Alva slid under the half-open shutter and entered the loading bay.
Her boots hit the concrete quietly.
Her eyes widened a little.
"…wow," she breathed.
Rows of brown boxes. Factory sealed. Stack on stack on stack.
She walked toward them, reading labels:
Ration Meal Packs — Shelf Stable 6 yrs
High Calorie Bars
Hydration Powder
She tapped one box with her knuckles.
"These are military-grade. Not supermarket scraps."
She cut one open with her small knife and lifted out a silver pouch.
Beef Stew — 3000 calories per portion.
She stared at it for two seconds.
Then she laughed — small, low, satisfied.
"Perfect. Now, my body can handle mutation stress."
She started loading her backpack carefully — not greedy — smart.
2 stew packs
2 hydration mixes
4 high calorie bars
1 mini electrolyte tub
"Portable. Good weight. Enough for two days."
She didn't want to drag too much on foot yet.
Then she noticed a pallet cart in the corner — wheels intact.
"hmm… if I get a vehicle later… I can come back and collect the whole load."
She stepped back, scanning the warehouse like she was memorizing a map.
"this is officially a supply point now. my supply point."
She tied her bag strap tighter.
She wasn't scared anymore.
She was operating.
She walked to the loading door and looked outside again, serious now.
"Food — checked. Next: transport."
She tilted her head slightly — like she could feel something further in the city.
Her lightning sense flickered behind her eyes.
"There's a place I need to reach… I can almost—" she paused "…sense it."
She slipped back into the sunlight and kept walking.
The city didn't look like ruins anymore.
It looked like a board she was playing.
And she was just getting started.