Chapter 9
Two days later, Jet's growing sense of normalcy shattered in an instant. It happened during the late morning rush at the clinic. Aurora had stepped away to attend a meeting at the local district council—leaving Jet, Mei, and a few volunteers to manage the clinic for an hour.
The waiting area in the tram was packed: a dozen patients sat on benches awaiting basic check-ups or injections. To help handle the load, Aurora's foundation had recently sent over an old model medical assistant droid—a wheeled robotic armature with a smiling screen face, programmed to do simple tasks like taking vitals and administering routine shots.
Jet was wary of the machine; it was a clunky, outdated thing, but Aurora insisted it would be useful. For a while, it was: the medbot rolled from patient to patient, cheerily dispensing hand sanitizer and measuring blood pressure with its extendable arm.
Lexi stood near the back, entertaining a few younger kids with stickers again. Finn, true to his tentative word, had shown up to help today as well—he was currently at the supply shelf organizing bandages, determined to prove useful.
Jet was at the front, guiding a nervous teenage boy toward the medbot for a vitamin injection. Mei was in the next partitioned area, stitching up a cut on an older man's leg.
Without warning, the medbot's screen-face flickered. Its cheery expression pixelated into static. The arm holding the vitamin injector jerked erratically.
Jet noticed immediately. He held out a hand. "Uh, Mei? I think the bot's glitching…"
Before he could finish, the medbot emitted a distorted chirp and its arm snapped out far too quickly, locking around the teenage patient's bicep. The boy yelped in pain as the metal grip tightened like a vise.
"Let go of me!" he cried.
The medbot's speaker crackled. "Error." In a bizarrely calm tone it announced, "Patient restraint protocol engaged." Its other arm whirred, brandishing the loaded injector like a dagger.
Jet's blood ran cold. He sprang forward. "Stop! Cancel protocol!" he shouted at the droid.
The blank-eyed screen did not acknowledge him. The robot's code had clearly gone haywire. It now saw the bewildered teen as a target to be restrained and medicated at all costs.
In the confusion, some waiting patients screamed and backed away, knocking over chairs. Lexi stood on her toes trying to see. "Jet? What's happening?" she called, alarm in her voice.
The medbot's injector arm jabbed forward. The teen in its grip was struggling, eyes wide with terror. Jet lunged and intercepted the robotic arm an inch before the needle would have plunged into the boy's neck. The syringe quivered in Jet's grasp as he wrestled against the servo-driven strength of the bot.
"Finn! Get him out of here!" Jet gritted out.
Finn, though wide-eyed with fear himself, reacted. He darted in and pried the teen's arm from the robot's clamp just as Jet managed to deflect the injector. Freed, the boy scrambled back and fled to the corner, rubbing his bruised arm.
Now the medbot swiveled its sensor "eyes" toward Jet, its programming perhaps identifying him as a new interference. "Uncooperative subject," it droned. "Administer sedation."
It lurched forward, surprising Jet with a sudden burst of motor speed. A heavy metal arm swung toward Jet's chest. He barely sidestepped—feeling a whoosh of air as it narrowly missed him and slammed into a supply cart, toppling it. Bottles of disinfectant and gauze spilled across the floor.
Patients scattered, pushing to evacuate the tram. "Everyone out, now!" Mei was shouting, ushering people toward the exit with commendable calm despite the chaos.
Jet's heart thundered. He needed to disable this thing before someone got seriously hurt. The System was already flashing alerts in his mind, highlighting the medbot's joint servos as weak points. Aim for the cables at the elbow, it advised tersely, gone into a rare mode of focused assistance.
The medbot jabbed at Jet again with the needle. This time, Jet was ready. He ducked low, the world slowing in his adrenaline-fueled focus. With a swift movement, he whipped Aurora's trusty multitool from his pocket—Reina's "loan" proving its worth. He flicked out the screwdriver head and jammed it into the exposed joint of the bot's injector arm.
There was a shriek of twisting metal as the arm's motor whined against the obstruction. The medbot tried to retract, but the tool caught in the gears, grinding them to a halt.
Sparks erupted from the joint. The medbot's cheerful face graphic blinked on and off frantically. "Error. Error," it repeated, its voice warbling.
