Author's Notes: Hello everyone! I know I have a habit of leaving long (and I mean LONG) author's notes but for this story I have A LOT to explain so please bear with me.

The most obvious question is this…what the heck is this story!? Well, "Total Drama Raptured" is a story that combines two things that I love: Total Drama and the first Bioshock. Given my love of those two things, perhaps it was inevitable that the idea of a similar story with Bioshock Infinite. For the world of Columbia is in many ways just as rich, thought out, and overflowing with history as Rapture itself. I fancy Rapture a little bit more than Columbia but that's just personal preference. But I digress. Anyway, naturally, the chance to write such an amazing world with some more of the characters that I love so much (which is why Duncan, Al, and Sierra among others will never be the focus in either of these stories) is tempting!

I'll have a bit more to say about the characters but first I have something of far greater importance to say first. This story might never actually happen. You see, I already have four stories that I'm devoting my time and creative energy too. And two of those, "Mad Mikey" and "Total Drama Raptured", might take years to finish and will likely end up being among the longest of all Total Drama fan-fictions. So the idea of adding another epic-length fan-fiction on top of that is sheer madness! Plus, I'm not entirely sure if I could do a truly effective crossover between Bioshock Infinite and Total Drama. Most of the story could easily be made to work but the beginning and end are very tricky puzzles to work with when imagining a crossover. Also, while I've seen most of Bioshock Infinite's story and played some of it, I've never played the whole thing all the way through as I have with the first Bioshock.

Since I know that several of the people who will be reading this don't know, here's a very brief overview of the plot of Bioshock Infinite. Set in a alternate history 1912, it follows Booker DeWitt, a survivor of the Wounded Knee massacre and former Pinkerton agent, as he travels to Columbia, a floating city originally sponsored by the U.S. government but has since left the union. He's going here to find a woman, named Elizabeth, who's locked away here and is very important to Columbia's future, because he needs to "bring us the girl and wipe away the debt". It doesn't take long for him to realize that there is much about this heavenly looking city that's amiss. For one thing, it views its ruler as an all-knowing prophet and worships the Founding Fathers as if they were deities. Believe me, there's A LOT more that's messed up about this place than simply that, and that's frankly bad enough. Both before and after Booker finds Elizabeth, the two partake in an epic journey to escape Colombia that is also, as Adam Sessler of "X-Play" puts it, "a exhilarating mediation on identity, guilt, belief, narrative, revolution, race, national identity, and eventually [video] games themselves." (and no, I don't regularly watch "X-Play").

What you are about to read is me writing the first encounter Booker DeWitt has with the Fireman with two of the teens from Total Drama. Now then, you might be thinking, why this scene? Why present the sale-pitch, if you will, with this scene? Now, despite that build up, the answer is disarmingly simple…I LOVE this scene! I'm not even entirely sure why I like the introduction of the Fireman that much. In terms if the game's enemies he's not the strongest or most memorable; the Motorized Patriot (clockwork terminators with massive Gatling guns that look like "creepily, motorized-like Hall of Presidents animatronic George Washington") and Handymen (humans who was disabled, sickly, or severely injured that are now in a large and highly disproportionate mechanical body with gorilla-like posture and build that's in extreme pain and no longer in control of his actions) are much more threatening and iconic. But the Fireman has such an amazing voice and presence to me. Also, the Fireman is the first truly extraordinary foe that Booker faces down. For some reason, where's I think of this game, this scene is the first to come to mind. And as some of you might already know, once you get the writing urge the only way to truly get rid of it is to simply write it out. So even if this story never comes to life, please enjoy this sample of what could have been and possibly might be.

All right, now for the characters. Fighting along side Booker in this chapter will be Bridgette and Harold. There are two other Total Drama characters in Columbia are Leshawna and Izzy, but they won't be encountered until after this point of things. I won't say anything more about the roles these characters would play but if you know anything about Columbia ands its beliefs than you can guess at some of the role at least one of the Total Drama characters plays.

But enough of this super-long author's notes. Here is a sample of what might one day become reality but likely won't. Even if it doesn't, I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Here's a chapter from what might be a future crossover between Total Drama and Bioshock Infinite: Where's the Fire?

Footsteps filled with haste were hurrying along the cobblestone street below them. As the bright sun beamed down on the wooden buildings that the street was wedged in-between as to make it almost appear as if they would be set ablaze, shouts and gunshots roared.

