Wholesale Hoarding Spree

"Cross Global Logistics." 

That was the name on the lease for the massive, secluded industrial warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Elena had paid six months of rent upfront in cash. The landlord didn’t ask questions, and Elena didn’t give any. 

The warehouse was completely empty, featuring a massive loading dock that could accommodate four semi-trucks at once. It was perfect.

For the next three days, Elena didn’t sleep. She sat in a pop-up tent inside the warehouse, her laptop glowing in the dim light, placing order after order with wholesale food distributors and outdoor survival mega-stores. 

She didn’t just buy groceries. She bought entire supply chains. 

She ordered 500 tons of white rice, flour, and sugar. She ordered 200 tons of frozen beef, pork, and chicken. She bought 10,000 gallons of cooking oil, 50,000 boxes of antibiotics, and enough canned vegetables to feed a small army for a decade. 

When the first fleet of delivery trucks arrived at the loading dock, the drivers looked at the massive order, then at the lone, slender woman standing by the clipboard. 

"You the receiver for Cross Global?" the lead driver asked, looking around the empty warehouse. "Where’s your forklift? Where’s your internal crew?"

"My team is handling the inventory inside," Elena said smoothly, pointing to the large, sealed rolling doors at the back of the warehouse. "Just unload the pallets right here in the staging zone. We’ll move them to the deep storage ourselves."

The driver shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He and his crew used the truck’s liftgate to drop the massive, shrink-wrapped pallets of rice onto the concrete. Once they finished, the driver walked over to his cab to grab his manifest for her to sign.

The moment his back was turned, Elena stepped up to the pallet of rice. She placed her bare hand against the plastic wrapping.

Zip.

In a fraction of a second, the two-ton pallet vanished into the infinite void of her System space. 

Elena quickly walked over to the next pallet of frozen beef. Zip. Gone. 

The next pallet of cooking oil. Zip. Gone. 

Within thirty seconds, the entire staging zone was completely empty. 

When the driver walked back, holding the clipboard, he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the empty concrete, then looked at the sealed back doors of the warehouse. He blinked, rubbing his eyes. 

"Must be a hell of an internal crew moving that fast," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in awe. He handed Elena the clipboard, clearly intimidated, and hurried back to his truck.

Elena suppressed a smirk. This was the ultimate stealth mechanic. As long as no one was looking directly at her, she could absorb thousands of tons of物资 (supplies) in the blink of an eye. 

For the next three days, the cycle repeated. Truck after truck arrived. Pallet after pallet vanished. 

By day three, her 10,000 cubic meter space was only half full, and she was moving on to the most important category: extreme cold survival gear. 

She ordered 50,000 sets of military-grade thermal underwear, heated insoles, and extreme-cold parkas. She bought 10,000 pairs of insulated snow boots, 5,000 sleeping bags rated for minus-fifty degrees, and hundreds of portable butane heaters. 

Finally, it was time for weapons. 

Using a mix of legal loopholes and her remaining cash, she visited a high-end tactical supplier. She bought fifty high-powered compound crossbows, 10,000 carbon-fiber bolts, fifty machetes, tactical tomahawks, and Kevlar vests. In the apocalypse, ammunition would run out, but a carbon-fiber bolt could be reused. 

It was the evening of the third day. The sun was setting, casting long orange shadows across the warehouse floor. Elena was signing the final manifest for a massive stack of heavy-duty winter tents. 

"You're buying enough gear to survive the end of the world, lady."

Elena froze. 

She turned around. Standing a few feet away was a man she hadn’t heard approach. He was tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders clad in a dark, scuffed tactical jacket. A jagged, faded scar cut through his left eyebrow, giving him a permanently dangerous look. His dark eyes were sharp, observant, and currently fixed on her clipboard. 

He didn’t look like a delivery driver. He moved with the silent, heavy grace of a predator. 

Elena’s grip on the clipboard tightened, her mind instantly calculating. In her past life, she had learned to read people quickly. This man was lethal. 

"I'm just preparing for a long winter," Elena said, her voice cool and dismissive. She turned back to the driver, handed him the signed paper, and watched him drive away. 

The scarred man didn’t leave. He took a slow step closer, his eyes scanning the massive stacks of thermal gear and weapons. 

"A long winter," he repeated, his voice a deep, rough baritone. "Most people are buying summer clothes and planning beach trips. You’re buying enough Kevlar and heated gear to outfit a mercenary company. I'm Maleek, by the way."

Elena didn’t offer her hand. She just looked him dead in the eye. "Elena. And if you're done profiling my shopping list, I have a business to run."

Maleek’s lips twitched into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. He wasn’t offended. If anything, he looked intrigued. 

"Stay warm, Elena," he said softly. He turned and walked out of the warehouse, his footsteps completely silent on the concrete. 

Elena watched him go, her heart beating a little faster. There was something about him. Something familiar, yet entirely dangerous. 

Suddenly, the pale blue System screen materialized in her vision, flashing with a bright, urgent gold light.

[Ding!]

[Warning: High-Potential Individual detected within 50 meters!]

[Scanning...]

[Name: Maleekan Russel]

[Hidden Class: Awakened (Frost/Combat)]

[Threat Level: Lethal.]

[System Recommendation: Form an alliance or eliminate immediately. Do not let this individual become an enemy.]

Elena’s eyes widened slightly as she stared at the golden text. 

Awakened? 

He wasn’t just a prepared prepper. He was like her. He had powers. 

And the System was telling her that the man who just walked out of her warehouse was dangerous enough to kill her.