Work Text:
She was made in a fit of spite, and forgotten quickly when it passed.
She stood just outside the exit of Prime Empire, leaning against a wall in the shadow of the gate. She watched the crowd filtering through- real people and NPCs- as they celebrated their return or marveled at the world that their own had been made to imitate. She wasn't very impressed by the excitement of either. And yet. She took a deep breath, letting digital lungs fill with real air. It didn't feel any different, in her opinion. Taking a breath that deep hurt stinging sharply like a glitch around the phantom pain in her chest. But it was... nice, to be able to breathe real air.
She wondered where the ninja were. Clearly they'd won somehow, given that the gate was open. She hadn't gotten the chance to see it. She'd respawned like she was waking from a nightmare, yanked back into consciousness lying on the ground. There hadn't been anything special about the location, there hadn't been any instructions loaded in with her mind. All she could guess was that it was something leftover in Prime Empire's code, some kind of default spot for respawning NPCs without a preset, dedicated spawn point. And she hadn't been created with code saying specifically not to let her respawn, so... she was alive. Presumably without the knowledge of the program that had spun her into existence as a trap and a distraction. A leftover, an oversight that nobody could have possibly noticed in time to correct.
Prime Empire never really got to the point of rigorous playtesting.
Deep breath again. The sharp sting in her chest. She was here, she was alive, and she was scrubbing at her face as subtly as she could to see if her makeup came away, or if it was a part of her skin. Her hand came away clean. Drat. She hadn't really expected it to come off- that was one of the issues with being hastily made in the image of a snapshot of a memory of someone's death, why model removable makeup when a smear of red pixels will do- but it would have been nice to have a little plausible deniability when hiding what she was. As it was, being so recognizable narrowed her options down to...
To what? To nothing, from nothing? She couldn't even pretend that she had a plan. She didn't even have orders. No purpose, nothing to fall back on, just one major choice. Stay or go?
In Prime Empire, the best that she could hope for was to remain forgotten. She didn't have a designated place like all the NPCs she saw streaming past her; she'd been meant to play her role or die, and she'd already done both of those things. She was sure that there were enough little hidden shelters and passageways for a lone NPC in the vastness of the program, but she couldn't imagine that anything good would come of it if she slipped up and got noticed. The portal was open, so Unagami was either dead or merciful, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she might be just a loose end to tie up. Was she projecting? Maybe, but she wasn't sure enough to risk her existence on it.
And then there was the real world. Already immediately riskier on account of not being able to respawn here. Already riskier on account of having a face that anyone in this city would recognize and hate. If she was going to stay, it certainly wouldn't be in Ninjago City. But if she got out of here without being noticed... there would be someone where nobody knew the face she wore. Prime Empire was a huge game, of course, but the world outside was bigger than the most ambitious programmer could dream of. Prime Empire had places to hide. The real world let her go anywhere.
...Put like that, it was a little bit of a no-brainer, wasn't it? The decision wasn't as difficult as working up the courage to make it. She pushed away from the wall with a sigh, pulling up the hood of her jumpsuit to try and blend in a little more. She'd have to find something less garish than this shade of orange if she was going to get very far, she noted.
She walked away from where the crowds were streaming, into the quiet dark of the alleyways behind her. Already the air felt colder, less suffocating. She had no direction in the abstract sense, but she could vaguely remember which way led out of the city, and to whatever she would find out there.
For the first time since her creation, Harumi felt hope.