Overlooking the street beneath her was a woman, with red hair and blue eyes that was wearing clothing that fit the following pattern: white collared shirt, lime-green tie, slightly corset resembling brown shirt with golden buttons, light beige coat, and red skirt.

Turning to the man standing less than a foot away, she saw someone whose physical features and clothes were almost identical to hers with the only differences being a man's haircut and clothing meant for men as opposed to woman (meaning no skirt and such).

The woman and man were the Luteces, Rosalind and Robert, respectively. They were brother and sister, even if they technically didn't have the same birthmother, or more accurately, the same birthmother from the same reality. Despite what some might say, they were sister and brother, all that separated the "siblings" was a single chromosome.

For proof of this, one only had to see their faces, which were wearing the most apathetic facial expressions in the history of the world. They remained apathetic, even though three people, two not from this reality and not even adults yet no less, were fighting for their lives. To the both Robert and Rosalind Lutece, this was no more shocking than grass being green or apples being fruit, things that were such common knowledge that they elicited no noteworthy reaction. Such is the lot of those who transcend reality's borders.

When their voices were heard, they were so deadpan in tone as to almost be dead.

"So far they are performing with moderate success, don't you agree brother?" Rosalind asks as she over looks from a balcony and sees the three of them run underneath them.

"I suppose so, though they could always do better." Robert comments.

"Naturally, but one can still do well even when its possible to do better, yes?"

"Indeed. I guess they are doing well enough, since they aren't use to this world of ours."

"It is likely imitating to say the least…even if compatriots of theirs experienced a similar world."

"Their compatriots may have, but they have not. These two and the others they will meet will experiences sights that those who found…Ryan's "utopia", couldn't conceive of."

"True, but at least, unlike that quartet, this assemblage of adolescents will have another's assistance."

"Interesting attention to alliteration." Robert observed, sporting a sly smile. "And it's not "another's assistance". Its others' assistance, two others, plural, dear sister."

"I suppose that is true…or it will be. The Vigors that they will discover will be starling enough. When they reach the so-called Lamb, they may start believe this all to be magic."

-"I suppose we would seem magic to the improperly educated. After all, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

"I daresay that Arthur C. Clarke won't say that for another fifty years." Rosalind replied. (1)

Ignoring her criticism, the male's eyes turn towards an object that is sitting on a table. It is a large glass phial on a tray full of a bright and pulsing yellow liquid with an "L" logo.

"I do wish we could give them this, it'd no doubt make their success more than moderate. Is it time yet?" Robert asks his sister.

She checks a watch on her wrist; there are no hands and the gears aren't moving.

"Not yet. It won't be for eight more minutes." She says, eliciting a moan from Robert.

"It certainly is an inconvenience to wait on time."

"Indeed." Rosalind remarks with her voice conveying the ease of being perfectly at peace.

Her mind was a frenzied panic, knowing levels of turmoil previously unimaginable!

Bridgette was running through a street that seemed to be called Shady Lane. As the Surfer ran, a bullet pierced the building housing one of the many stores that were opened but now vacant. If she had been running a little faster, it would have killed her instantly!

Right when she realized this, she fell. Bridgette was always clumsy on land and the constantly shifting surface of this place made that even worse…made her more clumsy.

Looking to her left, she saw who was shooting at her…a police officer. But she didn't have time to observe his appearance since a bullet went right between his eyes. Now looking to her left, Bridgette saw the person who was holding the slightly smoking gun.

Standing there was the man who had saved her life a few times within the past few minutes alone. His name was Booker DeWitt but the policemen trying to kill them called him "False Shepard". No matter his name, his green eyes seemed to be unaffected by the killing. It was as if he had experienced situations far worse, far more killing than this.

She didn't know why they were calling "False Shepard" or why he was unmoved by the murder of several attacking policemen. And right now, she didn't care.

All she did care about was getting out of here alive, reaching Monument Island, and finding the others. Then maybe they could leave this place, this unimaginable hell!

This place, Columbia, was more opposed to the Surfer's sense of reality than any other. Despite being born in the 1990's, Bridgette found herself in 1912. Despite that year, she had seen shocking marvels of science and industry that seemed more akin to magic. Despite all of what she had been taught saying it was impossible, this massive city was not on the ground, "the Sodom Below" (as the people here called it) but in the sky…the city was floating among the clouds! Then there were the beliefs of the city's populace…

Still lying on the ground, the blonde was frozen, remembered what she saw at the Raffle. Her deepest held convictions told her that what she was seeing couldn't possibly be the truth. There was no way that these people could actually believe in that set of principles!

