Apocalypse Trade Monopoly

Antonov's icy blue eyes flickered to the reinforced lockbox Lucas held out from under his sleeve.

He tapped a thick, scarred finger against the metal table. "You didn't open it."

Lucas shrugged. "Didn't need to."

Antonov chuckled again. "Smart. Most men can't resist peeking."

Lucas's fingers drummed lazily against the lockbox. "I only peek when I don't trust the seller."

A pause.

Then Antonov's grin widened. Sharp. Pleased.

"Good. Because if you had, you'd already be dead."

Lucas smirked. "I'd be disappointed if that weren't the case."

Antonov exhaled, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest. "Let's get to it, Bai. We both know this trade isn't just about the box."

Lucas tilted his head. "No. It's about what comes next."

Antonov's eyes glinted. Waiting. Measuring.

Lucas tapped a finger against the lockbox. "I just gave you something the military would execute a man for even touching."

Antonov's grin didn't fade. "And?"

"And that means you owe me."

A beat of silence.

Then—Antonov laughed.

A deep, thunderous sound.

Loud enough that the guards outside probably shifted uneasily.

Because nobody made Antonov laugh like that.

He leaned forward again, hands clasped together. "Owe you? Bai, you just made a deal that could bring hellfire on my head."

Lucas grinned. "Exactly."

Antonov's eyes narrowed.

Lucas's voice dropped lower. Quieter.

"I want access to your next import shipment."

The amusement in Antonov's face vanished.

Because Antonov's imports weren't just any goods.

They were government cargo.

Intercepted. Smuggled.

Untouched by the market.

Antonov drummed his fingers against the table. Considering. Calculating.

Then, finally—he exhaled. "You're either the boldest bastard in this bunker—"

Lucas smirked. "Or the smartest."

Antonov's lips twitched. "Or the deadest."

Lucas leaned in. Unshaken. Unmoved.

"Not today."

A long pause.

Then—

Antonov reached for a single, unmarked keycard.

Slid it across the table.

Lucas didn't move. Didn't reach for it yet.

Antonov's voice was low. Final.

"If you take this, you're in. No turning back. No second chances."

Lucas's golden eyes gleamed. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He picked up the keycard.

And the deal was sealed.

Lucas stepped out of the tent, the weight of the cloth over his shoulder making it look like he was carrying something—someone.

The market was still bustling, loud, restless. People bartering, trading, arguing.

But the moment they saw him?

The noise dipped. Just slightly.

Enough for whispers to start.

Enough for the message to spread.

Lucas Bai had walked in with a girl.

Now? He was carrying her out.

His stride didn't falter. Didn't slow.

He moved through the winding paths, past rusted stalls and scavenged goods, past wide-eyed traders who knew better than to ask questions.

Because in the Black Market?

Dead girls don't talk.

William Zhou was already waiting at the edge of the sector, boots planted, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

When he saw Lucas, his sharp gaze flicked to the covered figure.

Then—without a single word—he turned, leading the way.

They moved fast. Efficient.

Not rushing. Not panicked.

But with purpose.

The doctor's clinic was in the lower sector—buried beneath the market's chaos, hidden in plain sight.

And when they reached the door, Lucas didn't knock.

He simply walked inside.

The clinic was dimly lit, the air thick with the sharp bite of antiseptic and old metal. Rusted cabinets lined the walls, overflowing with medical supplies—some legal, most not.

And at the center of it all?

Dr. Vasily Novak.

A man who didn't ask questions.

Didn't care where the blood came from, so long as it paid well.

Novak barely looked up from his work, fingers moving swiftly over a corpse laid out on a metal slab.

Not fresh. Not too far gone.

A woman.

Dark-haired. Similar build to Ava.

Lucas's golden eyes flicked to the body.

Then back to Novak.

The doctor's mouth twitched. A knowing smirk.

"Took you long enough."

Lucas adjusted the cloth over his shoulder. "Traffic."

Novak huffed a laugh, wiping his hands on a stained rag. "You need this one dressed up?"

