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To Belong	By : BringtheHawt Category: +A through F > Bioshock Views: 20677 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the bioshock franchise or any of its characters. I am not attempting to make any money off of writing/sharing this.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Author's Note: Two warnings.
First warning: I have really smart reviewers that made me realize I screwed up Bioshock Infinite's timeline. Rather than rewrite it and change the plot, I'm gonna just let the story assume Elizabeth found an older version of DeWitt in the 1913 time period, because an older Booker is the version she fell for.
Second warning: The last scene in this chapter depicts extreme violence. It is mostly a scene meant to develop one of my side characters and can probably skipped if you don't want to read that sort of thing.
Anyway. Long chapter! Lots of set up for future chapters. Enjoy.
oooooooooooooooooooooo
Booker had no idea why Elizabeth insisted he enter the department store with her. He briefly wondered if she even realized that his presence in a place that sells woman's fashions was ... inappropriate. He tried to ignore the two impeccably dressed middle-aged women in the corner of the store who were currently whispering to each other while glaring at him.
Still ... when the beauty excitedly exited the dressing room, he couldn't help but smile. Elizabeth had picked a dark violet dress with black lace adornments ... and she looked enchanting in it. It also appeared significantly less restrictive then the fancy bodice she had worn when they initially met, while still being flattering to her figure: a very elegant, feminine choice.
"You look ... great," he complimented awkwardly. She just put the damn dress on and DeWitt found himself unavoidably imagining ripping it right off her ... It was impossible to avoid lustful thoughts of the alluring female since the initiation of their sexual relationship.
"I'm not familiar with the currency here ... is the price fair?" Elizabeth inquired meekly. She needed appropriate clothing; the ambitious female hadn't yet revealed her plan to find employment and help DeWitt legally repay his debt ... and she realized no one would accept an application from a woman in a torn, bloody dress or men's clothing ...
"Are you Canadian or something?" DeWitt asked. The ex-Pinkerton thought it odd she was unfamiliar with American money. The dress turned out to be three dollars, which he decided he could afford. It wasn't even a dent in the amount of debt he owed, anyway.
oooooooooooooooooooo
As the days passed, Booker was suddenly sleeping decently. Better than he had in years. There were still night terrors and horrifying dreams, but, with Elizabeth's slender form curled against his body during nocturnal hours, DeWitt found himself able to will away many of his anxieties.
Hell, Booker wasn't even drinking alcohol as much as he used to. He usually snuck a beer or two in the middle of the night, as his new companion slept ... but he hadn't been drunk since their first night together.
All that talk Elizabeth made about saving him ... Maybe she was right.
oooooooooooooooooooo
Albert Surgoy was an overweight man with an odd hair-related conundrum: he was balding on top but possessed excessive growth on his face.
Albert was also wealthy. Extremely wealthy, with a simple wife and two sons. Two wily sons who needed a governess to assist with their education.
"Miss Elizabeth, your application letter was extremely thoughtful and eloquent ... " Albert Surgoy commented kindly.
Elizabeth, struggling not to stare at his awkward facial hair, put on a warm smile: "Thank you Mr. Surgoy."
" ... However, there are three other applicants. All women with higher education degrees, experience and references."
Those pretty lips formed a frown. She was well aware that the job opportunities in this city for women were very few in number ... and to miss out on this excellent position would be very detrimental to her efforts to assist Booker with his debts.
"I thank you for coming here for an interview, miss Elizabeth. Allow me to pay you for your time-"
"Sir!" Elizabeth practically shouted, standing up.
Albert eyes widened over her little outburst: the result of incredible levels of frustration and desperation.
"I may not have the appropriate papers but I can prove an advanced level of education, I swear," she promised, "I've self-taught four languages: French, German, Russian and Mandarin. I am fond of advanced physics: quantum levitation, energy laws, thermodynamics, kinetic theory, relativity, all of it. I also know advanced mathematics: probability, differential calculus, algebra and more. I have considerable knowledgeable of the world's geography. I know the world, sir," she was nearly in tears at this point, fists clenching, "I can ... I can even list every capital in Africa and their coordinates. Fes of Morroco: 34°2′ north and 5°0′ west. Cairo of Egypt: 30°3′ north and 31°14′ east - "
"-Miss, please calm down," Surgoy interrupted with a sympathetic frown. Any sensible man would be moved by such a passionate outburst, and Albert was certainly sensible.
"I ... " her voice made a shift toward sadness, "we have a little one at home ... and debts. I ... just want honest work, sir. I'll lose them both, I-"
"-I suppose," Albert stood up, approached the girl and clasped her hands gently, "I can permit you a trial period of employment ... See how my boys take to you. You certainly seem to have an impressive amount of knowledge."
There were tears, now. Ones that were a product of incredible joy.
"Thank you so much sir," squeezing the man's hands, "I won't disappoint you."
oooooooooooooooooooo
Ten percent every other Friday by midnight until the debt is paid.
