Chapter 7 draft

Haha shit what the fuck took so long
sorry guys for the clusterfuck music, this set's more like ones I listened to while I worked, rather than ones to set the mood / tone.

Strawpoll is on the bottom but for the tl;dr fags: http://strawpoll.me/4911206

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EG9urgeWj1g - Sad/Happy Ambient Music - ErikMMusic
incomplete music list

---
Your back is still sore from hauling fully packed suitcases and bags; and pretending to sleep on a blanket laid out on the living room floor isn't helping with the pain all that much. Keeping your hand on the Beretta under your pillow, you spend the night hours listening intently for a rattle on the fire escape, or footsteps on the hallway outside. Police sirens wail out in the distance, and the noises of the city filter through the boarded up windows. The commotion that you never bothered to notice now makes you a little nervous, and you wonder if the cops are already hot on your tail.

You check your watch. It's 4AM, and you have spent every minute and every second of it wide awake, jittery and nervous- but listening to  Elizabeth's soft breathing and the occasional rustle of her wool blanket eases your anxiety a little. Still, you desperately need a smoke to keep awake. You get up with the pistol in hand, now almost a part of your own body.

“...Mr. Wolfe?”
You're startled by her voice in the dark.
“Shit, have you been up this entire time? Elizabeth, you ought to rest.”
She shuffles slightly to face you in her makeshift bed. “I can't sleep. Do you have a smoke?”
You realize she's just as nervous as you are, a sharp anxiety still lingering in her voice. Barely able to see her in the near pitch-blackness, you offer her your cigarettes. She takes one from your pack with her long, slim fingers, putting it between her lips.
“A light, Mr. Wolfe.”

You offer her your zippo and she takes it, flame of the lighter illuminating her serious alabaster face in the darkness. Her eyes are red and exhausted, as if she had been silently crying for a long time, and her hair's ruffled a little from sleeping on the bed. The bandages around her head now look a little more ratty with a dark brown spot of blood.

With a sharp metallic click, the flame disappears and the face disappears back into darkness. A small glowing orange dot hovers in the darkness as she takes a long, long drag on the cigarette.

You light your own, and murmur. “Elizabeth- by morning we'll be out of here and safe. Alright? I got our bags packed and ready to go, nobody's going to-”

She snaps, a little irritated. “Mr. Wolfe, I'm sorry if I'm being difficult, but... I'm in a world I don't understand, being chased by people who want me dead, and I haven't got a clue in the world about what's happening to me... To us.” Her breath shudders a little. “I'd give anything to sleep right now. I wish I could.”

You both smoke quietly for a while- until Elizabeth abruptly stubs her cigarette out on your coffee table. “I have something to ask you, Mr. Wolfe.”

You fidget your fingers nervously, sensing something foreboding in her tone. “What is it?”
Her voice loses any softness it once had, with a sharp edge to it. “This morning... When we were out in the pier... Did you drug me intentionally?”
“No, no- I thought it might have been-”

You bite your lip and curse yourself for being so fucking stupid, for forgetting she still had good reason to hold on to her suspicions and cynicism. She wasn't the naive and innocent Elizabeth still locked in her tower; and in retrospect you see how bad of an idea the ecstasy-fueled morning fling was.

She sighs, already picking up on your panic. “-Nice, I know. Something that'd help me escape.”
“I didn't mean to take advantage of you. Besides, if I remember correctly, you were the-”
Elizabeth slaps you- her palm strikes your cheek, knocking your cigarette from your lips. Before you can react, she pulls you in for a kiss- a long, long kiss. Your cheek still burning and stinging from her palm, she moans softly into her mouth and when she pulls back, a long thin line of saliva hangs between both your lips.

She pulls back in close to plant a kiss on your neck, and you feel her long, curly locks of hair brush up against your skin. You shudder in pain and pleasure, taking in a breath of air.

“Elizabeth, I'm sorry if I-”
“Don't say sorry, Mr. Wolfe. I enjoyed every minute of it.” She presses herself against you, and rests her head on your shoulder. “But if you do that, ever again to me, when I'm-”
“I won't. I promise.”

She seems satisfied at the punishment, before stroking your cheek.
“I- I didn't mean to slap you that hard. I'm sorry. I know you meant well.”
“It's fine.”

It's strangely cold in the flat; Elizabeth wraps her hands around her body, the tattered and still filthy white blouse doing little to help her keep warm. She pulls in closer again, and softly mutters into your ear.
“Would you... stay close to me? Under the sheets? I still need to talk about something else.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” You rub your cheek a little more, the stinging sensation melting away as you curl up with her under the cozy wool comforter. It feels lovely and warm as she curls up closer to you, wrapping one arm across your waist, pulling you close.

