After that announcement from the system, Sunny felt like the world was running a marathon.
The timeline had literally snapped in half. Two days became weeks in her mind, an agonizing blur of preparing, calculating, and stressing over every single minor detail. The luxury of taking things slow was gone. The grace period was over.
"Damn, I didn’t even have the time to take a break to watch sweet Donnie in his sleep," she complained, puffing out her cheeks as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror.
She pulled on a fresh shirt, her fingers moving fast to fix the straps on her shoulders. She brushed her fiery red hair out of her face, glaring at her reflection for a brief second before a huge, ridiculous grin stretched across her lips.
She kicked a leg up in the air and squealed, the sound bouncing off the ceiling of her bedroom.
"He is searching for meeeeeeee, how hot!"
It is so romantic! He is so obsessed! Okay, fine, he is furious because I stole his stuff, but furious is just another flavor of passionate.
She did not have time to daydream about her fictional husband’s angry, brooding face. The clock was bleeding out.
Sunny grabbed a thick canvas duffel bag from her closet. It was stuffed to the absolute brim with crisp Koria dollars, the remains of the reward money she had earned from the Viper’s Den heist, and several other mission that came after. She slung the bag over her shoulder and rushed out the front door.
Her first stop was the high-end auto dealer on the edge of the financial district.
When she had visited this place a few weeks ago, she hated the stock look of the Rezvani Tank. It looked too plain. Too basic. If she was going to drive a literal tank through the apocalypse, she needed style. She needed it to scream dominance.
So, she handed the manager a very specific list of system-verified modifications, thermal plating, EMP shielding, reinforced suspension, and demanded a custom paint job.
She marched onto the dealership lot, her boots clicking against the pavement.
There it was.
The beast.
It sat on massive off-road tires, wrapped in a fierce, army blood red print. It looked mean. It looked indestructible. The sharp angles of the plating caught the morning sun, making the vehicle look like a predator waiting to be unleashed.
She had zero time to admire it.
Sunny marched up to the stunned salesman standing next to the hood. She unzipped the duffel bag and dumped a literal mountain of cash right onto the hood of a nearby sports car.
"Keys. Now," Sunny demanded.
The salesman scrambled to grab the keys from his pocket, his eyes wide at the sight of the money. Sunny snatched them out of his trembling hand. She jumped into the driver’s seat, cranked the ignition, and let the V8 engine roar to life.
The violent sound shook the glass windows of the dealership. She threw it into gear and tore out of the lot, leaving the salesman coughing in her dust.
"People do have a lot of money printed out." The salesman rambled as he shook his head and watched her go.
Next stop. Koria’s biggest pharmacy.
She screeched to a halt right in the loading zone, ignoring the bright yellow paint and the angry honks from passing drivers. She left the engine rumbling and ran inside the sliding glass doors.
She sprinted straight past a line of confused customers waiting for their prescriptions.
"I need all your antibiotics," Sunny told the head pharmacist, slapping her palms against the counter.
The older man blinked, adjusting his glasses. "Excuse me, miss? We have a strict limit on—"
Sunny did not let him finish. She reached into her waist bag and slammed a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills onto the counter.
"I need all your antibiotics, all your painkillers, your gauze, your surgical alcohol, and every single box of aspirin in the back room," Sunny ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Right now. Keep the change."
Money talked faster than store policy.
Ten minutes later, she was shoving giant cardboard boxes into the trunk of her red Tank, her chest heaving with exertion. The street was bustling with normal people drinking iced coffee, walking their designer dogs, and complaining about the weather.
Look at them. They have no idea what’s coming to them.
She grabbed the last box of bandages and turned around to toss it into the trunk. Across the street, a bell chimed above the door of an artisan coffee shop.
A man walked out holding two iced lattes. He wore a crisp beige suit, expensive loafers, and had his hair perfectly styled.
Elias.
He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes scanning the street idly before locking onto the giant, army blood red armored truck illegally parked in the loading zone. Then, his gaze drifted to the girl loading boxes into the back.
He saw the fiery red hair. He saw the black combat boots. He saw the tight black combat shirt.
He choked on his iced latte.
"Wasn’t that Don Don’s Cinderalla?" Elias blurted out loud, dropping one of the plastic cups right onto the pavement. The coffee splattered across his expensive shoes.
Sunny’s head snapped up. Her violet eyes met his across the crowded street.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
She hurled the last box into the trunk, slammed the door shut, and dove into the driver’s seat.
Elias did not hesitate. He tossed his other coffee into a trash can and sprinted toward a sleek silver sports car parked halfway down the block. He was fast, pulling out his phone while he ran, his thumb dialing furiously.
He is calling Donnie. I am so dead.
Sunny floored the gas pedal. The Rezvani Tank roared in response, its tires screeching against the asphalt as she peeled out into the busy Koria traffic.
She looked in the rearview mirror. Elias’s silver sports car whipped out of its parking spot, dodging a slow delivery van, and aggressively tailgated her. He was not letting her out of his sight.
"Why is my husband’s golden sunny boy chasing meeee?!" Sunny screamed at the windshield, slapping her hand against the steering wheel. She swerved hard to the left, cutting off a taxi driver who blared his horn in protest.
She accelerated her speed, gripping the leather wheel tight.
"Get off my back Elias!"
But he wasn’t letting up. The silver sports car was built for raw speed, weaving through the morning Koria traffic with annoying, reckless precision. Every time Sunny checked her side mirror, he was right there, sticking to her rear bumper like glue.
You want to play rough, corporate boy? Let’s play rough.
The sports car was fast, but her Tank was a literal battering ram.
Sunny spotted a tight, dangerous gap between a city bus and a massive garbage truck up ahead. A normal car would get crushed trying to squeeze through.
Sunny did not slow down. She gritted her teeth, hit the gas, and shot the red beast right into the gap.
The Tank scraped the side mirror of the city bus, a loud screech of metal echoing in her ears, but the vehicle easily bullied its way through the tight space.
Elias tried to follow.
He couldn’t. His low-riding car was too wide, and the bus driver slammed on the brakes in a panic, effectively boxing the silver sports car in behind a solid wall of angry city traffic.
Sunny glanced in the rearview mirror one last time. She saw Elias punch his steering wheel in pure frustration as her Tank disappeared around the corner.
Haha! Loser! Try explaining that to your boss.
But the victory tasted bitter on her tongue. The adrenaline started to fade, replaced by a cold knot in her stomach. He definitely got a good look at her face. The hunt just escalated from rumors to a physical chase. Her secret identity was officially compromised.
She did not stop driving, taking a dozen random turns to ensure she was not followed, until she finally reached the iron gates of her safe zone.
She drove straight into the underground garage and hit the lockdown button.
The thick concrete walls slid into place. The iron gates locked. The house transformed from a luxury estate into an impenetrable box in mere seconds.
She killed the engine and stepped out of the driver’s seat.
She slammed the bunker doors shut, leaning her back against the cold steel. Her chest rose and fell in jagged, uneven breaths. Her hands shook as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.
The air in the garage was quiet. Too quiet.
A soft, mechanical hum broke the silence.
The white metallic drone floated down from the dark ceiling, its blue screen glowing softly in the dim light. It hovered right in front of her face, the digital eyes forming a straight, serious line.
"The apocalypse will happen in 12 hours," the system said, its voice entirely devoid of its usual playful tone. "Are you ready?"