The Marketplace of the Ruined World

"Wait. Did you hear something?"

The woman caught it first—sharp ears. The moment everyone strained to listen, the air guns and crossbows fired as one.

Bodies toppled in a heap. Screams and shouts tore through the air. Reload. Fire again. Near total annihilation.

The three women we'd left for last—lowest priority, deliberately spared the opening volley—grabbed for weapons, then saw every man already down and bolted.

I dropped one of the runners with the air gun. The dark-skinned guy and the fighter sprinted after the rest and dragged them all down.

The fighter took one woman out like a football tackle, snagging her legs so she slammed face-first into the floor. Blood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠poured from her nose; teeth came loose and spilled with it.

All three were plain-looking. Nothing special.

The woman tied to the chair was the best of the lot. Legs spread, panties torn open so her pussy was on full display, decent-sized tits bare and shameless. She stared at us with eyes shaking from dread and terror.

With her watching, we executed the rest with the air guns.

I put a round into each of the fallen for good measure, then walked over to the bound woman.

I seized a fistful of her hair, wrenched her head back, and crushed one breast in my grip.

"Ahhk! P-please, spare me! I-I'm not with them!"

"I can see that. You got people of your own?"

She hesitated. In the brief silence her eyes darted everywhere.

"Eyes spinning already. Lie to me and I cut your throat."

She trembled harder at that.

"Th-th-there are… four of them… all men… They went out looking for food…"

"Why'd they leave you alone?"

"I-I'm no good in a fight… We all used to work together in this office… Same team. Somehow we ended up sticking together…"

"So while they were out hunting, these bastards hit the place. And they got you too."

"Yes… I-I made a mistake turning on a light for a second— nngh…"

My fingers pushed into her pussy.

I worked her tits and cunt until soft moans slipped out of her, and before long she started getting wet.

Sexy office type—career woman vibe. Around thirty, maybe. The torn clothes only made her hotter.

For now, we'd wait for the ones who'd gone out.

I put the dark-skinned guy on watch, then shoved into her. The second my cock ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bottomed out, her back arched and her mouth fell open.

Rough breathing, moans, and sniveling sobs all tangled together.

When I finished, the others took their turns.

We untied her from the chair, flipped her onto all fours, and kept fucking her like that.

I jammed her panties into her scowling mouth, and the moans and crying dropped to a muffled whimper.

"The ones who went out are coming back. Get ready."

Four men who looked like ordinary office workers. All of them still in suits, weapons in hand.

The scavenging run must have gone well—the packs on their backs were stuffed full.

Air-gun pellets and bolts poured through the windows. The four hit the floor thrashing. Two more volleys after the reload finished them completely.

We stripped them of food and anything useful, then I walked back to the woman.

"A-are you going to kill me…"

"Give me one reason I shouldn't."

"I-I'm a woman…"

"You don't see the dead women over there?"

"Th-that's not what I meant… I-I'll be useful! I-I'll do anything you say… Please… hic…"

I pinched her nipple and pulled it out long and slow.

"Ahhk… I-I'll be a sex slave if that's what you want… Just spare me… ahhk…"

"Fine. You're pretty enough to keep. After this, surviving's on you."

"Thank you… hic…"

I cut her free, gathered our haul, and left.

Not long after, we found thieves looting a house.

Three men, one woman—all middle-aged. We put them down without fuss.

Next came what looked like a family of four. A middle-aged couple carrying a spear and a crossbow, plus a young man and woman who were probably their kids.

I wondered why they'd brought the women along at all—then figured numbers still mattered. Even a woman with a knife could kill you the same as anyone else. Better to field as many bodies as you could for a raid.

I shot the middle-aged man with the crossbow first, then cleaned up the rest without trouble.

I checked the young woman's face. Ugly. Not worth it.

Super Regeneration had broken two hundred. Time to head home.

I'd killed a lot today. Once you committed to hunting people on purpose, the body count stacked up fast.

I nicked my arm with a knife. Blood welled for a moment, then stopped within about ten seconds. Three minutes later the cut was gone—nothing left but a faint mark.

Compared to the beginning, the healing speed had jumped considerably.

"Boss. You see that?"

On the way back, the dark-skinned guy came up beside me and pointed.

In the distance stood a massive new apartment complex. I'd passed near it before, so I knew the place.

