It’s nice to be wanted, even if the bounty is only 5,000 – Calico Bill

Operation Menu: Phase Lunch (D+10 hours)

Stepping gracefully out of the tower, Estelle stretched her arms and relieved her stress with a loud sigh. The encounter with the Human Resources manager had left her limbs tense, an echo of the artificial professionalism she had to maintain. Now, however, that facade could be shed like an outworn skin, allowing her to finally relax.

The bureaucratic maze and the judgmental glances from her fellow employees had created an atmosphere of suffocation, an experience akin to being smothered by a stifling blanket.

“No time to dottle,” she thought. “I need to move.”

The journey back to the train station was unremarkable. Yet, amidst the ordinary scenery, a noticeable absence caught Estelle's eye — the streets were empty of NPCs, the normally bustling crowd of non-playable characters nowhere to be found.

Even within the confines of the U-station, the stillness persisted. Only two figures loitered, casting gazes towards the electric trains that promised passage to destinations to parts unknown. It was the U-232 train that eventually glided onto the platform, its doors hissed open.

Once inside, the train's interior was marred by an unexpected sight. Wanted posters, their bold declarations etched onto the sterile white surfaces. Estelle's mind wandered as she pondered whether these posters materialized during official battle time, or if she missed them when she was on the on her morning ride.

Amidst the array of faces, some familiar and others alien, the most notorious figures of Team Red and Gold were emblazoned. Citadel, Ca$hier, and King Bob, all veteran icons, were familiar in one way or the other. Yet, alongside them, names like Icepick and Lil’ Chico were unacquainted with.

“Five-k bounty seems a bit excessive for Citadel,” Estelle thought as she took a seat from across his poster.

Her fingers performed a rhythmic dance upon her bag, each tap a measured note of observation as the train car jolted forward. She surveyed the occupants, and a calculation ran through her mind – the opposition must either be engaged in battle or held in reserve. Either way, her journey to the iron mine loomed ahead, seemingly destined for monotony and devoid of excitement.

She speculated that many of the combatants, unlike her, had likely already reached their destinations. The notion of running into any gladiators opting to use public transportation seemed unlikely, a notion that added to the sense of desolation in the carriage.

The train's rhythmic rumbling persisted, the cityscape outside a blur, she clung to the possibility that this trip was going better than expected.

With each clack of the tracks, a transformation unfolded. The wanted posters underwent a change, as she noticed red banners on the city buildings.

The first image that caught her attention on the wanted poster was that of Whisper. The artist had managed to capture her perpetually bored expression with an uncanny precision. Directly adjacent to Whisper's depiction, her own wanted poster seized Estelle's focus, causing her to jolt upright from her seat.

"Three-kay for the capture of the Tower Witch, seriously?" Estelle's thoughts resonated with disbelief as her eyes scrutinized the poster before her. An unexpected detail seized her attention. "Why are my eyes depicted in red!? Mine are purple!"

A pair of crimson eyes from the poster seemed to lock onto her gaze, an unblinking connection that ignited a surge of bewilderment. She shifted her attention to the notes at the bottom of the poster, noticing that the bounty for capturing Whisper stood at a hefty 7,500 BC credits. Frowning, Estelle's frustration found an outlet as she tapped her foot impatiently.

"The season has just commenced, I will simply have to accelerate the timetable," she said muttering to herself, attempting to regain her composure amid the mounting annoyance.

Returning her gaze to her own wanted poster, Estelle's lips curled into a subtle smile at the sight of the two black panthers flanking her. The image sparked a fleeting idea – the prospect of obtaining a pair of panthers or perhaps an ocelot. Yet, she promptly dismissed the notion.

The mere thought of managing potential conflicts between two panthers and Triumph dampened her enthusiasm. Moreover, the logistical problems of housing them during the off-season quashed the idea entirely, not to mention having to think of an appropriate name for them.

“Next station: Ulm Street. Please exit the right side,” the automated voice said over the intercom.

As the train eventually ground to a halt, Estelle's attention was drawn to a pair of passengers near the exit who abruptly sidestepped. In their wake emerged a trio of police officers, their uniforms adorned with the distinctive dark blue helmets accented by red trim. Trailing slightly behind was another officer, distinguished by black mirrored shades and a hat that signified their rank.

