Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 109: – Sync and Static

Chapter 109: – Sync and Static

Ava sat in the back of the hummer with Lucas curled around her like a blanket made of suspicion and body heat, one of his arms tucked beneath hers, the other loosely slung over her thigh.

It had been three hours and he hadn’t stirred since the first twenty minutes in. Just soft breathing and the occasional unconscious twitch.

Cassi had kept it casual. No questions. No pressure. Just the road and the dusk and the occasional dry remark whenever Ava reached for another energy bar.

Ava hadn’t had that in a long time.

It almost felt like peace.

Until Cassi tapped the dash with two fingers and said, "Alright, time’s up. Wake sleeping beauty. We’re fifteen out."

Ava sighed, and shifted carefully, pushing up slightly from the backseat, and as soon as her weight left his legs—he stirred.

One golden eye slid open.

He stirred.

Lucas blinked once, then again, and gave the faintest groan. "You moved. That was unnecessary."

Cassi snorted. "That’s all it takes? Not a beast attack, not a road mine, not four hours of bumpy terrain? Just her moving off your lap?"

Lucas blinked once, then again, and gave the faintest groan—the dramatic kind that said he was awake but not remotely willing.

He turned his head slightly and looked up at Ava with the laziest smirk he could muster. "You left me. Betrayal before breakfast. I’ll need emotional compensation."

Ava rolled her eyes, already peeling open another bar. "It’s ten. You slept four hours. And you’re dramatic."

"I am consistent," he corrected, then turned to Cassi without even pretending to sound civil. "Do you have to be so loud?"

Cassi just grinned in the mirror. "Do you have to be so charming selectively?"

Lucas waved a hand at her like she was a persistent mosquito. "Be quiet, Cass. Let me look at something beautiful before the chaos starts."

He turned his eyes deliberately to Ava—who, despite herself, choked slightly on her first bite.

"You’re insufferable," she muttered.

"I’m thriving," Lucas murmured, stretching once and flicking his bracer active. Sync lines lit up in sharp, steady pulses.

He skimmed the alerts, a small grin flickering across his face—the kind he only wore when all his plans were falling into place exactly how he wanted. Ava saw it and immediately tore open another bar.

Cassi noticed. "You stress-eat when he does that creepy grin thing."

"It’s safer to stay fueled," Ava replied flatly.

Lucas finally sat up fully, rolling his neck once with a sharp pop. "We’re entering the East Gate in ten. Cassi, you stay with the vehicle. Engine running. This won’t take long."

Cassi arched a brow. "You said that the last times and I ended up peeling blood and brains off my seats."

"Fifteen minutes tops," he said. "Walk straight to the target. No wandering. If the scientist gets mouthy, I have a backup bribe."

Ava was already pulling her hood up. "Plan C?"

"We pretend to be systems holder wanting to sync," he deadpanned.

Cassi smirked. "What about Plan D?"

Lucas didn’t miss a beat. "We walk away like disappointed customers but before walking we burn the place down."

Ava leaned against the side door, adjusting her gear. "Classic."

Without a word, Lucas reached into his bag and tugged out a dark-gray hoodie, soft but reinforced, then turned Ava gently by the shoulder.

"Face covered," he murmured, slipping it over her head himself, tugging the fabric low.

Ava gave him a flat look, but didn’t stop him.

Cassi shook her head and pulled into a low crawl between crumbling signposts. The outer wall of the market loomed ahead—twisting towers of metal, scaffolding patched with tarp and solar webbing, open like a half-broken jaw.

"This is your stop, lovebirds," Cassi said, easing the hummer into a cracked space beside an overturned supply rig. "I’ll wait here. Ten minutes. No stupid stuff."

Lucas popped the door, grabbed his bag, and helped Ava out with the practiced ease of someone who made every gesture look personal.

They stepped out into the dry, charged air.

Together, they walked through the crowd, bypassing smoke tents and welding sparks, passing shifter vendors shouting over each other, synth-hackers hawking illegal mods, and rows of bio-parts half-covered in cooling wraps.

Lucas moved through it like it was a curated museum, not a market on the edge of collapse. Shoulders relaxed, gaze loose, pace exact. Each step calculated to project comfort. Belonging. Power.

Ava followed silently, half a step behind, hood up and posture slouched just enough to make her presence uninteresting.

She didn’t need to speak.

That wasn’t her job.

Her eyes flicked constantly. Her system ran overlays, ambient checks, heat trails.

[LOCAL THREAT ASSESSMENT: MODERATE]

[DRONE ACTIVITY: LOW – 2 UNTAGGED ABOVE STALL SECTOR 5]

[POTENTIAL EXIT ROUTES: 3]

[PULSE SCAN IN PROGRESS... MATCH: 0.9% – STALL 2B - LIKELY TARGET]

Lucas had already spotted the stall—metal-framed with a tattered black tarp for privacy, hidden just enough to attract the right kind of customer. The vendor behind the table was thin, hunched, dark-eyed with a mouth too still for someone operating in this part of town. The nameplate on the table was blank.

Lucas stepped forward like he owned it. He didn’t wait for an introduction.

"You’ve been expecting me."

The vendor didn’t blink. His eyes flicked once to Ava, then back to Lucas. "The Bai name is trending again. News updates and gossip make it easier to find out."

Lucas didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched, just barely.

"And yet, you didn’t run. I’ll take that as a sign of either confidence or exhaustion."

"Desperation." The vendor’s voice was quiet, raw around the edges. "You wouldn’t have come yourself unless it was valuable."

Lucas reached into his coat and pulled a thin data shard from an inner pocket, laying it gently on the stall counter.

"I want the ship. The one with the full sync experiment logs. Not a summary. Not what you scraped from secondhand systems. I want the original drive."

The vendor’s fingers twitched toward the edge of the tarp. "In exchange for?"

Lucas leaned in slightly, voice low. "A clean exit. A new name. New retinal signature. Fresh ID tags, coded to a Tier 2 trader with clearance from three bunkers. You walk away with enough legacy credits to live in any outer sector without questions for five years."

The vendor’s face didn’t move, but his fingers twitched again.

Ava’s system pinged a spike in his cortisol levels.

[NERVOUS SYSTEM RESPONSE: ESCAPE URGE 21% / RISK COMPLIANCE 62%]

Lucas reached into his other sleeve, pulled a second chip from a hidden slot in the lining. It pulsed faint blue.

"This is your new name. The rest activates once the trade is done. One-time code. Burnable. Untouchable."

The vendor stared at the chip. Then, wordless, he reached under the table.

Ava tensed, hand twitching toward her coat.

But what came out wasn’t a weapon—it was a small, sealed cube, encased in a bio-locked casing with four security notches and a rusted manufacturer’s stamp from a pre-collapse medical lab.

Lucas’s gaze didn’t shift.

The vendor placed the cube on the table and slid it across.

"Logs are intact. Uncompressed. No alterations. Sync Tier access only. Core logs from every subject. Full timestamps."

Lucas placed the identity chip on the table beside it.

The two stared at each other for a breath.

Then, slowly, they each took their item.

The deal was done.