Lucas set the covered 'body' down on a second table.

Then—he smirked.

"Make her disappear."

Novak let out a low chuckle, tossing the rag onto the counter. His sharp, tired eyes flicked to the body on the slab—the replacement.

"I assume you want it messy?" he muttered, already reaching for his tools.

Lucas leaned against the table, arms crossed. Casual. Unbothered.

"Believable." His golden eyes gleamed. "Not too clean, not too staged. Just enough to make the right people stop looking."

Novak hummed, pulling on a pair of stained gloves. He grabbed a scalpel, dragging the edge along the corpse's arm—testing the give of the flesh.

Then—he smirked.

"Gunshot or knife?"

Lucas tilted his head, considering.

"Knife."

Novak chuckled, moving swiftly. His movements were precise, practiced. Like a butcher carving meat.

A shallow cut to the throat—not too deep, just enough to mimic a struggle.

A few defensive wounds on the hands, the arms.

Then—the final touch.

He grabbed a jagged blade from the table, flipping it in his palm.

A flick of his wrist—and the body had a stab wound to the gut.

Slow. Messy. Real.

Lucas nodded. "That'll do."

William Zhou, standing quietly by the door, finally spoke.

"Who finds her?"

Novak wiped the blade clean. "I'll make sure she's discovered in the lower sector. Near the old water tunnels. Someplace they won't question."

Lucas smirked. "Good."

He pushed off the table, rolling his shoulders.

"Now, let's talk about the real price."

Lucas reached into his coat, fingers brushing past the usual stack of trade tokens before pulling out something heavier.

A fuel cell.

Compact, sleek, and worth ten times what most people could afford in this hellhole.

He tossed it onto the metal tray beside Novak's tools.

The clink echoed through the small clinic.

Novak's eyes flicked to the cell. His fingers twitched.

For a man who had seen more dead bodies than full meals, this was real wealth.

His lips pressed together like he wanted to ask for more.

Then—he sighed.

"Fair price." He picked up the fuel cell, rolling it between his fingers. "You always pay well, Bai."

Lucas smirked. "I'm not stupid."

Novak chuckled. "Debatable."

He set the fuel cell down. Didn't let go of it yet.

Instead, his fingers tapped against the metal tray, eyes flicking up to Lucas calculating.

Novak looked up. Sharp. Measured.

Not just business anymore.

"I'll take the payment, Bai." Novak's voice was even. Unrushed. "But I've got something better than a body swap for you."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Novak slid a small, data drive across the table.

Lucas didn't touch it.

Didn't even look at it.

Because he knew the game.

You don't pick up the bait until you know what's on the hook.

Novak leaned forward, voice dropping.

"Military intel. Fresh." He tapped the drive. "This little thing fell into my lap last night. Someone thought I was just a doctor. Thought I wouldn't know what I was looking at."

Lucas smirked. "And yet, here we are."

Novak exhaled, rubbing a hand over his scarred jaw.

"Pairing policies updates. Data adjustments." He watched Lucas carefully. "Your name's in it. So is hers."

Lucas's fingers stilled.

Not a twitch. Not a flinch.

But inside?

The game just changed.

"That worth more to you than a fuel cell?" Lucas asked, voice light. Casual.

Novak snorted. "I'm not an idiot. You keep your damn cell."

Lucas tapped a lazy rhythm against the table, golden eyes gleaming.

Then, finally—he picked up the drive.

Rolled it between his fingers, feeling the weight of it. Small. Inconspicuous. But worth more than bodies, more than bullets.

Because information?

That was power.

Lucas didn't pocket it immediately. Didn't rush.

Instead, he met Novak's gaze. Unblinking. Calculating.

"How clean is it?"

Novak exhaled. "No trackers. No timestamps. But whoever compiled it? They wanted it buried."

Lucas smirked. "Lucky for me, I don't respect burial sites."

Novak's lips twitched. "Then dig fast, Bai. Before someone else does."

Lucas flicked the drive once, then slid it into his coat.

The deal was sealed.