The sky was a heavy sheet of ash-gray, broken only by the jagged outlines of ruined buildings. The wind carried the stench of burnt metal and old smoke, curling through the streets like a restless spirit. Beneath the wreckage of the old world, the city still breathed. Barely. Kept alive by the stubborn, the desperate, and the quietly brilliant.
Mira knelt beside the remains of a utility panel wedged into a shattered wall. Her coat, patched with scraps of carbon fiber, fluttered against the breeze. A cracked faceplate dangled from her hip. Wires ran beneath her sleeves, feeding into gloves lined with micro-tools and sensors.
She worked quickly, with the precision of someone who had done this a hundred times before. The ruined panel flickered alive at her touch. "There you are," she muttered. A green light blinked once, then twice, then stayed solid. She lifted the battery core free, tucked it into a padded pouch, then swept the area with a handheld scanner.
Nothing moving. Yet.
She stood, tightened her backpack straps, and eyed the skyline. Her apartment was a twenty minute walk through hostile ground. Risky. Most wouldn't dare, but Mira wasn't most people. She wasn't a fighter. She wasn't strong. But her mind was tuned to machines, and in this broken world, information was power. Her scavenging was part necessity, part obsession. For months she had worked on something big. A patchwork of neural schematics, old theories, and data scavenged from dying networks. She spoke of it to no one. Let no one close. Her reasons were her own. And so she lived alone.
Mira's apartment clung to the fifth floor of a forgotten tech-repair shop. The faded neon sign outside still flickered, powered by solar grid lines she had rebuilt herself. Inside, the space was a careful chaos: tools, screens, blueprints, and half-built gadgets covered every surface. A drone buzzed overhead, clicking softly as it tracked the room's temperature. Shelves overflowed with salvaged hardware: broken drives, fiber cores, fragments of AI casings. power ran from a cobbled network of solar cells and capacitors. Rainwater filters lined the roof. A perimeter defense net hummed with repurposed sensors and old anti-monster emitters. Every system had a backup. Mira wasn't simply surviving. She was thriving. At least on the surface. But days were long, quiet. And dangerous.
That danger found her the moment she stepped into Sector 12.
The sun was bleeding into the horizon when Mira caught the sound of footsteps. She didn't turn. Instincts told her not to. She only shifted her grip on the scanner. Her belt display flashed red; three lifeforms, fast. Her pulse dropped.
She slipped into a narrow alley, keeping her head down. But before she reached the end, a hand seized her shoulder and slammed her into the wall.
"Hello there," a gruff voice said. "What's in the bag?"
She froze. She knew that voice.
Darius.
Mira stayed silent, eyes lowered, measuring distance to the corner. Two shadows blocked the exit behind him. The same gang she had seen weeks ago, roughing up a kid. Only three this time. She hadn't stepped in then. She didn't need to. Now they were here. For her. "I don't carry anything valuable," she said evenly.
"Let me go. " Darius grinned. "We'll be the judge of that. "He tore the backpack off her shoulders, unzipping it. His eyes gleamed at the sight of her scavenged parts.
"Well now. Military-grade capacitor. Data core. You've been busy."
"Give it back."
One of the others laughed. "Girl's got some bite."
Mira slid her hand toward her belt, reaching for the EMP trigger.
Darius noticed. "Oh no you don't. "He stepped forward and struck her across the face. White stars flared. She fell to her knees, the world spinning as pain roared in her jaw. Still, her hand clawed for the switch. Darius kicked it away. "You think we don't know your tricks, tech girl?" he growled. "I've seen your kind. Brains but no teeth. "One of the thugs grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back.
She screamed.
"Let's grab the gear and go," the third muttered. "She's not worth the trouble." "No," Darius crouched low, fist cocked. "She needs to learn what happens when you carry treasure with no protection."
He drew back his arm.
Then.
"Hey!"
The voice came from the alley mouth. All three turned. A boy stood there, fists curled. His jacket was ripped, his face bruised, one eye swollen shut. Not a boy who looked for trouble. A boy who endured it.
James.
Mira squinted through the haze. Recognition cut through the blur. He was the one. The boy from the water line. The one they beat down. The one she hadn't helped.
And now he was here.
"Walk away," James said, voice tight. "Now."
Last time there were five of them. Maybe I can take them. James's thought flickered sharp as he glanced at the girl on the ground. Mira.
Darius sneered. "This guy again?"
James didn't hesitate. He lunged, his fist smashing into the nearest thug. The blow landed clumsy, barely enough to stagger him. The second thug slammed a fist into James's ribs, then drove a knee into his side. James gasped, stumbled, but stayed upright.
Mira crawled back, body trembling.
Darius caught James by the collar, slamming him against the wall. James struck back. A wild jab, but it connected. Blood burst from Darius's nose.
That was enough.
The gang leader cursed, blood running down his lip. "Screw this. Let's go."
"But the tech"
"Later," Darius snapped. "We'll find her again. "And they vanished into the shadows.
James staggered forward, chest heaving. He reached down, offering Mira his hand. She hesitated, then took it. "You alright?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, wincing as she stood. "I'll live."
He pressed the cracked core into her hand. "Looked important."
Mira clutched it, silent. Then said, "You didn't have to."
"Didn't feel right," James answered.
"You're hurt."
"Nothing new." He swayed. Mira steadied him.
"Come with me," she said. "You need help."
James blinked. "You sure?"
Mira nodded. "I've got supplies. Not far."
"Alright." He glanced around once more. "Let's move."
Mira's apartment felt like another world after the alley. The hum of machines welcomed them. Soft light glowed from the walls. Screens blinked with code and maps. Drones drifted into their docks as she keyed the locks. James stared. "This is… yours?" "Yes," Mira said, guiding him to a padded bench. "Don't touch anything unless you want to get shocked."
"Got it."
She pulled out a first aid kit, motioned for his jacket. The bruises on his ribs were already blooming dark. She cleaned his cuts in silence, wrapping his arm with quick precision.
"You do this a lot?" James asked.
"What?"
"Help strangers who get jumped for no reason."
"No," Mira said. "First time."
James chuckled, then winced. "Guess I'm lucky."
He paused. "You got a name?"
"Mira."
"That all?"
She nodded. "Just Mira."
He didn't press. Instead, he looked around the clutter of tech. "You built this?"
"Most of it."
"That's… impressive."
Mira hesitated, then said, "It's a project."
James nodded, sensing the wall she kept up. "Well, thanks for the save. I owe you."
Mira gave a faint smile. "Call it even."
That night, after James had fallen asleep on a makeshift bed, Mira sat at her console. Her hands moved fast over the cracked data core, coaxing it back to life.
Her gaze slid to James, sleeping in the corner.
For the first time in a long while, the thought whispered through her mind.
Maybe she didn't have to do this alone.
Not anymore.