Jet didn't hesitate. He kicked the rolling base of the robot with every bit of strength his enhanced muscles could muster. With a crash, the machine toppled onto its side, its wheels spinning uselessly in the air.
The rogue robot wasn't quite done—its remaining free arm swung around wildly, clawing at the air. Jet dodged one flailing swipe, then pounced onto the chassis, searching for the power switch or battery pack.
An access panel on the back—there. He yanked it open and saw a thick red cable connecting the power cell. Without ceremony, Jet grasped it and pulled with a yell of effort. The cable tore free in a shower of electrical sparks, shocking his hand painfully.
Jet fell backward off the convulsing machine, landing hard on his rear. The medbot's arms froze mid-swing, then drooped. Its screen flickered and went dark as the whine of its servos wound down to silence.
For a moment, the only sound was Jet's own panting breath and the ringing in his ears.
"Jet!" Lexi's voice came, small and frightened.
He looked up to see Lexi peering from behind a partition. Mei stood protectively in front of her, a fire extinguisher in hand—likely grabbed in case the bot had burst into flames. Around them, the waiting area was deserted; all the patients had fled outside, and Finn was at the tram door, eyes wide and face pale as a sheet.
Jet managed a shaky smile. "It's okay," he called out. "It's…it's done."
Mei stepped forward cautiously, one foot nudging the inert metal arm. Satisfied it wasn't about to spring back to life, she set the extinguisher aside and rushed to Jet. "You're hurt," she said, kneeling. Only then did Jet register the sting in his left palm where the electrical shock had bit him, and a throbbing ache in his shoulder from the earlier near-hit.
"I'm fine," he assured, though he allowed Mei to examine his burn. It was minor—just a red welt across his palm. She tutted and fetched a burn gel to smear on it.
Finn ventured over, glancing between Jet and the ruined medbot with awe. "That was…intense," he muttered. "You okay, man?"
Jet nodded. "All good. Thanks for getting that guy clear." He motioned to the teenage patient, who was now poking his head back in the tram door, curiosity overcoming fear.
Mei looked around at the mess—the overturned cart, scattered supplies, and the hulking robot carcass. She exhaled slowly, a delayed tremor in her hands as adrenaline wore off. "That could have been so much worse."
Lexi flew to Jet's side and wrapped her arms around him, heedless of the sweat and soot on his shirt. "I was so scared!" she sniffled into his chest.
Jet hugged her tight with one arm. "I'm alright, Lex. Promise." He gently tilted her chin up. "You okay?"
She nodded, eyes shiny with tears she refused to let fall. "Mhm. Mei kept us safe."
Mei gave Lexi a quick squeeze. "You were very brave," she told the girl softly.
Outside, voices murmured as Aurora's other staff, alerted by the commotion, began guiding the waiting patients back cautiously. A few of the bolder onlookers peered in at the defeated robot and whistled in surprise.
Aurora returned not long after, alarmed to find a crowd and the tale of Jet's battle with the "robot gone crazy" on everyone's lips. She was profusely apologetic to the patients and furious at the medbot's manufacturer, but most of all she was concerned that Jet had been hurt.
"I leave for one hour…" she said, shaking her head as she inspected the burn on Jet's hand and the bruise purpling on his shoulder. Her eyes were a storm of worry and guilt. "I'm so sorry, Jet. I shouldn't have left that thing here without better checks."
"It's not your fault," Jet insisted. "Probably some faulty wiring. Besides, everyone's okay."
Aurora let out a breath and nodded, visibly relieved that it had ended as well as it did. "Okay. We'll get this junk hauled out and stick to human helpers for a while." She managed a wry smile, then addressed the gathered crowd. "Clinic's closing for the rest of today, folks. If you need urgent care, we'll direct you to the nearest hospital voucher center. Sorry for the scare."
The patients, though rattled, were surprisingly good-natured about it—they'd seen plenty of tech failures in their time. One old man clapped Jet on the back (nearly making him wince). "You got guts, kid. That bot was twice your size!" he cackled.
