Ames’ home’s elevator always lingered in the back of her head. If she returned an hour late, the elevator rose to the second floor. Half a day? Third floor. Now, doll in hand, returning to Centercity a day late, she was sure the elevator was on the top floor. You could ask what does that mean? Mom would doubtlessly throw her off the top of their home, bring her brutally mangled corpse back up and throw her down again.

Not doing Kalvin’s gig raised the elevator to the fourth floor, but she wouldn’t ever pick things up for annoying bastards again anyway. Not when there was an intelligent parasite-doll-robot worth thousands in her bag.

Realm 224 appeared deader and darker than it had been in the evening. Ads floated around, but at least a few shops in her walk had turned their lights off.

As Centerplaza passed and Centercity’s entrance--along with its sizable queue--opened up in front of Ames, she readied a hundred excuses and dozens of explanations for each one, even going as far as acting out a few possible conversations. Parents would surely go berserk on her and coming in unprepared would be certain death. In fact, the idea of drafting up a rough obituary came before the hope of survival.

Few walked Centercity’s streets. In the mornings, there were countless early-wakers ready to grind their lives away, fighting corporation wars in hopes of keeping a home. All days except for this. How early is it, really? Ames wondered. I wish there was a little device in my pocket. Something like a CHEK, but it could tell me the time, stuff about the world and what the fuck is going on.

On the path home, her gaze met a bunch of Workers and corporate henches, tending something on the side of the street. For a moment, she was interested. Then her head drooped and her pace quickened. Kalvin could be among their ranks. As you could guess, it wasn’t worth it to bump into him.

Ames entered her building. A few neighbors were walking out. Her heart dropped but didn’t reach her heels just yet: those neighbors didn’t say a thing. Some nodded, some waved, and all seemed mellow.

What in the world is going on?!?! Ames hopped over the sparking wires and into the elevator. Her hand passed through the hologram depicting her floor. Mechanisms rattled. The doors opened up and she walked to her apartment.

Inside the minimal living room--whose walls were covered in pipes they’d painted years ago--waited dad, biting nails and tapping feet. He was focused on the TV in the corner, quietly playing some old action flick. At the sight of Ames, dad jumped and hugged her.

“What’s up with that?” Ames asked once he let go.

“We throw the trash out into the streets and it disappears by the day. Guess the trash itself figured it out and did a little overnight cleaning.” Mom stepped out of the bathroom. Even at home, she wore a slick suit and kept her hair in the blandly overcalculated towerchief cut “Though the slums work differently -- godforsaken bandits couldn’t contain their little war to their home. Had to take it to Centercity. To our front door.”

Damn. Ames sat by the dinner table. A literal bandit war happened and I got the best sleep I ever had. Whilst parents stood still, she grabbed a leftover meal of some odd creature’s meat and some disgusting mushrooms. It could replenish incredible amounts of your HP with the downside of tasting like literal shit. At least you didn’t want to eat for two days after each bite.

[Health Immensely Increased: +30 to Health!]

“So when are you gonna ask me?” Ames swallowed.

Mom and dad shared glances then dad cut in.

“We won’t.”

Ames spat some of her food out. What?

“We thought about it a lot and… you don’t have to pick the path we think would be best for you.” Dad hugged her shoulders.

Soon after Ames’s food left her mouth, her fork and knife left her hands, her gaze on mom. She nodded along to dad’s words.

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“In the end, it’s your life. You can be whoever you want: a Warlord, a Worker, a Pilot…”

Why are you listing those things? Don’t tell me that--

“As long as you keep the Cap family name glorious.”

Ames’s excitement joined the long list of things dropped during this meal. You know, it wouldn’t have torn her to shreds if they’d said it at first. No, we didn’t change our stance! Her teeth started gritting against each other. You get to slave away with a smile on your face!

“Or if you already decided to become a trader, great too. You’ll get the inheritance no matter who you become.”

Except if I become who I want to be. Ames forced a few more bites down her throat. “That’s a lie,” she mumbled.

“Calling me a liar?” Mom snapped, her fist smacking the table. Ames’ food bounced.

I really should not have said that. She took a deep breath.. “I-just-don’t-think-that’s-true.” Her words came out jumbled so mom couldn’t understand. But she did. And the flame of anger that never went out blossomed.

“We were scared for your life. We decided to go easy. And in exchange we got disrespect.”

Situations like this… tended to happen. Ames knew all too well that she had to lower her head, mumble an apology and remove herself from the room. It would blow over, but no apologies would come her way. This time she didn’t say “sorry” or run out of the room with plate in hand. This is what I needed. I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. It sucks, but it's better this way, Ames realized, trying to keep her shaking arms steady. One more bite. She wiped her mouth and cleared her suddenly dry mouth.

“I’m saying the truth.” A good old situation you can’t back out of is all you need to make an impossible choice.

“What a truth can a little brat--”

“If I become a bandit, even the best one the realm’s ever seen, you’d hate me. No way would you give me the inheritance you’ve been saving ever since the day I was born. More likely, you’d kidnap and send me to a C-Cracker to change my last name.”

The fury in mom’s eyes reached a melting point. She remained silent, keeping her fists in place. “Theoretically, right?” She said, emphasizing every syllable. “Right?”

“You don’t need to ask -- of course she’s just making an example,” dad spoke. “And she’s right. No parents in their right mind would want to continue being parents of a bandit.”

Ames slumped in her seat, her gaze falling on the floor while her hands gripped inside her pockets and her backpack. Yup, nothing-- NOTHING?!

An exchange of shouts circled around the room. Ames’ ears didn’t pick anything up except for loose words. She leaned right, getting a full view under the table.

The doll had gotten out and was chewing the moldy bottom of the table’s leg. Ames tried grabbing the thing by its neck. As her hand reached it, it disappeared. A chewing sounded on the other side of the room: the doll gnawed a tiny hole in the wall the rodents had made as an entrance to their lair.

Ames suddenly stood up, bowing, snatching a bite of food off her plate.

“Then goodbye, m-- Angela,” she said, voice shaky. More and more regret swallowed her every second. But this was the only way -- force herself to choose then either regret or boast. Also, that fucking doll is gonna run away chasing some rat if I don’t catch it. She shook the bite. The doll appeared in her grip. Ames ran.

Mom cursed and dad rushed after.

You shouldn’t cry during a badass show of decisiveness, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Char’s badass -- she’ll teach me how to stop crying.

The elevator crashed to the first floor and its doors let her out. Outside, the air instantly felt fresher, the morning bustle invited her in, and the sounds of mastermind bickering and hench grunting replaced whatever screams she’d hear at home.

In the end, my life is finally my own.

Ames made it to her new family.

The gang hadn’t left, but plans brewed among their ranks. She told them every secret about Centercity she’d caught over the years and volunteered to help with jobs in exchange for leading. Slowly, the trail of bloodthirsty people after the gang grew longer. And the credits in the bandits’ accounts increased as well.

Some foolish bounty hunter tried to hit them. You don’t attack a gang in their own home. Where they know the weak spots in the walls and all the escapes. Really, the most trouble the bounty hunter caused was the splatter on the street below: because of the dead fella in a pool of blood, the gang had to move to the abandoned Bone building near Via Light.

Ames found an ancient pickaxe in a dark corner and drilled something in the wall.

“The Caps?” Char asked, brows furrowed then broke into laughter. “That face of yours is so ugly the only way you can get children is by making us all wear your last name!”

Ames sincerely chuckled then nodded at the exit -- there were masterminds to rob.