Ava didn't rush.
She spent a month watching—observing as the bunker's ecosystem built itself from the ground up.
There were no written rules. No government orders. The military controlled the doors, the food, and the punishments, but everything else?
It ran on survival and trade.
How the Bunker Functioned Level One (Shifters) – The strongest. The rulers. They didn't do grunt work, didn't scavenge unless they wanted to. They took what they needed. Level Two (Mutants) – The useful. They healed fast, making them valuable for expeditions into the outside world. If a group needed someone expendable but not fragile, a Mutant was the best choice. Level Three (Normals) – The workers. They sorted scrap, cleaned, cooked, scavenged, and died the most.
The smarter ones traded.
The desperate ones took their chances and went outside.
Anyone could leave the bunker.
The military didn't stop them.
But if you died? That was on you.
Ava's New Roommates
After the sorting was done, the overcrowded open-floor system was broken down. People were moved into small rooms, cramming four or five together in tiny, bare spaces.
Ava got lucky.
Or maybe unlucky.
She was shoved into a room with:
Lily Feng – One of the few people Ava actually liked back in school. Soft-spoken, quick-witted, secretly stubborn.
Vanessa Liu – Used to be the queen bee. Manipulative, sharp-tongued, and too good at playing innocent.
Daniel Wu – Arrogant. Built like a tank. Definitely the type to punch his way out of problems.
Jessica Tang – Fake sweet. A rat in human skin, always waiting to switch sides when it benefited her.
Ava sat on her makeshift cot, watching as Vanessa brushed imaginary dust off her sleeves, already annoyed at their accommodations.
"This is ridiculous," Vanessa muttered. "We should be in Level Two."
Jessica nodded too quickly. "We'll be moved soon. They probably just made a mistake."
Ava resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
The military didn't make mistakes.
They just didn't care.
After a month, Ava had a choice to make.
She could keep her head down, stick to sorting metal scraps and eating moldy bread.
Or—
She could go outside.
Scavenging was the only way up in Level Three. If you came back with something valuable, you earned better food, better rations, maybe even better status.
You could trade. Barter. Build power.
You could also die horribly.
Still, Ava had spent enough time watching from the sidelines. She needed an opportunity, and this was it.
So she stepped forward.
"I'll go."
The room fell silent.
One of the guards at the sign-up station gave her a once-over, unimpressed. "Step forward."
Ava did.
"Prove you're a Mutant," the guard said.
She expected that.
Mutants had super healing. The test was simple—a small cut on the forearm. If the wound healed in seconds, you were Level Two. If it didn't?
Level Three forever.
Ava rolled up her sleeve, keeping her face blank.
The knife was cold against her skin. The blade slid quickly, cleanly, leaving a thin line of red in its wake.
She waited.
One second. Two. Three.
The wound didn't close.
It sat there, stinging, bleeding—normal.
The guard sighed. "You're just a Normal. Sign up if you want, but don't expect anyone to save you out there."
Ava nodded, keeping her expression unreadable.
Internally?
She was stunned.
Her system had rebooted weeks ago. If it was like the others, shouldn't it have given her the healing ability too?
Unless…
She glanced at the ration line in the corner, where people were handed half a slice of bread and dirty water for their meals.
Food.
She hadn't eaten properly in days.
Could that be it?
Did her system need more energy before it kicked in?
Ava filed the thought away.
She had bigger problems to deal with first.
Like the fact that she had just volunteered for a mission that might get her killed.
Well.
No turning back now.