Cold Business
Snow whirled in slow spirals across the frozen flats, blanketing the perimeter in white silence. The Shack’s turret rotated lazily atop its rusted housing, tracking wind-blown debris and the occasional beast signature that got too close.
Inside, Kenji sipped hot broth from a dented steel mug. He sat at the command console, boots propped up, watching drone feeds flicker across the screen. The heater in the wall sputtered, rattled, then kicked back on with a groan.
Elyra stepped inside, brushing ice from her shoulders. “One of the drones found something buried under the western ridge,” she said. “Looks like salvage. Maybe an old skimmer frame.”
Kenji grunted. “Tag it. Send a Scavenger.”
“Already did.” She smirked. “Taught the drone to wag when it finds something.”
Kenji didn’t smile, but his left eyebrow twitched in approval.
Outside, the perimeter wall was slowly taking shape—cold-forged scrap slabs stacked by Builder Drones under Saeko’s supervision. The wall wasn’t finished, but it formed a wide half-circle around the Shack, creating the bones of a forward base.
From the corner, Mirelle piped up, leaning on the trader’s window. “Got another caravan asking for a trade slot. Two days out, maybe three. Escort looks legit.”
Kenji exhaled through his nose. “Accept. Priority goes to food-for-scrap. No weird offers.”
Mirelle rolled her eyes. “No fun, old man.”
Lira peeked around the corner. “You haven’t bathed in two days.”
“I’m conserving heat.”
She pouted. “The pod stinks.”
Kenji looked at her, deadpan. “So do you.”
Saeko laughed from the storage bay. “Kenji Logic?—now in scented spray form.”
Kenji waved a hand and stood up, stretching until his back popped. “Let me know if something tries to eat us.”
Watchers in the Snow
The Shack’s external sensors crackled as static interference rolled in from the east. One of the Sensor Drones hovered just above the ridge line, its lens pulsing amber as it scanned the open snowfields beyond the perimeter.
Inside, Kenji stared at the feed, arms crossed, jaw tight.
A single figure trudged through the white, bundled in patchwork gear and dragging a sled behind him. Alone. He stopped every few meters to adjust a heavy pack, sometimes looking up like he could sense the drone watching him.
“He’s been moving for hours,” Saeko said from her workstation, flipping through incoming data logs. “No heat signature near him. No group. No escort. Just one desperate idiot hauling junk.”
Kenji leaned in, narrowing his eyes. The Shack’s interface highlighted the man’s equipment: mismatched armor, homemade thermal wraps, frostbite along one hand.
Mirelle peeked over his shoulder. “Want me to tell him to screw off?”
“No,” Kenji muttered. “Let him come.”
A few minutes later, the trader stumbled into visual range of the Shack. The turret locked onto him briefly before disengaging. Lira tapped a button to open the outer trade hatch.
Mirelle greeted him with a warm, practiced smile. “Welcome to the Snack Shack, brave idiot. What’s on your sled?”
The man groaned and dropped to one knee, panting hard. “I brought salvage—four sealed micro-fusion cells, a derelict drone limb, five kilos of insulated wiring, a stripped sensor rig, two heat-treated gear casings… and one crystal.” He held up a half-cracked monster gem with shaking fingers.
Kenji leaned toward the mic. “Food’s not free.”
“I know.” The man coughed, teeth chattering. “I just want to eat.”
The Shack scanned his load. The system highlighted the biomass content, salvage tier, and crystal purity. Kenji read the estimate silently.
[TRADE VALUE: Acceptable]
He tapped the console.
“Ten cans. Deal.”
The man collapsed forward, sobbing with relief.
Mirelle just rolled her eyes and started the transfer. “You people get weirder every week.”
Kenji sat back in his chair, watching the man devour a single can like it was salvation.
“They always do,” he said.
Hungry Eyes
Snow crunched beneath heavy boots as Elyra patrolled the outer wall, her beastkin ears twitching at every echo. Two Combat Drones trailed behind her in a loose triangle pattern, weapons armed but idle.
