Road to the City!

Heading to the City! Dorothy finished organizing the cargo hold and finally climbed into the driver's seat. "Good job, Dorothy." I brushed the dirt off her hair, and she beamed at me. She'd packed jerky and water, mainly, along with oil drums—and just in case, some extra clothes too.

"Ugh. Tiara, you should've slept a little at least."

"Couldn't do that while you were working so hard."

Dorothy worried about me but looked pleased anyway, grinning ear to ear. "You're driving too. I'll catch a nap if I get tired."

"You'll hear all my sleep-talking though, you okay with that?"

I shrugged. What was the big deal? We'd end up sharing a bed plenty of times living together—no way I'd stress over sleep-talking every time.

"I've heard yours too. Gotta be fair."

"Eek—!"

Dorothy blushed but nodded. Victory for the menhera expert once again.

"So... what now?"

"Hm."

Dorothy always asked the best questions. I let out a groan at her fundamental query.

A tiny truck on the wasteland. Water, food, oil, car fuel (nicked from another truck), all sorts of supplies—minus the soap, we were packed to the brim. Me and Dorothy: two free girls who could go anywhere.

"What do you wanna do, Dorothy?"

I asked as she gripped the wheel and adjusted her seat. She grinned and answered.

"Whatever Tiara wants."

Hmm. Such a good doggo...

"...And eat strawberry cake, go to the academy, try drinking booze, see an idol concert, um... and more..."

...A good but greedy doggo.

I stared at her with cooled eyes, and she snapped to attention. "Hot! Uh, we gotta do all that together. What do you wanna do, Tiara? I'll do it with you!"

She sparkled: Twice the fun together! No, three times! I didn't fully agree, but... there was one thing I wanted to do with her.

"I wanna make a game."

"A game! Like that story game you mentioned? I love it! Let's do it!"

I nodded, and a message window popped up in front of me.

Perfect. I smugly swiped it away without Dorothy noticing. Perk of the small business status window: I could control it however I wanted!

I'd made a promise to MaMang. To turn the wasteland server bustling with people. And in this dystopia with barely any games, I'd fulfill it by releasing one I made myself.

Status window, game production progress.

I thought it hard, and it popped up without a word.

Canned Goods wouldn't budge on this section—insisted on coding the UI himself. He was obsessed with fulfilling the main quest with MaMang. Weirdly chill about his own name, though.

I swiped it away and turned to Dorothy.

To make the game... and for Dorothy's wishlist...

"Guess we have no choice but to head to the City."

Strawberry cake. Bars (a bit early). The academy, idol concerts. Even hidden stuff for survival and game dev. All inside ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the City.

"Got it! To the City!"

Her red eyes burned with purpose. After her nap, Dorothy was full of energy and vigor—snorting through her nose, she gripped the stick shift!

Vroom! Click! Vrr-vrr!

"We're off!"

Fancy handwork and clutch work! "Whoa...!"

Even with two lives under my belt, I'd never driven stick—and here Dorothy was nailing it?

Rumble! The little truck shook with a small roar.

"You really know how..."

"Yup. I learned."

Why was this real? What even was Black Ops training? Teaching kids manual trucks...?

"Woo-hoo—!"

I strictly pointed out her mistake as a class 2 ordinary license ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠holder. "But buckle up."

Dorothy let go of the wheel and reached back. "Ah! Right. Ngh... car. Ngh...!"

Oh no. She'd scooted too far forward—couldn't reach.

I unbuckled mine and leaned over to the driver's seat. "Hold on. I'll do it."

But halfway, I wondered if I was babying her too much. "...Can you do it yourself?"

"No, help..."

Normally I'd just do it, but two options fought in my head again.

Q. What kind of mom are you?

A. She asked for help.

Ugh. Next time, ask MaMang if Netdiver awakening causes split personality. ...Wait, hold up. Serious thought: Could Netdiver dual personality and choice paralysis be the game's 'choice system' and 'alignment'?

Theia was confirmed neutral or evil too. Sure... she's sweet to me. Like a. Sister. Or mom... something.

Dorothy's voice snapped me back. "Heh heh. Tiara, you're pervy. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Wanna hug me, huh?"

"Nah. It's stuck from the dust."

I yanked the belt across her body and connected it. She seemed tempted to hug back.

"Hmm."

But my mood wasn't great, so she held back and leaned into the seat.

"..."

Ugh. Tiara, you idiot. Made Dorothy walk on eggshells with my weird thoughts again.

"Uh, um... Tiara, isn't heading straight into the City trouble?"

To break the awkwardness, Dorothy changed the subject. Grateful for her tact, I focused.

Hmm. "Yeah."

Another great question. Our endgame was City central, but charging in was suicide.

In the original game, a quick hack would've done it. But...

"Right now, City gov's probably hunting Tiara with fire in their eyes."

I'd smashed the inner wall of the wasteland server, unleashed horrors—bounty on my head for sure.

