The echo of slammed metal doors still reverberated through the empty halls of Polaris Mall. Dust floated in the stagnant air like remnants of forgotten lives, shimmering faintly under broken skylights.
Ada paced the main atrium, scanning the surroundings with her rifle lowered but ready. Cracked tiles, overturned kiosks, shattered mannequins — it was a graveyard of a world that had once buzzed with life.
Vega leaned against a shattered bench nearby, tending to a rip in her sleeve. Blood soaked the fabric, but the cut itself was shallow. She worked quickly, efficiently, her movements sharp as always.
"We need a secure perimeter," Ada said, voice low but decisive. "This place is too open."
Vega snorted softly, knotting the bandage with her teeth. "Understatement of the year. Feels like living inside a fishbowl."
Ada allowed herself the ghost of a smile. "Yeah, but it's our fishbowl now."
Vega tossed the used bandage aside and straightened. "What's the plan, Commander?"
Ada raised an eyebrow at the teasing title but didn't comment. Instead, she brought up her HUD, projecting a rough 3D overlay of the mall.
"North wing—mostly clothing stores. South wing—hardware and electronics. East—food court and service corridors." She pointed. "We fortify the service corridors first. Natural bottlenecks. Easier to defend."
Vega nodded approvingly. "You always were a tactical nerd."
"That's why you're still breathing," Ada shot back dryly.
Their banter was easy, familiar, a thin thread of normalcy in a shattered world.
Ada's system pinged softly again:
[New Sub-Mission Available: Establish Safe Zone Perimeter.]
[Objective: Fortify Entry Points (3/5 Minimum). Resource Hints Marked.]
Vega must have received the same alert because she was already moving toward the debris-strewn hardware store.
"Let's find out what this place can give us," she said over her shoulder.
They set to work.
It was slow, grueling labor. Ada stripped metal shelving from a collapsed sporting goods store while Vega scavenged abandoned maintenance closets for tools and wire. Together, they dragged debris to barricade the most vulnerable entrances.
Sweat slicked their skin despite the cold, but neither complained.
At one point, Vega paused, leaning heavily on a broken crowbar. "You realize," she said between breaths, "we're officially post-apocalyptic mall cops now."
Ada chuckled under her breath. "Next stop: Segways and pepper spray."
Vega flashed her a tired grin, one of the rare ones that softened her sharp features. For a moment, amidst the ruins, it almost felt normal.
Almost.
They finished securing the first two entry points within the hour, sealing them with bolted metal and chained gates.
The third, near the food court, proved trickier. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, creating a gaping maw that opened straight to the outside. Perfect for anything hungry or desperate enough to climb through.
Ada stared up at it grimly. "We need something bigger."
Vega wiped her forehead and squinted toward the gutted electronics store. "Pretty sure I saw a busted vending machine we could tip."
Ada followed her gaze, considering. "It'll be heavy."
Vega flexed her arms theatrically. "Lucky for you, I'm jacked."
Ada snorted. "Delusional, but fine. Let's move."
Together, they crossed the open floor, wary of every shadow. Even now, every broken escalator and overturned display could be hiding something worse than rats.
They found the vending machine half-buried under collapsed ceiling panels. Between the two of them, using crowbars and brute force, they managed to dislodge it.
Sweat poured down their faces as they tilted, dragged, and finally shoved the machine into the breach. It landed with a bone-jarring crash, wedging into place.
Not perfect. But enough.
Ada straightened, rolling her sore shoulders. "Three down."
Vega propped her hands on her hips, breathing hard. "Two more to go. Lucky us."
"Yeah," Ada muttered, scanning the broken mall once again. "Lucky."
They returned to the atrium to check on the survivors.
The group had huddled together near a defunct fountain, using scraps of tarp and discarded clothes to make a makeshift camp. Children clung to mothers. The old man with the splinted leg sat staring blankly at the cracked ceiling, lips moving in silent prayer.
Ada watched them for a long moment, feeling the familiar weight settle on her chest.
Responsibility.
Burden.
Vega came to stand beside her, following her gaze. "They're alive," she said quietly.
"For now," Ada answered.
Vega bumped her shoulder lightly against Ada's. "Not everything's on you, you know."
Ada didn't respond. She couldn't. Some part of her still believed it was all on her.
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Finally, Vega broke it. "Come on. We need to find the supply cache the system unlocked."
Ada nodded and pulled up the map again. A soft blue marker glowed faintly on the first floor, near a shuttered grocery store.
They moved together, weapons ready.
The grocery store was dark, shelves toppled in chaotic piles. Ada's flashlight cut narrow cones through the gloom, revealing scavenged shelves and claw marks along the floor.
"Someone else was here before," Vega muttered.
"Doesn't matter," Ada said. "We find it first."
They navigated the mess, stepping over broken cans and shards of glass, until Ada's HUD blinked green.
"Here," she whispered.
A hidden compartment behind the ruined service counter. Vega crouched and pried it open with a grunt.
Inside, wrapped in military-grade polymer sheeting, was a sealed supply crate.
Ada knelt, scanning the biometric lock. The system recognized her instantly and hissed open.
Inside—cans of food, purified water pouches, basic medical supplies, portable solar panels, and a battered but intact construction drone.
Vega let out a low whistle. "Jackpot."
Ada allowed herself a grim smile. "Enough to last...a week. Maybe two if we ration."
They divided the supplies into manageable loads and returned to the survivors.
As they unloaded, children gathered wide-eyed, their thin faces lighting up at the sight of food. An older woman pressed trembling hands together in gratitude, whispering something neither Ada nor Vega quite caught.
Hope.
It was terrifying in its fragility.
Vega leaned against the fountain's cracked edge, watching Ada with an inscrutable expression.
"You know," she said after a beat, "when we first got dumped into this hellhole, I didn't think we'd last a week."
Ada finished distributing the supplies and turned to her partner. "And now?"
Vega smiled faintly. "Now... I'm starting to think we might actually build something here."
Ada studied her for a moment, the hard lines of her face softened by the dim light.
"One day at a time," she said finally.
"One brick at a time," Vega agreed.
They bumped fists, a silent vow.
Above them, the stars wheeled unseen beyond the broken skylights. Outside, the world remained as cruel and indifferent as ever.
But here, within these crumbling walls, two soldiers and a handful of broken souls had begun something stubborn, something reckless.
Something that might just be called a future.