Raven stood before the massive steel door, her breath steady in the cold air. The metal stood in front of her like a silent monolith, smooth and unyielding, but it didn't faze her.
She let her eyes drift across its surface, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile ever so slightly.
"There's no door in this world that can keep me out now," she murmured.
Her Technomancer core hummed quietly, energy pulsating beneath her skin. She didn't need tools. She didn't need a key.
With a thought, the inner systems sparked. A low hum filled the air as the gears within the door trembled. A grinding crack echoed through the depot. The metal door shifted, groaning under its own weight, and began to roll left, slowly revealing the darkness beyond.
The lights inside flickered to life with another mental command. Fluorescent tubes cracked to life, bathing the vast warehouse in cold, clinical white light.
Rows upon rows of XM7 rifles stood in neat formations, their barrels gleaming under the light. Racks lined the walls—over a thousand rifles, ready for war. Beyond them, stacked pallets of ammunition towered like a monolithic wall. Crates marked with dull yellow lettering—6.8x51mm rounds—enough to flood a battlefield for months.
Raven's mind moved through the possibilities. Some rifles would be stripped for parts. Others mounted onto drones, adapted into vehicle turrets, or welded into static defense positions. The .277 Fury rounds would become the standard feed for her machines, modified with Omni Silencers and recoil-canceling systems. Vertibird fan blades, enhanced by her powers, would absorb the kickback like it was nothing. She could make it all work.
One drone drifted into the warehouse, panning left and right, scanning for heat signatures. The other hovered near her shoulder, its fans a near-silent and waiting like a lone sentinel.
A sudden movement caught her eye. From behind, the shuffle of feet zombies, drawn by the noise of the rolling door.
Raven didn't turn. She didn't have to.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The drone fired three controlled bursts, and Raven watched the feed in her mind. Three heads burst like overripe fruit, their bodies collapsing into the dirt before they came within a hundred feet.
She inhaled slowly. "Nice to not have to worry about the quiet ones sneaking up on me."
Still, she thought, two drones were her limit for now. Level 1 Technomancer powers gave her control, but not enough to dominate every front. That would come later. She was already growing beyond her past life, evolving faster than she did in her last life. No more wasted time collecting nuclei and risking infection—her system bypassed all of that, her powers strengthening with every breath. She grew naturally and steadily with every breath she took.
Her poison cultivation was progressing well. The spores in Sanctuary grew richer, more potent, fueled by knowledge she had carried over from her last life. Soon, she would have more than just toxins.
The lianas jungle vines are next.
Flexible, whip-like vines alive, coiled, ready to lash out at her command as they rest on or within her body. She imagined them coiling around her arms, moving like extra limbs, laced with venom, tearing through flesh and bone. A living weapon she could wear and wield.
They were growing in Sanctuary right now. When they were ready, they would be hers to use in close combat situations.
The zombies she faced now were nothing but basic, slow, rotting cannon fodder. But she knows what comes next. The mutations. The child-like screechers, their wails sharp enough to burst eardrums. The hulking brute zombie, their muscles and rage multiplied. Others she did not even want to recall at the moment each worse than the last.
The first days of the apocalypse are the easiest.
Another burst of sound. Another zombie fell. Silence returned.
Her drone circled back to her side, its sensors cooling, its fans dropping to idle flight.
The drone inside the building transmitted a final scan—clear. No threats detected.
Raven stepped forward, her boots moving on the concrete floor. The warehouse swallowed her whole.
Rows of rifles. Pallets of ammunition. Endless potential for destruction.
She walked into the center of the room, looking up at the high steel rafters in the ceiling, the metal racks stretching out like ribs in a colossal beast.
Her voice was soft, barely audible, but certain.
"A mother like me has to provide plenty of food for her babies."
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