Carefully, I slid the wire into the grenade's pin housing, easing it into place until it seated properly. One makeshift pin in. No explosion. I exhaled and moved to the second grenade.
Genesis watched in silence for once. Second pin slid in. Secured. I gently cut the tripwire with the edge of my silver knife that I picked up earlier, then lifted the grenades free, one at a time.
Cradling them like sleeping vipers.
"…you realize you just disarmed military-grade explosives with garbage,"
Genesis said finally.
"Improvisation,"
I replied, pocketing both grenades carefully.
"Very high skill at that"
She made a sound that might've been reluctant approval or might've been indigestion. I turned back to the safe, now harmless. Bobby pin. Screwdriver. Same ugly tools. Same practiced motions.
Turn. Pause. Adjust. Click.
SAFE UNLOCKED +XP
My grin returned instantly.
"Here we go,"
I murmured, lifting the lid.
And Inside was nothing. No ammo. No meds. No relics. No cash. Not even useless junk. Just empty metal and dust. I stared. Silently. My expression went flat. Dark.
Soul-deep disappointment settling in like a physical weight.
"…you're fucking kidding me Is this a fucking joke?"
I said quietly. While Genesis crossed her arms, smug as hell.
"Told you,"
She said sweetly.
"Fortuna is a fucking fickle bitch."
I continued staring into the empty safe, jaw tight.
"I dismantled grenades,"
I said slowly.
"I risked becoming red mist for this."
"She gives,"
Genesis continued,
"And she absolutely takes away. Mostly takes. Especially from a loser like you."
I closed the safe with a dull clang and stood up, rolling my neck like I was physically shaking off bad luck.
"…I hate this city,"
I muttered.
"No you don't,"
Genesis replied.
"You love it. It keeps you miserable."
I slung my rifle back into position and headed for the door, grenades safely tucked away, irritation simmering just under the surface.
Outside, the wind greeted me again, cold and sharp.
I looked down the street.
Another house waited.
I sighed.
"Alright,"
I said to no one in particular.
"Next one better apologize."
I stepped off the porch and crossed the street, boots crunching over gravel and old glass, the sound carrying a little too far in the open air for my liking.
The next house sat hunched between two half-collapsed neighbors, like it was trying not to be noticed. One story. Brick façade.
Windows fogged with grime but intact. The front door was closed.
That alone made my eye twitch.
"Wow,"
Genesis muttered.
"A closed door. Fancy. What is this, pre-apocalypse middle class?"
"Shut up,"
I said, lifting the rifle slightly as I approached.
"Maybe this one does apologize."
I tested the handle first. Locked. Of course it was.
I leaned back and gave the door a short, sharp kick just below the handle.
Rotten wood cracked, the lock popped, and the door swung inward with a dull thud.
The smell hit immediately. Damp. Old food. And underneath it all, that unmistakable bug funk.
"…I swear to god,"
I murmured.
"If it's another cockroach..."
It was another cockroach. One this time. Just one.
Squatting in the middle of the living room like it owned the place.
Mutated cockroach, glossy carapace catching the light, antennae slowly sweeping back and forth like it was thinking very hard about its life choices.
It turned its head toward me. We stared at each other.
"…don't,"
Genesis warned quietly.
"Don't fuck this up."
The roach skittered. I fired. The first shot went just wide, punching into the wall behind it and spraying plaster dust everywhere.
I froze.
"…you missed,"
Genesis said flatly.
"It moved,"
I snapped.
"It took one step."
The roach turned and bolted toward the kitchen.
I tracked it, jaw clenched, irritation flaring hot in my chest. Second shot. Too low.
The round shattered a tile, fragments skittering across the floor like shrapnel confetti.
"Oh my gods,"
Genesis groaned.
"You are actually embarrassing me right now."
"Shut..."
Third shot. This one finally hit. The roach exploded in a wet, chitinous pop against the cabinet base.
Ichor splattering up the wood and dripping down in slow, disgusting rivulets. Silence.
Smoke curled from the barrel. My ears rang faintly.
DING.
YOU KILLED A MUTATED COCKROACH +XP
I stood there for a second, staring at the mess.
"…three shots,"
Genesis said softly.
"For one cockroach."
I lowered the rifle a fraction.
"Alright listen..."
"No,"
She cut in immediately.
