Reluctantly, she stared at the small metal box, trying to think of a reason not to go. Looking for an excuse to wallow in self-pity. Any reason to allow herself to fall deeper into the abyss of her mind. Anything to lose herself again in that depression. It was hard to go against her mostly optimistic nature.

Things will change...

He didn't leave you to rot...

If you keep going, life will get better...

Useless thoughts, her mind muttered constantly. She blamed her father, a man who never let anything get to him. Even in the hardest of times, he found a way to remain positive. She did not want that trait. She wanted to wallow, she wanted the melancholy, she wanted to grow cold. He should have taken it with him when he disappeared.

Fema didn’t live far, a 10-minute walk at most. And she needed to distract herself from thoughts of him because if she succumbed, she wouldn’t be able to swim out of those blue eyes of his, clearer than any sky. They would drown her in thier selfishness. A feeling much worse than self-pity. How much longer would his touch linger on her body? How long will her memories of him haunt her? Pathetic, she thought, grabbing the box. And flinging the rifle over her shoulder.

It was possible someone would come to avenge thier brother. A hand for a hand, a life for a life.

Poverty had a way of turning people into monsters—monsters who clawed and fought, trying to reach the top. The hungrier you were, the more you were willing to do to get out. And Zer had been a hungry kid from a family of addicts. It wasn't out of the question that Zer himself could eventually come to get his revenge. She clutched the rifle's strap. Next time, one of them would surely die.

Putting on her own shoes, she made her way outside. Today, more doors seemed closed, and that god-awful smell was better. She thanked whatever entity had decided to clean the apartment because her stomach would not have been able to handle it otherwise. She dragged her feet as she walked, glaring at anyone who dared look in her direction.

The pounding headache made her irritated. He infiltrated her mind again. It was that goddamn dream that bought his memories to the forefront.

The first time she saw him kill someone was when she was 17; they were driving somewhere; it didn’t matter where they were going now. The car's system was hijacked, it stopped, and they were attacked. Some faction wanting to kill the heir of Sapos. A lot of people wanted to kill him, as she later learned through years of being by his side. Effortlessly and professionally, he dealt with the assassins one by one before backup could arrive.

At that moment, she wondered how much he had gone through to be able to so coldly and effortlessly kill at his age. Could the children of the megacorp leaders afford a childhood? Beyond the riches did their lives differ all that much from those at the bottom?

It was that event that caused him to teach her how to use a gun. Back then, she had a small atom gun he had gifted her constantly strapped to her thigh. It must have cost him a fortune. She sold it when a year had passed on Level 1. She called him again on the first anniversary of thier year in hell. The first year had been the hardest. Hoping that, just maybe, he would have picked up. The line fell flat. The pistol sold for way more than she could have imagined. At that moment, it had helped them more than he had ever had.

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What was the point of putting so much effort into someone you were going to discard anyway?

“Miss Fri,” lost in thought, it took her a few seconds to realize someone was speaking to her. She looked up at a large man dressed in a black pristine suit. Obviously, a level sevener, she thought with disgust. Only she could have been so lucky as to meet some shmuck working for someone on level seven while reminiscing about her past. Today was already not working out for her. She glared at the man, wanting nothing more than to keep walking. Her eyes landed at the pistol in his hand.

“Yes?” her voice came out more irritated than she wanted. It was the damn hangover. Made it hard to control her emotions. But more importantly, how did this person know her name?

“Please come with us,” he motioned to a sleek black car behind him. It was too nice for this area, like the cars that would pick up the girls who would never return. But she wasn't a girl, and it was clear to anyone with eyes.

"No," she replied, testing her limits with the man. She had to figure out what he wanted with her first.

"We were told you might be reluctant to go," he sighed. You have two options: You can go willingly," there was a pause. "Or we can take you by force."

She reached for the rifle on her back, swinging it around and activating it. The gun's crevices shone with a dull blue. "I'm not going anywhere," she said. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

“He said you might be difficult to deal with. I had warned you that we could have done this the easy way,” he put a finger to his temples.

“Activate the suppressor.” He spoke to someone she could not see on his telecommunicator.

A wave of electricity surged through her body. Her gun turned off, and she frantically tried to activate it again. Her mind searched for the meaning of suppressor, landing on a distant memory with Ryuu. He had used something similar after a drunken spree, taking out the electricity of half the city on level 7.

"Fuck," she muttered. Whoever she was dealing with was not a simple big shot. Only a few had access to this sort of technology. In this city- she could count them on her two hands.

She looked at the suited man, wondering what kind of expression she was showing: fear, maybe anger? A grin swept across his face. “Come on, miss Fri. He is waiting.”

"Who is-" A sudden sting at the back of the neck interpreted her. She reached a hand to check what had happened, but before she could, the world faded into darkness. All she had wanted was to cure her hangover and wallow in self-pity today.

It’s a strange feeling being incapacitated, feeling your body but being unable to move it. This was a helplessness greater than any other. It activated a primal part of the brain. Which screamed and pounded, trying to get the body working. She had seen the police use this technology before. Something would be shot at the back of the neck, and next thing you know, they were down like a sack of potatoes. Thier body not theirs to control anymore. It made her feel so small and insignificant in the face of technology.

They put her into a car with a leather interior; leather is expensive, she thought. It was cold against her exposed arms.

"Miss Fri, for the safety of my boss, I will have to disconnect your vision for a bit," the man said. "The procedure is entirely safe. In our line of work, we call it neuron hacking. After we arrive at the designated location, your bodily functions will be returned to you."

His voice irritated her. The man was clearly a brainwashed minion who did everything his boss asked. He was a suckup, and his boss was a sick bastard who kidnapped unwilling women from level 1. Was this some weird fetish? The fixations of the rich were beyond her understanding. They said you needed to be a bootlicker to know one, and she could definitely tell. The car moved, and they made thier way to an unknown location.

She was guided around corners, into elevators, and down long hallways, until she couldn’t keep track. When in a defenseless situation, one can find the positives. There were some benefits in her situation. At least she couldn’t feel her hangover anymore.