That was the agreement.
Elizabeth and Anna both slept, unaware of Booker's crippling sense of anxiety. Tonight would be his first payment.
Many thoughts plagued DeWitt's mind as he waited for the midnight hour. He was, with excessive guilt, accepting the entirety of Elizabeth's personal income from her new position as governess of Surgoy's estate. She had insisted upon fully contributing to the repayment of his debt, and had only twice requested anything in return: the first request was for new footware, the second request was for some toys for Anna.
The whole situation was so ... embarrassing. Last week Booker was only commissioned for two small jobs and Elizabeth had managed to earn more money than him.
I need consistent work ... Booker miserably noted. The fact that Elizabeth was quickly becoming the largest contributor to his debt repayment was beginning to gnaw at his psyche.
Still, he was happy for Elizabeth. Surgoy was paying her fairly well ... perhaps charmed by her, perhaps sympathetic to her situation, perhaps both. The nurturing female seemed rather fond of Surgoy's two sons, both of whom apparently doted on her. And when Surgoy's simple but kind wife realized Elizabeth was arriving to work in the same violet garment every morning, she went into her own closets and pulled out a few well-kept dresses for her.
Booker briefly wondered why Elizabeth was so ... loyal, to him. Maybe she had met him sometime in the past. If not, then they've only known each other for a handful of days before the dark-haired beauty had started applying for jobs on his and Anna's behalf.
Suddenly, DeWitt ruefully recalled how nasty he was to Elizabeth over the fact she had touched his daughter during her second night in his home ...
Tomorrow we should all go to the park, together, Booker decided.
The ex-Pinkerton stood up when he noticed the time on his wallclock: 11:43pm. Booker glanced out his apartment window to see a familiar man outside ... standing underneath the street light at the corner of the road, waiting.
It wasn't Noah Reed. It was the other man he saw that day. The man that had been across the street, watching his heated conversation with the Negotiator. An average sized man with a particularly bushy mustache.
It was an effective way to collect, DeWitt had to admit. Just have a lackey wait directly outside the debtor's home at collection time. Debtors certainly couldn't use traffic as an excuse for a late payment.
DeWitt stepped outside. The collector eyed the ex-soldier's languid approached. Booker stopped within a foot of the other man, and they stared at each other for a silent minute.
"Reed makes you do the dirty work?" The ex-Pinkerton questioned as he offered the envelope to the Negotiator's representative. Though he had to admit Noah's absence was appreciated ... Booker found himself easily embittered by the man's obnoxious personality.
"You couldn't be further from the truth, sir. Mr. Reed loves the dirty work. This," as the collector opened the envelope and began to examine its contents, "is counting. And he finds this sort of thing rather tedious."
When the collector was finished counting the money, the man offered Booker a bitter, possibly sympathetic smile.
"My name's Ernest. And I'm hoping we have nine more tedious meetings before we can both walk away from this sordid business and move on with our lives. You think we can do that, Mr. DeWitt?"
Booker turned away without responding, heading back toward the apartment building. He wondered if Ernest's apparent sympathy was just a ruse to encourage the ex-soldier's continued cooperation.
"Mr. DeWitt ... " Jacoby called out hesitantly, causing the ex-Pinkerton to pause.
"Ya?"
"The boss ... Mr. Reed, he made an interesting comment the other day ... "
"Well?" Impatient.
"He said if you quit the drinking, he'd consider letting you work off the debt ... If you can't afford to pay it off you should consider - "
Booker turned back toward Ernest with a furious glare. The ex-soldier snarled a question: "- You really think I'd take a job from that son-of-a-bitch?"
Ernest froze for a second before his dark eyes cast downward contemplatively.
"The fondest memory I have, Mr DeWitt," Ernest began with a somber tone, " ... was when my firstborn said the word 'dada.' He was six months and eleven days old, at the time."
The ex-Pinkerton's breath hitched as several painful emotions swelled in his chest. He thought of Anna. She was about that age ... but she had yet to utter the word.
Ernest's gaze shifted back upward to look at Booker directly in the eye.
"Every kid deserves a parent, Mr. DeWitt. And, unfortunately, your wife was forced to leave the task to you and you alone."
Jacoby's suggestion was clear: Booker should do whatever it'd take to survive. For Anna if nothing else.
"Just something to think about, I suppose," Ernest murmured quietly.
The ex-Pinkerton grimaced. Was employment with that unscrupulous bastard his only chance of survival? Could he once again embrace a life of murder and violence, despite all the nightmares and past regrets?
What would he sacrifice to ensure he could continue to provide for Anna?
How much would he do to keep Elizabeth?
oooooooooooooooo
"May I hold Anna?"
Booker nodded.
Central Park wasn't quite as magnificent as it used to be. People had vandalized and littered it, and the government had abandoned its upkeep. Despite the occasional dead tree and piles of animal dung, It still managed to be beautiful at this time of year, far greener then the rest of the city.