“Movement?” Kenji asked through the comm.
“Just shadows,” she replied, voice crackling. “But I don’t like how quiet it is.”
Inside the Shack, Saeko was restocking shelves with sorted salvage. Coils of insulated wiring, stripped capacitor banks, and salvaged micro-chips were slotted into labeled bins. Lira, meanwhile, sat in the corner wiping down empty cans and humming a tune only she seemed to like.
Kenji scrolled through system logs, half-listening to Mirelle argue with someone on the outbound trade channel. Another request from a noble household. More desperation. More posturing.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Then a ping lit up on the console.
[NOTICE: Perimeter Sensor Triggered – Unknown lifeform detected]
Kenji sat up straighter. The screen flickered to an external drone cam—showing a blur of movement beyond the half-built wall. Humanoid. Quick. Then gone.
Another ping.
[NOTICE: Second contact detected – southeast quadrant]
Kenji muttered, “So they’re watching now.”
“Scouts?” Saeko asked, ears flattening slightly.
“Maybe,” Kenji said. “Or something dumber. Doesn’t matter.”
He tapped the screen.
[COMMAND: Reassign Builder Drone 2 to patrol duty temporarily]
One of the drones constructing the wall lurched to a stop, rotated, and began trudging toward the breach zone with its spotlight active.
Elyra’s voice buzzed again. “I saw one. Raider gear, but he wasn’t approaching—just… watching.”
Kenji grunted. “Let ’em watch. The turret’s hungry.”
Outside, the wind picked up, blowing icy flurries across the Shack’s defenses. In the distance, two figures retreated into the snow.
Mirelle stepped in from the trade window. “More vultures?”
Kenji nodded. “They’ll circle for a while.”
“And then?”
“Then they’ll test the fence.”
The Edge of Violence
Night fell fast in the wasteland. The pale light from the Crimson Core pulsed softly above the Shack, casting long shadows across the snow-packed ground. Within the radius of warmth, it almost felt calm.
Almost.
The outer motion sensors chirped again. Not a beast this time.
[ALERT: Multiple lifeforms detected – 6 total. Distance: 80 meters. Approach pattern: slow, tactical.]
Kenji leaned over the console and narrowed his eyes. “They’re not here to trade.”
Elyra was already in position on the wall. Her eyes glinted in the dark as she clicked her earpiece. “I count six. They’re flanking low, using the wind and slope. Smart.”
Combat Drones activated one by one with a soft chime. From inside the Shack, Saeko calmly shifted power flow to perimeter mode. Lira huddled by the command seat, clutching a data pad as if her input mattered.
Kenji’s voice was cold. “Let them come closer.”
The figures reached the base of the slope, crouching low. One held a weapon that looked like a repurposed mining drill. Another slung a rifle wrapped in thermal cloth.
They didn’t shout. They didn’t knock.
They opened fire.
A plasma bolt slammed into the outer wall, melting part of the scrap plating. Another shot went wide and sizzled harmlessly into the snow.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Hostile engagement confirmed.]
Kenji tapped the screen.
[COMMAND: Deploy Astarions – combat priority 1. Drones support.]
Flanksteak Vengeance? charged first, a blur of brute force barreling through the Shack’s side door like a juggernaut. He didn’t have armor—just salvaged plating strapped to muscle and a reinforced rebar rod gripped in one hand.
He hit the first raider like a wrecking ball. Bones cracked. Blood sprayed.
Brisket Oblivion? followed silently, twin hatchets in hand. He moved with brutal grace, ducking under a wild swing and driving both blades into the enemy’s ribs. The body fell twitching, steam rising from warm blood on snow.
From the other side, Dante Ironfang? flanked, axe in hand, striking low then twisting high—methodical and surgical. He didn’t waste a breath.
Razor Stonewolf? darted between flashes of plasma fire. Two raiders aimed, but by the time they pulled the trigger, he was behind them—slashing tendons, slicing throats.
Overhead, two Combat Drones unleashed staccato pulses of energy fire. One raider exploded backward, chest cored out. The last turned to run.
