Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 111: – Lock-On

Chapter 111: – Lock-On

Ava’s system pinged hard—so hard it burned white-hot across her vision.

[ALERT: HEAT TRAIL DETECTED – MASS DISPLACEMENT INBOUND][SIGNATURE: ARMORED UNIT / TIER 3 FUSION ENGINE][TRAJECTORY MATCH: PURSUIT – LOCK CONFIRMED]

"Lucas," Ava snapped. "We’ve got a problem."

He didn’t look up. "What kind?"

"The kind with treads and a fusion core. Incoming tank."

Lucas’s eyes flicked left—just enough to confirm.

A second later, he turned toward Cassi, voice clipped.

"Drive. Fast."

"Oh, now you care about speed—"

"Now, Cassi."

The hummer jolted forward with a snarl of protest, tearing into the broken road like it was trying to outrun the end of the world. Behind them, Ava caught a blur of motion—shimmering heat, fractured pavement, and a low, mechanical rumble that grew fast.

Lucas threw open the side door before the wind could argue and dropped out mid-motion.

"Lucas—what the hell!" Ava shouted, grabbing for the door as it slammed shut behind him.

Cassi yelled something, probably a curse, but Ava barely heard it.

Through the rear window, Lucas was already moving—on foot, sprinting across cracked concrete as the tank burst into view behind him. It was massive—eight wheels, low body, twin cannons mounted on a rotating turret. Not military issue. Black market scrapwork. Which meant it wasn’t here to arrest.

It was here to erase.

Lucas fired three shots on the run. Not at the tank—at the road.

The rounds struck the cracked bridge support under the overpass they’d just crossed.

The structure groaned.

Crumbled.

And dropped ten tons of steel and dust across the road, buying them maybe five seconds.

Ava spun around. "Cassi, lose them!"

"I’m trying, but I’m not flying a hovercraft, Zhang!"

Ava dropped to her knees in the back and yanked up the bench storage panel. "What do you keep back here?"

"Spare parts, broken crap, intimidation gear, expired rations—"

Ava’s eyes locked on a twisted piece of plating, a broken missile rack, and a scorched coil assembly.

Her system flared awake.

[JUNK SCAN COMPLETE][BUILDABLE UNIT: HEAVY ORDINANCE LAUNCHER / NON-STABLE BASE][WARNING: OVERHEAT POTENTIAL 72% – ONE-TIME USE RECOMMENDED][CONFIRM?]

"Confirmed," Ava muttered, already dragging parts into the light.

"What are you doing?!" Cassi shouted over the roar of engines.

"Building you a very angry pipe dream."

She slammed a burnt coil against the frame, looped the ignition rail through a stabilizer mount, and yanked off the bent targeting arm. Her system highlighted structural weaknesses, recommended weld angles, compensated for imbalance.

She didn’t stop to think. Just moved.

"How fast can you give me a backdoor shot?" Ava barked.

Cassi looked in the mirror, saw the tank already clearing debris.

"Ten seconds if we don’t die first!"

"Perfect," Ava muttered. Her system flared.

[BLUEPRINT STABILITY: 84%][CHARGE CORE READY – VOLTAGE SPIKE PENDING][LOADING ROUND – JURY-RIGGED PROX SHELL ENGAGED]

The makeshift launcher came alive in her hands—smoke curling from the seams, the coil core pulsing erratically. It didn’t look stable.

Didn’t matter.

Ava shoved the back door open, wind screaming past her.

She could see the tank now—closing in, gun locking into place, a low whine as its turret began to power.

She braced the launcher against the hummer’s frame, aimed—

"Come on, you bastard..."

The system locked. Firing arc adjusted. Target pulse blinked red.

Ava didn’t hesitate.

She pulled the trigger.

The launcher kicked like a dying beast, tearing sideways in her grip, sparks flying from the coil.

The round tore through the air—an ugly, misshapen thing packed with scavenged explosive and a prayer.

It hit dead center in the tank’s treads.

The blast didn’t flip it. But it tore one side open like tin.

The tank skidded, buckled, and slammed into the rubble Lucas had dropped earlier—its fusion core hissing dangerously.

Ava let the launcher clatter to the floor, coughing from the smoke.

Cassi whooped in the front. "Holy shit! Did you just—"

"Yes," Ava gasped. "And it was ugly. But functional."

She slumped back against the wall, chest heaving.

Then blinked.

"Wait. Where the hell is Lucas?"

They looked out the back window.

The smoke cleared just enough to see a figure walking through it—dust-covered, coat scorched, pistol still smoking in one hand.

Lucas Bai walking toward the hummer.

He pulled open the hummer’s side door and stepped inside with the kind of slow, deliberate movement reserved for exhausted predators—every inch of him marked with soot, dried blood, and the scorched hem of his coat still smoking at the edges.

Then he shut the door behind him with a click like punctuation.