Other people were enjoying the park as well. Perhaps the summer breeze was making everyone optimistic. Every passerby smiled at them or tipped their hats in greeting.
Booker turned to look at Elizabeth and Anna as they strolled through a particularly enchanting park pathway. His new companion was tapping Anna's lips and cheeks playfully, causing the infant to laugh.
"Beautiful family," a kind stranger complimented as they walked past him. Elizabeth smiled graciously.
The label 'family' forced Booker into an uncomfortable silence. A family? Is that what Elizabeth wanted? Of course she must, but DeWitt still couldn't understand why the beautiful girl would. The ex-Pinkerton couldn't imagine any unwed man refusing her affections ... yet she seemed helplessly committed to DeWitt and his daughter.
A family, then ... well, whatever this is, I don't want to lose this ... Booker decided silently.
"Say dada," Elizabeth implored his giggling daughter. Earlier this morning DeWitt had admitted to the young woman that he was waiting to hear the word from his little one's lips.
I can't lose this ...
oooooooooooooooo
A month went by.
Elizabeth's cheerfulness and work ethic seemed to change the entire household. She took care of the chores the ex-Pinkerton never bothered with: cleaning the floor, washing the windows, preparing meals that weren't canned soup. In addition, little Anna had developed an inclination smile and laugh more often, despite the fact she was beginning to teeth.
Booker didn't give up on his investigation business, but he would venture down to the New York docks and marketplace to find small, temporary jobs. None of it paid particularly well, but he was determined to bring home whatever he could. The ex-soldier couldn't stomach sitting around waiting for work, especially with Elizabeth doing all that she could to pull him out of the muck.
Two more payments were made. Booker managed to share a bizarre chuckle with Ernest during the third payoff, but became instantly sour afterwards. DeWitt couldn't help but wonder what Ernest would do if Noah ordered him to slash Elizabeth and Anna's throats.
The ex-Pinkerton was about to run out of money. He began to think about what life would be like with a man like Noah Reed as his employer.
oooooooooooooooo
It wasn't your typical day.
Elizabeth had arrived at Surgoy's doorstep a little before nine AM, as usual. She had noticed the Ford vehicle parked on the street outside her employer's home, with four men seated inside of it.
They were watching her.
They ... can't be here for me, she reasoned silently, if they were, they'd wait outside Booker's home ... not Surgoy's.
Regardless, the sight was disturbing.
Elizabeth knocked on Surgoy's door. After a full minute of silence, she saw her employer peek at her through the window from within his home. She smiled and awkwardly waved. The man's face instantly disappeared.
He's afraid ...
The concerned female waited another two minutes. She heard shuffling inside before an envelope was pushed beneath the door.
"There's your payment, my dear. You're excused from work today-" Albert called out from within the home.
"-Sir? I'd prefer to earn my pay squarely. I have an exciting lesson plan prepared for your sons -"
"- I do appreciate it, miss Elizabeth, but your services aren't required this day. But, please ... take care walking home."
The girl bit her lip, kneeling down to grab the envelope. It was very clear Surgoy was afraid ... Undoubtedly over the men parked outside his home. The sorcerous female had no intention of allowing anyone to hurt her generous employer or any member of his kind family. Still ... she just had to figure out a way to help them without using her powers.
"Mr Surgoy, may I come in? I think I've recognized your problem," she acknowledged gently, " ... and I think it'd be unsafe for me to try to leave at this point. They're ... looking at me."
Albert swiftly opened the door. She quickly stepped in so he could immediately close and lock it.
"My dear ... I don't know if I can protect you. I don't even know what they want ... " Her employer admitted nervously. Poor Surgoy was a mess: pale and sweaty. He peeked through the window again to spy at the suspicious car outside his home. Thankfully, opening the door for his employee didn't prompt any response from them.
Elizabeth frowned sympathetically: "How long have they been here?"
"Before I awoke this morning. They may have been here the entire night without my notice!"
"Where's your family?"
"Hiding upstairs ... - Damn my luck, I had the means of contacting the Negotiator but I misplaced his representative's number. He's the sort that can ... fix this-"
"-The Negotiator?" She interrupted, perhaps too loudly.
"You know him?!" Surgoy questioned as he turned to her hopefully. Maybe the governess had the means of contacting the man ...
An idea popped into the crafty female's head.
"I ... know of him," she lied, "and I know he ... overcharges for his services ... - "
"- Well ... desperate times-"
"I know a man that can help you. A very ... skilled man, apt at this sort of business. If you permit me to use your phone, I can have him here within half of an hour."
"Truly? What's his name?"
"DeWitt. Booker DeWitt."
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Booker had stopped on the corner of the street to take time to examine the ford vehicle parked outside Surgoy's home. There were four men in the car, as Elizabeth had promised on the phone. And the four men were staring straight back at him.
DeWitt could make a few assumptions. First, these weren't your average hoodlums. Only wealthy men could afford cars. Second, if they had wanted Surgoy dead, the man would be dead already.