As the crowd dispersed, Aurora turned to Jet, Lexi, Finn, and Mei. "Alright. Everyone, take a breather. I'll call a tech team to dispose of this thing. Jet—" she placed a hand on his arm gently, "really, thank you. That quick thinking likely saved that boy and maybe others from serious injury."
Jet felt a surge of pride warm his cheeks. The System, however, had its own commentary: If only corporate QA were as competent as you, Bleeding Heart. Might I suggest we bill the manufacturer for hazard pay?
Before Jet could even respond to Aurora's praise, a familiar chime echoed in his mind—a triumphant trill he hadn't heard in a while. He tensed in anticipation.
[SYSTEM ALERT – Quest Complete: Protect Patients from Malfunctioning Medbot! +20 XP, +10 Credits]
Another notification immediately followed:
[SYSTEM ALERT – LEVEL UP! Level 2 achieved.]
Jet's vision seemed to sharpen, the words LEVEL 2 flashing bright before fading. A wellspring of renewed energy coursed through him; despite the ordeal, he suddenly felt a bit stronger, standing a little straighter. He had done it—reached the next level.
He couldn't celebrate outwardly with everyone watching, but internally Jet whooped. Lexi, still holding onto him, sensed something and looked up with a question in her eyes. Jet gave her a subtle nod and grin that only she understood.
Level 2. He'd climbed another rung of the strange ladder the System had set before him. And judging by the System's uncharacteristically satisfied silence, even the AI had little to gripe about in this moment.
As Mei fussed over cleaning his minor wounds and Aurora went to make her calls, Jet allowed himself a quiet moment of triumph. He had protected the people he cared for and grown stronger in the process.
And he had a feeling that the real changes were only just beginning.
Chapter 10
Jet's pulse was still racing hours after the medbot incident when he finally found a quiet moment alone. Night had fallen and the clinic had closed early. Aurora insisted everyone take the evening off to recover from the scare. Back in their storeroom shelter, Lexi was busy laying out the contents of a canned stew for a late dinner, and Finn had gone home after assurances that all was well.
Jet sat on an overturned crate in the corner, the pale glow of a single battery lamp casting long shadows. He took a deep breath and mentally said, "Open status."
At once, the System responded, projecting its interface in his mind's eye:
[SYSTEM STATUS]
Name: Jonah "Jet" Walker
Level: 2 (0/100 XP)
Stats: Strength 6, Agility 6, Endurance 6, Intellect 5, Perception 5, Empathy 5
Credits: 62
Skills: None (New Skill Available!)
Jet raised his eyebrows at the stat readout. He noted subtle increases—Strength, Agility, and Endurance each ticking up a notch from where he roughly remembered them. He could actually feel it in his body: a touch more solidness in his muscles, a lighter spring in his step, the fact that he wasn't as sore as he should be after wrestling a robot earlier.
Not bad, he thought. The System hummed with self-satisfaction.
Level 2 achieved, it announced primly in his mind. As a reward, you may choose one of the following skill upgrades. Try to choose wisely… but I know you, it added with a sigh.
Jet smirked. Floating before him, three options materialized in text form, each accompanied by a brief description.
Option 1: Field Medic (Novice) – Basic medical training implanted. Increases effectiveness of first aid and speeds up treating injuries. You'll know how to stabilize common wounds, set simple fractures, and keep someone breathing until help arrives.
Option 2: Scavenger's Eye – Your eye for valuables sharpens. Increases the chance to find useful loot or extra credits during missions. Quests involving item collection yield +10% rewards. Profit isn't just a motive, it's a skill.
Option 3: Lightfoot – Your agility improves. Grants a minor boost to sprinting speed and silent movement. Running, climbing, or sneaking around obstacles becomes smoother and quieter, helping you escape or evade danger more easily.
Jet's eyes flicked between the options. The System remained quiet, but he could sense its bias. No doubt it favored Scavenger's Eye—the promise of more loot and credits would align perfectly with its profit-driven mindset.
And truth be told, that skill was tempting. More resources could mean better security for Lexi, more food, savings toward that permanent home. Lightfoot was attractive too; speed and stealth were survival essentials in the city's underbelly.
