LOSS System: Last Store Standing

For a few seconds, Jack said nothing.

Cass kept his hands raised on the other side of the glass, waiting for an answer. Reed stood behind him without moving, and Vane remained half a step back, watching everything.

Jack kept the gun in his hand.

Every sensible part of his brain told him not to let three wasteland strangers into his store just because one of them asked nicely.

But after being dumped into this hellhole with nothing but a sarcastic system and a bunch of oversized Dustchucks for company, hearing actual human voices hit harder than he wanted to admit.

Especially when they spoke his language.

And, to be fair, they hadn’t tried anything stupid yet.

After a long pause, Jack stepped back and angled the gun away from them—not enough to stop being a warning, but enough to let them through.

“You can come in,” he said. “But don’t touch anything.”

Cass nodded at once. “Got it. Got it.”

Jack opened the door wider and let them enter one at a time. Cass went first.

The second he stepped inside, he stopped dead.

Cool air washed over him.

For once, there was no heat pressing down on him. No sand burning through the soles of his boots. No dry wind scraping at his face.

Only cool air.

Clean, steady, impossible cool air.

Reed and Vane stepped in behind him and stopped almost immediately.

For a few seconds, none of them moved.

Then their eyes adjusted to the inside of the store.

Shelves.

Full shelves.

Bottled water stood in neat rows, clear and untouched. Beside it were sealed cans, wrapped bread, crackers, food packages, and everyday supplies so clean and complete they almost looked unreal.

For a moment, the shelves alone seemed to be enough to overwhelm them.

Then their attention drifted past the rows of water and food, toward the area behind the cashier counter.

The medicine wall stopped them cold.

Cass forgot to breathe for a second. Reed’s face went blank. Even Vane, who had been watching everything with careful control, went still when he saw it.

That was when Jack’s guard came back up.

Cass stood there for a long moment, struggling to decide where to look first.

At Jack.

At the shelves.

At the wall of medicine behind the cashier counter.

“You… this place… all of this…”

The words seemed to fail him completely.

Jack had to admit, watching someone get stunned speechless by his store felt pretty damn good.

“Relax,” he said.

Cass dragged his attention away from the shelves with visible effort, then looked at Jack and raised a thumb.

“You’re amazing.”

Jack couldn’t help grinning. Now that was something he liked hearing.

Still, feeling smug was one thing. Business was another.

He took a seat near the door, keeping the gun within reach, then nodded for the three of them to sit as well.

“Alright,” Jack said. “You’re inside now. Time to talk.”

Cass blinked. “Didn’t we already tell you? We came to take a look.”

Jack gave him a flat look. “That’s your whole explanation?”

Cass spread his hands, still looking helpless. “That’s what happened. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true.”

Jack had no good answer to that. The worst part was, Cass sounded completely sincere.

He studied the three of them for another moment, then lowered his suspicion by about half an inch.

“Fine. I’ll believe you for now.”

Then he leaned back slightly. “So what’s the deal with this place?”

Cass blinked. “You mean this stretch of wasteland?”

“Wasteland?”

“Yeah,” Cass said. “That’s what people around here call it. Maybe the older generation still remembers the proper name, but for us? It’s just the wasteland. Hot, dry, and with fewer and fewer places where people can actually survive.”

Reed added, “Water is harder to find than food.”

“Plants are rare too,” Cass continued. “The elders used to say the outside world wasn’t always like this. There were huge green areas once, and a lot of cities. Then water became scarcer, the weather got hotter, and people became fewer. Now most settlements are tiny. A few people, maybe a dozen or so, just trying to get through one day at a time.”

Jack listened quietly.

He had known this place was wrong, but hearing it from people who actually lived here made it feel heavier.

“How many people are in your settlement?” he asked.

“A little over a dozen,” Cass said. “That’s considered decent.”

Jack looked up. “A dozen is considered decent?”

Cass nodded. “Some settlements only have a few people. If there are too many, there isn’t enough water or food. And bigger groups attract attention.”

“Attention from who?”

Vane answered this time.

“Raiders. Mutant beasts. Supply runs are dangerous. Finding something out there doesn’t mean you’ll make it home with it.”

Cass nodded, his earlier excitement fading a little. “Yeah. Some places still have old-world supplies left, but getting to them and getting back are two different things. You never know what you’ll run into.”

