BioQuest: Not Alone

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“Please. We’ve much to do,” Elizabeth agreed with Booker, turning back to the Bathysphere. When she’d first been in a gunfight with Booker, all that death… It chilled her to the core, nausea nesting in her stomach as she ran from him in Columbia.

She stepped over the corpse of a splicer, as Booker referred to them, continuing on the slightly uneven path. Elizabeth had an appointment in the morning and she didn’t dare be unprepared.

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Booker followed her, their footsteps and a distant dripping taking over the silence between them. Neither of them interrupted the quiet until they stood outside the doors to Tenenbaum’s sanctuary in Olympus Heights, and Booker finally spoke.

“You’re not going alone to see that lunatic artist tomorrow,” Booker stated, his face cast in shadow so she couldn’t make out an expression.

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Her eyes were still adjusting. All she could see was a scarcely noticeable droop to his shoulders and a lean to favor his injured leg.

– – –

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Read the next chapter.

– – –

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BioQuest: Return

Read how to join this choose your own adventure story here.
Read the previous chapter.
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A beat passes, Elizabeth bringing her hand to her chin. Another beat. Finally, she releases a breath and shakes her head, trying to clear it. The man was dead. It was over, but… This was not the end.

“Sullivan,” she asked, and he heaved a sigh.

“Still here, miss.” He glowered at the door, arms crossed over his barrel chest as the leaner man continued to fuss with the lock… Sullivan was a cross between fatherly and frightening, she decided. It was no wonder he and Booker got along so swiftly.

Lowering her hand to clasp the other, she took a few steps closer toward the door.

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“What about Booker? Is he…?”

“What, him? Couldn’t be better,” he scoffed a laugh, cracking half a smile. “Once he gets those nosebleeds outta the way, he’s a terror out there. Glad he’s on my side.”

“You too, Sullivan. Now move it, genius,” he ordered, setting his hand on the shoulder of the smaller man at the door.

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“Booker,” she warned, folding her arms. Someday he might be polite if she was there to always remind him…

“I’ve almost got it, sir,” the technician dismissed, shrugging his shoulder out from Booker’s grasp and focusing closer on the lock. With a whisper from the door that almost sounded like relief, it slid open at last.

“Nice one, Milton.” Sullivan patted his shoulder, and this Milton man brightened to a smile. He nodded a tuft of blond hair from his face, the dim light catching in his hazel eyes and the thin scar on his cheek.

“Getting results, not bad.” Booker holstered his gun, heaving a sigh. “You ready to go home, Elizabeth?”

– – –

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Read the next chapter.

– – –

Suggestions from last chapter:

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