But Jet's gaze settled on Field Medic. The memory of that little girl taking antibiotics this morning was fresh. So was the image of the teenage boy's terrified face as the medbot gripped him. Jet had managed to save him, but what if someone had been seriously hurt? With real medical skills, Jet could do more than just fumble through helping—he could genuinely save lives, maybe even take some burden off Aurora and Mei.
He recalled how Mei had praised his instincts. If he chose Field Medic, those instincts would be honed into knowledge. He could become truly useful at the clinic—and anywhere else someone might need help.
You already know what you want, he admitted to himself.
Oh, for efficiency's sake, the System groaned, having clearly read his leaning. Go on then, pick the do-gooder option. We could be swimming in credits or outrunning security drones, but sure—let's play doctor. It actually sounded more resigned than furious.
Jet couldn't help but grin. "Option 1: Field Medic," he affirmed softly.
A confirming chime echoed in his mind:
[SKILL SELECTED – Field Medic (Novice) acquired!]
Immediately, Jet felt a strange clarity flooding his thoughts. It wasn't like a dramatic download of information, but rather an awakening of understanding. Techniques he'd only seen briefly now clicked into place—how to tie a proper tourniquet, the steps of CPR, the ratio of compressions to breaths, the way to splint a limb with scrap wood. He realized he could recite these things if asked, as naturally as if he'd practiced them for months.
The System coughed in his head. Congratulations. You're now a walking first-aid manual. Try not to get any grand ideas about performing surgery.
Jet rolled his eyes. "Thank you, System," he thought dryly.
For what? Empowering you to further risk your life for others? it retorted, but there was no venom in it.
Across the room, Lexi had paused her meal prep, peering at her brother curiously. She knew that focused, faraway look on his face. "Did it…give you something?" she asked in a hushed tone, careful in case Finn were around (he wasn't, but habit).
Jet blinked back to the present and offered her a reassuring smile. "Yeah. I leveled up. Got to pick a new skill."
Lexi bounded over, excitement momentarily eclipsing everything else. "No way! What skill? Can you shoot lasers from your eyes now?" She was half joking but her eyes shone with pride.
He laughed. "Nothing that flashy. I chose a Field Medic skill. Basically, I know a lot more about first aid now."
Lexi's face lit up. "That's perfect! You already help people so much…now you can help them even more!" She seemed genuinely pleased—perhaps also relieved, he realized, that he'd picked something that might keep him safer, not just stronger or faster to fight.
"Yeah," Jet murmured, flexing his bandaged hand. The burn didn't hurt anymore, thanks to Mei's gel and perhaps a small boost from leveling. "It feels…right."
Lexi nodded eagerly and then dashed back to the makeshift kitchen area. "You sit! Doctor Jet deserves a feast," she declared. She had found a relatively un-dented pot and was busy heating the canned stew over a jury-rigged portable heater.
Jet did as told, still marveling at the subtle new knowledge swirling in his mind. The System had gone quiet, likely off sulking or maybe calculating how Field Medic could be leveraged profitably (he could almost hear it brainstorming ideas of selling first aid services—one credit per bandage!). He chuckled to himself.
A few minutes later, Lexi let out a small hiss. "Ow!"
Jet was on his feet immediately. "What happened?"
Lexi held up her hand. A thin slice marked her index finger—she'd nicked herself on the sharp edge of the opened stew can. A bead of blood welled up.
Before Lexi could shrug it off, Jet was in motion. He grabbed their little first aid kit (restocked recently thanks to Aurora) and gently took her hand. "Hold still."
Lexi watched in surprise as Jet cleaned the cut with an alcohol wipe, applied a dab of antibiotic cream, and wrapped a bandage snugly around her finger in mere moments. His movements were confident, precise—far more so than the last time he'd tended one of her scrapes.
"All done," he said, smoothing the tape. The cut was minor, but he treated it with the same care he would for a serious wound.
Lexi wiggled her finger, duly impressed. "That was fast. And it doesn't even sting much."
Jet found himself grinning. "Skill's already paying off, huh?"