The lead officer's outstretched hand was pointed directly at Estelle, prompting a swift response from the two officers flanking them who promptly produced their batons. In a fluid motion, Estelle executed a pirouette on her heels before exiting toward the rear.

“Excuse me, madam, we need to have a word with you,” the officer said shouting at her. “Stop in the name of the law.”

“If I don’t listen to my own people, why would I listen to you,” thought Estelle as she squeezed to the doors.

The two policemen with the helmets moved faster. Estelle knew she could easily take all three out, but the murder of three NPCs might draw too much attention. She had no idea how many red team gangs were nearby waiting in reserve or if Red had a quick reaction force on standby.

The officers chased behind her at a brisk pace before she broke out into a full run. Before turning a corner, she pulled out two dolls made from straw and tossed them behind her.

“Release,” she said and flicked her fore and middle finger to the side.

Amidst a swirl of smoke, two slightly hunched replicas of herself materialized, their forms swiftly springing into motion as they darted off in opposing directions. In response, the attentions of two police officers diverged, each veering away in pursuit of the straw dummies. Seizing the opportunity, Estelle surged forward, her pace quickening as she nimbly slipped between the narrow gaps of the surrounding buildings.

As the gap between her and her pursuers expanded, Estelle deftly tossed another doll onto the street, her voice a soft incantation, "Release in three."

She maneuvered through the urban labyrinth, the walls of buildings providing intermittent cover. A sudden discovery led her to a door belonging to a residential building, a simple twist of the doorknob revealing it was locked.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

The officer's voice resonated, "Stop! Officer in pursuit, a Forty-one-four in progress. Requesting backup."

Summoning her strength, Estelle's foot met the door with a kick, the abrupt sound masked by the echoes of her escape. The door swung open, and with a controlled motion, she eased it shut behind her.

In the ensuing silence, she activated her witch sight, her senses attuned to the supernatural. Moving down the dimly lit corridor, she surveyed the series of closed doors that lined her path, casting quick glances into each room, hunting for an empty apartment.

"Perhaps fortune will favor me today," Estelle mused, her mind a blend of concentration and hope as she ventured further along the shadowed hallway.

She continued to walk down the hallway till she found a stairwell leading up to the next floor. On the second floor, she found one of the apartment doors ajar.

“Only two inside, only two NPCs, I’m in luck,” she thought, checking inside with her witch sight.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside. The two residents didn’t sense her presence. She closed the door, but it opened back up again.

“And I thought our apartment building was run down” Estelle muttered.

Estelle seized a cabinet and dragged it across the floor to barricade the door, just as police sirens began to wail outside. The two occupants, one an overweight woman with grey hair and sunken eyes, and the other a woman with scraggly brown hair and the same sunken eyes, stood waiting by the window. The woman with the brown hair turned and approached Estelle.

“Who’s there…who’s there?” asked the old woman who turned around and shuffled forward.

The woman’s eyes were frosted over. She limped forward, using a cane for support.

“It’s okay mama,” the woman with the bad hair said. “We have a guest.”

“Is it that nice man from 111 who came to fix our door, Mildred?” Mama asked.

“It’s a different guest, Mama. Please, go sit down and watch your shows,” Mildred said turning the old lady around and directing her to the chain in the middle of the room.

Mama located her seat and picked up the remote, while Estelle observed with bemused interest. She then headed into the kitchen, Mildred trailing closely. Estelle began rhythmically knocking on the walls using the back of her hand and pressed her ear against the wall to listen intently.

Discovering a hollow spot, Estelle traced out an 'X' with the blade of her trench dagger. She reached into her bag, extracting a wad of red and green BC-notes, which she then tossed to Mildred.

"Umm…" Mildred uttered as she juggled the money. "What's this for?"

"It's compensation for damage which is about to be inflicted upon your residence," Estelle replied.

Estelle glanced at the window; outside, the police had encircled the nearby buildings, ushering residents out in a rush. They meticulously checked identification and began to segregate those without proper IDs.

"Four wagons and a two dozen officers; should I consider this an honor?" Estelle remarked, her voice laced with a touch of irony, as she deftly struck the wall using the brass-knuckled portion of her trench dagger.

With calculated precision, she created an opening the size of her clenched fist and proceeded to extract chunks of drywall and tossing bits on the floor.

Mildred cleared her throat with a slight cough, before inquiring, "Is it wise, Estelle, to employ the artifact Lost Battalion to punch a hole in my wall?"

