The door to the apartment groaned open as they stepped back in, the stink of the sewers still clinging to their clothes like rot. Wang peeled off his gas mask and tossed it on the kitchen table next to a half-finished bottle of rum and a broken cigarette lighter.
Cass had already dropped her jacket to the floor and was unbuckling her gun belt. "I call the shower first."
"Figures," Wang muttered, collapsing into the couch. "You nearly burned that rat bastard's tail off. Least you could do is let me wash this radioactive sludge off first."
Cass didn't even look back as she stripped her gloves and sauntered toward the bathroom. "You've still got both your balls. Quit whining."
He shook his head and leaned back, trying not to breathe too deep. The sewer stench was fucking everywhere—in his hair, in his nostrils, probably in his soul.
Water hissed on a moment later, the old pipes groaning like they were about to burst.
From inside the bathroom, Cass shouted over the sound of running water. "So—what's your take? You buy what the rat said?"
Wang raised his voice to be heard. "Sounds half true. I've seen enough freaks in this hellhole to believe Red's building his own army. But that secret tunnel? Could be a trap."
A pause. Then her voice again, casual, like they were discussing the weather. "Wouldn't surprise me. Red's the type to wire a welcome mat with C4. But if Snitch9's telling the truth, we've got an in."
Wang stretched his robotic arm, the servo joints creaking slightly. "You planning to go in quiet or loud?"
Cass let out a laugh. "Do I look like the quiet type?"
"No," he said flatly. "You look like the type who brings a revolver to a fucking airstrike."
Another pause, then the water shut off with a loud metallic clang.
A moment later, the bathroom door cracked open and Cass stepped out, steam curling around her like smoke from a just-fired gun.
She was wearing nothing but a tattered white towel—barely long enough to reach mid-thigh and definitely not doing much in terms of modesty. Her skin glistened with moisture, beads of water sliding down her toned thighs and along the curve of her hips. Her long, wavy blonde hair was darkened and clinging to her neck and shoulders.
Her huge melons strained against the towel, clearly braless beneath it, and the fabric clung to the curve of her chest in a way that made it hard not to look. Not that she cared. Cass never cared. She owned her body the way she owned her guns—no bullshit, no apologies.
Wang barely glanced up. He was used to this by now.
She walked past him like it was the most normal thing in the world, tugging open a drawer near the kitchen table to grab a spare shirt and fresh undies. The towel shifted slightly as she bent, threatening to drop, but she kept it up with one hand.
"You're up, soldier boy," she said without looking.
Wang stood up and brushed past her, shoulder to shoulder. "Nice towel."
Cass smirked. "Don't get used to it."
He stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a dull thud. The stink of sewer was still thick in the air, mixed now with the scent of Cass's shampoo—some kind of minty herbal shit that didn't quite cover the underlying metal tang of rusted plumbing.
He peeled off his shirt, the fabric soaked through with sweat and sewer juice. His pants hit the floor next, then his underwear. He stood under the cracked showerhead, naked, and turned the handle full blast.
KA-CHUNK.
A burst of freezing water slammed into him like a slap from a glacier.
"FUCK—that's cold!" he hissed, gritting his teeth as the water hit his back and chest.
He stood there, letting it run down over his scars, his skin twitching under the chill. His robotic arm sparked faintly as a few droplets ran down the shoulder seam, but it held.
From the other side of the door, Cass's voice carried through the thin wall.
"So what's the plan, once we confirm the tunnel?"
Wang lathered up with a bar of gritty soap that smelled like diesel and pine. "We scout the entrance. Maybe plant charges in case we need to seal it fast. Then slip in and recon. I'm not charging into some mutant lair without knowing what's inside."
Cass snorted. "Now you're thinking like a pro."
He rinsed off quickly, scrubbing hard enough to leave his skin red.
"I am a pro," he muttered.
Outside, Cass had finished dressing—if you could call it that. She wore a fresh tank top now, tight and black, no bra underneath. Her nipples still showed faintly from the shower chill. She'd pulled on a pair of cutoff denim shorts that barely reached the top of her thighs and was now loading fresh rounds into her revolver like she was preparing for war.
By the time Wang stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist, Cass tossed him a fresh shirt.
"You're gonna want to wear something that doesn't smell like rat piss," she said.
Wang caught it and raised an eyebrow. "I could say the same to you."
Cass grinned. "Too bad I make it look good."
They were almost ready.
Tomorrow, they'd hit the edge of Red Beard's territory.
Tonight, they'd rest—and maybe sleep with one eye open.
Q: How would you prep for a road trip?