“I have something to tell tell you. It's important. But first-”
“But first what?”
She presses her head on your chest, an ear against your heartbeat. “Would you believe me if I told you?”
You shrug, and light another cigarette. “Why not?”
“It'll sound completely insane.”
“This entire week's been crazy so far, how bad could it be? Go on.”

You're careful to come off as a little skeptical, but still trusting. You don't want to make her crawl back into her shell, but at the same time you don't want her to know that you're aware of most of her history. Doing so feels like it'd raise more suspicions from Elizabeth, and you really don't want to displease her again, especially after that vicious slap. But still, despite your lack of aptitude in bullshitting or acting, you try your best to sound naive.

She holds your hand and hesitates a little, shy and a little sheepish. You quickly reach over the cheap floor lamp and turn it on, casting a dim, weak light on the room. You always insisted to yourself it was 'mood lighting', an excuse to not change the bulb- but now, the soft and faint warm glow feels comforting and just right for the occasion.

She starts talking, and you listen intently.  “Well, I'm... I'm not from here. You probably knew already, but-”
“Like here? As in... this city, or?”
“No. From a different... world. Time. Universe. I know it's a lot to take in, but last time I was conscious was in 1959.” She stops for a minute, waiting for your reply- trying to see your reaction to her extraordinary story.

“I... ok, look, I believe you, but from where exactly?”
“A place far away, under the sea. A city called rapture.”
“Well, I... Shit, Elizabeth I don't know what to...” You rub your temples a little and think of what to ask or say next. It dawns on you that there might be a large conspiracy behind her appearance.
“Elizabeth, what's the last thing you remember?”
She squeezes your hand harder, distressed at digging up memories of her own murder at the hands of Fontaine. She shakes a little in your arms.
“I... I died. At least, I was supposed to be dead... But now I'm here.”
Even the thought of picturing her end sends an ache through your heart. “Who killed you?”
Elizabeth can just barely whisper his name. “Atlas.”

“Why?”
“It's a long story. I was after someone else in that city... I had a score to settle with him. I'd rather not go into details, but I killed him in the end.”

She pauses to swallow back her sadness, raw emotion swimming in her eyes. “I had to do it. There wasn't any other way. He was a monster, but... He had a daughter. An adopted girl named Sally. I left her there to rot in that city, where orphan girls like her would get snapped up for all kinds of sick things-”

“Jesus Christ.”
“They took little girls without- 'sponsors'. Orphans like her were infected so they could harvest gene tonics from them. I knew couldn't leave her there. I had to go back and save her, but Atlas took Sally from me.”

“And who's Atlas?”
“That was his moniker.” She scoffs bitterly, and daubs a stray tear off her cheek. Anguish flares in her eyes briefly, before giving way to utter hatred. “He was a thug and a brute, just like all of them, posing as some revolutionary. He wanted to harvest Sally for her ADAM, the gene tonics- It was like a drug for everyone down there. Without it, people went mad. Atlas he used Sally to control me, and for all that time I was like a puppet to him. I played right into his plans so I could save her, and by the end, it all went to hell- ”

She stops and buries her face into your chest deeper, and pulls you tight. You gingerly ask her another question, afraid of pushing her over the edge.

“Did you... save her in the end?”
“She sang to me before I died.”

You stop talking for a long while, letting Elizabeth regain her composure. Yo both cuddle close together,.

“Do you think Atlas is still after you after all this time?”
You entertain the thought of bringing down a fireaxe on Fontaine's head, or gutting him with a meat hook, or simply blowing off the cap on his skull with a pistol to the mouth.
“No... I don't think so. That was a long, long time ago. He got something else he wanted in the end, and let Sally go.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I just knew. When she was singing to me... I knew it would be alright.”

Your questions don't uncover much; and you can only take wild stabs at who wants her dead. The only thing you're half-certain of is the fact that the Luteces may have had something to do with it all. The prospect of their involvement makes you feel helpless; the thought of becoming another puppet in one of their newest, twisted acts of fate.
“Elizabeth, you wouldn't happen to know anyone else who could be involved, right?”
She looks at you, a little startled at the question. She furrows her brow, wracking her brain for an answer- and you hope up she comes up with anything, even a scrap of a memory or a vision to implicate the twins involvement. She ultimately comes up empty-handed, with a blank look on her face.

“I can't remember anything. But the person you killed today, he must have known something. He has something to do with this, I'm sure of it."
“Well, we can't go back and investigate shit now. It's probably swarming with feds outside.”
“What do we do? Maybe the things you took from the dead man could help...”
You shake your head. “I checked already. Just some keys with no locks, a wallet without a card or ID , his gun and a plain old cigarette case, but... Christ. This shit makes zero sense-”
“Let me take a look. Maybe I could find something you missed.”

