Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 92: : Boredom & Bullets

Chapter 92: : Boredom & Bullets

The city stretched endlessly ahead—twisted concrete, hollow towers, and sun-bleached road signs that pointed to nowhere. The sun sat heavy in the sky, not punishing but relentless.

They’d been walking for hours.

Climb

Lucas sighed for the third time in ten minutes, dragging the sound out like a kid denied candy.

"I am officially bored."

Ava didn’t even glance at him since she was busy patching up gear.

"We’re trying to not get killed, Lucas."

"Exactly. Nothing’s trying to kill us right now, which means I’m left with my own thoughts. You wouldn’t believe the stuff in there."

She arched a brow.

"Want to talk about it?"

Lucas blinked.

"Wait, was that a genuine invitation to talk about my feelings?"

"Not feelings. Just distractions. What do you even do when you’re not bartering with smugglers or charming your way out of bullet wounds?"

He looked up at the sky thoughtfully.

"You mean hobbies?"

"Yes, Lucas. Hobbies. Normal human things."

He scratched the back of his neck.

"I play business."

"That’s not a hobby."

"It was at eleven." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Started early. My father wasn’t around much, so I kept myself busy. Brokered trade between sectors. Found out what people needed, made sure they paid for it."

Ava glanced at him sidelong.

"That’s adorable and vaguely sinister."

Lucas laughed.

"Welcome to my entire personality."

Ava kept her pace, eyes scanning the horizon.

"Did you ever date? You know—before all this."

Lucas looked genuinely surprised.

"Are we doing that kind of conversation now?"

"You’re the one who’s bored."

He shrugged.

"Fair. Yeah, I dated. A few. Nothing serious. After Angel made things official with her faction, my dad told me it was bad optics to be seen bouncing from person to person." He smirked. "Said it was ’bad taste’ to be a player while building an empire."

Ava scoffed.

"That sounds exactly like something he’d say."

"You?" he asked, gaze flicking toward her with real curiosity.

"Didn’t have time." She kept her voice even. "Wanted to be an architect before the world cracked open. I used to sketch towers in my notebooks instead of passing them to friends with ’Do you like me?’ checkboxes."

"Romantic and efficient."

"I’m full of surprises."

Lucas opened his mouth to reply—

Then stopped.

His head tilted slightly. Eyes sharpened. That easygoing grin vanished in a blink.

Ava’s system pinged half a second later.

[ALERT – HOSTILE SIGNATURE DETECTED – 4 UNITS]

[AMBUSH PATTERN: TRIANGULAR CONVERGENCE – 60 METERS]

"We’re boxed," she said flatly.

Lucas rolled his shoulders and let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally."

"You were bored, remember?"

He grinned, already pulling the blade from his hip.

"And now I’m not."

Shadows shifted between broken storefronts.

A voice shouted—gravelly and slurred.

"Drop the packs! Hands where I can see ’em!"

Lucas didn’t slow.

"Let me handle the opening offer." He glanced at Ava, winking. "You handle the counter."

Then he turned to the ambushers with a smile that was all teeth.

"Gentlemen, how do you feel about losing teeth and dignity?"

The first one stepped out of cover, his gun shaking slightly. The other three followed—two from behind a rusted-out van, one creeping along the edge of a crumbled sidewalk.

They were ragged, all patched gear and nervous tension. Not soldiers. Not scavengers. Just desperate people who probably didn’t have anywhere to call home.

"I said drop the packs!" the leader barked again, raising his weapon higher.

Lucas didn’t blink.

"You might want to take a second look at this situation," he said smoothly, stepping forward, one hand still at his side. "You’re four. We’re two. Doesn’t sound bad... unless you know who we are."

The leader frowned.

"I don’t care if you’re a trader working for Kai or a Bai —"

"There it is." Lucas smiled wider. "You do know who I am."

That hesitation? All Ava needed.

Her system flared.

[THREAT ASSESSMENT – LEADER ARMED – CENTER MASS OPEN]

[FLANK RIGHT – LOW DEFENSE]

She moved. Fast.

Two steps, crouch, launch.

Her foot connected with the closest outlaw’s knee—crack—and his weapon clattered to the ground as he howled.

Lucas dropped low, spun his blade into a reverse grip, and drove it into the side of the second attacker’s leg, just under the armor seam. The man went down hard.

