literature

Constants and Variables Chapter 8

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Blood. Blood everywhere. On your dress, on your hands, in your hair, and in your mouth. Your skin goes cold as you trudge forward in mental darkness. Fear drives you to move, as if stopping was no longer an option. Disembodied murmurs are nearly drowned out by the white noise in your mind. You hold your side as a painful stabbing sensation radiates from the spot. The blood flows faster from your wounds and you keep trudging forward.

Drown love, drown.” His voice urges you on and you shuffle faster.

You look back at the bloody trail you’ve left, cards and cash flutter in the wind. Hands begin to grab at your dress, then at your skin. They push you through the darkness towards a figure. The figure extends its arms out to you and you reach out to grab it.

Once in its grasp, the figure pulls you into an embrace, and for a moment you feel fine. The scent of musky cologne and alcohol almost comforts you. You look up into a set of amber eyes and your heart sinks. Suddenly, his image becomes clear.

Sharply angled features, slicked black ivory hair, wiry appendages that hold their own, and skin so pale you're surprised you didn't recognize him sooner.

“You can’t escape sinking.” His head cocks to the side and he smiles crookedly.

You suddenly collapse at the new stinging pain in your scarred side. You gasp in agony as the old wound reopens and you cry out.

“HELP!” You shriek. A muffled scream calls out in the distance. An icy chill surrounds your quaking body as bloodied tears drip to the ground.

Then, it all stops.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“It’s okay, that doesn’t matter.” The voice echoes in the darkness and you viciously grab into nothingness, hoping to find something to hold.  You clutch a fistful of damp fabric and hold on for dear life. That same scent of cologne and alcohol fills your nose and you began building features to details. Clear green eyes, tousled brown hair, suntanned skin…

You press your face into the fabric and open your eyes. It’s just a blanket. You lift your face from the damp cloth and see that you’re back in the hotel room. A hand holds out to you a tea cup.

"Definitely the perfect actress." Robert coos and you take the cup. You look over yourself, no blood, no bruises.

"Such a performance." Rosalind adds at a distance.

You stare with glazed eyes into the distance for a few moments before snapping back into reality.

"Wait where's Booker?" You exhale.

The twins smirk at each other. The lock on the door jiggles and you tense. The knob turns a few times before an exhausted looking Booker stumbles in the door. You look at the clock on the wall, it's already nine in the evening! The ex-Pinkerton staggers farther into the main room, and swipes a hand over his face trying to wipe away the exhaustion.

"She's still as wily as ever that Fitzroy." He mumbles and rubs a finger under his nose, a few drops of blood fall to the floor. You clench your eyes shut then blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings once more, "You're up. Feeling better?" Your companion steps closer and leans against the arm of the couch.

"I....uh....you went to see those 'Vox'?" It's the only question you can coherently think of.

"Well, yeah. Interesting group." He stretches his arms out.

"So, what's our plan of attack?"

"Fitzroy says nothing's gonna happen until the show tonight, 'cause of what happened today."

"Oh." You tuck your legs up against your chest and readjust the blanket.

"She also said that she would like to meet you before we go and do anything else."

You stared out into the emptiness of the room and clenched your eyes shut, forcing your previous nightmare into the recesses of your mind, and forcing a small smile on your face. With aching legs, you stood back up and stretched out your muscles, mentally preparing for the rest of the day.

"Let's...Let's get moving then." You declared, "Where do we go?"

Booker pushes himself off the arm and adjusts his vest, "I'll show ya." he wanders over to the door of the suite. You pat down your skirt and follow suit.

_________________________________________________________________________________

After the events in the recreation room, you feel as if everyone is watching now. Every step sounds louder and every face looks like a mask. Passing bits of idle chatter set you on edge. Unconsciously you lean closer to your partner and rest a hand on his arm.

You stare into the distance as you attempt to recollect yourself.

"Calm...C-calm down (name). It's...It's just a coincidence. I mean, yeah, there's...there's no way he...pfft, yeah."

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't realize the several uncomfortable chuckles that escape your lips causing Booker to raise a brow in confusion.

"(Name)?" He taps your shoulder and you jolt.

"Y-yes?"

"You alright? You're a...a little off."

You press your lips tightly into a line and exhale heavily, damn this man is too observant.

"Yes, fine." You lie then look over at a peculiar employee standing by a maintenance door. The employee tips his hat to the two of you and Booker flicks up the red card. The employee casually opens the door and your companion hastily ushers you inside. The door shuts softly behind you and a flickering light appears in the distance. Echoing chatter resounds off the pipes as you wander towards the light.

The name "Daisy" passes in the echoes a few times. Your legs suddenly grow heavier as a sinking regret settles in your stomach. The passage continues for a few minutes before the chatter rises to laughter and jovial cheers.

Booker knocks on the door. A lock clicks and light blinds you temporarily. The ex-Pinkerton lightly grabs your arm and leads you in.

"Daisy, I brought my..." His voice hitches "Partner"

A dark-skinned woman turns on her heel and  leans forward. Her hazel eyes scan over your form and she purses her lips in thought. She circles around you and prods at your skin, muttering  notes to herself. Your skin crawls as she tosses your skirt up and snatches a knife from its holster.

Daisy ghosts her fingers over the blade before handing it back to you with a nod.

"The Vox accept your aid." She states, "Now to catch y'all up to speed." The Vox leader motions you over to a curtain. With one fluid motion she pulls away the fabric revealing a wall covered in photos, drawings, articles, and red thread. She points to the bottom of the wall.

