Wanted to do a story talking about GoGo's backstory. I made the backstory up, but I like it. Kinda sad.

Review if you want, enjoy, and feel free to pm me story requests. I don't normally ask for story requests and I don't always write them, but when I like a fandom I don't mind taking requests. Sorry for that tangent.

No one argued that GoGo was more than capable of going on patrol alone. Big Hero 6 had found itself swamped with projects and errands and GoGo was the only one who had the time to defend the city. She was also the toughest, but she wasn't ashamed of calling for backup if things got dangerous, either. So there were absolutely no worries about GoGo going on patrol alone.

It was nice to be out at night by herself. Usually, her alone time happened in Muirahara woods, watching birds. She spent most of her time these days with the team, or at least with Honey Lemon in their apartment. So the fresh air in her lungs and the concrete beneath her wheels felt freeing.

Which wasn't to say that the night passed without any drama. GoGo raced around the city, keeping her ears and eyes open, and was able to stop a mugging and a few other minor threats. Then she rolled into a sketchier part of the city. Sure she lived in a busted up neighborhood, but this was a busted up version of that busted up neighborhood. And it was pretty familiar. It got pretty rowdy, especially near the bars, and it seemed like every third store was a bar. This wasn't Obake, but she almost wanted to call in backup. No amount of alone time would make getting assaulted in this neighborhood worth it. But she knew that her friends were all working on important things, and she was pretty sure Fred wasn't even in the country right now. So she went on patrol.

Of course, she didn't have to be in this neighborhood, helping these people. She didn't have to try to stop a fight in a parking lot or help a little girl whose guardian had left her outside of a crackhouse. She didn't have to, but how was she going to sleep at night if she didn't woman up and help a city that needed her? So she got in the middle of an ugly parking lot brawl and carried the little girl to the police station where she could get the help she needed.

And that made her feel a little bit better, rolling down these streets. It felt too familiar though. Helping that little girl had felt too familiar. She didn't want to spend any more time here, the air was smoggy and the concrete was cracked. Her otherwise coveted alone time made her all the more paranoid and claustrophobic. She turned down an unfamiliar street and almost panicked, fearing getting lost here, being stuck here.

She didn't feel this way in her neighborhood, but this one was different. One wrong turn and she was the little girl in the street with tears streaming down her face. One wrong turn and her knees hit the pavement, her memories taunting her, telling her she'd wound back up here, and of course she did. Telling her she'd been destined to wind up here, as busted up and worthless as where she came from.

She forced herself to woman up, take a deep breath of smoky air, turn around and go back the way she came. She wasn't a cog in the machine. She wasn't a part of this messed up cycle, where the children grow up to be their parents because there's no other option. She'd had another option. She'd grown up and gotten far enough away from this and from the memories of this. Maybe she hadn't coped well enough, maybe coming here had been a mistake. But it wasn't the end of the world. She could go home. She could just leave. It would be nice to cut her alone time short. So she picked herself up off the ground and began to weave her way out of this neighborhood.

But the neighborhood fought back. It made the streets confusing and the lights too dim to really travel by. It made wrong turns abundant, and it made one of those wrong turns spit her right out in front of him. He was both the last person she had expected to see and the one person who actually belonged here. It was a shock to see him. It was not a shock to see that he was intoxicated. He looked exactly like he had last time she'd seen him. He was drunk then too. He couldn't walk straight, was trying to turn a trash can into his residence, and he had no way of recognizing her with the mask on. She intended to keep it that way, but she wasn't just going to let her dad sleep out in the cold, drunk out of his mind and barely wearing any clothes. She still had a key to his apartment, knew this route easier than she knew the route out of this inescapable jungle.

"I've seen you around," he slurred as she walked him home, causing her to freeze in fear.

"On the television," he continued. She let out a breath, that made more sense. He wasn't talking to his daughter, he was talking to a televised hero. He didn't recognize her. She just had to make sure he didn't try anything until she got him home. Soon she managed to ditch her drunk dad at his trashed apartment. It hadn't changed much, it had just gotten worse. It was only a step above from the trash can he had been trying to sleep in. She couldn't stay here a second longer and let the memories drag her down. She left immediately.

And then, emotionally exhausted and even more wary about being alone at night, she called for backup. She didn't plan on explaining what had happened. She just really didn't want to walk home alone after stumbling down the dark side of memory lane. She didn't want any more alone time for a while.