A/N: I do not own any recognizable characters or elements in this story. They belong to Darren Smith, Terrance Zdunich, Darren Lynn Bousman, and Lionsgate Films. This fanfiction was written for my friend and RP partner, Alee ( .com), who writes AMAZING OCs and headcanons for Repoverse.

Summary: After Rotti's death, Amber is determined to rebuild and reinvent herself.

Rating: T (language, suicidal thoughts, violence)

Amber couldn't feel the night wind touch her bare toes. It would be so easy, so easy to jump. She'd barely feel it if she hit the pavement. If she cracked her skull on the pavement below, she'd bleed blue. Glowing blue. Zydrate blue.

She wouldn't feel a goddamn thing.

She didn't want to die. It was just an experiment in thought. What would happen if she flung herself off of her balcony, dead of night. There'd been so much death today. So much red slicking the stage. As long as she lived, as high as she got, she'd never wash the stench of blood out of her nose.

Her hands twisted around the wrought iron spikes barring her from free-fall.

Her father was dead. Her Daddy. Sometimes, she thought, she was the only one who truly gave a damn. She hadn't known he was sick until earlier in the evening, when he was coughing and coughing and sputtering. Not even an inkling until then. He'd always seemed invincible. The spat over GeneCo, stupid. Daddy was supposed to live forever. Luigi was never inheriting the company. Nor was Pavi.

Amber hadn't thought she would, either.

But the most up-to-date version of Daddy's will said otherwise.

"You fucking cunt," Luigi had said when the lawyer left the room. "What did you do? Suck him off the way you do that Z-dealer?"

For the first time in her life, Amber slapped Luigi. She didn't make any fake sexual overtures before doing it. Her hand smarted from the slap.

"He was my father, too, you sick fuck!" she hissed. And then, like a broken china doll, she fell to pieces in his arms, pressing his ascot to her drenched eyes. Pavi pried her off of Luigi.

"Sister'a, please," Pavi said. "You need not'a lose another face tonight."

Too soon.

She'd Z-ed up after that. And now, here she stood, the night before her big debut as head of GeneCo, looking out at her kingdom and praying she couldn't feel a thing.

But without physical sensation, Amber felt everything. Every word, every thought, every feeling she didn't ask for rolled like marbles through her head. Behind them, they'd leave nothing but tear tracks and a migraine.

She needed a plan and she needed it now. The press wanted a savior. And she'd be damned if she wasn't the one to rise out of the tragedy. Rotti Largo reborn, a phoenix.

She imagined herself made of fire and smoke, burning and blazing bright for the world to see. Instead of blue, instead of red, nothing but gold.

So Amber let go of the ledge and with leaden legs took herself from balcony to writing desk to draft an official statement.

GeneCo will live on… under new management… me…