Trapped in her horror of reliving that experience, she almost didn't see the hand offered to her. Looking up, Bridgette saw eyes of green… eyes only green because of glasses.

Looking up at Harold, Bridgette accepted his hand and now stood up once again. She smiled in graduate, and not just for the offered hand. At least Bridgette wasn't alone. Though not a very close friend, any person from Total Drama would be welcomed now. No matter what new horrors awaited around the next corner, she'd have some backup. Thankfully, this backup was somebody who Bridgette could find much common ground.

The peace didn't last as several more bullets were being fired at the two teenagers. After the initial shock left him, Harold primed his pistol and fired a few of his gun's rounds. A few bodies hit the ground with sickening thuds, red blood now on their blue uniforms.

Reeling in a slightly lessened shock, Bridgette looked at the pistol in her own hands.

This served to remind Bridgette of being thankful for Harold's presence for reasons outside of his agreeable personality. As proven at those carnival games, the Dweeby Nerd had some experience and skill with firing guns, chalking it up to his Possum Scout days. While he couldn't react with the same indifference this Booker had, Harold was somehow able to not dwell on the fact that he killed some people, some human beings.

Bridgette felt beyond conflicted about this. On the one hand, she had a deep-rooted aversion to violence of any sort against anything…in particular murder. But on the other, these men were trying to kill her and would no doubt do far worse to the other two teens. Not sure whether to view it as a good thing or a bad thing, Bridgette had yet to kill anyone with her gun. Yes, she had successfully wounded a few of the attackers. Yes, a few people have ended up dead because of her actions but she wasn't entirely responsible. At least, that's what she tried to tell herself to relieve some of her guilt.

All she did was use that, uh…Vigor, on them…and they did the rest themselves. She wasn't to blame…right? Despite knowing that wasn't true, she tried to believe it.

It was harder to do this when the bright sun above them showed the dead bodies.

Her sense of revulsion seemed to be timed with the schedule of the city itself as the section of Columbia they were standing on slightly started moving yet again. Also yet again, Bridgette fell. Also, once again, Harold helped up the now embarrassed Bridgette.

"Thanks Harold. I must seem like one of those blonde in those horror movies, uh?"

"No, not really. Unlike them, you are just learning how to stand on your feet in the sky. Not to mention, I think you're a lot smarter than those characterless blondes are. And this is way more frightening than any horror movie I've ever seen." Harold says with a smile.

Despite knowing he was right, Bridgette couldn't help but chuckle at the lightheartedness of the moment, a great contrast to the inconceivable darkness within the sunny Columbia.

Standing back up, Bridgette and Harold were both looking at Booker as he was firing on some more police officers. She tried to look away from the slowly growing pile of corpses. In her efforts to do so, the Surfer Girl thought of other things, other times.

She thought back to the last and only other time when she and Harold were traveling together with guns…during the Paintball "Deer" Hunting challenge on Total Drama. Though she didn't particularly enjoy much of that show, now she was craving it. She was craving not having to be in fear for your life, not having to use guns loaded with ammo that was far deadlier than paint, not missing the fun for the promise of hitting Heather.

But more than anything else, she missed Geoff. Oh by God how much she missed him!

She would have traded just about anything to be leaning against those washboard abs and feeling the magic of his lips against hers.

But then a shout diverted Bridgette's attention from remembering her boyfriend.

"Call out the Fireman!" One of those attacking them suddenly called out.

As the Surfer Girl pondered what that could mean, Booker and Harold each shot down another police officer trying to kill them after engaging in a slightly prolonged firefight.

"It's the Fireman…he's here!" Another man shouted over the chaos of the firefight.

'What do they mean by fireman? Is there a fire somewhere?' Bridgette thought to herself.

As the Surfer Girl wondered this, Booker shot the last police officer in the area. Despite them hearing at least two more people in the area, no one was attacking them now. Why?

While curious about this, the three of them were not complaining at not being shot at. Looking around, Booker, Bridgette, and Harold noticed a partially opened gate. It was large, metal, and covered in bronze that made the door look like it was being heated.

Pushing the gate door so he and the two teens could step through, Booker noticed how the metal on the door suddenly started to become much, much warmer to the touch.

"It's getting hot. What's going on?" Booker asks in confusion as he opens the gate.

