Motorized Patriot: Too rare is the man who takes a stand, for God and sweetest Fatherland! But here's the place where we revere the heroes of our city dear!
Slate: They'll come as assassins when our work is done. Cornelius Slate, the swift left hook of the Vox Populi. We'll be trading Comstock's lie for a new one. So be it. The Fitzroy woman and I are comrades of necessity. I doubt all the men who reddened Caesar's toga would still be seen breaking bread together in peacetime. With Comstock gone, my men's past deeds will be sacred...
Elizabeth: I'm looking for more!
Slate: ...and they'll bring the spoils to them. I need not live to see it.
Elizabeth: "Our Prophet, Father Comstock, Commander of the Seventh Cavalry."
Booker: That man did not lead the Seventh. Hell. I don't even remember the guy.
Slate: Corporal DeWitt proved his worth on the field that day.
Booker: Well, I'll be...Slate? Is that you?
Slate: You've always been different, haven't you, Booker? you crave no glory.
Booker: Look, I see you're...caught up in some kind of jam here. If you could see fit to let us through to where they keep this Shock Jockey, then we'll...
Slate: That tin soldier, Comstock, wants my boys dead. We won't die at his hands!
Booker: Shh! There's going to be trouble!
Slate: All my men have left is a choice: die at the hands of a tin soldier, or a real one! You see? You see, you're a killer, Booker! Like it or not!
Booker: Just give us the Shock Jockey.
Slate: If you want the vigor, Booker, you will give my men a soldier's death. They wait for you in Wounded Knee and Peking.
Booker: Just what the doctor ordered.
Elizabeth: I'll try to keep you stocked with both bandages and ammo, but..the right materials aren't always at hand. What is this?
Booker: It's the Boxer Rebellion.
Elizabeth: What happened there?
Slate: In Peking? It was my hand that put the city to the torch. Of course, that's not how Comstock tells it.
Elizabeth: Oh my God.
Motorized Patriot: 'Twas yellow skin and slanted eyes that did betray us with their lies. Until they crossed the righteous path of our Prophet's holy wrath.
Elizabeth: Oh, I read about this...Comstock led the Columbian troops to Peking and...
Slate: Comstock wasn't there! The Boxers took my eye and thirty of my friends! Is there even a stone to mark that sacrifice?
Male: That's all you've got?
Male 2: You got what it takes?
Elizabeth: I've got ammo! Take it!
Slate: You see, young miss? You see the man that Comstock wishes he was? A real soldier!
Booker: I don't want to do this, Slate! Just give me what I need.
Slate: I will. After you do the same for me. Come and look for me amongst the Ghost Dancers.
Elizabeth: Who are the Ghost Dancers?
Booker: Wounded Knee. He means us to head to the other display.
Slate: Can you hear Comstock's tin soldiers coming to silence us? But we are the true patriots! The history that does not fit in their books.
Vending Machine: I appreciate a lady who appreciates value!
Slate: The tin soldier has taken credit for the deeds of the real ones. Now, your companion, young lady...he wrapped himself in glory on December 29, eighteen hundred and ninety.
Elizabeth: What does he mean?
Booker: You don't want to know.
Motorized Patriot: With hue and cry, with hatchet red, they danced amongst our noble dead. But when our soldiers took the field, the savage horde could only yield.
Elizabeth: You...you were there...at Wounded Knee. I can see it in your face.
Slate: Tell her, Booker! Tell her how we strode that battlefield like the heroes of Sparta! I still hear the screams. Does Comstock? Here's the soldier I spoke of! The kind of man Comstock pretends to be! See if I told you true!
Elizabeth: I don't have anything! Ammo! Take it! Okay, catch!
Booker: Perfect timing!
Soldier: Prove yourself!
Slate: You did them a favor, Booker. You let them die like men.
Booker: I didn't ask for this! I have no quarrel with these men!
Slate: Heroes never ask.
Booker: I never claimed to be no hero.
Slate: Then what are you? If you take away all the parts of Booker DeWitt you tried to erase, what's left? Come back to the rotunda. It's almost over.
Elizabeth: What did Slate mean? What did you try to erase?
Booker: Now that you're out of yours, you might realize that cages have their advantages.
Elizabeth: A choice is better than none, Mr. DeWitt. No matter what the outcome.
Booker: Yeah? What if you woke up one day and realized you didn't like what you chose?
Slate: I've got what you need, Booker. You will find me past the First Lady's memorial.
Soldier: [inaudible 00:14:22]
Elizabeth: Say what you want about Lady Comstock...the woman had an eye for fashion.
Slate: You've seen what Comstock has done to my history. Now see how he's rewritten his own.
Elizabeth: "The seed of the Prophet lay in the womb of our Lady but for a single week." Comstock had a child...my books never mentioned anything about a child.
Booker: That's quite an omission. Can't imagine that was by accident.
Elizabeth: "But the child took ill, and our Lady prayed for the Prophet's heir day and night." That's my tower!
Comstock Statue: Lo! While Daisy Fitzroy has murdered my beloved, she shall not have the child! She shall not come betwixt her and prophecy! The seed of the Prophet shall sit the throne, and drown in flame the mountains of man!
Elizabeth: Am I...am I?
Booker: You're Comstock's daughter.
Elizabeth: No. I can't be. I...I can't!
Booker: He wants you to follow in his footsteps.
Elizabeth: Well, I want a puppy, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna get one!
Booker: Locked? Elizabeth?
Elizabeth: Hey, don't point that at me.
Lady Comstock: To those who loved me, I was the most generous of souls. There was no pain I would deny them, no betrayal I would not gladly give. And when I had scorched the hearts of all who loved me, the Prophet said "There's nothing you can do for which I will not forgive you, for God has granted me sight, and through his eyes, even you are loved."
Elizabeth: I can get through these bars, but you're too broad. Let me scout ahead, see if there's some way to...move forward.