'COLUMBIA RESORT SHUT DOWN AFTER SAVAGE STORM' a news headline reads.

Her finger drags to the photos of four people, the word "missing" scrawled above each one.

A strand of thread leads to a drawing of Jeremiah Fink that branches out to several articles on 'COLUMBIA'S MIRACULOUS REOPENING'.

You stare at the intricate web and the photos that are all interconnected.

"Daisy...It's ten." A new voice calls. Daisy straightens up and pulls her braids from their bun and shakes her head.

"Show time." She smiles menacingly as the strands obscure all but her grin.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"Annnnd...we're back here again." You groan, twirling the parasol above your head as the light rain patters against the fabric. You scuffle across the damp boardwalk and notice the slight tracks from when you had skidded to a halt earlier, but you press on not caring to recall those events.

Lights from the big top draw guests closer and closer. You shift your elbow to grab Booker's attention, only to notice he's not there. Frantically you toss your head about, hoping to spot the missing man. A nervous pain sets in as you scurry faster around the boardwalk, looking for your partner. But the crowd grows denser and people begin pushing you closer and closer towards the tent.

Panic causes your limbs to tighten and freeze, allowing the sea of patrons to pull you into the large tent. You stumble over the stands and fall into a seat. You attempt to get up, but a hand pushes you back down.

"Shh" They hush and flash a small red card in your vision.

"B-b-but--"

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Fink's crowd-pleasing voice hollers over the microphone, "ARE YOU READY FOR ANOTHER GRAND PERFORMANCE?!"

The audience shouts and cries out in excitement.

"I TAKE THAT AS A 'YES'. WELL HERE WE GO!" the lights dim.

Silence befalls the audience. The orchestra starts up a lively piece, actors dance around the center ring. The main four actors in the center appear to be the cause of the joy. Then the lights turn red and smoke billows in, obscuring the  performance. Cymbals and drums clash loudly, shrieks echo from within the chaos.

You hear several gasps from the audience as the smoke clears. A lone figure stands in the remains.

Fink.

He raises a hand and the mess "clears" out. With a snap of the fingers the set changes to a better and brighter Columbia.

Applause roars from the crowd as the show ends.

You quickly rise from your seat and rush out, ignoring the calls from the other Vox member.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Not even ten feet from the big top do you freeze.

"Evening love." That damned smooth voice coos above the normal chatter. A hand snakes around your waist and your insides churn, "Didn't expect to see you here." You hear the familiar singing of a knife being unsheathed.

"Why...are...you...here?" You question breathily as your muscles tense.

"Work." He smiles and pulls you closer, "You know, I thought you would have recognized me sooner. I'm hurt, have you forgotten me?" You lift your gaze to his ivory face and his sharp features. Your heart sinks.

"How...could I forget you...you bastard." You try to sound as fearless as possible. Cold steel presses against your arm.

"Now now. No need for names." His amber eyes flicker with hatred. The blade digs into your flesh and you wince.

Heavy footfalls grab your attention, "(NAME)! Oh there you are." Booker practically tears you from the  man's grasp and wraps a protective arm around your shoulders. You can feel the rage seething from him.

"I wander off for one minute and..." Booker mockingly scolds as he moves you away from the situation, "Now, who was that man."

Chills wrack your body again. You shake your head and refuse to speak as faint memories resurface.

"(name). Who was he? Must be someone important to have you so shaken."

The dull stabbing sensation returns to your side and you bury your face in your bleeding arm.

"I thought I was safe." You choke out. You don't notice Booker as he pulls closer, "It's not supposed to go this way. I did everything I could." You begin to as overwhelming memories and thoughts take hold. 

"(name)...(name) come on."

"He'll keep hunting me down...I'm not getting out of this alive..." You gasp for air, but feel your throat tightening. Panic sets in as your mind reels through scenarios of various ways to die up here. You begin to choke as the thoughts race faster and faster, more catastrophes forming.

Darkness surrounds you again, and you're trapped in your anxiety.

"(NAME)!"Booker's frantic call snaps you back to reality. You look up into his slightly concerned gaze and hiccup another sob. The gambler motions to your right side, "He's the one who did that, isn't he?"

You grit your teeth and fight back more tears, "Travis Dempsey. That's his name." Something snaps inside as a bitter laugh passes your lips.

"He's the bastard. The reason I'm so...messed up." You wave your arms around your face and hiss angrily. By the time you've finished talking the two of you are back at the hotel and meandering to the elevator. You manage to stifle your emotions to keep the elevator operator from asking any questions.

As the small "room" rises slowly, Booker glances down at you and huffs. The doors open and you both hurry out and to the suite.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

"This time you're the one that needed saving." Booker mentions as he wraps the minor wound, "Now, what were you saying about being 'messed up'?"

You look away, "I'm 33...I don't some sappy comfort story like I'm some damn teenager." you don't mean to sound so rude, but it's late and everything that could go wrong had gone wrong.

The ex-Pinkerton scoffs a laugh and pats your shoulder, "Fine. But for the record, you're no worse off than I was." He pats the bandage on your arm and leaves to his room.

"You know. For a grouch. He's rather considerate...Ah what are you thinking (name)?!"

I uh...heh.
Sorry.
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Booker is a teddy bear :3
he's big and threatening like a bear, but sweet and caring towards you. like a teddy bear xD