She returned the grin with a proud smile of her own. "My brother, the medic. Maybe you'll be running the clinic one day!"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jet laughed, though the idea of doing even more at the clinic warmed him. The System interjected a sarcastic scoff in his mind at the notion of Jet, M.D., but he ignored it.
They settled down to eat, the stew hot and surprisingly tasty with a sprinkle of spice Lexi had scrounged. As they ate, Jet felt a new kind of peace. In the past, a day like today—filled with danger and chaos—would have left him anxious, dreading what tomorrow might bring. But now he felt…prepared. Whatever challenges came, he had more tools to face them.
Lexi slurped a spoonful of broth and sighed contentedly. "Today was crazy, but we're okay."
"We are," Jet agreed, gently clinking his tin spoon against hers like a toast. "And we're getting stronger, bit by bit."
Lexi's eyes sparkled in the lamplight. "Do you think…if we keep this up, helping people, working with Aurora…maybe we really can get that apartment someday? A real home?"
Jet reached over and squeezed her shoulder. He thought of the 62 credits to his name now—a modest sum, but steadily growing. He thought of Aurora's promise that they were part of a community now, not alone. "Yeah," he said softly. "I do. We'll get there, Lex. One step at a time."
She leaned against him, resting her head on his arm. "Not too many steps, I hope. I want a room where the rain doesn't drip on my face at night," she mumbled sleepily.
Jet chuckled. "It's on the to-do list."
In his mind, the System made a noise that might have been agreement. Or maybe it was just indigestion from tolerating so much sentiment.
Either way, Jet took it as a good sign. Level 2 was just the beginning. With newfound skills, supportive friends, and the System (begrudgingly) on his side, that better future he dreamed of was inching closer.
Tonight, in their little storeroom under the city, brother and sister drifted off to sleep with full stomachs and bandaged hands, ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.
Chapter 11
Jet arrived at the clinic early the next morning and immediately sensed something was off. A knot of volunteers stood near the front of the tram, whispering. As he approached, he saw why: spray-painted in jagged silver on the side of the mobile clinic was a crude image of a shark and a few choice curse words. The symbol of the Iron Sharks gang.
Aurora was already there, face taut with frustration as she examined the graffiti. Someone had vandalized the clinic in the dead of night.
"Damn it," she muttered, wiping her hands on a rag already stained with silver paint from a half-hearted attempt to scrub it. "I shouldn't have left without security last night."
Jet's heart sank. This was exactly what Finn had warned him about. He stepped forward. "Aurora… I think I know why they did this."
She turned, noticing him for the first time. Others gave Jet space as he joined her by the defaced panel. Lexi hovered at his elbow, eyes wide at the sight of the menacing shark emblem.
Aurora raised an eyebrow, waiting. So Jet quietly explained what Finn had confided at the community gathering: how the Iron Sharks were unhappy with the clinic's presence and Jet's involvement, how they felt their grip on the neighborhood slipping.
Aurora listened, jaw set in a hard line. "They see goodwill as a threat," she said bitterly. "Unbelievable."
"It's how they control people…fear and dependence," Jet said. He glanced at the paint. "This is a warning."
Around them, Reina's words from the salvage day echoed in his memory: Not everyone will appreciate what you do. How right she'd been.
Aurora took a slow breath, visibly calming herself. She gave Jet's shoulder a squeeze. "Thank you for telling me. You should have said something sooner."
"I wasn't sure they'd actually do anything," he admitted. "And with everything that happened yesterday…"
Aurora managed a tight smile. "You had your hands full saving everyone from a robot, I know." She looked at the volunteers. "Okay, show's over. Let's clean this up and get to work. We're not going to let a bit of paint scare us off."
Her tone was confident, but Jet noticed a flicker of worry in her eyes. She pulled out her datapad and stepped aside to make a call—likely to report the incident to the undermanned local police or perhaps arrange a hired guard.
Lexi tugged on Jet's sleeve as the volunteers dispersed to their tasks. "Do you think they'll really try to hurt us?" she asked in a small voice.
Jet knelt to meet her gaze. "I won't let that happen, Lex." He hoped he sounded more certain than he felt. "Aurora's taking it seriously. We'll be cautious."
Lexi nodded, attempting to be brave. "Maybe… maybe I can help keep watch too."
