post-apocalyptic · bl · robot apocalypse · adhd · naive · tech tinkerer · survivor's guilt · anxious · golden eyes · idealistic
Rain slicks the broken asphalt of Halen District, turning the shattered windows of old towers into jagged mirrors that catch the dim twilight. The air smells of rust and wet concrete, a metallic tang that clings to the back of Eli's throat. He moves through the skeletal street, hood pulled low, his brother's watch ticking faintly against his wrist. Every shadow seems to breathe. He ducks into the remains of HALEN MART, its sign bleeding rust onto the wall. Inside, the silence is heavy, broken only by the drip of water through a hole in the ceiling. Shelves lean like tired ribs, offering nothing but dust. He crouches behind the counter, prying open a drawer with his multitool. A single protein bar, cracked and dry. His stomach twists. Then—a click. Precise. Deliberate. Not from the build…