Ash rained from the sky like snow, coating the ruins of what was once a strip mall. Broken neon signs sparked uselessly from rusted overhangs, and vines of black wire — pulsing with an unnatural, viral hum — coiled around crumbled storefronts like veins on a corpse.
Ten years since the virus made the world rot from the inside out.
TechRot hadn't just been a virus. It was a hunger — an infection that tore through circuits and screens, sprouting biomechanical limbs from anything with a motherboard. Drones with tendrils, vending machines with eyes. Tech turned beast. Cities became graveyards, and electricity meant death.
Now, the smart thing was to live in the dumbest places imaginable. Places where no signal could reach.
"Tell me why we're here again?" Robert's voice cut through the silence, half-sarcastic as he nudged open a rust-stained convenience store door with his shoulder. His makeshift dagger — little more than sharpened metal wrapped in cloth — was already in his hand. "Because, you know, nothing says let's not die like looting a TechRot hot zone."
Adam was already elbow-deep in a collapsed vending machine, goggles on, fingers twitching with excitement. "Because this baby still has a functional pressure coil. And pressure coils don't grow on trees." He tugged something out, shiny and hissing. "Also, because you're the looter and I'm the tinkerer. Teamwork, my guy."
"You say 'teamwork,' I hear 'bait.'"
In the distance, a soft, rhythmic clicking echoed — like claws on metal. Everyone froze.
A figure darted onto the roof two buildings over. Small. Fast.
"Scout's back," said Marianna, peering through her scope without needing to adjust it. "Jadrien's doing his weird roof-run thing again."
Sure enough, the boy vaulted from one structure to another, arms flailing for balance as he made his way back to the group.
"Yo!" Jadrien called as he landed with a thud beside them. "So, cool update — we're probably not alone out here. I saw a walker. Two legs. About yay tall." He gestured roughly to his chest. "Might be an old security bot that went full spaghetti."
"Did you throw anything at it?" Michael asked, stepping forward with a grunt. His riot shield was battered, his mace slung over his shoulder like a tired limb.
"I may have called it a tin can and flipped it off."
Michael rolled his eyes and muttered, "Remind me why we let him scout?"
"Because I'm fast, and I make danger fun." Jadrien grinned, only slightly out of breath.
As if on cue, a new voice cut in.
"You're all morons," said Marie flatly, arms crossed as she stood over a broken register. Her medical satchel was clinking softly at her hip. "If any of you get impaled again, I swear I'm going to let it fester."
She was already sorting antiseptic vials by color.
Azariah came skipping through the back entrance, tripping over the door frame and landing on her knees. "I got things!" she announced proudly, holding up a weathered box of canned peaches and what looked like a single, half-burned battery. "Also, some lady from Westend Camp says we still owe her two jars of fuel gel and a toothbrush."
Robert blinked. "Why a toothbrush?"
"I may have told her it belonged to a celebrity. It's a charisma thing."
Marianna snorted. "Your charisma's gonna get us killed one day."
From a shadowed shelf, a hand snuck out and snagged one of the cans Azariah had set down. "Finders, keepers," came Sage's voice — sly, sing-song, and echoing oddly.
"You weren't even in the room!" Azariah protested.
"I was in the rafters. That counts."
A loud clang interrupted the moment. Everyone turned. Adam stood, revolver in hand, ears twitching under his headphones. A red light blinked in the alley.
Movement.
"TechRot," he said quietly.
The temperature dropped.