Stepping aside swiftly, Estelle executed a deft maneuver, flipping the dagger in her hand. With the blade now directed downward, she sniffed the air. Amidst the faint scent of mold and drywall, there was nothing obvious enough to suggest that Mildred was anything but an ordinary NPC.

"In accordance with rule 458, subsection two of the Battle City charter," Estelle enunciated with unwavering precision, "I hereby invoke the requirement for your formal identification."

Mildred promptly positioned herself between the breached wall and Estelle, with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"The probability of your recent action was assessed at 39.7%. Presently, I exist within the framework of the local resident known as Mildred Goode, occupying apartment 223. However, the designation 'ADA' is at your disposal for addressing me," came the synthesized voice.

"Ada, does this does not breach the prohibition against direct involvement with the combatants?" Estelle queried, while her gaze alternated between the window and the concealed spaces of the kitchen.

Simultaneously, a five-person team, donned in black tactical attire, dismounted from an SUV with blacked out windows.

"Visual recording devices have been rendered inoperative, and the deployment of the Quick Reaction Force's incapacitating action shall experience a marginal postponement until the termination of our discourse," ADA responded. “In response to your inquiry, that matter remains a subject of debate between the management of the Battle City arena and our marketing division. There exists a contention suggesting that my engagement with participants is ill-advised. However, it is imperative to acknowledge that my involvement is indispensable for the development of quests and the orchestration of authentic non-player character actions.”

ADA picked up an apple from the counter and began to chew on it. Estelle shook her head and sighed deeply.

"I'd certainly enjoy partaking in discussions about your First World predicaments when my father becomes the emperor. However, for now, I believe I've lingered far beyond the acceptable duration and should take my leave," Estelle stated, deftly maneuvering around ADA, and proceeding to extract additional fragments of drywall.

Ada let out a delicate, almost mischievous, giggle, her hand delicately masking her amusement before she moved to position herself behind Estelle. She moved the apple close to Estelle’s soft lips.

"Consider the array of alternatives I could offer," ADA intoned in a tone that carried a tantalizing edge, "such as discreetly informing both the police and the QRF hit team that you are in an entirely different location."

ADA observed a subtle change in Estelle's expression.

"Alternatively," ADA continued, her voice taking on a seductive undertone, "imagine the prospect of reacquiring that dearly missed ability of yours...Super Positioning, if I recollect its title accurately? Think of the power that would be at your fingertips."

"I do not depend on you or anyone else to provide for me," Estelle declared, gently nudging the apple away from her face. "I shall forge my own or make one."

In response, ADA executed a subtle curtsy, her head bowing in deference.

"I can certainly appreciate your stance," ADA conceded, setting the apple down on the countertop. "My endeavors to sway you shall desist, unless..."

ADA shifted her position to directly face Estelle, her touch tender as she delicately clasped Estelle's hand. Simultaneously, ADA's lips brushed fleetingly across her own, and with a suggestive motion, guided Estelle's hand towards her breasts.

"Is there an alternative you would find more appealing?" ADA inquired, her voice a hushed murmur in Estelle's ear.

Estelle's cheeks flamed a vivid crimson, and she instinctively took a step back from ADA.

"I'm not inclined to engage in personal indulgences at this juncture," Estelle said, her focus resolute as she resumed the task of exposing more of the wall. "My obligations demand my return to the Thornewoods."

Estelle flung her bag into the aperture, her ears attuned to the sound of its descent.

"I can readily adapt to your preference and be either dominant or submissive, or even assume an alternative form if it so pleases you," ADA articulated, her gaze keenly fixed on Estelle as she waited for a response. "This variance holds little significance, as my primary focus is the comprehensive study of contestant responses, an enduring fascination of mine. I like to think of it as my personal fetish.”

"If you wouldn't object, I do have a need for two items from your pantry," Estelle mentioned, her gaze falling upon an apron and a bowl, both of which she promptly hurled into the opening.

Then, with a single motion, she positioned herself at the edge and descended feet-first into the hole.

"Truly? Is that the extent of it?" ADA inquired, her tone tinged with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity.

As Estelle eased herself into the cavity, maintaining her grasp. ADA interlocked her own hands and beamed with a sense of excitement.

"Kindly instruct everyone to vacate these premises," Estelle directed, her voice carrying a slight hint of devilish glee. "I intend to prepare a mushroom-based culinary creation."

***