On the other side of the hot gate, Booker, Bridgette, and Harold noticed three carts, with the middle one being turned on its side. A man emerged from behind the upturned cart and now stood on top of it. For some reason, his hands were a glowing, bright orange-red. As the figure raised his hands in the air and brought them downward with vigor, there was a series of piercing sounds, as if a machine were creaking as it was brought to life.

"BURN IN THE NAME OF THE PROPHET!" The man's voice roared, thundering with a metallic sounding echo, as suddenly flames erupted all around his imposing form!

Scared out of their minds, Bridgette and Harold looked at Booker, hoping to see his face as prepared and ready for the fight as it was before. However, he looked just as scared! Police officers with guns, clubs, and skyhooks were one thing…but this was another.

All the previously invincible seeming man says is an overwhelmed sounding, "Oh great."

As the fiery explosion filled the surrounding air and began to set the nearby building walls on fire, the man leapt down from the upturned cart with his hands glowing again.

Frightened out of her mind and acting on instinct alone, Bridgette used Possession. As the pastel poltergeist began to encircle the Fireman with its smoky seduction, he didn't move. Even with his unbelievable powers, he seemed to be just as affected by the Vigor. Without any others deemed by Bridgette as her enemies to attack, he remained still.

Staring at the immobilized Fireman, Bridgette felt a tinge of guilt…she still hated using Possession. After all, once the effect wore off, another person would commit suicide because of her. But what else was she to do, let herself and the others be burned to death?

With the Fireman immobilized, the people he was trying to burn got a better look at him. He was a terrifying figure, a being that seemed like he was more machine than man. While not any taller than Booker, he was big and bulky. Not a trace of skin was visible, covered by many overlapping layers of metal plating, leather armor, and other less identifiable types of padding. It looked like he was wearing a very thick beige padded suit that was surrounded by a coal-black iron exoskeleton that primarily covered his upper back and shoulders. Around his waist were several very thick black belts that appeared to be connected to the straps that kept the iron exoskeleton together and over the padding. His face was covered by what resembled a welder's mask, with three vertical openings in the center that likely were his means of seeing. For some reason, instead of black these openings were the same orange-red his hands were when aflame. Harold suspected that it was the metal helmet surrounding the welder-like mask, which gave this person his distorted voice, which he and others found to be quite intimidating. Attached to the Fireman's back was a large furnace, like an old fashion iron stove, with a single large pipe. It appeared to be connected by pipes to various points on his arms. Since these copper pipes glowed with his hands, which ran along the length of his entire arm and ended with copper rings which wrapped around his wrists, it was likely from whatever was in his back boiler that allowed him to create and release fire from his hands.

Bridgette and Harold thought that he resembled a cross between a furnace and an iron maiden torture device. Those notions made them glad that he was going to kill himself.

By the time they had noticed all of these details, the emerald enchantress surrounding the Fireman began to flicker, the effects of the Possession Vigor were about to wear off. Bridgette took note of how it seemed like it affected the Fireman for only a fraction of the time it did the police officers and automated turrets that it was used on before this point. However, she didn't put much thought into this has she and others took cover. While Booker hid behind the cart to the left, Bridgette and Harold took the one on the right. The Fireman was about die and they all individually guessed that it would be explosive.

Finally, the green ghost of the Possession Vigor fully disappeared. The Fireman stood perfectly still for a few seconds and then he looked around in what must have been confusion. From their different points of cover, his three opponents looked at him.

The machinery and pipes that lined his armor-covered body began switching from their polished cooper coloring into a glowing bright red. Flames began emanating from various points on his body, likely meant to prevent the heat and pressure within the suit from becoming too great. Steam escaped the pipe mounted on his back, causing a high-pitched whistling sound, almost sounding like afternoon tea in a teapot that was ready. Flames suddenly began to consume his hands, forming into orbs of pulsating and molten lava.

Booker, Bridgette, and Harold began to look at each other with increasing fright. Why wasn't he killing himself? Why did it look like he was preparing to attack them? Why…

"THOU SHALT BE JUDGED!"

Right as the Fireman proclaimed this, Booker began rapidly unloading his pistol clip. Despite his armor, the Fireman seemed to notice these bullets and yelled in pain. Some of the False Shepard's lead simply bounced off the Fireman's armor while others did not. Those that did not broke through it, removed chucks of it, and revealed burning flesh. Whatever was causing the Fireman to create fire seemed to be burning him as well.

However Booker could take note of this foe long as suddenly the Fireman started to give him his undivided attention. He started creating balls of lava-like fire and throwing them. Acting like grenades, these orbs of lava-like fire began exploding and spreading flame. Within seconds, the other side of the cart Booker was hiding behind was set ablaze.

