Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 97: : Hidden Inventory

Chapter 97: : Hidden Inventory

She tapped her comm.

"Lucas."

His voice came through instantly. "Tell me you’re calling about lingerie."

"No. Athletic wear."

"...That is wildly disappointing."

[SCAN CONTINUED – LAYERED MATERIAL ANALYSIS]

[FABRIC COMPOSITION: SILICONE-COATED POLYWEAVE – STEALTH-LINE REGISTERED]

[SECONDARY MARKINGS: HIDDEN RFID NODES – LAB USE TAGGED]

[SERIAL TRACE: NON-COMMERCIAL – PRIVATE SECTOR: GENEVA BRANCH]

"It’s from a lab." Ava crouched beside the hidden shelf, inspecting the base."Not retail stock. Spy-grade. Deep scan says this line was meant for covert ops. Movement-focused. High-temp and cold adaptive. Like—actual field gear hidden in a shopping mall."

Ava’s eyes narrowed.

"Lucas... this wasn’t made for mall shelves." She held up a top—plain-looking, but lined with an inner mesh that pulsed faintly under her system’s scan light.

[FUNCTION: MOTION-DAMPENING. INTEGRATED STRESS PANELING.]

[USAGE CLASS: SPY-TIER UTILITY ARMOR]

Lucas’s voice crackled in over comms, thoughtful now.

"So the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

"That Angel’s father’s family didn’t just sell perfume and jewelry." Lucas’s tone shifted—lighter, but with an edge of something colder. "They used chains like Azalea, Angle and Anlock as a front. Funneled resources. Built labs in the walls, literally. Projects buried under luxury branding. Hidden doors, back channels."

Ava rose, slowly sweeping her scanner across the back of the shelf.

[HOLLOW SPACE DETECTED – MINOR VOID BEHIND FIXTURE]

[SUGGESTED ACTION: MANUAL ENTRY POSSIBLE – NON-LOCKED]

She pressed her hand to the wall—felt the slight give—and slid the shelving unit aside. A small compartment opened with a whisper. Inside: three more sealed packs, tagged in ciphered code, nothing commercial about them.

"This wasn’t just a rumor, Lucas. I’m looking at verified non-catalogued military-grade wear." She paused. "And your family never found this?"

"My side sold fruit and antibiotics," Lucas replied, dry. "We were loud. They were subtle. I knew they had hidden projects, but I always assumed the inventory was scrubbed clean during the fall."

"Guess they left a few things behind."

"Of course they did," he muttered. "Rich people love to hoard secrets in boutique walls."

Ava zipped the packs tight and slung the bundle over her shoulder.

"I’m bringing it all. If there’s a data thread hidden in any of this stitching, I want it cracked."

"Stealing secrets from dead billionaires," Lucas said, a low chuckle in his voice. "Honestly, Beauty, I should’ve brought you shopping sooner."

Before Ava could reply, he was suddenly in front of her.

Lucas reached out, fingers brushing hers before he firmly took her hand, tugging her to his left side without missing a beat.

"Come on." His tone was all mischief again. "We can save a few hours if we cut across the lower plaza. There’s another bike stashed near the service ramp."

"You stashed another bike?"

"I stash a lot of things, Ava." He glanced at her sideways, that grin returning—dangerous and stupidly charming. "Good partners make sure the exits are covered. Great ones install backup engines behind food courts."

She gave him a look, but followed without resistance, his hand still loosely holding hers as they navigated the debris-strewn corridor. Her system flickered a waypoint just ahead—an open maintenance hatch tucked behind a forgotten frozen yogurt kiosk.

[SIGNATURE MATCH: MONOPOLY CACHE ID – VEHICLE STORAGE ACCESSIBLE]

Ava raised an eyebrow.

"Let me guess. It’s armored, fast, and has a hidden compartment for jewelry and stolen tech."

Lucas smirked.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Lucas stepped and reaching behind the rusted panel of the maintenance hatch with a practiced twist of the wrist. Metal groaned, then a hiss of air as the hidden compartment slid open. Inside, covered in a protective cloth and gleaming beneath a thin layer of dust, was a sleek matte-black motorbike—streamlined, reinforced, built for speed and silence.

He pulled it out with a little too much flair, brushing the dust from the seat like he was unveiling a treasure.

"There ." He patted the handlebars affectionately. "Beautiful. Functional."

Ava folded her arms.

"You’re annoying right now."

"Always." Lucas grinned, then turned to her, tossing her the ignition key. "You’re driving."

Ava blinked.

"Wait—what?"

"Seat design’s a little... specific." He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "This model was custom-built for a couple. Some rich South Chain exec thought it was romantic." He gestured to the front seat—curved, with an ergonomic saddle clearly made for a smaller frame. The rear seat, elevated and wider, wrapped slightly around the front.

"It gives the illusion," Lucas said, not meeting her eyes, "of the woman being... caged in the man’s arms. While riding." He coughed. "Don’t ask."

Ava just stared.

Lucas held up both hands.

"I didn’t design it. I was gifted this."

"By who?"

"A woman who was clearly projecting."

Ava swung a leg over the bike, settling into the seat.

"So now I’m the illusion."

Lucas slid in behind her, arms looping around her waist as the bike rumbled to life beneath them. His chest pressed lightly to her back, voice low in her ear.

"Yeah, well... better you than the last one who rode this with me."

Ava’s eyebrow twitched.

"Should I be jealous or horrified?"

"Both." Lucas rested his chin briefly on her shoulder, half-smirking. "Her name was Elira. Locke’s second uncle’s fiancée. Technically a West Chain of command—her family deals in defense logistics, but they keep one foot in every faction."

Ava tensed slightly at the name Locke.

Lucas noticed.

"Yeah. That Locke. Which means Elira’s dangerous, political, and likes sending expensive gifts laced with surveillance bugs." He tapped the metal frame beneath them. "Stripped six trackers off this thing before I used it the first time."

Ava’s hands tightened on the grips.

"So she’s connected to the West."

"Deeply. That’s why I’m telling you this." His tone shifted—quieter, more serious. "As my partner, you need to know where the shadows are. Anyone tied to the West Chain will smile at you and plan your funeral in the same breath."

"And you just... kept the bike?"

"It’s a good bike." Lucas grinned. "Besides, there’s something poetic about using her own gift to outrun her people."

Ava shook her head, muttering.

"You’re unbelievable."

"But efficient."

And with that, she twisted the throttle. The engine growled, and the two of them shot forward—fast, low, ghostlike through the ruins.

One illusion, one operator.

Both dangerous.

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