The Ironhowl X4 rolled down the broken stretch of road leading out of the city, its engine rumbling steady under Raven's touch. She leaned back in the seat, letting one hand rest lightly against the wheel as she stared through the windshield at the empty highway ahead. Cold winter air seeped in through the vents, but it barely registered.
Her mind was busy.
She had guns.
She had ammo.
She had food—canned meat, dried rations, even sacks of grain. Her system had already stored enough bottled water to last a hundred people for months. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
She wanted fresh meat.
Not just dried jerky or spam. She wanted crab legs, fish filets, something alive and thriving to raise and harvest when the cities burned and the old world finally collapsed.
Crab needed saltwater.
Fish like salmon and carp needed clean freshwater.
She tapped the steering wheel absently, frowning at the horizon.
Then the system responded.
[Apocalypse Ascendancy System Notification: Sanctuary Update - Aquatic Habitat module available. Designated zones may now be established for freshwater and saltwater lifeforms. Compatible with both edible and decorative species.]
The corner of Raven's mouth twitched, her expression lightening into something sharp and satisfied.
"Of course you'd wait until I had the idea first," she muttered.
She adjusted her seating, cracked the window slightly, and let the wind rush past her face. The road blurred beneath the tires as she searched her internal mental checklist. With the Sanctuary now supporting fish and sea life, her plans expanded.
She pulled the vehicle to a stop near a secluded clearing just outside the Bronx. The stars were starting to fade from the sky, the cold creeping toward dawn. She shut off the engine and laid herself out across the seat, arms folded behind her head.
Sleep found her in minutes.
When she woke again, sunlight filtered through the dirty windshield. Pale and thin.
January 3rd.
One week.
The end of the world began in seven days.
She sat up with a quiet groan, stretching her limbs and flexing her fingers. Then she opened the door, stepped outside, and breathed in the frigid morning air. Birds chirped faintly. A wind rustled through dead tree limbs and broken signs. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm wailed and then died.
No one noticed her as she made her way down to the coast.
It wasn't far.
The Atlantic was never far from New York. Within minutes, she was standing at the shoreline, the gray sea foaming against the rocks. The wind here was sharper, laced with salt and the promise of rot. Raven crouched low, her boots crunching across wet stones as she extended her hand over the rolling waves.
She dipped her fingers in.
The effect was instant.
The water shimmered—then vanished.
Like a whirlpool in reverse, a vortex of saltwater spiraled upward from the ocean's edge, bending space, drawn directly into her system's storage. It churned, twisted, and then collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing behind but damp sand and startled gulls.
[Apocalypse Ascendancy System Notification: Saltwater Collection successful. Volume: 1.3 million gallons. Sanctuary Zone: Saltwater Aquatic Habitat - Capacity reached. Additional expansions available.]
She stood, blinking against the wind.
One point three million gallons.
Just like that.
She wiped her hand on her pants and stepped back, watching the retreating tide.
This wasn't scavenging. It wasn't survival.
It was creating her own future seafood buffet. In a few weeks' time as Raven eats crab in front of people starving to death without food. She will laugh herself silly as all they can do is watch in envy. Until someone stupid decides to play morale police well, then she gets to play the bully.
As she turned back toward her SUV, another system notification popped up.
[Sanctuary Notice: Purified Freshwater Collection Module Active. Freshwater collected will be automatically filtered and treated for human consumption. This resource will provide sustainable hydration indefinitely along with a continuous supply of fresh water fish and lifeforms.]
Raven stopped mid-stride.
Her brows pulled together slightly as she considered the implications.
Most people would run out of bottled water within the first two or three years. Cities would dry up. Rivers would be polluted. Wells would be poisoned. The smart ones would ration, fight, and maybe boil what they could salvage. But even then, it would run out.
Not her.
Not now.
She was self-sufficient.
She exhaled slowly, then pulled out her phone. She tapped open a map app and searched the region for natural lakes that could serve her needs. There were dozens, of course. But only a few were close enough to reach without risking exposure.
Then she saw it.
Lake Tiorati.
Nestled in Harriman State Park. Isolated. Clean. Historically stocked with freshwater species. And it had just enough trail access to reach without drawing attention.
She slid back into the SUV and started the engine.
The Ironhowl roared to life.
She drove without music, without chatter, eyes fixed on the tree-lined roads winding north. The urban chaos gave way to quiet, then to open space. Fewer cars. Fewer people. Just the woods, barren in winter, and the winding trail toward the lake.
By the time she reached the edge of the park, the sun had lifted high over the treetops. She killed the engine and coasted into a small, overgrown pull-off where an old hiking trail sign had collapsed under frost and age.
She killed the lights, stepped out of the vehicle, and began moving on foot.
Every crunch of dead leaves beneath her boots made her pause. She crouched low, eyes scanning the trees for movement. No hikers. No rangers. Nothing but the cold whisper of wind through the bare branches.
She moved through the underbrush, keeping low, one hand always brushing against her jacket pocket where a folding knife was clipped. Her rifle was slung on her back, just in case.
Lake Tiorati came into view slowly.
The water was still. Glassy. Dark and clear in the morning light. Trees wrapped around the far banks, casting long shadows across the surface.
Raven crouched behind a line of boulders and brush, taking in the area. It was deserted.
Perfect.
She knelt lower, one hand pressed against the damp soil as she got ready to absorb the lake.
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