Chase returned from a particularly smelly Raid on the fringes of Six Town to find a delivery sitting just outside the front door. He took it inside, grabbed a knife from the drawer and cut through the multiple layers of brown masking tape wrapped tight around the box. The tape smelled like dust and burnt plastic.

“Eight Town Relocation Package,” he murmured, looking inside. Then he realised what it meant. “Gramps! Wake up! They’ve fixed Eight Town! We’re moving back in!”

There was a faint wheezing from Gramps’ bedroom, then his wheelchair squeaked as he rolled down the hall. His lethargic voice bounced off the walls, travelling out to Chase in the living room. “Bout bluddy well time! Was startin’ to think they’d forgotten! What’s the box for?”

Chase levered open the lid and ripped into the contents. The top layer of bubble wrap hid two mugs, the GRA logo on one side and a bedecked Christmas tree on the other, as well as some novelty socks and a keyring. He threw them aside and delved deeper, finding an information booklet with a stock photo of three. smiling people on the front. The park that these stock people sat in looked nothing like Eight Town.

“It says they’ve got GRA and government folk in Eight Town from the seventeenth — that’s yesterday, right? — to the twenty-first. They’re supposedly going to help us move in. Holy shit.”

“Ho-lee shit,” Gramps agreed. “Back to the chair-lift. Hope they installed a faster one for me.”

They looked around the apartment. It had become their home over their relatively short time there, and although it was good to be returning to their old place, there were things to be missed.

Like on-time public transport. And the lack of smog. And the coffee shop just down the road where they never got his order wrong and always gave an extra biscuit on the side.

Chase kept reading. “There’s more. The GRA’s footing the bill for removalist and moving services, so all we need to do is pack this place up.”

He fell back into the couch, already preparing a mental list of how this process would go. It wasn’t like they were hoarders — the extent of their unnecessary items was the stack of old newspapers that Gramps said would be ‘good tinder’ if they ever got a wood fireplace — but the logistics of moving to a new house would always be a bitch of a task. The little things were the worst, like not being able to pack away all the cutlery and crockery until the last moment, just so you have a bowl and spoon to eat breakfast with.

But we’re going back, I suppose.

There was more to the equation, he realised. Sure, Ballistic was completing all its Raids in the Towns for the time being, but that would change as his and Jenny’s expansion plans came to fruition. They wouldn’t always be the insignificant Guild on the outskirts, poking out in dreary, hobbled Dungeons where the Echin only grew eight metres long and the Marshguts needed just one heart to support their slimy bodies. If he’d just hurry up and get his hands on the MP7, he’d have felt confident rocketing through to the more expensive Raids in the Cities. It wasn’t like the Gates were any bigger there, of course, but the notoriety was.

And with notoriety, came money.

“Hey Gramps, do you actually want to go back? I know it’s our home, but we have other options, you know. If we got a place in Four City or Five Town…”

“You wanna be close to your girly-friend, huh? Is that it?”

Chase choked back a laugh. The old man was astute. “She only works in Four City; I’m not even sure she lives there. I was more thinking about the Ballistic HQ. It would be handy if I was close-by, and being more central would make it easier to get to Raids, no matter where they are.”

He knew Gramps had been eager to return to his home — he and Chase’s grandmother had bought the apartment when they retired from farming wheat way out west. On their farm, one could only see the tips of the One City skyscrapers on a clear, cloudless day. Leaving that behind had been hard enough, and now he was asking him to do it again for Chase’s sake.

“What’s Five Town like?” Gramps asked.

“It’s nice. Decent parks, clean air, cheap real estate. We might even have enough to get a house instead of an apartment. Wouldn’t have to shut yourself in every time the elevator needs maintenance.”

The old man made a so-so gesture. He wheeled himself back and forth on the spot, the front wheels occasionally lifting a couple centimetres off the ground. Chase was supposed to tell him off whenever he did it, but this wasn’t the time.

“Doc might like me to be out of the smog, I guess. The rest of it…I don’t do much walking in the park or going outside anyway.”

“That’s cause it’s a chore, Gramps. You might feel like it if it wasn’t such a task to get out of the apartment each time.”

“Mm.”

Chase pictured the streets of Five City, trying to remember the promising details from his memory of the place. Gramps wasn’t a museum guy, nor one for tennis, which made the area south of the Station a wash, but…

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“There’s a Cubano’s Steakhouse there. We went after a Raid last week and shared a two-kilo tomahawk steak. It was perfection.”

A glimmer of hope sputtered into life as Gramps looked up and raised his eyebrows. “How much’d that set you back?”

“One-sixty.”

“Gah!” Gramps grumbled. “Thought you said the place was cheap.”

Chase laughed. “It fed four of us. I know that’s still a fair chunk of change, but things are a bit different nowadays, Gramps. Ballistic isn’t top of the tree or anything, but we’ve got cash to splash, you know?” He reached out to steady the wheelchair as the front lifted a bit too high, threatening to tip. “If money is the only thing holding you back, don’t worry about it. Selling the old place would get us at least halfway there, I reckon. Ballistic would cover the rest — I haven’t even taken a dime, you know.”

