Kai led the way down the broken street at a steady pace, hands in his pockets like this was just a regular walk.
Alva kept exactly one spear–length behind him — no trust given for free.
After two blocks, the building appeared — tall metal fencing, half–collapsed sign reading:
AEX PROTOTYPE TEST GROUND
Kai smirked.
"There she is," he said like he was talking about an ex he didn't miss.
Alva raised a brow.
"You worked here?"
Kai kicked a loose bolt on the ground.
"Test driver. Some engineering clearance. I basically crashed million–dollar toys for a salary."
Alva stared.
"That explains your personality."
He shrugged. "It was either sarcasm or therapy. Sarcasm was cheaper."
She didn't smile, but her eyes softened half a millimetre.
The side gate was jammed with debris, but Kai pointed to a maintenance panel.
"You see that grey box?"
Alva nodded.
"That's not decorative. That's an emergency override."
He cracked it open with a broken wrench he had picked up earlier.
Inside: old wires, dry circuits.
Alva crossed her arms.
"You're not seriously about to hotwire apocalypse tech with rusty scrap."
Kai glanced back at her with a tiny smirk.
"Watch me."
He twisted two wires, sparks snapped — gate groaned — metal shifted — slowly rising.
Alva stepped back.
"…okay."
respect in her voice this time — quiet, but real.
Kai said, "Told you. I crashed them for a living. Didn't mean I didn't learn how to start them."
Inside the yard were five vehicles — dusted but intact — reinforced trucks, armoured vans — matte black — heavy frame — military grade.
Alva's breath hitched a little.
"These aren't civilian."
"Nope," Kai said. "Top secret prototypes. They were running final ops tests a week before everything went sideways."
Alva's lightning sense flickered behind her eyes — like fate aligning.
She stepped toward the first vehicle — slowly — reverent.
Kai leaned on a pillar.
"Well, princess," he teased, "which one do you want to steal first?"
The armoured SUV.
Alva didn't hesitate—she ran a hand along the SUV's door like someone checking the spine of an old book. "This one," she said, low and certain. "Balanced, quick enough, protection where it counts. We take that, and we're not hauling around a target."
Kai laughed, the sound small in the cavern of metal and dust. "Practical. Boring. Exactly like you." He tossed the wrench up and caught it, eyes flicking to the driver's door. "You know how to drive one of these?"
Alva gave him a look that said she'd rather wrestle a wild dog than explain her résumé. "I can drive. Can you stop thinking the car will explode if I touch the steering wheel?"
"You crashed them for a living. I'm just trying to keep my track record respectable." He moved to the hood while she checked the tires and the reinforced glass. The suv's matte black hide swallowed the weak sunlight that filtered through the torn fence.
Kai popped the hood and muttered about battery terminals and corroded connectors. Sparks were a certainty—he always made them happen—but Alva worked on locks and seals with the efficient patience of someone who'd done this before. For a moment, they fell into a quiet rhythm, two people who fit despite the tension between them.
"Alright," Kai said finally, wiping grease on his sleeve. "You get in. I'll get the override sorted. If this thing coughs, we bail and take the buggy." He winked, half-joke, half-plan.
Alva slid into the driver's seat with a smoothness that made the vehicle look like an extension of herself. The doors sealed with a dull thump. She settled, hands on the wheel, and for the first time since they'd reached the gate, something like resolve softened her face. Kai crouched by the maintenance panel, twisting his jury-rigged connection into place. The dashboard flickered, lights catching, and the engine answered with a low, hungry growl.
"Nice and quiet," Alva whispered, more to herself than to him.
Kai grinned. "Yeah. Let's steal the apocalypse a ride."
The tires whispered over rubble as the SUV rolled into the cracked street. Kai leaned against the passenger door, grinning like a kid who'd just stolen candy from a store. "See? It's not so scary, right?"
Alva kept her eyes on the road, fingers tightening on the wheel whenever the SUV bounced over a pothole or a twisted piece of metal. "Scary is a luxury we can't afford," she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement.
"Luxury? Pfft," Kai scoffed. "We're talking high-speed theft in the apocalypse. If that isn't luxury, I don't know what it is."
Alva shot him a look. "You're lucky this car is armoured, or I'd kick you out mid-turn."
"Tempting," he said with a wink. "But I think the sparks from the dashboard would make it less dramatic. You know, cinematic tension and all that."
The city stretched before them, silent except for the SUV's low growl and the occasional creak of a half-collapsed building. Alva weaved through the rubble-strewn streets, testing the SUV's balance, the reinforced tires gripping debris like claws.
Kai leaned back in his seat, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like he was enjoying himself. "You know," he said, "if we survive this, I might just retire. Or become a stunt double. Could go either way."
Alva snorted. "Yeah, for who? The ghosts of the city?"
"Exactly," he said with mock seriousness. "They need heroes, and I'm available for dramatic entrances."
Alva rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders loosened. Driving fast, dodging fallen signs, navigating broken streets—it was chaos, yes, but also a strange kind of freedom.
For a moment, Kai glanced at her, expression softening. "Not bad behind the wheel," he said.
Alva smirked without looking at him. "Keep talking, and you might live to see the next block."
They shared a brief, crooked-lip laugh, and for the first time in a while, the city didn't feel entirely hostile.
The road ahead was dangerous. The apocalypse didn't forgive mistakes. But inside the armoured SUV, with sparks still dancing from the dashboard, Alva and Kai were ready to take it on… and maybe even have a little fun along the way.