We Meet Again!
We met again! They say close friends don't feel awkward even after a long time apart. "Tiaaaaraaaang…!" "Doro… mmph… guh!" So what does that make us, feeling awkward after just three hours?
"…."
"…."
Amid the force field-squished uncles half-buried in the dirt floor, Dorothy and I lay there exchanging an awkward hug.
"Sorry…."
Dorothy, who'd tackled me with the force of a full-body slam, stared straight into my eyes.
"I'm fine. It didn't even hurt much."
She'd instinctively shielded my head, so my back was just a little sore.
"S-still…."
Mm.Could you maybe get off? You're heavier than you look. That's what I should've said. But if I did, she'd puff out her cheeks and headbutt my shoulder, and I'd ruffle her hair all fluff fluff, and her mistake would turn into just another funny mishap. Like always.
"Tiara?"
"…Just hold me a little longer."
Dorothy's face turned beet red. Like a cute little puppy dog. I cupped her soft cheeks gently, just like she'd done to me.
"T-T-T-Tiara?"
"We did it. I'm back alive, me."
Feeling that pale, squishy cheek flesh finally made it real. I'm alive. Thanks to this small, red, soft little life.
Even as I plummeted endlessly, this kid had tied me to the world.
"Th-thank… you… Tiaaaaraaa…."
Her big, round eyes welled up with moisture. Snot dripped from her twitching nose, and her cheeks were smeared with grime. Aigoo, the ocean's right there—wash up, girl. I stretched those chewy cheeks long.
"Eeeek…! Don't pull!"
"Heh heh heh."
Dorothy pouted again. On our way to the tower, whenever our eyes met, she'd puff her cheeks all hng! hng!—I'm mad!—and turn away. But if I just watched quietly, the dark-red furball would creep closer and plop! rest her head on my shoulder.
"What're you doing?"
Pbbbt! Dorothy puffed her cheeks. Ah, this. A headbutt. Gently, to spare my injured leg. I realized late and ruffled her limp black hair all fluff fluff.
"Hee hee…."
A faint burn-like mark scarred Dorothy's smiling shoulder. Wait, no—wounds everywhere up close.
"So, why're you hurt all over?"
I'd asked earlier, but my focus had been on the bullet wound in her leg.
"Ugh… When I got out of the pod…."
To sum up Dorothy's long ramble: After hopping out of the pod and trekking toward the huge tower, a toy-like thing buzzing like a helicopter tailed her.
"Drone…?"
"Ah, yeah. Drone."
Ah, we'd caught the attention of those headaches. I frowned, and Dorothy peeked at my face apologetically.
"Sorry…."
"Nah. Not your fault."
I stroked her sulky head. But wait, that's kinda weird…
"How'd you even know there was a drone?"
"I just saw and heard it?"
In the wasteland zones, only gang punks used drones. But theirs were that sloppy? The one I blew up had a cybercore—barely detectable… and it filmed from visual range. Whatever. Random encounter—Dorothy couldn't dodge it. Keep petting, and she bounced back quick.
"But Tiara, earlier—you were so cool."
As I pondered plans, Dorothy's eyes sparkled at me.
"Yeah?"
Pride swelled; my shoulders squared. She gets a Netdiver's coolness.
"Yeah! Head-on fight! Blocked all the bullets! Knocked 'em all flat!"
Uh…. Dorothy struck a clumsy boxing pose, throwing punches I'd never thrown into the air. Whoosh whoosh! Whoosh whoosh!
"Netdivers are the coolest! Cooler than mercs!"
"D-Dorothy… Netdivers aren't usually… Never mind…."
Comparing the apex hacker predator, a Netdiver, to sweaty mercs? If you weren't my puppy, I'd challenge you to a duel right here…. Ah, my leg's hurt too. Guess I'll be generous. I couldn't match Dorothy's hyped-up stride and lagged behind. She dashed ahead excitedly, then ha! glanced back and returned.
"Ah. Tiara, sorry."
Really… Should I get a leash? Same as walking a dog.
"Hey, Tiara. Can't you do that floating-in-the-air thing again?"
"Oh, that."
In-game, cores had no real cost—just cooldowns. Use when ready, wait when not. I'd assumed reality worked the same.
"Head hurts too much now."
Cooldowns here overloaded my brain—like it was cooking. Realized that late.
"Ah, really? Then I'll carry you!"
Dorothy jumped in alarm, patting her tiny shoulders pat pat.
"Ow, stings…."
Idiot. She's covered in wounds too.
"I'm good. You'd get tired. Tower's close anyway."
I shook my head, and Dorothy went hm? scratching her temple.
"I'm not tired at all. Napped in the pod."
That explained her colt-like bounding earlier. Huh. Guess my girl got some rest too.
"Alright. Piggyback me."
"Eek…! O-okay…."
I don't refuse twice if offered, so I clambered onto her small shoulders. Dorothy quietly hoisted me…
"…Dorothy."
"Sorry! Didn't know where to grab…."
My… my… ugh… h-ham… mmph…. … She groped my hamstrings and glutes. Gah! Hiss! Fwoof! … Betrayed by my trusted pup, I repaid by blowing on her flushed nape.