Hating to admit it, Booker was in a tight spot. Unless something happened fast, his cover would turn to ash and he'd be left unprotected from this being's fiery grenades. And it seemed like this foe could produce an endless supply of the things in quick succession. Furthermore, DeWitt had emptied an entire clip into the Fireman and he acted like it was nothing. Hating to admit it, Booker silently acknowledged that this bastard was tough!

Realizing the tight spot Booker was in, Harold, from the safety the other cart, began to open fire on the Fireman from behind him. Bridgette would have joined in but her fear of this daunting force and her conflicted feelings about using her gun kept her immobile.

Reacting to Harold's bullets from behind him much quicker than Booker's from his front, the Fireman turned towards the teen's cover and began to create flamethrower streams! The two rivers of thermal energy set the cart the teens were hiding behind aflame even quicker than the fiery grenades he had been using on cart Booker was hiding behind.

"FROM HELL'S HEART!"

As the Fireman continued to set the cart that Bridgette and Harold were cowering behind ablaze, the two teens from another time had different mental reactions to this. Both of them were deeply afraid but Bridgette was the more afraid of the two. The literal inferno forming around her, the knowledge that if she left this increasingly dangerous cover she'd be burned alive within a microsecond, and that thunderous echoing voice made the blonde feel like she was facing down a literal demon from Hell instead of a mere man. Harold was just as scared but something was keeping his mind from being as overcome. Despite himself, the Dweeby Nerd was speculating if this Fireman was a fan of the classic novel Moby Dick and was quoting a part of a famous line during its climax. Also, even in his fear, Harold's nerdy nature shined through, remembering how that same quote was used at the climax of the classic movie Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan.

With these thoughts (both different and yet similar) in their heads, the teens noticed a few things. While still burning, the flaming cart they were cowering behind didn't get any hotter. The loud clanking of metal and copper that signaled the Fireman walking was heard…growing softer with each step. He was walking in the opposite direction of them.

They were both puzzled by this, why would he stop attacking them and walk away?

Despite their confusion, the two were sighing in relief. Maybe he came to his senses? Maybe something else of greater importance got his attention?

Their thoughts filled with hope where crushed when they heard the metallic steps moving with greater weight and frequency…like he was charging them. But that would mean…

CRASH!

Suddenly the Fireman crashed through the flaming cart like a demon out of Hell's heart!

With his armor (and a likely immunity to fire) protecting him, the Fireman was unharmed. All around him, flaming splinters ranging from two inches to two feet long fall all over the place, turning the wooden cart meant for protection into a deadly weapon!

Time seemed to stand still for the two teens; life itself became a horrifying portrait. Their ordeal was now stuff of epic fantasy, not unbelievable reality that threatened to end them. How else could they hope to explain or even understand what they were fighting now? The world they came from, the world they knew, didn't have pyrotechnic juggernauts. But here it was, now dividing the teens from each other, from any small sense of safety.

Fearing the now flaming splinters resembling spears, Bridgette almost missed the forearm covered in armor and padding that was blazing to the touch as it struck her…almost.

Sent flying from the force of the blow, it took Bridgette a few moments to regain herself. When her head stopped spinning and her vision became unblurred by the disorientation, the Surfer Girl watched out the scene already in progress before her with absolute fright.

The Fireman must have seen that it was Harold who shot at him, since he was now focusing all of his attention of the Nerd, likely viewing him as the biggest threat.

The pyrotechnic juggernaut reached down and grabbed Harold by his blue shirt's collar.

"MY PUNISHEMNT WILL BE YOUR UNDOING!"

With that cryptic statement, Harold began to writhe in futility to free himself. Bridgette noted how his clothes seemed to be smoking slightly. Being a fairly smart individual, she quickly pieced together what was going on.

'Oh my God! He's going to set Harold on fire! I have to stop him!' Bridgette thought.

As she was trying to block out any images of the hamburger logo on Harold's shirt cooking like a real hamburger along with the rest of the Nerd, Bridgette tried as quickly as she could to find a means of saving him from a fiery death at this Fireman's hands.

But what could she do? Even if she could get herself to try and murder the Fireman, how would she do it? Bullets largely just seemed to bounce off of this arsonist's armor plates.

Seeing the agony that Harold was just beginning to endure, Bridgette lifted her pistol. Despite her convictions about murder, despite knowing it likely wouldn't do anything, she had to try…she had to try and save Harold, as he had saved her several times already.