Booker wondered if they were trying to intimidate Surgoy with their presence. Was Surgoy some kind of criminal? Or did these men want money?
They might be tied to the mafia ... The investigator realized. The thought made him cringe inwardly. If the situation became violent, that could mean a lot of trouble.
It didn't matter, though. Elizabeth was in Surgoy's home, and he couldn't let them continue with whatever plans they had on the off-chance these gangsters had violent intentions.
DeWitt, cautiously, made his way toward the Surgoy residence ... but as he approached the entrance, he heard two car doors click open. Booker, slowly, turned around to see two of the thugs approach him.
"May I help you, gentlemen?" The private investigator inquired. The two men stepped up to Booker, standing side-by-side. DeWitt decided they could pass as brothers due to the similarities of their appearance - Dark hair, pale skin, wide noses, average height but both stout-looking. The one on the left had a scar on his cheek.
"We're wondering what business you have with Mr. Surgoy," the scar-less one declared in a thick Russian accent, folding his arms across his chest. Scarface simply glared at him.
"Listen, this little situation can be handled peacefully ... " Booker reasoned.
"I'm beginning to think it can't be, mister," Scar-less refuted.
"You better leave. Now," Scarface muttered darkly with a thicker accent then his hypothetical brother.
"There's women and children, in this home ... " Booker stated in a firm tone, "I'm not going to abandon them just because a couple of ugly thugs think they can intimidate me."
Tensions mounted. Scar-less fixed an angry glare onto DeWitt.
"You've made a big mistake, mister," Scar-less snarled, "a big one."
The hypothetical brothers acted simultaneously. Scarface launched a punch toward Booker as Scar-less reached for a gun tucked inside a shoulder holster within his suit.
DeWitt managed to dodge the clumsy punch, grabbing at Scarface's shoulder and roughly swinging him with all his strength into Scar-less. Scar-less hadn't expected such a maneuver and stumbled.
Scarface made an awkward attempt to grab Booker. With a shrug of his shoulders and a very powerful thrust of his fist, DeWitt knocked Scarface to the ground.
At this point, Scar-Less had managed to regain his balance and pull his gun from its holster. Fortunately, Booker was fast enough to snatch the man's wrist, preventing accurate use of the gun.
In the distance, DeWitt heard the sound of the other two gangsters getting out of their Ford vehicle. The ex-Pinkerton tugged on Scar-less' arm and twisted it about until the man cried out and dropped his gun. He then pulled the crook against his own body to use the man as a shield from his two newest opponents, who already had their weapons drawn.
Scar-less decided not to attempt to squirm away in case the two newest participants in the battle tried to take a shot at Booker. Being held in front of two men who were aiming pistols in his direction was certainly a precarious position, even if said men were allies.
"Do you know who you're fucking messing with?" One of the approaching thugs called out. This one sounded Irish.
Booker didn't bother to verbalize a response. Thanks to Scar-less' sudden compliance as his human shield, he managed to reach for his own pistol holster, effortlessly and efficiently drawing it. The two men each took a shot, one missed the ex-soldier's head by mere inches, the other hit Scar-less' shoulder.
"Shit!" The wounded gangster cried out.
Neither man would get a chance to take another shot. With incredible speed and accuracy, the ex-Pinkerton fired a bullet at each of the gun-wielding men. One took a bullet right in the forehead and died instantly, the other took one to the neck.
But Booker didn't pause for a second, knowing Scarface could still be a threat he turned toward the ground where the man had fell.
"D-don't shoot!" Scareface cried out, hands raised, as DeWitt's gun aimed at his face.
Out of sheer instinct Booker nearly shot the man. It took concentrated effort not to. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Perhaps it was the thrill of the moment. Perhaps it was the feelings of worth and purpose that he hadn't felt in years.
It had been a long time since DeWitt had killed anyone; he had forgotten what it felt like.
"Turn around and put your hands behind your head," Booker barked at the fallen thug. Scarface quickly obeyed.
"I ... I need a doctor," Scar-less whimpered as the gunshot wound began to burn inside his body ...
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Surgoy paid Booker handsomely for his fast and effective services.
An ambulance was called for the wounded thug, the police were called for the other. DeWitt lamented the lost opportunity to further question the men about their identities and affiliations after they were taken. The only information he obtained from the gangsters was their purpose: attempted extortion of the extremely wealthy Surgoy.
Booker probably would have had to beat further information out of them. And DeWitt was wary of committing such violent acts with Elizabeth nearby. He distantly recalled the accusation she made the first day she arrived in his apartment: "I forgot about your inclination toward violence, Mr. DeWitt."
The ex-Pinkerton opened the envelope and gripped the dollars in his hands. He should have thought: 'this will cover an entire payment of my owed debt and earn me two more weeks of life' ... Instead, holding all that money brought thoughts of playing cards and poker chips into his mind.
I was lucky enough to find Elizabeth ... Lucky enough to get this money ...