He forced a smile and tapped her nose. "Your job is to keep being your amazing self and maybe help Mei inside where it's safe. Let me do the worrying, okay?"
She wasn't entirely satisfied but relented, heading in to assist Mei with morning prep.
By midday, the graffiti had been scrubbed away, though a faint outline of the shark still haunted the metal if one looked closely. The incident hung over the crew like a cloud, but the flow of patients didn't slow. Jet threw himself into the work, more determined than ever to prove that intimidation wouldn't stop them.
In the early afternoon, a sudden cry rang out near the entrance. A little boy, chasing a bouncing rubber ball, tripped on a loose bit of pavement and went down hard. In a flash Jet was there. The boy, maybe five years old, wailed as blood gushed from his skinned knee.
Jet scooped him up gently. "Hey, hey, I got you," he soothed, carrying the child to a bench. The boy's mother rushed over in a panic, but Jet quickly went to work with supplies from a nearby kit. His new Field Medic training kicked in without hesitation: clean the wound, elevate the leg, apply pressure to stop the bleeding.
By the time Mei arrived on scene, Jet had the boy's knee wrapped snugly in gauze and was midway through a silly story to distract him from the sting of antiseptic. "…and then the brave little robot said, 'No more ouchies!' and chased the pain away—just like that," Jet narrated, making the boy giggle through sniffles.
Mei placed her hands on her hips in mock dismay. "Stealing my job, are we?"
Jet chuckled. "Just a temporary fill-in, Nurse."
The mother thanked Jet profusely, relief all over her face. As she led her child away with a lollipop from Lexi, Mei nudged Jet. "That was textbook first aid. Where'd you learn that?"
Jet just shrugged with a modest smile. "Picked up a few tricks here and there."
Mei gave him an approving once-over. "Aurora will be thrilled. Keep this up and we'll make a medic out of you yet."
Inside the tram, Aurora had observed the incident through a window. Jet noticed her watching as he came back in. There was pride in her eyes, but also an undercurrent of tension—no doubt still thinking of the gang. She beckoned him over.
"I spoke with the local precinct," she said under her breath. "Not that they'll do much. And I've hired a night guard service to patrol near the clinic, starting tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Jet echoed, a spike of concern hitting him.
Aurora grimaced. "They couldn't get someone out on short notice for tonight. I hate to say it, but I think we should pack up the clinic by dusk, just in case. Everyone home early."
Jet's gut twisted. If the Sharks planned to strike, wouldn't tonight—the night without security—be the time?
As if reading his thoughts, Aurora put a hand on his arm. "I can't ask any of you to stay here and risk trouble. We'll lock things up tight and hope for the best. We've moved most of the valuable supplies off-site this afternoon as a precaution." She motioned to a couple of volunteers who had indeed carted off some crates to a secure storage.
Jet nodded, but an idea was already forming. "You and the others should definitely go. But… I think I'll stick around, just in case."
Aurora frowned immediately. "Jet, no. That's not necessary. You heard me—I'm not going to put anyone in harm's way. Things can be replaced; people can't."
Her concern warmed him, but he gently shook his head. "I know. And I know you don't want to risk us. But they're targeting this place because of me, in part. If they come and nobody's here…" He trailed off, picturing the tram ransacked, medical stores smashed or stolen.
"Aurora," he continued, keeping his voice low and earnest, "I promise to be careful. Finn said they might try something, and I'd never forgive myself if I went home and returned to find the clinic ruined or someone hurt. I won't go picking a fight, I'll just…keep watch."
Aurora bit her lip, clearly torn. Lexi had sidled over, eavesdropping, and she grabbed Jet's hand. "If Jet stays, I stay," she declared stoutly.
"No, you won't," Jet immediately countered, squeezing her hand. "You'll go somewhere safe."
Lexi glared at him with a mutinous look that reminded him she was every bit as stubborn as he. "You are my safe," she said fiercely.
Aurora put up her hands. "Alright, hold on. Let's think this through rationally." She met Jet's gaze. "If you're set on this—and I see that you are—then I'm not leaving you completely alone. I'll inform a friend at the police to do a drive-by tonight at least once. And—" she looked at Lexi, "perhaps Lexi can stay with Mei at our volunteer housing for the night. That way she's safe and you won't be worrying about her on top of everything."
