INT. FOOD TRUCK - NIGHT. Ryan is slumped against the counter, cheek pressed to a stack of plastic crates. His eyes are closed. The truck's interior is cramped, cluttered with industrial burners, hanging ladles, and a massive cracked menu sc

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan wakes with a jolt. The truck is lurching, tilting. Metal groans. Through the small service window, city lights blur past — District 7's ruined skyline, finance towers with shattered windows, searchlights f

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. The truck slams down. Ryan steadies himself. The menu screen chimes — Mission Complete, then NEW MISSION flashes on screen. A progress bar appears: 'S-GRADE CRYSTAL REQUIRED.' A countdown timer: '7 DAYS REMAINI

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan stares at the quota. His face in the menu screen's reflection — tired, sharp-jawed, dark circles. He processes. He doesn't argue. He knows better.

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan moves to the service window, looks out at District 7. The view is grim — a dense population of the undead, shambling between ruined finance towers. No survivors visible. No movement that isn't dead.

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan's eyes track the undead crowd. He notes the density, the lack of survivors. The System's menu screen updates — new dishes unlock, tuned for B-grade and above undead. The higher grades are smarter. They rem

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan turns back to the menu screen. The System displays his operational parameters — buffs for living customers, speech restoration for the dead. His limitation: he cannot leave the truck for more than a few mi

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan accepts the parameters. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck. He knows the drill. He moves to the cooking station. The burners are industrial, the knives are sharp, the supplies are restocked by the Sys

EXT. DISTRICT 7 STREETS - CONTINUOUS. The truck sits in a ruined intersection, fluorescent lights blazing against the dark. The undead are already gathering — drawn by the light, the smell of cooking, the promise of something that isn't rot

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan looks through the service window at the gathered shamblers. A line of dead customers, waiting. He takes a breath. He plates the first meal — simple, fast, grade-D formula. The System chimes: customer serve

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. The shambler feeds. The System processes. A grade-D crystal forms — small, dim, glowing dull amber. Ryan harvests it with practiced efficiency. He stacks it on the counter. First of many.

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan serves more shamblers. The line moves. Plate, serve, harvest, stack. The rhythm of the work. The System's progress bar shows D-grade crystals accumulating. No progress toward S. Not even close.

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan pauses, wipes his hands on his apron. He looks at the progress bar, the countdown timer, the container of low-grade crystals. He looks at the window. The line of shamblers stretches into the dark. He goes

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. The System chimes — a notification. Ryan looks up. The menu screen updates: 'PATTERN DETECTED. GRADE PROGRESSION CORRELATES WITH PRESERVATION BEHAVIOR. S-GRADE REQUIRES: EMOTIONAL ANCHOR.' Ryan reads it. He kno

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Ryan stops. His hand freezes over the counter. The thought hangs unfinished. He doesn't say it. He can't. He looks at the container of crystals, the countdown timer, the line of shamblers. He goes back to cooki

INT. FOOD TRUCK - CONTINUOUS. Night deepens. Ryan keeps cooking. The shambler line thins as the early morning hours approach. The System's progress bar shows more D-grades, more C-grades. No B. No A. No S. The clock ticks down from seven da

INT. FOOD TRUCK - DAWN. The first light of dawn creeps over District 7's ruined skyline. The shamblers disperse into the shadows, avoiding the light. Ryan stands at the counter, exhausted, surrounded by plates and crystals. Day one complete

INT. FOOD TRUCK - DAWN. Ryan looks at the countdown timer. Six days. He looks at the progress bar. 0/1 S-grade. He looks at the container of low-grade crystals. He looks at the window, at the empty intersection, at the ruins of District 7 s