Maybe, if I get lucky just one more time ...
Booker couldn't control it. He knew he was on borrowed time, and sooner or later he'd be unable to pay the debt-collectors. The dejected man convinced himself that getting lucky was the only shot he had for a future with Anna and Elizabeth.
He'd go tonight, after Elizabeth went to sleep.
ooooooooooooooooooooo
There was a knock at the door or the Surgoy residence; Albert Surgoy, still wary due to yesterday's violent encounter within his household, peeked through the window.
There was a tall man waiting outside.
Surgoy moved to open the door.
"Greetings. Mr. Surgoy, I presume?"
"Yes. And you are?"
"My name is Noah Reed," the man stated with a friendly tone, actively avoiding looking toward Surgoy's ridiculous facial hair, "I've been recently informed there was an incident-"
"-Oh! You're the Negotiator!"
Noah smiled and bowed slightly, confirming Albert's assumption.
"Come in, come in. Would you care for any tea or coffee, Mr. Reed?"
Reed politely removed his hat before ducking to get through the doorway.
"Black coffee. Thank you."
"Yes, I found yesterday's incident to be rather horrifying," Surgoy admitted as he led the Negotiator into the living room, "I never imagined a group of thugs would attempt violence and extortion during daylight hours, at a man's personal residence, no less! - Let me retrieve your coffee."
As soon as Surgoy left for the kitchen, his two rambunctious sons ran into the room laughing loudly. They did not look much alike ... one was skinny and the other short and plump. They chased each other, and the thicker one latched onto Reed's leg attempting to use the large man to block his brother's advances.
Noah suddenly remembered how much he disliked children. Without a second thought, he reached one arm downward, grabbed the clothes covering the child's back, and effortlessly hoisted the rotund Surgoy son upward so he was eye-to-eye with the Negotiator.
"Do you have any further plans that involve touching me?" Reed inquired with an unkind smile.
"N ... No, sir," the boy responded, wide-eyed.
"Wise decision," Noah complimented before setting the boy back down onto the floor. The child waddled off, adjusting his clothes, sniffling. After hissing an insult at the Negotiator, the skinny brother soon followed.
Reed spent the next few minutes wishing infertility upon the entirety of mankind until Surgoy returned.
"The espresso machine is the best invention we've seen in the past decade," Surgoy announced, handing the cup of coffee to Reed.
"I thank you."
"I had meant to call for you yesterday, but I misplaced your representative's number."
"Were you aware those 'thugs' were tied to a newly arrived crime syndicate, Mr. Surgoy?" Noah inquired as he reached into an inner pocket of his suit, pulling out a replacement business card for the wealthy man.
"No ... " Surgoy admitted uncomfortably, taking the card and silently vowing not to lose it.
"The underworld of this city affectionately refers to them as the 'Immigrant Mafia.' A silly name, in my opinion. There's relatively few Italians in their organization, thus far."
" ... Is myself and my family safe, Mr. Reed?" Albert asked, flustered.
"I can't predict the future, but I will say this: The Immigrant Mafia has not been active in this city long at all and their presence has already had a polarizing effect on the 'local' mafias. Criminal warfare is imminent and the major players in this city will choose a side. Additionally you weren't the Immigrant Mafia's first target for extortion ... and you can only threaten the wealthy elite for so long before politicians and independent contractors such as myself are paid to get involved."
"What does all that mean for me and my family?"
"Forgive me," Noah apologized, "what I'm attempting to explain is, retaliation against you and your family will soon rank at the very heel of their priority list. Besides ... both the prominent local mafias shun the murder of innocents. Considering your only crime against the criminal underworld has been hiring a man to protect your home, I'd say you still qualify as innocent. I can't imagine the Immigrant Mafia would be willing to antagonize both this city's reigning criminal families simultaneously by targeting you with violent intent."
"So, we should be safe? Thank heavens ... " Albert murmured with a huge sigh of relief.
"I can't guarantee that, Mr. Surgoy."
"Right. Of course."
The Negotiator sipped his coffee before announcing: "Your hired gun, however, will undoubtedly be targeted. It was an interesting choice: shooting two of them and allowing the other two to live ... He ensured there would be survivors that could identify him as the killer. That's fortunate for you, however ... You won't be blamed for their deaths."
Sure, the survivors were doomed to be deported back to their respective countries, but they'd still have time to identify the man that violently ended their attempt to extort Surgoy.
Albert frowned, silently praying the Immigrant Mafia wouldn't kill the man that protected his family.
"What was the man's name, out of curiosity?" Noah inquired, "the man you hired." Obtaining that information was the entire purpose of this little visit, after all. The deaths of mafia members always garners attention - especially in the event of murder.
"Booker DeWitt."
Noah, who had to enough business sense to act civil around soft-hearted, wealthy men, could no longer hide his extremely inappropriate sense of humor. Multiple quiet but lengthy strings of laughter escaped his lips.
