The sterile white of the hospital room felt alien after the grim shadows of the warehouse. Ren lay propped up in the bed, looking far too pale, but his eyes were open, watching them with a flicker of his usual humour. Tubes snaked from his arm, and an oxygen line rested beneath his nose, a constant, gentle reminder of how close they had come to losing him.
"Kuya!" Samantha cried, rushing to his side. Relief, sharp and potent, stole her breath. She grabbed his hand, her fingers intertwining with his, holding on as if she could anchor him to this side of consciousness. "You're okay—"
"Barely," he said, a weak, raspy chuckle escaping his lips. It was a sound that tightened Samantha's chest, a fragile melody after the violence. "You drive like a demon, by the way."
Samantha sniffled, a watery laugh bubbling up. Tears, finally released, tracked paths down her cheeks. "Takes one to know one," she managed, squeezing his hand tighter.
Lexie walked in last, her movements slow and deliberate compared to Samantha's frantic rush. She was quieter now, the cold fury that had radiated from her in the warehouse banked, replaced by a tense stillness. Her eyes, sharp and observant, met Ren's across the room.
He smiled faintly, weakly, a warmth spreading across his bruised face that was reserved just for her. "Hey, you."
Lexie stepped closer, her gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "Hey yourself." She didn't say anything else for a moment, just looked at him, a silent conversation passing between them. She didn't need to. The relief in her eyes, the faint tremble in her lower lip, spoke volumes.
Samantha, still clinging to Ren's hand, felt a hot blush creep up her neck. Lexie was here. Ren's girlfriend was here. And here Samantha was, sprawled half on the bed, holding his hand like a worried kid. Mochi, a faint, excited blue shimmer at the edge of her vision – visible only to her, of course – buzzed with silent commentary. Ohoho! Romantic reunion arc activated! Make space, Sam!
Samantha mentally rolled her eyes at Mochi, but she shifted back slightly, easing her grip on Ren's hand, though he didn't seem to want to let go entirely. "Right, um… sorry, Ate," Samantha mumbled, gesturing awkwardly towards Lexie, trying to make space for her near the bed. The "Ate," a term of respect for an older sister or female figure, felt both natural and utterly inadequate for the force of nature that was Lexie.
Lexie gave a tiny nod, acknowledging Samantha, before turning her full attention to Ren. She reached out, her hand surprisingly gentle, and brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "Hey, Ren," she said, her voice firm but laced with a deep undercurrent of worry. "I was just… working out when Sam chatted me. I was really worried about you, you know." She leaned down, her face close to his, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
A beat of silence. Ren closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch. When he opened them, he looked at Lexie, then back at Samantha, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to process the sequence of events. "Wait… Lexie," he rasped, his voice still strained. "Those guys… back at the warehouse… you didn't… kill them, did you?"
Lexie's expression remained calm, almost serene, a stark contrast to the brutal efficiency Samantha had witnessed just moments ago. She gave a small, humourless smile. "For the second time tonight, no. I did not," she said, her gaze flicking towards Samantha, who instinctively flinched. "You guys are really siblings. Sam asked me the exact same question earlier."
Mochi, visible only to Samantha, puffed out its tiny chest. See? Great minds think alike! Or… terrified minds, anyway.
Lexie continued, her voice dropping slightly, a casual, chilling tone that made Samantha's blood run cold despite the warmth of the hospital room. "But wanna know something, Ren? They deserved far worse than just… dying easily. They were animals." She paused, her eyes darkening minutely as she remembered the scene. "Like, maybe breaking their bones. Cutting their ears. Making them… making them understand what they tried to do."
Ren's eyes widened, the weak colour draining from his face again. He swallowed hard, a shudder running through his thin body. The casual brutality in her voice was almost more terrifying than the idea of death. "Okay," he interrupted quickly, his voice shaky. "Okay, that's enough. I've heard enough." Relief, raw and deep, washed over him again. The danger was past. Lexie was here. Samantha was here. They were safe. He reached a trembling hand up and cupped Lexie's cheek. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thanks for saving me. And Sam…" He looked at Samantha, then back at Lexie. "You're really cool, Lex. Both of you."
Lexie's composure cracked for a fleeting second. A faint pink dusted her cheeks, a splash of colour against her pale skin. It was barely perceptible, a tiny ripple in the Ice Queen's facade, but it was there.
Oho! Mochi buzzed excitedly in Samantha's mind, practically vibrating. Time to take a picture! The Ice Queen blushes! My first time seeing it! Quick, quick! Samantha suppressed a smile, a strange sense of camaraderie blooming between her, the hulking-anemic-nightmare-in-waiting, and the terrifying, blushing Ice Queen.