Gramps sat still with his eyes closed, though his lips were moving as he talked himself through it all. He opened his eyes and looked around as if searching for a paper and pen, then sighed and focused on Chase.

“Fine. I’m old. We’ll go with your plan, and if I kick the bucket, you’ll be left holding the bag.”

Chase laughed. “Few years left on you yet, old cobber. Gotta become a local at Cubano’s before then.”

Gramps was already wheeling himself away, muttering something about an avalanche of medicine that needed swallowing. Chase was left sitting on the couch.

I wonder if the GRA will still pay for the moving costs.

*******

They didn’t. It wasn’t a big deal since there wasn’t much to move, and Chase also happened to command a group of Haulers without much to do on their weekend mornings.

Even if they did have something going on, a hundred Credits and free reign at the bakery for breakfast and lunch helped the turnout immensely. Marla, Robin and Lamonsoff had the place boxed up and ready to ship out in no time, whilst Jamie, David, Mia and Marcus worked on getting the place squeaky clean. They scrubbed walls, vacuumed floors, dusted shelves and helped out however else they could.

All in all, the group earned their sausage rolls and vanilla slices.

It had been a week since making the decision to move, and Chase didn’t waste a second getting a real estate agent to snap up the old apartment and put it on the market. There was some concern about finding a buyer for an apartment in Eight Town, but they were surprised by the number of inquiries. It turned out that people were quite interested in a newly furnished, modern apartment that was completed with all the slow-but-sure tick-boxing and safety checks standard in a government effort.

If there was ever an ounce of asbestos in that building, it was gone now. A ten-man team of hazmat suits would have scoured every inch of the place before construction could even start.

The other side of the process was a bit awkward considering the short turnaround. Rather than the usual thirty-day settlement period, Chase had his agent running about like a headless chicken, preparing contracts and negotiating an earlier move-in date to a place he’d found in Five Town.

It took a few greased palms, but with Jenny’s reluctant approval, he was able to pull the final bit of required cash from the Guild Treasury. Luckily, it wasn’t a large amount, leaving more than enough leeway for Jenny’s expansion plans.

When move in day finally came, he locked the door to the Three City apartment for the final time. They only had one box left, a small one with the few items they needed for that morning. It rested on Gramps’ lap, who only accepted being wheeled around in public because Chase told him that the wheelchair was useful for carrying their trinkets.

Jenny offered to organise a car for them, but Chase decided to take the train, seeing that the pickup point for the keys to their new home (and drop-off for the old key) was near the Five Town Station. After completing the swap over, they wandered (or rolled, in Gramps’ case) around Five Town for a while, getting their bearings.

“So you own that building?” Gramps asked, looking up at the second-floor windows of the Ballistic HQ. One of those windows peered into Chase’s ‘office’, though it still didn’t seem right to call it that.

“God, no. We’re just renting, which is expensive enough on its own. Wanna see inside?”

Gramps waved him off. “Nyeh. Didn’t become a farmer so I could sit around in an office. They’re all the same, right?”

Chase laughed, looking across to the building next door which, he had to admit, was nearly identical in every way except colour. “Pretty much. Herb’s lab is cool, but the air in there could be toxic, so we’d better stay away.”

Next, they drifted past Cubano’s and grabbed a menu from the swanky reception. The dining area was quiet at this time of day, but they could hear the chefs going about the day’s preparatory work out the back. They ventured on so Chase could find his newest coffee haunt, then finally ended their journey at the front door.

The entrance was simple, nothing more than a black wire door opening onto a sturdier brown wood. A brass knocker hung at eye level, though Chase of course didn’t bother. He inserted the key and twisted until the lock clunked open, then the door swung inwards.

Home. Or for now, just a house.

The first room was large, an open-plan combination of what would eventually be the dining area and living room once the boxes were unpacked and everything was put in its place. The kitchen could be seen through an open sliding door, all polished chrome and a shining cooktop which Chase vowed to use more often. If there was one thing he missed from Majesty, it was the cafeteria. He vowed to implement one of his own for Ballistic once they were big enough, and once there was enough surplus to hire a chef or two.

Chase hung back and stared at the congregation of moving boxes gathered in the corner of the dining area, while Gramps entered the kitchen. Just as he went out of sight, the old man called out.

“Oh?! Did the agent get us a housewarming gift?” he asked.

Chase frowned. To be blunt, he found their agent kind of standoff-ish. It probably made him good at his job in some ways, but it certainly didn’t produce the vibe of something who’d get them a gift.

“What’s up? Is it flowers or something?”

“No, a box.”

Confused, Chase entered the kitchen where a square cardboard box sat on the countertop. There was a note stuck to the top, which Gramps hadn’t yet disturbed. He peeled it off and squinted at the messy handwriting.

Nice digs. You owe me. — Rudy

He scrunched up the note and placed his hands on the box, saying nothing. There was no reason why he should’ve expected anything different, but it still felt weird to have something he purchased from The Market arrive on his doorstep. If Kim found out…

Shit. Now I have to pay him.

He briefly considered taking it back to Katie and asking for a refund. Something told him that was a bad idea.

Plus, he really didn’t want to.