Surgoy looked at the Negotiator in bewilderment. He couldn't imagine any part of this unfortunate situation being legitimately humorous and silently accused Noah of being an odd man.
"Is something funny, Mr. Reed?"
Reed's shoulders shook as he struggled to stop the sounds of his amused expirations. Finally, he admitted: "Oh, that man is a financial investment of mine ... "
And I have no choice but to protect my investments. Noah added silently. He had a feeling DeWitt wouldn't make the task easy for him. Odd twist of fate that Noah was going to have to make efforts to protect a man he was undoubtedly going to murder sooner or later. Reed silently wondered, if given enough time, whether DeWitt could have every sociopath and criminal in the city after him.
Noah decided the ex-Pinkerton either had extremely rotten luck or a death wish.
ooooooooooooooooooo
It wasn't until the late evening that the Negotiator had finished the day's work. A few business deals, a few threats, lots of research and preparation. It's amazing how much business had spawned from the imminent war between the criminal organizations.
Noah stepped into the phone booth and asked the phone operator to connect him with Ernest Jacoby's private number.
"Hello. Ernest speaking."
"I spoke with Surgoy this morning regarding the careless crooks that were killed on his property yesterday. Would you like to take a guess who killed them?"
"Oh, I don't know," Ernest sighed, instantly recognizing his boss' voice, "Vincenzo?"
"Not quite. But this man is also violent, a boozer and owes me thousands ... "
"Booker DeWitt?!"
"Yes, I was quite surprised myself," Reed admitted with a small chuckle, "the whole situation is rather amusing, isn't it?"
"Truly, sir, it isn't," Ernest grumbled, realizing that even if DeWitt managed to pay off his debts to Noah his life would probably still be in danger ...
"You're no fun anymore, Mr. Jacoby. - Do you think Booker enjoyed it? Killing them, that is. Do you think he feels like a man, again?"
"I ... don't know, sir."
"Mm. Well, send word to the appropriate parties: I am collecting on behalf of the Galucci family, and no one is to touch or threaten DeWitt until the debt is paid."
"Consider it done, sir."
"I haven't asked about DeWitt, lately. Have the payments been going smoothly ... ?"
"Yes sir ... but ... "
"Hm?"
"I heard a rumor he was at MacFarlane's last night ... "
"That trashy underground casino?" Noah responded with a smirk, "I'll hazard a guess and assume the notoriously unlucky simpleton lost money last night."
"The word is he lost over eight hundred dollars."
"That's impressive. He's lost more than half of Surgoy's generous reward money within twenty-four hours," with a small chuckle, "... I doubt DeWitt will be able to afford many more payments."
" ... I can't help but think we can use him, sir. He did single-handedly disarm four members of the Immigrant Mafia," Ernest argued, attempting to sound neutral, "he's got skills, just as you said."
"I'd sooner torture or humiliate him than make him a job offer," Noah refuted, still smirking, "he has a lot of nerve ... gambling away my money like that."
Jacoby offered no response.
"I wonder if the Immigrant Mafia would be willing to pay me if I wrapped Booker up nicely and delivered him to their door ... "
"Perhaps ... " Ernest murmured quietly.
Reed became distracted, suddenly. He couldn't think about Booker for more than a minute before fearless blue eyes appeared in his mind.
"Is that beautiful lady still with Mr. DeWitt?" Noah questioned.
"To my knowledge, sir. I've yet to see her with my own eyes but others have reported that she leaves the house at eight in the morning and returns at seven at night every weekday."
"Ah. She works. More than he does, I imagine."
"Probably," Ernest confirmed.
"Did you discover her name?"
"Uh, no sir. Didn't realize she was still of interest."
"If you had seen her, Mr. Jacoby, you'd realize she's of interest," Noah insisted, smirking, "Do you think she'll be angry with me when I'm forced to kill DeWitt?"
" ... Yes. That sort of thing tends to upset a woman."
Noah noticed Ernest's obvious discomfort with the subject, and the guileful Negotiator decided to test the man.
"What if I paid for DeWitt's funeral arrangements? Do you think she'd forgive me in such a scenario?"
"No, sir." Ernest's frustration could be heard in his voice.
"I wonder if she intends to keep Booker's child in the event of his death ...-"
"-Sir ...-"
"-I don't particularly like children. Perhaps if I offered her a life of luxury and pleasure, she'd abandon little Anna - "
"-Sir!" Ernest interrupted angrilly, but instantly froze ...
"Yes, Mr. Jacoby?" The cold man smirked. Ernest had never raised his voice in such a way to Noah before.
" ... "
"How long have we worked together, my friend?" The Negotiator asked pointedly.
"Fifteen years, sir," Ernest answered. Jacoby didn't know it at the time, but Noah was only thirteen years old when the mob boss of the Galucci Mafia assigned Ernest with the task of watching over the boy ... Who could have guessed? Thirteen year-old boys typically weren't six feet tall and fully capable of overpowering men double or triple their age.