The third didn’t even make it to cover before Ava slammed him into the van door with a full-body shoulder check, knocking him unconscious with a single, clean elbow.

The last one—the leader—stood frozen.

Ava had her knife at his throat before he could even lift his gun.

Lucas casually walked up beside her, brushing dust from his sleeve.

"So. What have we learned about stopping strangers in the middle of the road boys?"

The leader swallowed hard.

Lucas gave him a pitying look.

"That’s right. Nothing good."

He reached into the man’s coat, pulled out a small pouch—mostly junk, some credits, a single encrypted chip.

"We’ll be keeping this. Think of it as tuition."

Lucas’s tone was light, but his eyes had already shifted—less amused now, more calculating.

He didn’t move when the three injured outlaws scrambled to their feet, half-dragging each other into the ruins. Ava let them go without a word, eyes narrowed. Lucas wasn’t watching them.

He was watching the fourth.

The one who hadn’t tried to run.

Ava turned slightly, noticing it now—the way he stood too steady, breathing too calm, the dirt on his gear a little too placed.

Lucas took a step closer.

"And you," he said, voice casual, almost amused. "You’re not with them."

The fourth outlaw—early twenties, lean, eyes too sharp for the company he kept—didn’t deny it.

Didn’t say a word.

Lucas smirked.

"Yeah. I thought so."

He tossed the stolen pouch to Ava and hand gestured for her to stand back.

"This one stays with us."

Ava blinked.

"You’re serious?"

"Oh yeah." Lucas circled the man slowly, like a cat deciding how long it wanted to play with its prey. "See, spies don’t panic when you draw a blade. They calculate. This guy didn’t flinch when you pulled a knife. Didn’t twitch when you dropped his friend like a sack of junk. That means training. Not desperation like the others. He was probably expecting this."

The man remained silent.

Lucas stopped in front of him, smile sharpening.

"So. Who sent you? Northhold? West Command? Or someone who still thinks they run Bunker 041?"

The silence stretched just a little too long.

Ava stepped forward, low and quiet.

"You’re sure about him?"

Lucas didn’t look away from the man.

"Spot the boots. Military pattern. Civilian dye job, but the tread’s the same—designed for rapid movement, not long scav runs. And the gear?" He gestured. "High-grade comm. You don’t wear tech like that unless you’re expecting to signal something."

Ava frowned.

"I didn’t catch that."

"You will if you look for it." Lucas finally turned to her. "Next time for incoming, just set your system to flag for out-of-place gear. High-grade items surrounded by junk? That’s not survival. That’s camouflage."

He turned back to the spy, all charm stripped away.

"So. You can tell us now..." Lucas’s smile returned, sharp and slow. "...or we can make the walk very, very uncomfortable."

The spy finally spoke—voice low, clipped, and just as careful as Lucas had guessed.

"I’m not authorized to give intel."

Lucas laughed softly.

"Perfect. That means you’ve got plenty to share."

The spy stayed stone-faced, like he was weighing how many ribs Lucas would break before someone intervened. Probably calculating escape routes. Probably wondering why this didn’t feel like a standard interrogation.

Lucas stepped in close—too close. Not threatening, exactly. Just... inescapable.

"See, the thing you don’t understand about people like me?" His voice dropped, smooth and almost friendly. " I just need you with me long enough to figure out who’s listening and then I make you talk."

The spy’s jaw tightened.

Ava watched silently, arms crossed, gaze flicking between them enjoying the show. Her system pinged quietly as it logged the man’s posture shifts and stress indicators.

Lucas caught her eye briefly and added—

"Don’t worry, Beauty. We’re not breaking him just yet. He’s a walking breadcrumb trail. All we have to do is carry him long enough, and someone will come pulling on the other end."

The spy broke his silence then—just a little.

"That’ll get you killed."

Lucas grinned.

"So will boredom. At least this comes with useful data."

He turned, already pulling a zip cord and ten-foot tether from his belt.

"Tie his hands. If he runs, trip him. If he lies, let me talk to him alone again." He paused. "And if he behaves, maybe he gets to see Bai Manor."

Ava stepped forward, tying the cord with practiced ease.

"You really want to drag a spy all the way there?"

Lucas didn’t even hesitate.

"If he’s tagging us, I want him close. Easier to control the narrative."

Ava finished the knot, pulled tight and handed it to Lucas.

"You’re playing a long game again."