Raven’s boots crunched through a frostbitten patch of slush as she stepped off the curb and back into the quiet bleed of traffic. The Ironhowl X4 purred where she’d parked it earlier—black paint slick with city grime, heat still clinging to the steel from its last short drive. A blunt-nosed beast of an SUV. Gas-powered, armored frame, rugged and reliable. She ran a gloved hand across the fender, checking the finish without thinking.
Behind her, the quiet dealership she’d scouted remained shuttered—its showroom full of soon-to-be-abandoned machines she would take. They are for later. For stealing during the zero cost acquisition window of the apocalypse. Right now, she needed a clean record, an official transaction, something tied to her father's empire and not her fingerprints. For that nothing is better than the gas guzzeling monstrosity known as the Ironhowl X4.
The second dealership was still open—barely. Staff inside shuffled nervously behind sneeze guards, wiping down counters with chemical rags. The showroom had that hollow echo that only places pretending to be alive could carry. It took one swipe of her father’s corporate black credit card and fifteen minutes of polite silence for the keys to be placed in her hand. The transaction was processed without a second glance. No one looked her in the eye. No one asked why an eighteen-year-old girl was buying a military-grade vehicle with her father's credit card.
Good. The city was too sick to care, and she’d gotten used to being invisible a long time ago.
Outside, snow drifted lazily from a dull, gray sky. She slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut.
The System’s notification appeared the moment the ignition started.
[Notice: Sanctuary Power Core Activation Complete.]
- Internal energy supply stabilized.
- Unlimited power now available for all electronic systems within Sanctuary.
- Appliances, lights, weapons chargers, and auxiliary equipment may now be used without restriction.
Note: Power output is environment-locked. External systems not connected to Sanctuary will not benefit.
She absorbed the information quickly. It was the kind of thing others would cheer for. She simply filed it away under useful and continued driving.
Unlimited energy inside Sanctuary meant she could cook, process, refrigerate, heat, weld, and live without worrying about ybe blackouts or breakdowns in the real world. But she knew better than to rely on only one solution. She’d seen too many people die with batteries in their hands and nowhere left to plug them in.
She still needed power—real, mobile, external power. Fuel. Generators.
The Salvatore warehouse was the linchpin. Its location gave her access. Its silence gave her cover. And its deep ties to every scumbag vendor in the tristate area gave her options.
She pulled into an alley off Canal Street and parked beside a boarded-up cafe. Her gloved fingers tapped quickly across her phone screen as she opened her father’s executive procurement app and scrolled down to the internal contact list. She selected a familiar name: Dominic Reyes — senior logistics handler, fuel asset speciali a smug bastard with the voice of a talk show host.
The line clicked. Static hummed.
“Salvatore Procurement. Dominic speaking.”
She kept her voice level. Cool. Detached. “Dominic. I need a direct order processed."
There was a beat of silence. “Raven?”
She didn’t acknowledge it.
“I need twenty tons of diesel. Same for unleaded gas.”
Dominic let out a low whistle. “That’s... not your usual volume.”
“I’m acting on Father’s behalf.”
“You’re usually handling vendor reports, not pulling heavy orders. Is this for a bunker contract?”
“Yes. He’s sending me ahead to prep it personally. You know how he is with delegation.”
Another pause. Then, a snort. “Yeah. He’d make his daughter lift the barrels before he would do it himself.”
Her jaw tensed. She didn’t answer.
“All right. So twenty tons diesel, twenty unleaded. Got it. Anything else?”
“Generators. Fifteen industrial-grade, high-performance. I want them to be long-runing class. Quiet engines.”
“Diesel fed?”
“Yes.”
“Got it. And?”
“Fifteen medium-sized units. Warehouse-grade. Plus thirty personal silent-run generators—portable, low footprint, ultra-reliable.”
Dominic whistled again. “You’re not joking about this apocalypse kit. A whole neighborhood going off-grid with this setup."
Raven’s voice didn’t change. “Warehouse delivery. Same location we’ve used for emergency inventory before."
“Sure. I'll have to slot it under rush delivery. Earliest full-load transit would be... seven days standard. If you want it tomorrow—”
“I do.”
He sighed. “You know that incurs rerouting costs.”
“My father doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Dominic grunted. “Right. I’ll make it work. Might have to cut a few vendor legs to get it cleared, but we’ll do it.”
“I want status updates every three hours until the delivery lands.”
“You got it. Everything billed through the corporate account?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Should I invoice this under ‘Executive Field Logistics’ like last time?”
“Yes.”
The call ended without farewell.
Raven dropped the phone into the center console and leaned back. The seat was still cold. The Ironhowl’s cabin vibrated faintly with idle power, its engine like the distant growl of a chained beast.
She exhaled through her nose and looked out over the street beyond the windshield. Traffic was thinning by the hour. Two police cruisers crept by in silence, lights off, windows tinted. Across the intersection, an ambulance sat parked outside a shuttered coffee shop. The EMTs inside weren’t moving. Just watching.
The air smelled like burning rubber, disinfectant, and snow.
Things were shifting.
But she wasn’t scared.
She was getting ready.
Her SUV was secured. Fuel was en route. Power was covered from all angles. Clothing is next.
Join my patreon today to read up to chapter 10 in advance your support is my inspiration join for only 3 to 5$
www./everstone