Ava stared at him from the bench seat. "Are you—"

"Not dead," he said simply, sinking down across from her like gravity had personally requested it. "No permanent injuries. Mildly annoyed."

"Mildly—" Ava made a noise somewhere between a scoff and an exhale and reached into the supply crate beside her. "You’re bleeding."

Lucas blinked at his side, like he was just now noticing. "Ah."

"Shirt. Off."

"I thought you liked mystery."

Ava glared. "Mystery doesn’t clot."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, then winced as he peeled off his ruined coat, followed by the torn undershirt beneath. Dried blood cracked along his ribs, layered with a fine coating of grey dust and shrapnel scarring.

"Could’ve let the tank kill him," Ava muttered, digging for the medkit. "Would’ve saved us the flirting."

Cassi was still in the front seat, half-turned around, eyes locked on Ava.

"You built a missile launcher out of spare parts."

"Yes," Ava said, without looking up.

"In two minutes."

"Two and a half."

"That’s not— That’s not a thing normal people do."

"No one in this car is normal, Cass."

"No argument there."

Ava shoved a ration bar into Lucas’s hand. "Eat."

He stared at it like it owed him money. "This one’s the terrible peanut butter flavor."

"I’ll force-feed you with a wrench."

Lucas took a bite.

Ava pulled the gear pouch off his thigh and started unstrapping the utility braces from his arms, working with sharp, practiced fingers.

She didn’t say anything about how they shook slightly.

Lucas did. "You’re panicking."

"I’m patching."

"You’re swearing under your breath in four languages."

A beat.

"I’m multilingual and concerned," she snapped.

Lucas didn’t smile, but something about his voice softened. "We made it out. You did good."

Ava didn’t look up. "We got hit with a tank. That’s military. That wasn’t a bounty job."

"No," Lucas said. "It wasn’t."

He leaned back, exhaling once, then tapped his bracer.

"Post-collapse military factions have started outsourcing experimental tech to private mercenary groups. The tank wasn’t standard—looked like a refitted Tier 3 prototype. My guess? Someone got access to corrupted sync data and traced it to our deal. They deployed a field trial on us."

Cassi let out a low whistle from the driver’s seat. "You’re telling me we just got used as live bait to test a new weapon?"

Lucas nodded once. "And we gave them a solid field result."

"I hate this world," she muttered.

"Mutual feeling."

Ava finally sat back, wiping her hands on a cloth. "So we’re flagged now."

Lucas looked over at her, golden eyes sharp despite the bruising along his cheekbone. "We were always flagged. Now we’re confirmed dangerous."

"You say that like it’s good."

"It is," he said. "Fear buys us time."

Ava tossed the ruined shirt to the floor, then dug in the cooler for a hydration pack. She handed it over without ceremony.

Lucas drank it in three gulps, then leaned back again, eyes half-lidded.

"You know," he murmured, "if I die, I expect a funeral with snacks."

Ava didn’t even blink. "If you die, I’m selling your body for parts and buying a better vehicle."

"Touching," Lucas muttered.

"I’m not in the mood," Ava said flatly, wiping blood off her hands like it was routine.

"Then we’re all in agreement," he murmured, eyes closed now, leaning his head back against the hummer wall.

Silence stretched just long enough to settle before Cassi’s voice broke through it—quiet, but not soft.

"You always evaluate the odds," she said. "What you’re doing now? That’s not calculation. That’s compulsion."

Ava stayed quiet in the backseat, eyes flicking between them.

Cassi didn’t stop.

"You didn’t even blink when she said military-grade. You heard tank, and you still ran toward it."

"I wasn’t going to let it hit the hummer."

"There were other plays," Cassi snapped. "You always have other plays."

Lucas stared out the window. "Not anymore."

That quiet hit again—thicker, heavier this time.

Cassi’s voice, when it returned, was quieter. "You’re chasing ghosts again, aren’t you?"

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

"Lucas..." she exhaled slowly. "You keep throwing yourself at things that should kill you, and one day, they’re going to get it right."

Lucas rolled his jaw once, then said, voice steady, "The day that happens, I’ll deserve it."

"That’s not comforting."

"It’s not meant to be."

Ava didn’t speak—but her hands had stilled. No more wiping. No more prepping. Just still.

Cassi’s fingers tapped the wheel, agitated. "You used to think bigger than this. Systems. Trade. Territory. Now you’re burning daylight on personal vendettas and near-suicidal ego tests."

Lucas turned toward her slowly. "And you’re still here."

"Because someone has to drag your corpse out when you overcalculate."

"You think I don’t know what I’m doing?"

"I think you do," she said, eyes locked on the road. "I just don’t think you care what it costs anymore."

Lucas didn’t respond immediately.

Then, very quietly, he said, "You’re wrong."

Cassi raised an eyebrow. "About?"

He glanced toward the backseat—toward Ava, who met his gaze without flinching.

"I care," he said. "That’s the problem."

For once, Cassi didn’t have a snarky comeback.

She just drove.