The Surfer fired her bullets at the Fireman, with him largely paying her no heed. Several bullets either bounced off of his armor or caused more of his own charred flesh to be exposed. No matter which occurred, the Fireman's focus remained on killing Harold.

But one bullet, which found itself rammed into one of the pipes along his arms, got the Fireman's instant attention! With a motion shocking for its speed, the Fireman turned towards Bridgette and dropped Harold without a second thought.

Even with her fear for her personal safety at an all-time high, Bridgette realized something. The place where her bullet had hit the Fireman's arm pipe was now spewing rapid flame! One bullet to his pipes had damaged him far more than the countless before!

When the Fireman started throwing more of his fiery grenades at the Surfer Girl, she couldn't move. Now that Harold was safe (or at least not being directly attacked), the resolve for violent action disappeared in Bridgette even as she was being attacked.

Thankfully for her, someone else had seen what she had done and formed an idea. Now with his pistol reloaded at last, Booker emerged from behind the cart protecting him and started firing at the Fireman. But this time, he was aiming for the pipes along his arms and the large boiler on his back. Every bullet found its mark, causing massive damage!

While these bullets were damaging the Fireman, Bridgette and Harold started to slowly make their way to the cart Booker was taking cover behind. Due to their recent ordeals however, their progress was slow. By the time the last bullet in Booker's clip was fired, the two teens are barely two-thirds of the way towards the cart.

With that last bullet, the Fireman paused and began to stare at his own hands; the flames that have been coming from them in battle were starting to look far more erratic and wild.

Looking back up at Booker and the two teens, the Fireman looked as if he was preparing to charge at them right as he shouted, "YOU WILL SHARE MY FATE!"

A very high-pitched whining sound began to be emitted as the tank on his back overloaded and the pressure became too great. The tank and all of the pipes along his body began to glow a more furious red than they had seen before this point and flames now began to engulf his body, as if all of his firepower was being summoned at once.

As all of this was happening, the Fireman rocketed towards them as fast as he could!

The teens were frozen with fear until Booker shouted as loud as he could, "Hit the deck!"

Moving as fast as they could, Bridgette and Harold ran to the same cover Booker was at. The Surfer Girl suddenly felt something push her from behind, bringing her safely behind the cover. Turning around, she saw Harold and realized that he pushed her to safety. Bridgette was safely behind the cover and Harold was about halfway so when…

KABOOOOOM!

A fiery explosion far stronger than any that any of three people had seen before roared! The force from the blast was awe-inspiring, enough to send the cart they were hiding behind rocketing towards them. Panicking, Booker and Bridgette darted away quickly. Right as Bridgette was safely out of the way, the now flaming cart was slammed into the equally burning building side! She was so close to the collision that some of her blonde tips were singed and pinned at the very edge of the cart. A second later, and the Surfer would have been both burned and crushed to death. She went pale at realizing that!

But that was nothing compared to the terror coursing through her when she saw Harold. Blown over five feet away from her and Booker, Harold was faintly covered in burning debris. Running over as fast as she could, Bridgette removed the debris and checked Harold's vitals and his body for injury. After what seemed like forever, she had confirmed the status of both. Harold was alive and shockingly, he was barely hurt.

Feeling the happiest that she had been ever since arriving in Columbia, Bridgette helped Harold up and pulled him into a tight embrace to thank him her putting her safety before his own. While the Nerd's heart would always belong to another, he returned the hug and matched it in terms of comforting tightness.

They couldn't tell you how long this lasted but what told them it was too long was Booker asking with a raised eyebrow, "So are you going to start fornicating or what?"

Suddenly blushing more furiously than ever before, the teens spilt from each other and vacantly stared off at everything around them…except for the person they had hugged.

After looking at this sight with a very small smile, the only that the teens had seen on Booker (and that somehow seemed either out of place or at least a very rare thing), the so-called "False Sheppard" turned his attention to the pile of smoldering remains. Approaching it carefully, with his pistol raised, Booker kicked the corpse swiftly. There was no response aside from the flames that were crackling as they were before the kick.

"He's dead." Bridgette whispered hoarsely.