Kenji didn’t blink.
[COMMAND: Terminate.]
Flanksteak caught the fleeing man with a shoulder check that sent him tumbling end-over-end before Brisket’s hatchet finished the job.
Silence returned in under twenty seconds.
Elyra exhaled through her teeth. “Test complete.”
Mirelle stepped outside, arms crossed, surveying the mess. “You think that was a scout team?”
Kenji nodded. “Yeah.”
Saeko narrowed her eyes. “Then more will come.”
Kenji cracked his neck and muttered, “Good. I need the biomass.”
King of the Trash Heap
The Shack was quiet again.
Outside, drones dragged away the broken bodies, one limb at a time. Blood froze quickly in the snow, steam hissing where it met the Crimson Core’s ambient heat zone. The perimeter wall was scarred, but still standing.
Kenji soaked in a half-barrel tub near the rear of the Shack, steam rising around his scarred shoulders. The tub was heated by a salvaged coil and lined with scrap foam—barely comfortable, but good enough.
Lira knelt beside it, wringing out a rag and gently wiping down his arm. Her eyes flicked up every few seconds, checking for approval like a dog waiting for a treat.
He sipped from a dented mug of divine soda—Soulwater Zero?, still bubbling with whatever gods called carbonation.
The system chimed.
[SUGGESTION: Name registered – “Kenji’s Steamy Penance Pod?”.]
Kenji didn’t move. He just stared straight ahead.
“I was supposed to retire.”
Lira giggled. “You say that every time you bathe.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
He closed his eyes and let the warmth soak into his joints. Outside, drones finished scraping up the corpses. Saeko was yelling at a Builder Drone for stacking the wrong wall segment. Elyra circled the area in tight patrol loops. The Shack buzzed with quiet movement, industry, and survival.
Kenji took another slow sip.
The system pinged again.
[WARNING: Eastern signal detected – Trade chatter intercepted. Source: recently unsealed underground bastion. Estimated distance: 210 km.]
Kenji opened one eye.
Lira wrung out the cloth again. “A new bastion?”
“Looks like it.”
Mirelle’s voice chimed in over the internal speaker. “Just got confirmation from a trader. One of the sealed domes opened up east of here. Could be refugees. Could be raiders waiting for someone to knock.”
Kenji exhaled through his nose. “Bet it’s both.”
He closed his eyes again.
“I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
Bastion Rumors
The next morning, the Shack’s command console flickered with a new pulse—low-band radio chatter, bouncing off old relay towers to the east. It wasn’t much. Fragmented voices. Scrambled code. But the pattern was familiar.
Underground traffic.
Kenji leaned over the console, watching the noise scroll across the interface like static given shape.
“Anything useful?” Mirelle asked, stepping in with a mug in one hand and a smirk on her lips.
“Maybe,” he muttered. “Something’s stirring out east.”
She set the mug down and pulled up a synced log. “A trader passed through last night—said one of the sealed bastions cracked open about two hundred clicks from here. Dome structure. Old-world layout.”
Kenji didn’t look at her. “Why now?”
Mirelle shrugged. “Same reason any of them open. Supplies run dry. Oxygen starts thinning. Or maybe someone kicked their door in and took what they wanted.”
He grunted, fingers drumming against the console. “If they opened up willingly, they’ll be cautious. Desperate, but tight. If they got popped open by raiders…”
“Then they’re already a slave pit,” Mirelle finished. “Maybe worse.”
Kenji leaned back and stared at the flickering map on the wall—a snow-choked expanse with no visible roads, only sensor logs and survivor trails. East of their position, nothing but ruins and ice. Now, a blinking red question mark marked the new bastion.
“Keep an ear on the chatter,” he said. “I’m not wasting drones on a ghost.”
“Got it.”
He paused, then added, “If they survive the week, maybe we say hello.”
Mirelle gave a sly smile. “With food or fire?”
Kenji’s voice didn’t change.
“Depends what they have to trade.”