"So…" Samantha began, her voice still a little shaky, trying to steer the conversation back to the practicalities. "What… what happened? How did they even get you?"
Ren closed his eyes for a moment, a wince crossing his face as he shifted. "I… I don't know," he admitted, his voice weak. "One minute I was leaving the bookstore downtown, just scrolling on my phone… the next thing I remember is… gas. Smelled like… like something sweet and wrong." He paused, taking a shallow breath, his chest still tight. "Woke up tied to that chair. It was dark. They… they kept asking questions. About you, mostly. Asking if you were really as weak as they heard. Asking where you were. Said someone wanted you." He opened his eyes, his gaze troubled. "They didn't say who. Just… that they wanted you. And they were going to make you suffer before they… they took you."
Samantha felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. The system was right. It was about her. Someone wanted her. Badly enough to kidnap and torture her brother. Who? And why? The implications sent a shiver down her spine. This wasn't just random violence.
They talked quietly for a while longer, filling in the gaps, avoiding the most gruesome details for Ren's sake. Lexie explained she'd gotten Samantha's chat and headed straight there, guessing what might have happened. Samantha recounted her frantic search, the picture message, the race to the warehouse. She carefully omitted any mention of the system, Mochi, or the missions.
Forty minutes crawled by, measured in the rhythmic drip of the IV, Ren's shallow breathing, and the distant sounds of the hospital. The sterile waiting room outside the door offered little comfort, but the presence of each other, bruised but alive, was a solace.
Then, the double doors at the end of the hallway burst open, and Samantha's parents rushed in, their faces etched with raw panic. "Samantha! Ren!" her mother cried, spotting them immediately. Her father was right behind her, his usual calm facade shattered by the fear that had gripped them since they couldn't reach their children.
Samantha surged forward, meeting her mother in a tight, tearful embrace. "Mom! Dad! We're okay! We're okay!" she repeated, clinging to them.
Lexie, who had been standing quietly by the bed, stepped forward, a picture of polite respect despite the dried blood that still stained her shirt and jeans. She performed a slight 'mano po' gesture towards both parents, touching the back of their hands to her forehead. "Hi Tito, Tita," she said softly, her voice calm and respectful.
Samantha's mother, startled but momentarily distracted from her immediate panic, accepted the traditional greeting. "Oh, Lexie dear. God bless you," she murmured, her voice trembling, her eyes wide as she took in Lexie's appearance.
"Are you alright, Lexie?" her father asked, his brow furrowed with concern as he noticed the state of her clothes.
"I'm fine, Tito," Lexie replied, her gaze steady. "Just… took care of some things."
Her parents then turned their full, overwhelming attention to Ren. Their relief warring with horror as they saw his bruised face, the tubes, the oxygen mask. They rushed to the bed, fussing over him, asking the doctor questions who had followed them into the room, their worry palpable.
Then, her mother turned to Samantha, her eyes still wide with fear and confusion. "Oh, Sam, thank God you're safe," she murmured, pulling her into another hug, her hands smoothing Samantha's hair back. "Your brother told us… you drove him here. You… you shouldn't have strained yourself so much! Your doctor said… he said you need to be careful, that you shouldn't push yourself… not with your aplastic anemia..." The words hung in the air, the familiar, heavy diagnosis of her past frail existence. Aplastic anemia – the illness that had left her weak, anemic, reliant on transfusions, the slightest exertion a risk.
Samantha felt the familiar weight of her mother's concern, a concern she had lived with her entire life. It was a cage, built of love and fear. But it felt different now. She was different now. Stronger. Faster. More… alive. She had just survived a brutal fight, driven through chaotic traffic, pulled her brother from a death sentence. She hadn't collapsed. She hadn't needed a transfusion.
"Mom, Dad," she said, her voice firm, cutting through their anxieties. She pulled back from her mother's hug, meeting their skeptical, worried gazes head-on. "I'm fine now. Really." She took a deep breath, the System Interface notification, though faded into the background for now, was a persistent hum at the edge of her vision, a silent promise of chaos and power. She needed proof. Proof for them, proof for herself.
"Maybe… maybe I was cured," she continued, her voice gaining confidence, the idea taking root as she spoke it aloud. "My illness… maybe it just… went away. Just like that." She met their bewildered gazes, her eyes steady, radiating a newfound, undeniable strength. "If you're truly worried about me," she suggested, planting the seed of the idea she needed them to accept, needing a way to normalize this dramatic shift, "maybe we go to my doctor and test if my body is stable now. Really stable. See if the aplastic anemia is… gone."