"Yeah. Hacking through's tough. Might have pursuers."

That's why I left the gang alive. City gov would check the area anyway—let those guys boost their record, maybe drop the chase? Ah, regret thinking that way.

"Should've nabbed that bald guy and the sardine."

"Huh?"

Dorothy reacted to my mutter. She might not know—I'd seen them hacking the long-range comms.

Bald merc with a dagger, scrawny hacker with glasses. They bolted when the barrier made their goons float.

"Guys who looked like gang leaders."

Dorothy tilted her head anyway. "Hmm. But would City gov drop cyber-terrorist Tiara?"

Ouch, sharp fact-check. This pup...

Think I wanted them for a plea deal? For hurting my pup? Penalty: wipe their memory chips, turn 'em braindead—

And Dorothy wasn't safe either. "You're a terrorist too."

"Ehh? Why me?"

"Smashed a City-managed wasteland landmark. Go! Head to the City for now."

She floored it, yelling. "Tiara told me to!"

"Heh heh heh. Vicious criminal Dorothy. Terrorist Dorothy."

Her puffed cheeks and white-knuckled grip eased my mind. Yeah. Screw those gang punks. If they regroup somewhere, smash 'em again. Dodge City gov first.

"Wooah! Felix! Look at this! My daughter's handiwork!"

Theia excitedly shoved her tablet at John Felix. Mid-work, he pulled down his fatigue-soaked mask and squinted.

"...It's all encrypted. How am I supposed to read it?"

Hackers, man... He shook his head and crouched back to work.

Ignored clean, but Theia didn't lose her smile—perched on his shoulder.

"City gov, megacorps, Resistance! Total chaos! Monsters deep in the wasteland server—all loose!"

"I know. Who do you think pulled you out?"

Felix's gruff reply made Theia's eyes sparkle. She scooted her butt deeper, twirling his hair.

Her bodysuit's slick fabric slid, her buttcrack brushing his neck.

"Ngh...!"

She grabbed his hair with long fingers, forcing his gaze up. White hair draped; blood-red eyes narrowed slyly.

"Jealous? Jealous of my daughter? 'Cause I gave away the ring?"

Dizzy, Felix shut his eyes tight. A menhera expert like Tiara would've said, "Duh. Gift more next time." But Felix, clueless on menhera, ignored her for work.

"Boo. Boring Felix. Fun Tiara!"

As always, sulky Theia kicked apathetic Felix. He sighed and resumed; she glared and sauntered off.

Hmm-hmm. Ha-hum. Hoo-hoo.

The white-haired witch with billions in bounties danced across the wasteland.

"Tiara! My daughter!"

Stole her Netdiver catalyst! Dove into Outernet sans security! Smashed the inner wall, freed the monsters?!

This was...! A gift for me!

"Spring awakening, right? What those black bastards say?"

Theia muttered; Felix shrugged mid-work. "That kid was always kinda blue-ish."

Theia kicked tower rubble. "Shut it, boring Felix. You drop my dopamine just talking."

Felix masked up and shook his head. No time for his witch boss. City gov'd send agents now.

"Hmm. What gift for her?"

Theia brimmed with repayment ideas for her fun daughter. Ideally, what Tiara wanted. Combat cybercore? Too practical. Cute clothes? Makeup? Meh. Dress-up type? Academy ticket? Ha! If it doesn't crumble!

"What do you think?"

Her toe pointed at two trembling kneelers. Polar opposites: hulking bald, skinny glasses.

"Name... Zero Pang? And you..."

"Advisor...! Advisor, ma'am!"

What kinda name? Theia pouted, lifting their chins with fingers.

"Gift for my daughter—what's good?"

Mad red eyes hit Felix. Prepped captives; he nodded.

"A-a doll maybe...!"

Glasses beat him to it; Theia's eyes rolled huge.

"Boring."

Squish...! Long finger into the hole above his ear.

"Grah... grrrk...!"

Glasses slumped.

"You?"

Theia eyed shivering bald. He'd scanned rubble, Felix's dismembering, spazzing advisor—then up at her.

"...Kill me, bitch."

"Hmm."

Boring. Interest gone.

Squish...!

"Grrraaahk...!"

Tiara's the best, huh? Gift wrapped, Theia grinned creepily.

Three hours after Theia and Felix left.

City gov agents rushed to the collapsed tower site, faces grim as they exited vehicles.

"Ugh...!"

"Insane... what the hell...?"

The Dust Viper gang—biggest below the canyon, City's headache.

"Sacrificed 'em, looks like."

Senior agent assessed quick. Rubble ahead; gangsters bled from head holes.

"...All alive."

Unconscious, but breathing.

Kekekekeke!

Hahahahaha!

Witch-like cackles nonstop.

"Report to HQ."

Lead agent gritted teeth, ordering underling.

"Level 1 fugitive, the Witch is back. She blew up the wasteland server."