"That's amusing. I've spent more of my life with your involvement than without it," Noah remarked, "and how many sins have we committed together?"
" ... Hundreds, sir."
"Would you ever betray me?" Reed asked nonchalantly.
"No sir."
"Are you becoming a liability to me, Ernest?"
"No, sir. Not at all," Jacoby responded quickly, noting Noah's usage of his first name.
"Let's hope not."
Silence.
"Well, this has been a fun little chat but it's late and I must return home," the Negotiator announced, "I bid you good night, my friend."
ooooooooooooooooooooo
The streets were dark, quiet, empty.
Noah found himself focusing on a single image: the image of blue eyes. Frustrated blue eyes. Furious blue eyes. Fearless blue eyes.
It had been a long day. A busy day. An enlightening day. But now, as Noah trekked two New York City blocks through the darkness of night to return to his car, he couldn't think of any color but blue.
Reed wondered what emotions he'd see in those eyes if he killed Booker directly in front of the mysterious woman.
Mentally lingering on the subject of murder made Reed realize it's been a while since he's killed someone. About three months. That'd be considered a 'murder drought' for the Negotiator.
So when Noah heard an angry man's shouts from the depths of a nearby dark alley, he couldn't help but smirk. Reed approached that very alley and took a moment to listen.
A woman's voice cried out desperately: "I have no more money, Sergio! You took all of it!"
Mm. Sergio. Noah was aware of several men with such a name.
"Don't you fucking lie to me, bitch! I know you've been earning."
"Please Sergio ... my boys, I-!"
"- I don't care about your fucking kids! I want my damn money!"
The woman cried out.
Reed instantly recognized the story. An abusive pimp and his prostitute. A tale as old as time, truly. And there was only one pimp Noah knew of by the name of Sergio. A member of the Bianchi Mafia family ... the largest reigning Mafia in New York City.
A second woman's voice emerged: "Sergio, stop!"
There was a scream and a subsequent sob as the sounds of the scuffle continued.
"She can't earn if you strike her face!"
"All a whore needs is her pussy," Sergio snarled.
The Negotiator recognized the opportunity for violence. Frankly Noah almost felt like he needed it. Reed decided to make a game of it ... and began to whistle as he started to walk between the two buildings where this sad little show was taking place. The trio were illuminated by a lantern within the depths of the alley: a six-foot tall brute with a sweaty, unshaven face ... a young, dark-haired female that stood nervously nearby ... and a blonde fallen on the ground, attempting to cover her face as she emitted the occasional sob.
The whistling caught their attention. Sergio and the dark-haired woman turned toward the tall blonde man.
"Get out of here, mister," Sergio growled, "this is a Bianchi family matter."
Noah smirked. The usage of the name 'Bianchi' named would have frightened most men from interfering ...
"Oh, don't mind me, good sir," Reed announced as his casual stride quickly closed the distance between himself and the trio ... one of the benefits of being a large man, "I'm simply a trash collector," and he pointedly looked toward the blonde on the ground, "and it seems someone's misplaced their garbage."
The Negotiator passed by the dark-haired woman and stopped moving when he was roughly two steps from Sergio.
"Listen," Sergio huffed, "if you're implying you want to purchase time with my whore- "
"- No, no, sir," Noah interrupted with a quick laugh, "I'm implying I'll take your damaged goods without paying any charge. - "
"-I don't know who the fuck you think you are- "
"- The merchandise is bleeding from her nose, certainly no longer has the spirit to provide a man an enjoyable evening. You honestly expect payment for her?"
The blonde woman quieted, daring to lift her head and observe the man antagonizing the pimp.
Sergio was fuming. He would have swung his fist at the irritating intruder if the man wasn't more than half-a-foot taller than him ...
"You moron ... do I have to repeat myself? I'm affiliated with the Bianchi family," Sergio shouted angrily.
Noah ignored him, extending a hand toward the fallen female.
"Come with me, my dear," Reed instructed with that odd smile of his.
The Negotiator got the exact response he was hoping for. Sergio, insulted and ignored in front of his own whores, could no longer control his anger. He reached out to smack at Noah's extended arm.
"Do you know who I-"
With surprising swiftness, Noah's left fist plunged fiercely into the man's stomach. Sergio bent over, temporarily losing the ability to breathe. It felt like one-hundred pounds of cement had been ruthlessly slammed into his body.
The Negotiator permitted no time for recovery, grabbing at the man's shirt with a single hand and shoving the stunned man back against the brick wall.
"Yes, Sergio Belini. I know exactly who you are. You've been a member of the Bianchi crime family for over twenty-three years and yet have only been granted control of a paltry prostitution ring of less than ten whores. No wife. No children. Consequently, I suspect," Noah taunted as he reached into his suit to pull out a curved knife, "no one will miss you."
Reed smirked when the gasping man's eyes filled with terror.
