Apocalypse Trade Monopoly
Chapter 90: : System Compatibility

Chapter 90: : System Compatibility

Then, with zero warning—

"So. Was there another system-holder you were eyeing before me?"

Lucas blinked.

Then he smirked.

"Jealousy, Ava?"

"Curiosity." She didn’t blink.

Lucas leaned back slowly, hands behind his head, grinning like he’d just been handed dessert.

"There were... candidates."

Ava raised an eyebrow.

"Plural?"

"Of course. You think I didn’t plan for system compatibility before I met you?" He winked. "I ran background on every viable system-holder. Compared scan integrity, growth rates, psychological profiles. Had a shortlist."

Ava scoffed softly.

"You’re impossible."

Lucas’s voice dropped, just enough to make her glance up.

"No. You were the one I didn’t see coming."

Lucas’s tone shifted again—less charm now, more memory.

"I was just finishing a deal—South Chain courier, exchanging stabilizers for a sealed intel case. Clean job. No mess." He exhaled slowly, like replaying it in his head. "Then there you were fighting for your life."

Ava snorted under her breath, not looking up as she slid another scorched panel off his brace.

"Your system back then?" he continued. "It was a baby. Most functions hadn’t even woken up. You weren’t scanning. You were just surviving."

"And you thought that made me interesting?"

"No." He met her eyes, briefly. "I thought it made you dangerous."

Ava turned away before he could see her reaction and dug into the bracer’s interior. More damage than she’d expected—fine circuits fused with scorched insulation. She pulled it apart, finger by finger, scanning for salvageable pieces.

Lucas watched her work, then tilted his head lazily.

"You want names?"

"I didn’t ask."

"But you’re listening."

Ava didn’t answer.

Lucas smirked and kept talking.

"Three system holders I considered before you. All physical types. Close-compatibility with my Monopoly System. Nothing like what we’ve got." He ticked them off on his fingers.

"First—Dorian Myles. System: ’Kinetic Recall.’ Could store motion like a battery and release it in bursts. Good for combat. Hand the right lastname."

"Second—Nina Vass. System: ’Precision Weighting.’ She could manipulate pressure ratios with insane control. Great for high-risk jobs. Zero patience."

"Third—Faris Lok. System: ’Echo Drive.’ Momentum loops. Hit once, and it hit again a second later with mirrored force. Strong. Efficient. But too loyal to East Division. Couldn’t be trusted."

Ava paused, tools hovering over his wrist casing.

"They were." Lucas shrugged. "But they all lacking."

"What?"

Lucas gave a low chuckle, eyes drifting to the half-fixed brace on his arm.

"To be honest?" he said, voice casual, but there was a flicker of something sharp beneath it. "The idea of syncing with someone long-term? Spending that kind of time together—thought of it made my skin crawl. I’m not that desperate."

Ava arched an eyebrow, still working.

"And yet, here we are."

"Yeah, well. You’re the exception. Not the rule."

He rolled his wrist slowly, testing her repairs.

"Dorian Myles was the worst." The name came out bitter. "On paper, she was ideal—measurable compatibility, good combat stats, even had black market ties." He leaned back against the wall. "But everything she did was performative. Calculated, but not clever. Obsessed with leverage. Had no boundaries."

Ava’s hands paused.

Lucas’s gaze darkened, but only for a moment.

"She tried to force a sync during a mission. Pretended it was tactical. Filed it under ’field necessity.’ I nearly let her bleed out just to make a point."

Ava looked up.

Lucas met her eyes, smile sharp and humorless.

"So, yeah. Never go near her."

Ava gave a short nod and returned to the bracer, sealing the last plate.

"Noted."

Lucas flexed his arm slowly, testing the mobility.

"You fix everything I break, Beauty. Kind of terrifying, really."

"Then stop breaking things."

He smirked.

"But then what excuse would I have to keep you close?"

Lucas said it with that crooked grin, eyes flicking down to her lips before sliding lazily back up to meet her gaze.

Ava didn’t respond. She just stared at him, expression unreadable, tools still in her hand.

Lucas leaned forward slowly, like daring her to stop him.

"You know," he said softly, "for someone who keeps calling me insufferable, you let me get awfully close."

"You’re annoying. Not threatening."

"Yet you’re still fixing me like I’m worth saving."

Before she could reply, he reached out and gently tilted her chin with two fingers—just enough to make her blink.

Then he kissed her.

Not on the lips.

Just the cheek.

Quick. Deliberate.

And when he pulled back, he was already reaching for his gear.

"Thanks for the patch job, Beauty." His voice slid right back into his usual tone, light and infuriating. "But we’ve got places to be."

He slung the repaired bracer on and tested the motion with a casual flex.

"Pack up. We’re moving again."

Ava still hadn’t moved.

He glanced over his shoulder, flashing her that maddening smile as he strapped his bag in place.

"Unless you want me to carry you again?"

She threw a wrench at him.

He caught it—barely.

Lucas twirled the wrench once in his fingers, then tossed it lightly back onto the bench with a smirk.

"You’ve got a terrible arm, Beauty."

Ava stood, rolling her eyes as she started packing her tools.

Lucas buckled the last strap on his gear and turned toward the exit.

"Let’s go. We’re going shopping."

"Again?" Ava gave him a look. "I just rebuilt half your gear."

"Exactly. We’re running low on the good stuff, and I’m not sleeping in this dusty gym. Too shabby. I don’t do second-rate." He started walking toward the stairwell, voice casual. "Besides, the last place? I didn’t even get to nab the goods. Killed two beasts, yeah, but walked out with nothing but two energy cores."

Ava slung her bag over her shoulder and followed.

"We were almost caught. Priorities."

"It was the right spot," Lucas said, descending the stairs two at a time. "Just badly timed. They moved in fast. Too fast."

"Why?"

He paused at the bottom, glancing back at her.

"Buffer zone, probably." He said it like someone checking the math in their head. "Old military protocol. Some of these drop sites are set between two scan-net sectors—places where patrol timing overlaps just enough for response teams to be too quick."

"And you didn’t know about this?"

"Didn’t think we’d hit the jackpot first try." He flashed a grin. "But this next one? Should be cleaner. Less military interest, more buried stock. Some old cache sites were marked off-grid even before the collapse."

Ava sighed.