Jack went quiet.

Dried-up water sources. Dying plants. Shrinking settlements. Raiders and mutant beasts waiting outside whatever scraps of safety people had left.

No wonder even the badgers and Dustchucks out here had turned into monsters.

Cass barely stayed on topic for another minute before the earlier battle pulled him right back in.

“Right, wait. How did you do that earlier? Are the Dustchucks really not yours? How did they coordinate with you? And what was that stuff you threw out? The second the Red Sand Badgers got near that patch, they lost it!”

Jack’s attention caught on one part.

“Hold on. What kind of badgers?”

Cass blinked. “Red Sand Badgers. The ones surrounding the Dustchucks just now.”

Jack took a second to process that before realizing Cass meant those honey badgers.

Jack was about to ask more when another detail caught up with him.

“Wait. You call them Dustchucks too?”

Cass frowned, as if the question itself made no sense.

“What else would we call them? They’ve always been Dustchucks.”

Jack went quiet.

He had thought he made the name up on the spot. Apparently, the people here had been calling them Dustchucks all along.

Reed said, “Red Sand Badgers are natural enemies of Dustchucks. They have a strong sense of smell and good hearing. They can track Dustchucks by scent and ground vibrations.”

Vane added, “They hate loud noises. Strong smells too.”

Jack slowly looked away.

Well. That lined up a little too perfectly.

His gunshots and bleach had accidentally hit both weaknesses.

Cass clearly had not given up on his earlier question. “So are those Dustchucks really not yours?”

Jack considered that for a second, then answered with complete seriousness. “No.”

Cass looked genuinely disappointed.

Jack added, “Today was my first time meeting them too.”

Cass: “…”

Reed: “…”

Vane: “…”

For a moment, none of the three knew what to say.

Today was his first time meeting the Dustchucks.

And somehow, he had still managed to use a strange weapon, a basin of unknown liquid, and the Dustchucks’ own counterattack to drive off a pack of Red Sand Badgers.

Cass stared at Jack like he was trying to reevaluate him from the ground up.

If this was what Jack could do on his first day with the Dustchucks, what would happen once he actually understood them?

Jack had to admit, their reactions were doing dangerous things to his ego.

Still, he knew when to stop. The more he talked, the easier it would be to say something he could not explain.

So he asked instead.

A few more questions later, Jack had a rough shape of the world outside: dying water sources, shrinking settlements, old-world ruins, raiders, mutant beasts, and people who survived by being careful.

As for the three sitting in front of him, his guard had lowered a little.

Cass talked too much, but there was nothing malicious in it. Reed said less, but every answer was direct. Vane barely spoke at all, and his caution did not seem aimed at Jack specifically. It felt more like the kind of habit the wasteland carved into people who lived long enough.

Eventually, Cass pushed himself to his feet.

“We need to head back and tell the elders,” he said. “They’re definitely going to want to hear about this.”

Reed and Vane stood as well.

Jack nodded and walked them to the door.

His hand was already near the handle when he stopped.

Then he turned back, went to the shelves, and grabbed a few bottles of water and several loaves of bread.

Cass stared at the things in his hands.

“Are those… for us?”

Jack held them out.

“Take them.”

For a second, none of the three moved.

Cass looked at the water, then at the bread, as if he was afraid touching them would make them disappear.

“You’re really giving these to us?”

“Consider it a welcome gift,” Jack said, waving it off. “Free this time.”

Only then did Cass take the water and bread, careful as if Jack had handed him something fragile.

“Thank you,” he said, then looked Jack in the eye and added, more seriously, “Really. Thank you.”

Reed accepted his share with both hands. “We’ll remember this.”

Vane said nothing, but he gave Jack a small nod.

Jack watched the way they held the water and bread and felt his idea settle a little more firmly into place.

“Next time,” he said, “if you want more, bring something to trade.”

Cass nodded at once. “Absolutely. We’ll trade. Definitely.”

The three of them left with the supplies.

Jack stayed by the door, watching their figures shrink against the reddish-brown sand.

Somewhere out there was a settlement with elders, survivors, and people who had not seen shelves like his in years.

By tomorrow, all of them would know this store existed.

Jack rubbed his chin.

Then he grinned.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “This might actually get interesting.”