walked into the second door. Booker followed behind her and asked no questions, as she ordered. The new room was completely dark. There was only the sound of Elizabeth’s heels clicking against the ground until the door made a small burning sound and dematerialized behind him.
　　　　The noise stopped and a needle scratched a record. The soft sound of violin filled the air around Booker. It was an instrumental remake of Beyond the Sea by Frank Sinatra. He couldn’t see anything around him. Elizabeth circled him silently. She had slipped out of her heels and was now pacing around Booker. A single spotlight flickered as he stepped into the center of the room. He couldn’t see anything outside of the light. Elizabeth snuck silently up behind him and grabbed his hands. In an instant, it seemed, she bound his wrists together and pushed him to the floor working on tying the bindings to a metal ring jutting up from the floor. . The rest of the lights flickered on and the room was illuminated. It took a minute for Booker’s eyes to adjust to the light, but once he was able to see he saw, to his horror, the room that the strange door had led him to.
　　　　Around the walls were people bound to cuffs that were attached to the wall. Each about two feet away from each other he turned around and counted each of them. Thirty-six people lined the wall of the room. Only one area was clear of any captives chained to the wall. A large double door with no handle and a speakerphone that was playing the record above the it. He couldn’t make any more observations before Elizabeth grabbed him by the cheeks and turned his head towards her. She looked down at him and began to breath through the grimace on her face. She furrowed her brow and began to say, “Who do you think I am, Booker?”
　　　　He didn’t respond. He had no idea who he was. She shook his head until she let go of him and looked around at the other captives again. He noticed that they all had some sort of unique deformity. One had a large tumorous swelling on the left side of his head that covered up the corresponding eye. Another had a stump arm that had grown to a proportion larger than the rest of his body. All of the others were different and seemed to be absolutely insane. They simply stood where they were chained. Not moving. Not even breathing it seemed.
　　　　Elizabeth walked in front of him again and looked down. “Answer me, Booker!” She said.
　　　　“I have no idea who you are!” He shouted at her. At the sound of the strange voice, the captives seemed to perk up. They began to stir in their chains and started struggling to free themselves. Elizabeth reached out a hand and slapped Booker in the face. He stretched his jaw out and began fluttering his eyes to mince the pain.
　　　　“Who am I?!” She shouted.
　　　　“I dont know!” The captives began to struggle harder. “Where’s Sally!?” The captives began to run in place against their restraints with no hesitation to the sense of pain. Their wrists and ankles began to bleed on the floor as the ropes rubbed into their flesh.
　　　　“Booker. Look into my eyes.” She said as she grabbed him, once again, by the jaw and forced his gaze upon her. His eyes filled with tears. He blinked until they discontinued to blur his vision and he could refocus on Elizabeth, but every time he tried they only flooded his view again.
　　　　“Why am I crying?” He asked her. “Where is Sally? Who are you? What are those people doing here? Why-” He paused. A single tear rolled down his face as he knelt motionless on the floor. He looked back up at Elizabeth and noticed her eyes... Bright blue.
　　　　Elizabeth reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the picture she had handed him earlier. She dropped it on the ground intending for it do land face up, as it did, and in his direction so he could see it again.
　　　　“No...” Booker whispered.
　　　　“Yes.” Elizabeth replied.
　　　　“No... No. No. No!” Booker began to cry.
　　　　“So emotion begins to fill the cold hearted Booker DeWitt.”
　　　　Booker continued to shout his denial and with each syllable the captives grew more impatient and struggled harder. As the noise filled the room something behind the double doors began to pound against the barrier.
　　　　“You...” Elizabeth began, “You couldn’t control yourself. Could you?” “No no no...” Booker continued. He fell over into a pool of his own tears on the floor and began to sob harder than ever.
　　　　“Your selfishness and arrogance has finally caught up with you. You spent how long in that prison you called an office? Drinking your memories away! You never even tried to search! To get me back...” A tear streamed from Elizabeth’s right eye and onto the floor. She wiped away the residue from her face and approached him again.
　　　　The captives were shouting at the two of them. The more they struggled against their restraints the more blood fell from their wounds onto the floor.
　　　　She spat in his direction and said, “What did you think that selling me would do for you? Relieve your gambling debts? Sober your up? Did it work, Booker? Did it?!” She began to shout at him.
　　　　“I never meant to hurt you, child. I loved you.”
　　　　“Exactly. ‘Loved’, Booker; but to save yourself you abandoned me. Sent me to Fontaine’s. I spent the past twenty-three years working for him. Harvesting SALTS along with the other girls he had kidnapped or promised redemption in return for. You aren’t alone in this, Booker.” She motioned towards the captives. “Other gamblers. Other fathers. Other bastardizing alcoholics.. Men and women alike. Selling another to save themselves. Just as you have done. You said it yourself, Booker. Fontaine made his money with SALTS, as a harvester don’t you think I’d know where to get some? Just enough to poison these people. Drive them mad. Their life is this room now, and that accursed drug has given them a bloodlust.”
　　　　“I never meant to hurt you...” Booker repeated through his sobbing.
　　　　“No amount of apologizing will ever make me forgive you...” She said. The room was overbearingly loud as the captives screamed and the banging on the double doors intensified, the speakerphone had become lost in the other sounds.
　　　　Elizabeth straightened up and turned around. She began to walk the opposite direction and she waved her hand. A door appeared in the air and she started towards it. She looked back at him and stated coldly, “Goodbye, father.”
　　　　“Sally!” Booker screamed.
　　　　 She moved through the door and upon its closing and dematerializing the double-door fell off of its hinges and out came a large creature. It seemed to be wearing a diver suit with a built in light in the helmet and a drill on the left hand instead of a glove. The creature charged at Booker and upon its meeting him it roared and the captives all broke free of their bindings and charged him as well. Screams filled the air from Booker and the captives alike as the creature and the freshly freed captives smashed their fists into his chest.
　　　　Finally, the creature grabbed him by the cranium and raised him up into the air, breaking the ropes he was bound with in an instant. The creature shoved his drill into Booker’s chest and as it began spinning and whirring the captives became silent. The creature threw Booker off of his drill and let his corpse fall lifelessly to the ground. The creature reseeded back into the dark room it had originated from and the captives returned to their spots on the wall without their bindings.
　　　　The only sound now was the lone violin that had been playing all throughout the scene and the small trickling of blood from Bookers’ body.