"Perhaps you two should look away," the Negotiator suggested to the two whores, glancing at them. The dark-haired woman turned around immediately, but the blonde rose to her feet and took a step closer to the two men. In the dim glow of the lantern's light, Reed could see anger behind her tears. It made an interesting image, considering the blood on her face.
Noah smiled, pleased by the woman's response.
"Would you like an anatomy lesson, my dear?" Reed inquired as he returned his attentions to the Bianchi mobster, "Sergio's carotid arteries are located here ... and here," Noah demonstrated those points with the tip of his knife, "cut deep enough to sever one of these, and your victim will lose consciousness within approximately two minutes and expire shortly after. Now, if you want an extended session with your prey ... opt for one of the four jugular veins."
"N-no! They'll ... kill you ... for this!" The Bianchi gangster was finally beginning to reclaim his strength and began to pitifully squirm in Noah's single-handed hold. Reed went ahead and began slicing into the man's neck as a result.
"This jugular vein, in particular, is easy to find," the Negotiator promised as his knife slid through the man's flesh. He smiled as blood began to spill forth, and started using both hands to restrain the man's now-writhing body. The narration continued: "with a pierced jugular, men will usually last about seven minutes. Allows time for some extra fun."
"I understand," the blonde whore whispered, taking a step closer to watch the panicked, pained look in Sergio's eyes. She spat at the struggling man, which made Noah chuckle.
After two minutes of desperate wriggling, Sergio's movements began to slow.
"Now ... I may embarrass myself, here," Noah admitted with a smile, "I've been working on this technique for a while and I haven't quite perfected it yet ... "
Reed lifted his knife and moved the tip of it directly in front of Sergio's left eye. This act renewed the bleeding man's struggles, and he screamed.
"Stop it, Sergio," Noah instructed with an awfully mirthful expression, "this is more difficult than you'd think."
Sergio closed his eyes, sobbing now. It's a shame eyelids didn't provide much defense against a knife.
Reed proceeded to attempt to gouge out both of the dying man's eyes with merely the tip of his knife. The first eye became squished into the back of Sergio's socket, the second eye Noah managed to successfully pop out.
After the deed was done, the Negotiator released the man, satisfied. The gangster's spasming body collapsed to the ground.
With a content sigh, Noah glanced at the blonde whore before he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the excess blood and body tissue off his blade. He found himself impressed that she never once looked away ... Even now, she was staring at the man's corpse.
"So, my dear, what have you learned?" Noah asked, amused.
"If I need to debilitate a man .. seek out his carotid," and she looked up toward the twisted man, her voice both dangerous and soft, "if I want him to suffer ...the jugular."
"Knowledge begets power," Reed commented, vaguely intrigued by the whore, "I wonder if a mere woman is capable of wielding it."
"I will," she promised with steel in her voice.
Noah smiled.
The dark-haired girl turned back to face them. After a hesitant moment, she ran past Noah to Sergio's fallen body. Struggling not to look toward that mutiliated skull, she began digging through the dead man's pockets for money.
The Negotiator laughed at the opportunistic act. Yes, it was safe to assume no one would miss this man. The laughter forced the dark-haired girl to glance up at him nervously.
"You don't mind if we take it, do you?" The whore inquired ... She certainly had no plans of attempting to keep the money if the sadistic freak wanted it ...
"Help yourself," Reed replied, taking a moment to tip his hat toward each woman, "have a good evening, ladies."
As Noah began to walk away, the voice of the blonde whore caused him to pause.
"Do you ... do you want payment, sir?"
Noah mused it over. It was an interesting offer. In Reed's experience, acts of violence usually weren't accompanied by sexual proposals ...
Without turning, the Negotiator answered her.
" ... A pair of blue eyes have embedded themselves within my mind. If either of you can rid me of them, I'll pay you both a month's worth of your wages."
That got both the beaten whore's and the opportunistic whore's attentions.
oooooooooooooooo
Author's Note: This chapter is a LOT of set-up and character development. I used 'snapshot' scenes to advance the plot in this chapter(I tend not to bother with lengthy descriptions ... I know I personally don't care if someone's curtains are purple or pink, etc), Next chapter should have really exciting twists and will be significantly more fun to read, I promise.
I have a question I'm hoping some of you will answer: Do we want a sex scene in every chapter? Do we only want Booker/Elizabeth scenes? For example I could easily start the next chapter with Noah enjoying the two whores(dont worry he wouldn't go coo-coo for coco puffs on them) but I have no idea if there's any interest in pairings besides Book/Eli.
Thank you to ALL my reviewers. You guys have no idea how motivational your support is. It really makes me excited to write more for you all.
Shout-outs for my repeat reviews!
Shtoops: You're kind of awesome. Seriously. You're a very interesting person. Much appreciated!
AgentGv01: I love the fact that I feel like you're bouncing ideas off with me. You leave the kind of reviews that can encourage a writer to create a scene or plot-twist they otherwise wouldn't have thought of. Thank you.
Paul Perkins: Man, you're ongoing support is so appreciated. Thank you, sir.
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