She goes through everything that you took off the dead man again, meticulously inspecting each item one by one. You excuse yourself to get yourself two glasses of water and the Uzi from the kitchen, leaving Elizabeth to look through the evidence. It isn't long before you can hear her exasperated huff and the slap of leather on metal all the way across the flat, as she throws down the wallet back on the table.

“Found anything out yet?”
She concedes that her amateur sleuthing has hit a dead end. “No, there's nothing here. Not a single clue. I turned everything inside out.” She rubs her temples, and winces a little as she presses too close to the bandage area of her forehead. You hand her a glass of cold water for her troubles, and she politely accepts.

You grumble a little, thirsty for something alcoholic. “Pity I don't have any more booze left in the house.”

Elizabeth daintily takes a few sips, content with water. “I've been talking all this time. Dennis, maybe you could tell me a story.”
“I'm a shit storyteller.”
“Everyone has a story to tell.”
“I'm a really, really shitty storyteller... You sure you don't want to watch something like a movie instead? You know. We can just relax for a bit. God knows I need a break.”

Elizabeth smiles at the proposal.
“That sounds alright. I don't remember watching a movie since 1958.”
“Well, what better time to start than now? You sure as hell have a lot to catch up on.”
You both laugh a little, and lean against one another. Just for tonight, even if it's only for a few hours, you vow to yourself that you'll spend some quiet time with Elizabeth; that you'll enjoy her company for once, without worrying about assassins and shadowy, massive conspiracies.

But still, you keep your Uzi and Beretta close to your side as you turn on the television.

---

You open up Netflix on your Xbox, flip through a few menus and hand the controller to Elizabeth. She takes it with a look of awe in her blue eyes.
“What's this? It looks complicated. I never thought a TV remote could have so many buttons.”
“It's not a remote. Just use that pad with the arrows to look through. Here, you can give it to-”

You reach over to teach her how to use it, but she playfully holds the controller away from you, giggling a little. “No, no! I can do it. Let me try.” You concede and she continues to fidget with the controller, before eventually getting the hang of it.
“All these movies... That's amazing. You were right, I've been out for a long time.”
“Yeah, me too. Jesus, I pay eight bucks a month for it and I've hardly watched any movies on this.”

She seems lost, awash with too many options at once. You even catch her lingering on a few Disney movies, and the thought of Elizabeth watching Toy Story makes you smile a little. You wonder if somewhere deep inside of her lies her younger self; still innocent and joyful. From the way her face lights up with a girlish glee at the movie on the screen, you're given a small measure of hope.

“Oh, I've seen this one.” She beams, happy to see something she recognizes. “Roman Holiday, starring Audrey Hepburn... I loved this movie when I saw it in Rapture. They smuggled it in, because they didn't allow much to come down from the surface...”
“Want to watch that one?”
“No, it's alright. There's so many others I haven't watched.”

She keeps on flipping through, before another one catches her eye. “Look at this one! Leon the Professional.” She looks carefully at the short descriptions, murmuring softly in a thoughtful, pensive voice.
“...A French assassin takes in an orphaned girl and teaches her his trade- oh, that girl reminds me of myself a while back.” You look at the screen; and you have to agree that the young Natalie Portman with her choker and short hair vaguely resembles a teenage Elizabeth.
“Yeah, that one looks good. Just put that one on-”
“Wait, wait. I want to see a few more. Let's look in crime movies... Heat. With Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino and Val Kilmer- professional bank robbers star to feel the heat from police when they leave a clue at their latest heist... This looks like your line of work.”

You chuckle a little. “Really?”
“Well, you seem like the roguish type. ” She eyes your Uzi, perched on your lap. You give it a proud pat, and think out loud to yourself. “Armed bank robberies doesn't sound like a bad line of work, now that I think about it... Pity that De Niro gets-”
“Shh! You're giving it away. Don't spoil it for me if you watched it!” She puts a finger over your lip and it makes you break out into a big smile. Elizabeth continues flipping through the movies, finally coming upon another one.

“Ok, I promise this is the last one. Ocean's 11. Danny Ocean and his eleven accomplices plan to rob three casinos simultaneously... But there's two? Look, they have different pictures on the-”
“Yeah, look. One from 1960 and the other from 2001. I'd go with the remake, though. Helluva lot better, in my opinion.”

“It looks great.” She hands you back the controller. “I'm happy with these three. You pick which one to watch, Mr. Wolfe.”

Elizabeth eagerly watches as you flip between the three choices, and you sit there, trying to think of which one to watch...

A) Watch Leon the Professional- and learn something a little more about the assassin's trade...

B) Watch Heat, and watch the gunfighting and the adrenaline-pumping armed robberies...

C) Watch Ocean's 11, and learn a thing or two about stealing without firing a single shot.

(I'm starting to throw dice to determine if the character's actions go as planned or not, this option will give you a +1 to a roll, I'll explain this shit later.)

Strawpoll:
http://strawpoll.me/4911206