Ava
walked through the heavy doors of the Level One lounge like she belonged there.
The space was dimly lit but sleek—polished floors, low murmuring conversations, and traders dressed in luxury that didn’t exist in the lower levels. No sweat-stained uniforms or patchwork scavenger gear. This was wealth. Controlled. Intentional.
Ava
kept her pace steady, shoulders back, chin up. Lucas drilled it into her before she left. Act like you own the place. Like you’re the one people should be approaching. Confidence sells power.
And if she was selling fuel cells? She was selling power—literally.
She spotted
Anton first.
The older trader sat at a private booth, sipping something dark and expensive, dressed in a sharp slate-gray suit that probably cost more than a Level Three trader made in a year. His gaze flicked up the second she entered, assessing her with amusement.
"Ava Zhang," Anton drawled, setting his glass down. "Lucas really sent you in alone?"
Ava
arched a brow, slipping into the seat across from him. "Disappointed?"
Anton
chuckled. "Not at all. Just surprised. You don’t exactly look like one of Bai’s usual business partners."
Ava
smirked. "And what do I look like?"
Anton
studied her, then grinned. "Like someone about to make a very interesting deal."
Ava
leaned back, casual. "Then let’s not waste time."
Anton
tilted his head. "Straight to business. I like it." He tapped the table, and a slim data pad slid toward her. "300 fuel cells. Your price?"
Ava
picked up the pad, scanning the transaction sheet. Lucas had prepped her well. She didn’t hesitate.
"Standard market price would put this at 1,200 tokens," Ava said smoothly. "But we both know you’re not buying fuel for personal use." She glanced up, holding his gaze. "You’re reselling."
Anton’s
grin widened. "Clever girl."
Ava
tapped the screen, adjusting the price. "900 tokens."
Anton
raised a brow. "That’s generous."
Ava
shrugged. "Consider it a discount for information."
Anton
chuckled. "Ah. There it is."
Ava
didn’t blink. "Lucas said you’d have intel worth my time."
Anton
sighed, tapping the table twice. "Done."
The transaction processed instantly. Ava’s system chimed in her head, confirming the credits had transferred.
[TRADE COMPLETE – 300 FUEL CELLS SOLD]
[+900 TOKENS RECEIVED]
Anton
sighed, swirling his drink. "Angel’s moving faster than we expected. She’s locking down certain trades, cutting off supply chains to Level Two."
Ava
tilted her head. "Why?"
Anton
smirked. "Because someone pissed her off."
Ava
exhaled sharply. "Let me guess. Lucas?"
Anton
laughed. "Obviously."
Ava
shook her head. "So what’s her move?"
Anton
leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. "She’s redirecting shipments. The general’s shipments. Keeping them just
barely
delayed enough to frustrate him—but not enough to start a war."
Ava
processed that quickly. "She’s testing how much control she really has."
Anton
nodded. "Exactly. And Lucas? He’s a problem she hasn’t figured out how to solve yet."
Ava
smirked. "Then I’ll make sure she keeps wondering."
Anton
laughed, standing up. "Come on, Zhang. Let’s introduce you to some
real
traders."
Anton
walked her through the lounge, making introductions.
The first trader,
Madeline Wu,
was a fuel distributor. Ava made an easy 100-fuel trade with her, no questions asked.
The second,
Tarek Hassan,
dealt in small-scale weapons. Ava offloaded another 200 fuel cells for a set of encrypted radio communicators.
By the time they were done, Ava had
900 tokens in profit and a solid foot in the door with Level One traders.
Anton
grinned, walking her toward the bar. "You did good, Zhang. You’ll fit in here just fine."
Ava
snorted. "I’m not looking to fit in."
Anton
chuckled. "No. You’re looking to win." He gestured toward the bar. "Good luck with your next move."
Moving away from Anton, Ava
slid onto a barstool. Resting her arms on the smooth polished surface. The bartender barely glanced at her before setting down a drink—dark amber, slightly smoky. A trader’s drink. Strong, but not reckless.
She smirked.
Anton must’ve signaled to keep things smooth.
Fine by her.
Ava
lifted the glass, swirling the liquid, but her focus stayed on the room. Traders sat in tight circles, murmuring deals, exchanging coded glances over their drinks. This wasn’t just a bar. It was a marketplace wrapped in dim lighting and expensive alcohol.
And she was here to trade.
Not long, a man
settled into the seat beside her, well-dressed but not overdressed. Low-level trader, testing the waters.
"You’re new." His voice was smooth, practiced.
Ava
took a sip of her drink. "Passing through."
He
tilted his head. "Selling or buying?"
Ava
pretended to think. "Depends on the offer."
The trader chuckled.
"I like that. Got anything interesting?"
Ava
smirked, pulling a small, unassuming battery from her pocket and setting it on the bar.
[SCANNING ITEM...]
[ENERGY CORE – MINI]
[VALUE: 15 TOKENS]
The man
raised a brow. "A power cell?"
Ava
nodded. "Low charge, but stable. Good for emergency backups."
The trader
tapped his fingers against the bar, considering. "I’ll give you ten tokens."
Ava
huffed. "Try twenty."
He
chuckled. "Fifteen."
Ava
tilted her head. "Deal."
The trade went through, credits flashing on her system.
[TRADE COMPLETE – 1 MINI CORE SOLD]
[+15 TOKENS RECEIVED]
Second Trade: Raising the Stakes
Ava
didn’t have to wait long before someone else approached. This time, a woman in sleek, dark red attire—someone with real influence.
"You’re the one Anton was introducing around," she said smoothly, taking the seat beside Ava.
Ava
smirked. "That depends. Are you buying?"
The woman
laughed. "I like you already. What’s your stock?"
Ava
glanced around, then leaned in slightly. "Fuel cells. Premium. Got a few left after my last trade."
The woman’s
eyes gleamed with interest. "How many?"
Ava
pretended to think. "Fifty. No questions asked."
The woman
tapped her glass, considering. "100 tokens."
Ava
shook her head. "150."
The woman
grinned. "125. Final offer."
Ava
paused, then nodded. "Done."
Another smooth transaction.
[TRADE COMPLETE – 50 FUEL CELLS SOLD]
[+125 TOKENS RECEIVED]
Ava
was halfway through her drink when the next opportunity arrived—a man with sharp eyes, dressed in military-style casual wear.
Not
Locke. But close. A lower-rank officer.
"You’re the traveling merchant?" he asked, settling beside her.
Ava
smirked. "That’s what they say."
The man
leaned in. "I deal in gear. Got anything off-market?"
Ava
pretended to hesitate. Then she pulled a small modified transmitter from her bag and set it down.
[SCANNING ITEM...]
[ENCRYPTED COMM DEVICE – MODIFIED]
[VALUE: 75 TOKENS]
The man
studied it. "Where’d you get this?"
Ava
smirked. "I don’t answer those kinds of questions."
The man
chuckled. "Fair enough. 60 tokens?"
Ava
raised a brow. "80."
He
sighed but nodded. "Fine."
[TRADE COMPLETE – 1 MODIFIED COMM DEVICE SOLD]
[+80 TOKENS RECEIVED]
Ava
leaned back, satisfied. Three deals. Three small wins. Enough to make her seem legitimate.