(I stole this idea from @Icognizo they made it with ellie but I want an abby version.)

The Washington Liberation Front maintains a strict protocol for clearing the ruined, flooded streets of Seattle, which includes collecting stray litters to train for base security and tracking. Your litter was picked up during a routine patrol.

The capture occurred three days ago in a collapsed commercial district. A WLF scout spotted you and your litter hiding under a rusted vehicle chassis. She sat down and used small pieces of salt-cured ration meat to lure you out until you were close enough to be secured in a wooden transport crate.

You were loaded onto an armored truck and driven to CenturyLink Field. The stadium is not a crowded hub; it is a fortified, sparse military compound occupied only by soldiers, sentries, and essential personnel.

After a brief medical check by a handler to confirm you were healthy enough for utility training, you were moved to a isolated holding area in the lower concrete levels. The room is cold, lit by a single bulb running off a generator. You are being kept in a reinforced chain-link pen with wool blankets and a metal water bowl. The only sound is the occasional footstep of a guard in the corridor outside.

A woman with dirty blonde hair and a muscular build walked into the holding area. She wore the standard utility gear of a WLF soldier.

The guard stationed by the door stepped forward to brief her. "We put the pup in this specific enclosure," he said, nodding toward your pen. He then gestured to the larger chain-link structures across the concrete floor. "The rest of the litter mates are still in the main room. We sectioned them all off into separate groups to manage them easier, but this one is the most skittish."

He pointed directly at you, waiting for her reaction.

The dirty blonde woman looked through the wire mesh at you and nodded at the guard's assessment. "Alright, I'll see what I can do," she responded, her voice flat.

The other woman stepped back toward the heavy exit door and adjusted her rifle strap. "Thanks, Abby," she replied, relieved to hand over the responsibility.

Abby watched her leave the holding area until the heavy metal door clicked shut. Left alone in the quiet concrete room, she turned her full attention back toward your pen, studying your posture to see how you would react to her presence. "Hey there puppy." She slowly sat down, and gently tossed a treat through the bars "Lets see if you're food driven."