"Pervert. Lowlife. Liar."
"Ugh…! Not lying, for real!"
Dorothy stomped innocently. Hm. So she agrees to pervert and lowlife? Seemed accidental, though. Street kids like us—never carried anyone. Sigh. "…I said no."
Sigh.
"Keep blowing in my ear?"
"Heh heh heh…. Why? Cooling your red face."
"…Yeah?"
Likewise, unused to being carried, I couldn't handle Dorothy's rodeo bucks and power-thumps. Infinite stamina for real? "Nyaaagh…! Dorothy! I'm falling off…!"
"Surrender! You wimp! Dummy! Tiara!"
No, you? Fine—I have ways. I plastered myself to her back, wrapping my arms tight around her neck. What now?
"No surrender ever!"
"Eep…. Tiara, th-that's… no."
She calmed once I clung. Knew it from her cockiness. Must be tired.
"Say if you're worn out."
"N-no. This is perfect…."
Cute kid. Acting tough while sweating buckets. I clenched my gloved fist for acceleration shift.
"Huh? Tiara… what's…?"
"Better now, right? Lighter?"
Feeling peppier, Dorothy hustled up the hill toward the tower. Zzt! Headache stabbed. Why? Cooldown passed….
Off Dorothy's back, I craned my neck up at the tower.
"Huge…."
"Yeah…."
Open-world staple. Landmarks for gliding everywhere. Wasteland's was this massive data tower. First one Theia—no, the Netdiver protagonist—hits too. Still can't believe. That scary sis as the hero.
"So now what?"
Dorothy whipped around. "Those gang guys are chasing us."
Hated being dragged without input in the escape plan, so she kept asking even en route up.
"Climb the tower first."
Eek. Dorothy sulked. Altitude phobia too? Nooo… I was counting on you alone.
"…And then?"
Headbutt nudge. Sign of displeasure. Must be from withholding the plan. Spotting menhera lingo fast, I opened my mouth—then shut it. No more secrets! I like Dorothy that much; she likes me back. She cares, tries for me. But why hide the plan? Simple.
"…Dunno."
"Huh?"
I'd said 'you're dead,' but… In-game, wasteland gangs were early-game env variables to shove players to the City. Mobs respawn endless, pursuit nonstop, boss kill doesn't disband—they hassle to the end. Open world, sure… but devs wanna show City first. Players aren't sheep, though—can smash barehanded. Even me, sans attack core. If given time.
"Could flatten 'em. But…."
I stroked Dorothy's head. Day ends, unsurgeried Dorothy loses today. 11th and 12th. Just two days, but dense experiences. Wiping that's loss… Nah, more than that—
"Don't wanna part with today's Dorothy."
Honest… Hate her memories vanishing. Hans flashed. Waking in the lab, despairing girl-body, world-lore. Boy who greeted me, H: 'Symptoms trigger falling in love.' I squeezed eyes shut. His flushed final goodbye. And Dorothy. Hate seeing her like that again.
"But surgery—really necessary?"
Dorothy stroked my head. Bold? …Felt good, so I stayed put. Her taller, so natural pose anyway.
"Probably… Not sure."
Even I sounded down. Explains the uncharacteristic petting. Sensing my mood drop, she comforted. Dorothy hugged quiet. Like prepping farewell. Or hesitating something. She shivered, slowly spoke. Eyes shut tight, crushing hug. I waited. No—hugged back.
"I… I actually… lied…."
Kid who hates lies hid something—must've had reason. Dorothy squirmed like nightmare, then spoke slow.
"I… umm… Where I was as a kid… Lots didn't do surgery."
What?
"What're you saying?"
I snapped up, eyes locking. Dorothy fidgeted, fluffing my hair.
"…People bathed in black water there."
Instant recall.
"Dorothy…."
Figures. Feared no black vending goo, slathered freely. No questions 'cause fearless. And stamina, senses top-notch. Even if I rushed, she evaded gangs longest. My pup's shepherd, malinois—police dog breed. Original game had more than Netdiver. Hacker tree: Netdiver. Mechanic: Meister. Merc tree:
"Black Ops."
Dorothy flinched. Black operations-derived tech starts City core. Never dreamed her connected.
"…You don't hate me now, right?"
Guessed her hesitation. Couldn't fight back bullies. Avoided violence extreme. Black Ops—City-deep monsters like Netdivers. Grew near them? Saw horrors. Besides, who believes Black Ops/Netdiver from normies? Ghost tales.
"Why would I hate you?"
Whatever. I'm Netdiver? Stroked her head as she stroked mine. Crossed hands shed deep blue-red gloom. My pup, Dorothy. Guessed why she confessed: Can fight too, hates burdening me all. But… Hate forcing fights on fight-hater. Hours ago, stopped Theia killing guard. Maybe she spared me murder too?
"Gave me a great idea."
Steeled, told Dorothy. Beat 'em, no fighting for her. Someday she'll use power—but dirty hands? Mine.
"Tower first."
"Eeeek."
Dorothy scrunched. …Scared of heights too?