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Jack already had speckles of blood of the cuffs of his sleeves, standing over one of Sullivan’s dead men with the corpse’s gun in his hand. He stared at her, nodding towards the labs. “Go! Please, go.”
The outline of the crossbow nearly blended into the wall, but it almost neon for how difficult it was to tear her gaze from it to look down the halls outside the Kashmir…
Her dad, he could handle himself in a fight even if he couldn’t handle anything else on his own. But… Elizabeth looked back towards Jack, just as stuck as she was. And she closed her eyes, gunpowder and stale air filling her lungs as she breathed.
Booker, patch yourself up! I think there’s more of them.
She was part of his team now, whether either of them liked it or not. Elizabeth pointed to the crossbow she hid, shouting, “There, it’s a crossbow! Keep yourself hidden, stay safe.”
She didn’t wait to hear the rest. Her heart beat in the effort and in concern– she ran through the notes she saw in Suchong’s files about Jack. Designed to fight, stronger than most people his physical age, and then there was the Vita Chamber.
The only one of its kind, a rushed prototype stationed in Fort Frolic where it could be concealed as decoration.
It wouldn’t come to that. Her heels echoed with every step down the halls, screams resounding behind her. It couldn’t.
The bathysphere was empty. The door sealed shut as security bots whirred and beeped towards the restaurant. She rested a hand against the glass, Apollo Square waiting out ahead. “Be safe.”
Bathyspheres were not fast, calibrating for fish and other sea life. She stretched, she hummed, she recited chemical compositions, she sat with legs folded and unfolded and folded. At last, the door swooshed open and she pushed her way out the moment she could.
“Shit,” Booker hissed, gun raised as he retreated. A vial hung from his belt, a mixed liquid shining from within. The camera at the front lay shattered on the ground, sparking, but…
She felt it first. The lumbering boots resonated through the floor of the lab, a low groan following.
What do you want to do, Elizabeth?
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