"No excuses. I've watched you kill three flies with five bullets and somehow this is worse."
"It was evasive."
"It was alone."
"It had intent."
"It had antennae."
I dragged a hand down my face.
"…I'm never living this down, am I."
"Oh absolutely not,"
She replied cheerfully.
"I'm bringing this up forever."
I cleared the rest of the house out of spite. Bedroom, empty.
Bathroom, empty except for a cracked mirror that reflected my expression back at me in brutal honesty.
Kitchen, also empty, aside from the roach remains and a smell that suggested something had died twice. Then I saw it.
Safe, again. Built into the floor beneath a loose panel near the pantry.
Smaller than the others, scuffed but intact. My mood improved instantly.
"Bingo"
I muttered, already kneeling. Genesis floated closer.
"I say the odds that It's empty again Is 99.9 percent"
I shot her a look and pulled out the bobby pin and screwdriver, my lucky, ugly tools.
Slotted them in. Listened. Turned gently. Click.
SAFE UNLOCKED +XP
I grinned despite myself.
"See?"
She rolled her eyes.
"You unlocked a box. Congratulations, master thief."
Ignoring her I opened it. Inside were three lonely 9.1 mm rounds, sitting there like they were ashamed of themselves.
Next to them, though, was a sealed blister pack labeled ANTIBIOTICS, the print faded but readable. I blinked.
"…okay,"
I said slowly.
"I'll take that."
Genesis leaned in, reading the label.
"Actually useful,"
She admitted.
"Look at you. Almost like you know what you're doing."
"Almost,"
I echoed, pocketing the rounds and then the antibiotics with care.
"Also before you say anything..."
"I won't,"
She said.
"I'm too busy remembering you needed three bullets for one bug."
I groaned and stood, slinging the rifle back into position.
The rifle settled against my chest with a familiar weight, grounding in a way very few things still managed to do.
I turned toward the door and started walking, boots crunching softly over debris.
Without thinking about it, I started whistling. Low. Off-key.
The kind of tune you hum when your brain's already clocked out and your body's just running on momentum and bad habits.
We were three steps from the exit when Genesis spoke up.
"Hey."
I ignored her and kept walking.
"Hey,"
She repeated, sharper this time.
"Weren't you supposed to be scavenging materials to make beds or whatever?"
Hearing this my foot froze mid-step.
One boot hovered in the air, knee bent, like my body had blue-screened as my brain short circuited and did a hard reboot.
"…right,"
I finally muttered slowly.
"…I was."
Silence followed then Genesis dragged a hand down her face in the most aggressive facepalm I'd ever witnessed.
Despite the fact she technically didn't have a physical face to palm.
"You forgot,"
She said flatly.
"I didn't forget,"
I replied defensively, lowering my foot back to the floor.
"I got… well sidetracked."
"Sidetracked,"
She echoed.
"You were given one job."
"Hey,"
I protested.
"I got ammo. Medical supplies. Relics. Grenades. XP. Character development."
She stared at me.
"You were supposed to get wood or metal or somenthing."
"…yeah, see, when you say it like that it sounds a lot less impressive."
She pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer mixed with a threat.
"You didn't even grab planks,"
She continued.
"No doors. No frames. No furniture."
"I grabbed vibes."
"That is not a material."
I shrugged, entirely unapologetic now.
"Look, I got sidetracked, some bangers followed,"
I said casually.
"Shit happens."
"Bangers,"
She repeated.
"You fought bugs, fucking mutated overgrown bugs and Insects"
"They were very aggressive bugs."
She opened her mouth, closed it, then just stared at me like she was reassessing every decision that had led her to being stuck in my head.
I rolled my shoulders and turned toward the exit again.
"Meh,"
I said, waving a hand dismissively.
"Whatever. Those civvies can do the heavy howling and lifting."
Genesis stopped dead.
"…are you for real or just fucking with me..."
"I said what I said,"
I replied, stepping out into the street, sunlight washing over me again.
"They've got hands. They've got legs. The least they can do is haul back some trash after I've taken care of all the hostiles ."
"You are unbelievable."
"I am efficient."
"You are a menace."
"Yeah well and you're a fucking pain In the ass"
I whistled again, louder this time, as I started walking back toward the veteran's camp.
The path was familiar now, ruins sliding past in my peripheral vision.