"Grand River Apartments? Plenty of sentries. Looks like they've got their shit together."

A few people were visible guarding the complex entrance. Grand River had high walls—gave the whole place the feel of a fortress.

"Yes. If you look closer, there's a sign at the gate about opening a marketplace."

I squinted at his words. Big lettering was painted across a banner by the entrance.

A safe market… So something like that had sprung up.

Get big enough and stable enough, and you could pull off things like this. If safety was guaranteed and traders kept their word, a marketplace could actually work.

Food mattered most to everyone, but people needed other things too. Barter would revolve around that.

"A market, huh… Worth checking out tomorrow."

The next day, vegetables from our garden hit the table for the first time.

Wrapping grilled spam in lettuce wasn't quite samgyeopsal, but it tasted damn good.

Chives and bean sprouts from the first harvest too. Fresh greens after so long. Not enough to fill a stomach, but the freshness was real.

"Good. Tastes just like it used to. Tell the women to start new gardens on every empty balcony upstairs."

I gave the order to the dark-skinned guy while we ate.

"Yes. The upper floors of our building should all be empty by now. No water, no food—some people already left."

"Good. Grow vegetables in every vacant unit and we should at least cover what we need."

"Agreed. Eating this with the canned stuff makes it taste incredible."

The pharmacist spoke up from beside us.

"What about potatoes or sweet potatoes? Lots of carbs, and they're great roasted."

"Yeah. Potatoes and sweet potatoes are real survival food. We don't have any right now, though… Plant a big outdoor plot and we could eat plenty."

"I make great fries. I can handle that."

The female teacher smiled brightly from the side. Having a cook around really was nice.

"Fries… Salty, crispy—those used to be amazing. Just that much would make life livable."

"Yes, but potatoes and sweet potatoes take a long time to harvest. Two or three months at least. And you'd need a pretty big plot."

Long wait, yeah. Lettuce and chives shot up fast. Still, for long-term survival, we needed all of it.

Preserved food would run ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out eventually. Maybe raise chickens—easy enough—and shore up the meat supply. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Or maybe civilization would rebuild in a few years.

Plenty of people were dead and the world was lawless, but if it weren't for the solar storm, we could still make use of what civilization left behind.

No—if too many people died, most of the ones with technical and scientific knowledge would be gone with them. Rebuilding civilization might be impossible. Would we have to start over from a pre-modern world?

I didn't even know if I'd survive tomorrow. No point thinking that deep.

After breakfast I geared up, took the fighter with me, and headed out. Destination: the marketplace I'd spotted yesterday.

Near Grand River Apartments, a crowd had gathered at the entrance.

The main gate was shut, but they'd turned the wide open lot in front of it into a market.

Near the gate, several people with shotguns and air guns were posted up high like sentries. That kind of firepower was probably why they could afford to run a market at all.

It wasn't just the weapons. The residents had to be well organized—that was what made a marketplace possible.

Dozens of people milled around out front, stalls laid out on the ground.

Primitive as hell. Just mats on the dirt with goods spread across them. Whatever they were selling sat out in the open, with a scrap of paper listing what they wanted in trade or the price.

Barter was the baseline, but canned goods and other preserved food seemed to be functioning like currency.

Nothing spectacular on offer.

Handmade crossbows, decent-looking knives. Toilet paper, feminine products, condoms. Yeah—even in a ruined world, you still needed that stuff.

Someone had brought out vegetables they'd grown themselves. Small garden plots really were the foundation of survival.

Snacks, coffee, cola and other drinks—all of it was there.

I'd stockpiled so much through raiding that nothing particularly caught my eye.

In one corner, young women were standing around. Short skirts, bodies on display, holding papers with prices written on them.

When I walked over, their eyes locked onto me. Because I was a young guy? Ah—right. Because I was good-looking. This wasn't my old face anymore…

"You selling yourselves?"

"Ah, yes… W-we didn't used to do this kind of work… There's just no food… A-are you interested? I-I can go cheaper…"

"Nah. Not really."

Cute enough, but gaunt and hollow-eyed. Bodies wasted down to bone. Clearly out here because they were starving.

The others were the same. Young, decent-looking—that was their only real selling point. None of them were actually attractive.

I kept walking the market.

Then I spotted something priced steep.

A portable water filter, shaped like a small cylinder.