Doomsday Supermarket

Chapter 8 - The Shopping List

Chapter 8 · 1,079 words

The manager's office terminal had a section Wren hadn't explored in detail. He'd seen the department names on the main status display, Pharmacy, Weapons Counter, Material Processing, Indoor Farm, Equipment Crafting, all locked, all greyed out, each with a status indicator that read PREREQUISITE NOT MET. He'd assumed the prerequisites were revenue thresholds. Hit a certain credit total, and the department unlocked. Simple. Mechanical. The kind of system he understood.

He was wrong.

It took him twenty minutes of navigating the interface to find the department unlock menu. It was buried under a submenu labeled FACILITY DEVELOPMENT, which he'd never clicked because the main status screen already showed the departments as locked. The unlock menu opened a new display, and each department's requirements appeared in full.

Pharmacy: Healing Tissue (minimum 3 viable samples). Revenue threshold: 200 credits.

Weapons Counter: Acid Glands (minimum 2 pairs, intact). Revenue threshold: 300 credits.

Material Processing: Psychic Cores (minimum 1, undamaged). Revenue threshold: 400 credits.

Indoor Farm: Bio-Luminescent Spores (minimum 5 grams, viable). Revenue threshold: 350 credits.

Equipment Crafting: Reinforced Carapace Plates (minimum 2, structural integrity verified). Revenue threshold: 500 credits.

Wren read the list three times. Each department needed a specific substance from a specific type of monster, in a specific quantity, plus a revenue threshold on top of that.

He pulled out his paper, the same scrap that held his pricing notes and quality standards, and turned it over. On the blank back, he copied the list by hand, adding notes in the margins:

*Healing tissue — have some from Jax's hauls. Need 3 viable. Might have enough already.* *Acid glands — same, from Jax. Need 2 pairs intact. Close.* *Psychic cores — what the hell is a psychic core? Never seen one. Never heard of it.* *Bio-luminescent spores — same. New material. Cave-dwelling? Where?* *Reinforced carapace plates — different from regular carapace. "Reinforced." Sounds harder. Bigger creature?*

Two of the five prerequisites he might already have, or could acquire soon from Jax's regular hunting routes. Three were completely unknown, materials he'd never encountered, from creatures he couldn't identify, in locations he had no way to reach.

The supply problem had just changed shape. It wasn't about volume anymore. It wasn't about attracting more customers or processing more fragments. It was about getting five specific things from five specific monsters, some of which might not exist in any area his suppliers hunted.

Wren sat in the manager's chair and stared at the wall. The chair was uncomfortable, hard plastic, designed for eight-hour shifts that never ended because the Store never closed. He'd been sitting in it for days now, and his back had started to complain in a language he was learning fluently.

He needed Jax. There was no way around it. Jax's team was the only hunting force he had, and the only person who might know what a psychic core was or where bio-luminescent spores came from. Wren could try to find other suppliers, but the prerequisite materials were specific enough that random scavengers wouldn't just happen to carry them. He needed someone who could hunt on purpose.

He needed to show Jax the list. All of it.

The thought made him uncomfortable. The prerequisite list was the Store's internal roadmap, what he needed, in what quantities, from what sources. Sharing it meant showing a supplier exactly how much he needed specific materials, which meant showing the supplier exactly how much leverage he had. Jax would know which items were urgent and which were negotiable. He'd price accordingly.

But the alternative was slower acquisition, and time was the one resource the Store couldn't generate more of. The countdown was running. Every day without a department unlocked was a day wasted.

Jax came in that afternoon with a routine delivery, carapace fragments, a pair of acid glands, nothing unusual. Wren processed the transaction at their negotiated rates, waited until the credits cleared, and then pulled out the paper.

"I need to show you something."

Jax took the paper. Read it. His expression shifted from casual interest to focused assessment somewhere around the third line. His finger tapped on Psychic Cores. Then on Reinforced Carapace Plates.

"Where'd you get this list?"

"The Store interface. Each department needs specific materials to unlock."

Jax read it again, slower. "Healing tissue. Got that. Acid glands. Got that." He looked up. "Psychic cores. You know what those are?"

"No."

"They come from mind-type creatures. Rare. Rare enough that most hunting teams go months without seeing one." He tapped the paper. "Bio-luminescent spores. Those grow inside cave dwellers, the ones that live in the tunnel systems under the old city. You have to go underground to get them."

"And the plates?"

Jax's finger stayed on Reinforced Carapace Plates for a long moment. "Those come from the big armored ones. Territorial. Mean as hell. We've encountered them twice." He paused. "We retreated both times."

The silence that followed was heavy. Wren looked at the list, five items, five departments, five hunts of varying difficulty. Two might be achievable with current supply. Three required entirely new targets, new terrain, new levels of risk.

"Can your team hunt these?" Wren asked.

Jax set the paper on the counter between them. "The tissue and glands, yeah. We're already bringing those in. The psychic cores—" He shrugged. "Availability problem more than a danger problem. We can look, but we can't promise."

"The spores?"

"Cave hunting. Different skill set. Different risks. We've never done it."

"The plates?"

Jax's expression was flat. "I told you. We've tried. Twice."

Wren looked at the list. The roadmap was complete now. He knew exactly what he needed. And the road was harder than he'd imagined.

"You'll look for the cores?" Wren said.

"We'll look."

"The spores?"

"I need to think about that one."

"And the plates?"

Jax picked up the paper, folded it carefully, and handed it back. "Let's start with the ones we can do. We'll talk about the rest when we know more."

He walked toward the entrance. Wren watched him go, aware that he'd just shown his entire hand to a man who negotiated for a living. The list was a menu of difficulties, and Jax now knew exactly which items Wren needed most.

But the alternative had been worse. Secrecy would have meant slower acquisition, and slower acquisition meant failing the audit. Wren had traded information for commitment, and now he had to wait and see what the commitment was worth.

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