The Frozen Stare
The sun never truly rose in the wasteland—just dim light filtering through endless gray. Outside the Shack, snow drifted in slow spirals. The turret hummed softly atop its perch, tracking nothing. Waiting.
Inside, Kenji stood at the main console, arms folded, watching the updated trade map.
That eastern bastion marker blinked again. Still no confirmation. Still no contact. But the chatter hadn’t stopped.
He didn’t like that.
“Sensor drone caught another glint last night,” Elyra said as she entered, frost clinging to her coat. “Something metal about 70 meters past the ridge. Might be an old comms tower, might be eyes.”
Kenji didn’t reply. He tapped through the local grid.
Scavenger drones were still combing ruins to the west. Builders were reinforcing the perimeter. Combat units were on standby. No spare drones for recon, not unless he recalled someone.
He glanced at the drone log. Nineteen active, one charging. Full load.
“Still not enough reach…” he muttered.
Saeko passed by, dropping a new inventory report into the console tray. “We’re running low on stabilized circuits. Builder Three shorted itself again.”
Kenji grunted. “I’ll strip a drone if I have to.”
She didn’t blink. “I’ll make room.”
Mirelle leaned against the wall nearby. “You planning something?”
“Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
Kenji didn’t respond. He watched the red blip on the map fade in and out—faint, uncertain, like a buried alarm waiting to be uncovered.
Structures & Interior
? Shack (Truck): Still looks like a divine food truck prank from the outside
? Interior: Fully upgraded at Tier 2 – hybrid command bunker + storefront
? Sleeping Quarters: Four slave alcoves. Tight fit, but functional
? Front Trade Window: Active, armored, Mirelle-operated
? Kenji’s Bath Corner: “Kenji’s Steamy Penance Pod?” (official system-locked name)
? Perimeter Wall: 45% complete – Builder Drones active
? Temperature Zone: Stable within 100m radius (Crimson Core effect)
Modules & Systems
? Divine Auto-Turret (x1): Still melting raiders like butter. No complaints
? Resource Processor & Recycler: Chewing through salvage and beast guts
? Drone Hive – Tier 2 Cap:
? Max Drone Capacity: 20
? Drone Interface: Fully linked
? Minion Spawner? Pod: Operational – cooldown active after latest conversion
? Power Source: Crimson Core – output stable at 70%
Drone Fleet – 20 Active
Astarion Supersoldiers – 4 Active
1. Flanksteak Vengeance? – Walking wrecking ball. Improvised armor. Breaks things.
2. Brisket Oblivion? – Twin hatchets. Silent executioner. Blood-slick professional.
3. Dante Ironfang? – Axe wielder with a tactical mind and philosophical monologues.
4. Razor Stonewolf? – Reflex god with daggers. Doesn’t blink. Possibly doesn’t breathe.
All are cold/heat-resistant, divine-branded, and terrifying.
Still lacking full gear. Doesn’t matter. Nothing lasts long enough to fight back.
Slave Crew – 4
? Lira – Kenji’s clingy admin gremlin. Not lewded. Still cuddles nightly.
? Elyra – Beastkin scout. Patrol lead. Good ears, better instincts.
? Saeko – Red-haired logistics beastkin. Manages storage. Hisses at disorganized bins.
? Mirelle – Trade rep. Negotiator. Also Kenji’s unofficial lap pillow.
All are blissfully bonded through divine food. No jealousy. No drama. Just eager devotion.
Resources
? Food Cans: 930
? Biomass: 217 units
? Recycled Scrap: 565 kg
? Medical Kits: 14
? Monster Crystals: 5
? Trade Tokens: 45
? Unused Slave Collars: 3
Assets
? Snow Crawler (Salvaged): Operational. Slightly smells like despair.
? Crimson Core: Stable. Emits light, warmth, and mild divine trolling
? Inventory Storage: Maxed for current Shack size. Saeko is annoyed.
? Construction Progress: Wall: 45%. Watch Zone: Functional. Shack: Crowded.
? F*cks Given by Kenji: 0
End of Chapter 11