The Surfer Girl found some odd relief in realizing that it was a man and not a demon within this suit. And that relief was increased knowing that they were safe from him. Despite her relief that she and the others were safe, Bridgette's heart slightly ached. Staring at the twisted and mangled wreckage of the Fireman, she couldn't help but wonder. What was this man like, when he was someone who wore flesh alone without armor or padding? He had mentioned that his powers with fire were a "punishment", what could he have done to justify such a horrific punishment? Could anything be so bad to warrant be trapped and forever burning without any hope of release other than death? Should she feel pity for the slain assassin or contempt for him trying to murder her? Did he hear the roar of the explosion? Did he hear the dreadful sizzling and bubbling and popping the moment before he was violently taken from this violent world of Columbia? Was that the last thing he experienced before the world vanished into the searing redness?

As Bridgette brooded over these questions and others, Booker noticed something. He had noticed something that had fallen out of the Fireman's boiler, shockingly undamaged.

"A Vigor, uh?" Booker says to himself out loud as he picks up the object, not hot to the touch, and starts to examine it with curiosity.

It was a bottle, a pressure cast bottle that was roughly nine inches tall and four inches wide. The bottom half was grey and overshadowed by the meticulously detailed upper half. The first hint of this was a long curving strake of red that ended in a spade-like point that snaked down one of the sides of bland grey. Directly above that was the bright crimson that made up the bottle's upper half, in the shape of a naked woman's outline without showing any actual nudity. The red woman's hands were in two different places. Her left hand was at her waist, with the wrist resting on it while the fingers pointed, slightly cupped, towards whatever might have been behind her. Her right hand was by her mouth, with her blowing into it, creating a semi-opaque fireburst placed atop the hand. Finally, at the top of her head were two slightly curved horns. And just in case it wasn't obvious enough, a circular logo at the midpoint on the bottle was the face of the Devil.

Then the False Shepard looked at the name displayed and said it, "Devil's Kiss?"

Booker than looked at the two teens, who had looks of understanding matching his own. They all realized that it must have been this Vigor that made the Fireman capable of creating and manipulating fire. A quick shake of the bottle by Booker made them realize that there was only enough of the liquid inside for one of them to use for sure. Maybe there was enough for two; they had no real way of knowing until one of them ingested it.

The six-foot tall adult wasn't ignorant to how the Fireman had been under his metal suit. He had seen the horribly burned state of his flesh. But what overpowered that were two realizations. The mere presence of the Fireman suggested that there were not only more of them but even more dangerous things in Columbia that he had to be prepared for. And him, and maybe these kids eventually, having abilities of the Fireman would make it easier for him to reach Monument Island, to bring them the girl and wipe away the debt!

Booker removed the lid, by twisting off the devil woman's head. Looking at the teens, he shrugged as he said, "Well, you only live once."

With that, Booker consumed what liquid was left in the bottle shaped like a devil.

As the oddly warm liquid, that was all of the bottle's contents, passes his lips and began to travel down his throat, Booker thought back to when he ingested the Possession Vigor earlier. Almost immediately, Booker's vision dimmed and narrowed. A sickly green haze followed people as they moved. And in his ears, Booker could hear the faint whispers and giggles of a woman unknown. After that was so for a few seconds, everything was normal again. While surreal and shocking, now that he knew what a new Vigor does to a person, Booker was confident that this Vigor would produce a similar state. While it would make him uneasy and experience a new sensation, it wouldn't hurt him.

The moment the metal bottle clanged against the cobblestone street he was standing on, Booker immediately regretted this decision! This was nothing like the Possession Vigor!

The pain was excruciating! His head felt like it was being attacked by a blowtorch! Then the pain began to spread, as the feeling made its way around his body, not just burning the outside, but internally as well. He could feel his organs as they combusted violently!

This was when the screaming started, the screaming that would go uninterrupted.

Booker looked at his hands, which were already blackening from the intense heat. Suddenly the palms and fingertips of both hands burst into flames that rapidly grew! He watched helplessly as his skin was burned away within seconds, exposing the red and wet network of bodily cells that existed beneath that peachy protection known as white skin. Muscles, tendons, and ligaments snapped as they were charred and shriveled! Then, as if the flames had gasoline poured on them, the fire consuming the hands grew larger and stronger. So large and strong that within seconds all of the inner flesh on his eight fingers followed the path of the outer flesh…it ceased to exist. Now Booker only had bones. Booker was staring at the bones of his own fingers as he felt the fires that did this to him!

The imposing man looked at Bridgette and Harold in absolute fright, and found their two faces to be an unwanted mirror. They were just a frightened and powerless as he was!

Thankfully for all three of them, just as suddenly as it came, the cracking and burning ended. Breathing heavily after the pain and screaming he had just endured, Booker noticed how the places that initially glowed before the burning, the palms and fingertips, faintly glowed before return to their original state. Coughing, Booker felt intense relief.

