Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 88: : Temporary Repairs

Chapter 88: : Temporary Repairs

The storm drain spat them out two blocks west, just beneath a warped overpass dripping with rust. Ava crouched beside the hatch, watching the street with sharp eyes as her system flicked through scan after scan.

Lucas leaned against the wall behind her, silent for once, breathing deep but steady. The scorch marks along his bracer glowed faintly—flickering blue, then dead.

His biosuit was shot. So was his right arm brace.

Even his blade had dulled from the last kill.

[GEAR STATUS – LUCAS BAI]

[BIOSUIT CORE DAMAGE: 67%]

[RIGHT BRACER: OFFLINE]

[ENERGY OUTPUT (BLADE + PISTOL): BELOW OPERATIONAL THRESHOLD]

Ava narrowed her eyes as her HUD picked up a blip three blocks north.

"There." She pointed toward a building warped into a wedge between two fallen towers. "Old gym. Reinforced frame. Second floor’s still intact. Roof access is sealed. No signs of heat or movement inside."

Lucas tilted his head.

"What gave it away?"

"Emergency stairwell still has a door."

"Smart and specific. I like it."

They moved fast but quiet, slipping through the ruins like ghosts. The building was covered in grime and moss, signage peeled off years ago. Ava led them through a side window half-buried in debris.

Inside, it was dark, but stable.

The gym had been a training center once—metal bars, shattered equipment, an old boxing ring rotting in the corner. Dust covered everything. Most of the mirrors were broken. But the stairwell still held. Ava climbed it two steps at a time, checking each floor until they reached the second.

It was quiet.

And hidden.

Lucas slumped down on a bench near the back wall, unfastening the remnants of his bracer with a wince.

Ava set down her pack and immediately pulled out her toolkit.

"Coat off. Bracer off. And sit still."

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"You didn’t even buy me dinner first."

"Try me, Bai."

He smirked but obeyed, shrugging out of his coat and peeling off the upper layer of his suit. It came off reluctantly—scorched fabric sticking slightly to his skin.

The brace clattered onto the bench beside him.

Ava barely glanced at him at first—too focused on the half-melted wiring and collapsed energy cell. Her fingers moved fast, precise, sliding tools from her pouch and opening panels.

Then Lucas wiped the back of his neck with a towel, and—

He was shirtless.

Sweat slicked across lean muscle. Defined shoulders. Scarred ribs. And that annoying, ever-present grin that made her want to hit him and maybe something else entirely.

Ava cleared her throat.

Focus.

She tapped her HUD again.

[REPAIR OPTIONS AVAILABLE – 3 MODULAR PATCHES DETECTED]

[RECHARGE REQUIRED: BLADE + FIREARM MODULES AT 14%]

"You drained your sword and gun," she muttered. "You really don’t pace yourself, do you?"

Lucas leaned back, arms resting on the bench behind him.

"Where’s the fun in pacing?"

Ava tried not to look at his abs as she opened the bracer’s casing.

"One day I might let you stay broken."

Lucas chuckled, brushing his hand through his sweat-damp hair.

"If you did, half the bunker economy would collapse."

Ava didn’t look up from the fried circuitry.

"That’s not a denial."

"It’s a compliment." He stretched his arms behind his head, completely relaxed despite the broken gear and recent sprint from death. "Besides, I’m more valuable in one piece. To you. To the bunker. To about four military factions who pretend they don’t need me."

That made her pause.

"Four?"

Lucas nodded.

"There are six major factions now. Out of the remaining two hundred and fifty-one bunkers still online, the military’s splintered into regional power centers—each claiming to be the original chain of command. Technically, they’re all wrong."

He rolled a shoulder, winced slightly, and kept going—talking like he was on stage instead of half-naked in a ruined gym.

"West Command runs Bunkers 002 through 019. They’re purists. Old doctrine. Think anyone with a system is a walking liability."

"Sounds charming," Ava muttered.

"Then there’s Northhold. They run 030 through 062. More flexible. They court system users, but only if you’re willing to work for them like a dog."

Ava didn’t interrupt. She knew how he got when he talked business—fast, smooth, the rhythm of someone who’d studied people long before systems were a thing.

"East Division’s just opportunists. Whoever’s in charge changes every three months. But they’ve got firepower, so people pretend they’re legitimate."

He glanced at her.

"And then there’s South Chain. Smug bastards, but at least they honor trade deals. I deal with them the most. Quiet, well-funded, paranoid to the bone."

Ava arched an eyebrow.

"And the other two factions?"

"I don’t bother." Lucas shrugged. "One’s run by a glorified cult. The other tried to kidnap me twice."

"Twice?"

"You don’t make the same mistake three times."

Ava shook her head and refocused on his gear, but Lucas wasn’t done.

"To be honest, my position’s solid thanks to my old man." His tone dipped slightly, not serious—but not all deflection either. "He built half the bunkers the military is fighting over now. Infrastructure, contracts, backdoor codes no one even remembers. His name still gets me into places. Buys me patience I haven’t earned."

Ava said nothing, just clipped a new stabilizer into the bracer.

"That’s why they don’t touch me. They’d rather deal with the bastard son than find out what else my father left behind."

Lucas leaned forward, elbows on his knees now, gaze distant, less performative.

"Growing up, I learned my A to Z in planning. My old man didn’t believe in gambling—only contingency. He drilled it into me. Never have one route. Never one deal. Never one ally. Everything had to have layers." He gave a crooked grin. "He once told me, ’If you only have one way out, you don’t have a way out at all.’"

Ava paused her repairs, eyeing him.

"So that’s how you operate?"

"Always." He looked over at her. "Every contact I make, every route I map, every lie I let someone believe—it’s not just about profit. It’s about control. Control means choice. And my old man made sure I never lacked options."

Ava’s gaze lingered on him, expression unreadable.

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