Bang! Bang!
James jolted awake, eyes snapping open to the harsh metallic pounding echoing through the apartment. His muscles protested as he sat up, every bruise and cut making themselves known all at once. He squinted toward the workshop doorway, still groggy, unsure if the sound was real or part of a dream.
Beyond the sliding partition, Mira was already at work. Warm light spread through the workshop, shadows flickering on the floor while the rigged arm worked at the metal with a steady rhythm. Sparks burst in quick flashes. Mira stood beside it, tapping instructions into a tablet, completely unfazed by the noise.
She wasn't touching anything directly. The machine did all the work, like a blacksmith summoned out of code and steel.
James rubbed his eyes and pushed himself off the mattress Mira had laid out for him. The faded blanket slid from his shoulders. Someone, likely Mira, had cleaned his wounds more carefully during the night. Fresh bandages wrapped his ribs and knuckles, neat and tight.
He moved slowly, stepping into the workshop, half-afraid that if he blinked, the whole scene would disappear.
"You really built all this?" he asked, voice rough from sleep.
Mira turned her head without surprise. "Good morning."
"Morning? You've been up since when, midnight?"
"Roughly. Had a lot of parts to sort." She tapped the side of a large kettle perched on a portable heating coil. Steam hissed out. "I made tea."
"Thanks," James said, taking the offered cup. He sniffed, then frowned. "This smells like it came out of an engine."
"It's herbal," Mira said flatly.
He took a sip and winced. "So was the engine."
She almost smiled.
The morning passed quietly. Mira kept working, adjusting the machine as it hammered out something that looked suspiciously like a blade. James sat nearby, stretching his sore limbs and trying not to get in the way.
Eventually, Mira handed him a protein bar, half-melted and probably scavenged from some ruined store.
"Why'd you help me?" he asked.
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes followed a diagnostic chart scrolling across a screen. Finally she said, "You didn't deserve what they did. And it's not so bad having someone else around sometimes."
James studied her. "You live alone in all this?" He gestured to the shelves, blinking lights, and walls crowded with sensors.
"Yeah," Mira said. "By choice."
"Not lonely?"
"Sometimes. But I've got a lot to do."
"Like building hammer-robots to fight monsters?"
"More like preparing for the future."
James leaned back against the wall. "You talk like you know something the rest of us don't."
Mira's lips twitched, but she didn't reply. She walked to a cabinet and pulled out a small black disc the size of a coin. "Put this on your wrist."
He did. The disc glowed faintly, then projected a small rotating map, a 3D hologram of the surrounding sector.
"Whoa," James muttered. "This is… next-level."
"I've been upgrading the city map," Mira said. "Marking collapsed buildings, monster sightings, patrol routes. There's too much chaos out there. I'm trying to make sense of it."
James looked up. "You're like a one-woman resistance."
"No. I'm just trying to survive smart." She met his eyes. "You fight with your fists. I fight with information."
James grinned. "You're not wrong."
Over the next few days, James recovered steadily. Mira had set up a training space on the building's roof with padded floors, welded railings, and even a dummy rigged to throw punches. She insisted on teaching him basic forms. She admitted she wasn't a great fighter, but her movements told him she had trained before.
They started with stance, balance, and footwork. James laughed the first time she corrected him. "You don't even fight people!"
"I don't need to," she said, shoving his shoulder to test his form. "But if I did, I'd rather not die in ten seconds."
Fair enough.
Mira trained him methodically. She never pushed him past his limits, but she didn't let him slack either. If he got lazy, she'd throw a foam baton at his head. If he slowed down, she made him run stairs until his legs burned.
They fell into a rhythm. Training in the mornings, scavenging in the afternoons, and working in the workshop at night. Mostly her projects, while James tried not to ruin anything. One evening she let him help rewire a salvaged solar panel.
"You're not bad at this," she admitted when he finished without shocking himself.
"I've got hands," James said. "And a brain. Occasionally."
"Occasionally," she repeated, but there was a hint of approval in her tone.
The more time they spent together, the more James noticed her quirks. She barely slept. She checked her security systems twice before bed. She always had a backup plan, then another one in case the first failed. And she never talked about her past.
When he asked about her life before, she shrugged. "I've been on my own for a while."
"What about before that? Parents? Friends?"
"Doesn't matter anymore," she said, eyes focused on her work.
James didn't push. He had his own secrets. Still, he noticed the way she sometimes hesitated when speaking about the world, like she knew more than she was willing to admit. Like she expected something to happen.
One night, they sat on the roof, watching the sun bleed orange and red into the broken skyline. Mira passed him a flask of warm water.
"This place used to be beautiful," she said softly.
James nodded. "Yeah. My mom used to say the sunsets looked like paintings. Haven't seen one without smoke in years."
They sat in silence for a while.
Then James asked, "Do you think it can ever go back? The world?"
Mira thought for a long moment. "I don't think it'll go back. But maybe we can build something new. Something better."
James studied her profile, lit faintly by the lantern glow. He didn't know her story. Didn't know what she was hiding. But he trusted her.
By the end of the week, Mira introduced him to resistance bands and weighted drills. "Strength matters when you can't dodge," she explained, handing him a worn band. "Wrap it around your fists."
Halfway through, James groaned. "You're trying to kill me."
"No," Mira said. "I need you alive. You're my test subject now."
"For what?"
"Situational combat training."
"You mean beating up trash cans in a basement?"
She smirked. "Exactly."
With her help, James grew stronger. His breathing steadied, his movements sharpened, and his strikes landed heavier. Mira's drones buzzed overhead, recording progress. Sometimes she even let him program the simplest routines.
"You're not useless," she said after one successful run. "You just need better input."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it."
He grinned.
They settled into a rhythm. Mira stopped dodging his questions quite as much. She spoke about her projects, the broken satellite network she was trying to reboot, the encrypted files scattered across the city.
"I think there's still infrastructure hidden underground," she said one night. "Old archives. Communications. If I can reach them, maybe I'll find something useful. Something that helps more than just me."
James didn't always understand the details, but he listened. She didn't mind explaining twice. Or three times. Or more.
The peace broke late one evening, just as James was drifting off.
Knock. Knock.
A fist pounded against the door. Not frantic, but heavy. Deliberate.
James sat up instantly. Mira froze, eyes flicking to the security feed.
On the monitor: a tall man in a brown coat. Worn boots. A scarred face. He wasn't visibly armed, but he carried an envelope.
Mira didn't move.
"Friend of yours?" James asked.
"No."
She walked toward the door slowly, hand hovering near the panel.
The man raised the envelope in front of the camera. Stamped on the front was a black triangle over a grid. James had never seen the symbol.
Mira's expression gave nothing away.
The man spoke, loud enough for the mic. "Delivery for James."
James blinked. "Me?"
The man stood waiting.
Mira looked at James, then back at the screen. Finally, she opened the door.
The stranger handed her the envelope, gave a short nod, and walked away without a word.
No return address. No explanation.
Just James' name.