After taking a few more seconds to examine his hands, he turned to the two teens. They were just as panicked looking as they had been before, not sharing in Booker's relief.

"Whew…that wasn't no sample." Was all Booker could say after that ordeal.

The False Sheppard then looked down at his left hand. After that, he hoped it was worth it. He saw that his palm and fingertips were glowing a bright fiery red but not hurting him. Despite the pain he just experienced, he felt like this would be very helpful for him.

Looking down the remaining section of Shady Lane through the flames now engulfing a portion of it, Booker noticed a gondola docking station to Monument Island…that was closed. Thankfully, another sign revealed that Monument Island could be reached through a pathway that starts at the restaurant The Blue Ribbon…which was is open!

"Come kids, let's go!" Booker says as he starts making his way towards the Blue Ribbon. Still reeling from the their experience with the Fireman, the two teens slowly follow him.

The moment that Bridgette and Harold were out of hearing range, two figures appeared.

"See, brother, even without our assistance, the Fireman didn't kill them." Rosalind says.

"The evidence supports that claim, certainly, but we both already knew that would happen, yes?" Robert comments.

"But of course. Though I wonder, why do you feel the need to say what we already know?"

"For the people reading this story but haven't played the game, dearest and only sister."

"Have we resorted to breaking the fourth wall, brother? Is that really necessary?"

"Again, we both know the answer. It's not necessary, but they might find amusement in that. And I find it just as satisfying as I imagined." Robert says with smirk. "Less satisfying, we must return to the plot. Is it time yet?"

Again, Rosalind looked her watch without hands indicting an exact time, as if it were meaningless, like looking for a single drop of water within an endlessly shifting ocean.

"No, still not time yet. There is still another three minutes and fifteen seconds left to go before we meet them in the Blue Ribbon."

"Interesting, sister, not only do we still have to wait but you've given away what comes next. Now why must you be so cruel to the readers, maybe they didn't think they would?" Robert scolds in a tone conveying how little he actually believed in his own words.

"Come now, brother, we both know that this story might not ever actually come into being. Besides, if they were to die, it wouldn't be by a bunch of nameless policemen."

"They have names, but no one is particularly interested in learning their names." He interrupts with a faintly bigger smirk. "Though one must wonder since no one clears about them, why it doesn't skip that and continue with them and us at the Blue Ribbon?"

"Craving more screen-time, are we? I think our book noting of this chapter is enough. And really brother, what's the rush anyway?" Rosalind says with a matching smirk, "Where's the fire?"

And there you have it, an odd but hopefully enjoyable little (long) one-shot chapter. As I've already said, this story will likely either never actually come to be or won't do so until "Mad Mikey" and "Total Drama Raptured" are completed (or maybe just "Total Drama Raptured"). However, if I get enough positive feedback, I might consider doing otherwise, though all logic and reason strongly advise against it.

I will be honest, there are some scenes from Bioshock Infinite that I'd be very happy to write with either Bridgette, Harold, Leshawna, or Izzy taking part in: what unfolds at the Raffle, the discovery of the Order of the Raven, Comstock addressing Booker from a giant monitor attached to a Security Zeppelin, any scene with the Luteces, meeting Elizabeth and escaping the Song Bird for the first time, the displays at the Hall of Heroes, the introduction of Daisy Fitzroy, and many more.

(1) Arthur C. Clarke was a British science fiction writer who is widely regarded as one of the most influential science fiction writers of all time. However, he was also a non-fiction writer as well. And this famous statement ("Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic") is his "Third Law" that comes from his essay, "Hazards of Prophecy: The Failure of Imagination", written in 1962. And as was already stated, Bioshock Infinite is set exactly fifty years before that, 1912.

And here's a very quickly aside before the final push of this endnote. Within the next few weeks I'll be starting up my graduate school studies again. As a result, my time and ability to write chapters for any of my four stories will likely decrease a lot. I'm sorry for this in advance but I will try my damnest to update my stories whenever I can. I plan on starting with the long neglected "Mad Mikey".

As you can likely guess, reviews and feedback for this piece of mine are even more critical than I normally advocate for since it may end up deciding if I add another story to my fan-fiction portfolio. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, how I handled Bridgette, Harold, Booker, the Luteces, and the Fireman as well as if you'd like to see this story at some point, even though it might not be for years, ok?

So with that in mind, please: read, review, and let your thoughts be known to me! :)