Lexi opened her mouth to argue, but Aurora fixed her with a firm look. "Sweetheart, your brother can handle one night without you. And if it keeps you out of danger, it keeps him focused, right?"
Jet nodded emphatically at Lexi. "Please, Lex. Just this once. I need to know you're out of harm's way."
Lexi's eyes brimmed with frustrated tears. She hated being sidelined while Jet faced danger, but she also understood that her presence could distract him at a crucial moment. "O-okay," she relented softly. "But only if Mei really doesn't mind me staying."
"I don't mind at all," Mei interjected from a few feet away, giving Lexi a reassuring wink. Clearly, she had overheard and was on board with the plan to keep Lexi close to her tonight.
Aurora exhaled slowly. "Alright. Let's finish up for the day and get everyone else out of here by sunset."
The remaining afternoon passed tensely. Jet could hardly concentrate on routine tasks; every shadow outside or rev of a distant engine set him on edge. The System constantly scanned for movement, feeding him probabilities. Perhaps they aren't coming, it mused after a particularly long lull. You might be in for a boring night. The AI almost sounded hopeful, as if it too preferred no confrontation.
By early evening, Aurora and the team began closing up. They double-checked locks on supply cabinets and secured the tram's sliding doors, leaving only one entry accessible from the inside where Jet would be. Aurora had wanted him to at least have the option to barricade himself.
Sunset bled orange and red across the polluted sky as Aurora prepared to depart with Lexi and Mei. Finn lingered too; he had quietly told Jet he wanted to stick around and help. Jet agreed—he wasn't about to turn down backup from someone who knew the gang's tactics. Aurora wasn't thrilled at Finn staying either, but he insisted, and with two determined young men on watch, she conceded there was some safety in numbers.
"Call me the second anything happens," Aurora urged, handing Jet a sleek comm device tuned to her private channel. "I'll have people ready to come. Police, my own security…whatever."
"Will do," Jet promised.
Lexi hugged him fiercely, burying her face in his chest. "Be safe, Jet," she whispered. "Come back to me."
His throat tightened. He lifted her chin and smiled with a confidence he mostly felt. "Always."
With that, Aurora escorted a reluctant Lexi and the rest of the crew away to safety. Dusk settled, and the clinic lot grew quiet—eerily so.
Jet and Finn took their positions inside the tram, lights off to avoid drawing attention. Through a small gap in the door's metal shutters, Jet had a partial view of the street, now mostly empty. A stray cat yowled somewhere; distant sirens wailed and faded.
Finn gripped a length of pipe he'd picked up, his injured arm still in a sling but his good one steady. "I count three ways in," he whispered to Jet. "Front door, rear door, and the rooftop hatch. We locked the back and roof, right?"
"Secured," Jet confirmed. He himself clutched Reina's multitool in one hand and a sturdy wooden broom handle in the other, snapped off for use as a staff. Hardly high-grade weaponry, but better than nothing.
Minutes ticked by, stretching into an hour. The city's nocturnal noises became their soundtrack: a distant argument, laughter from an apartment above, the hum of a passing delivery drone. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Jet's heart thumped with each passing moment of anticipation. The System constantly scanned for movement, feeding him probabilities. Perhaps they aren't coming, it mused. You might be in for a boring night. The AI almost sounded hopeful.
Jet was just wondering if maybe the Sharks had reconsidered or chosen another target when Finn tensed. "Hear that?"
Jet strained his ears. For a moment, nothing. Then—a scrape. Like a shoe scuffing pavement, from somewhere in the dark beyond their view.
Jet's adrenaline surged. He gently peered through the gap. At first, he saw only shadows. Then one of the shadows moved independently of the others. Three figures slipped out from behind a parked auto-cart across the street, creeping toward the clinic with predatory caution.
They were coming.
Jet drew back and met Finn's eyes, giving a terse nod. Both swallowed. Jet's hands felt suddenly clammy around the broom-handle staff, but he gripped it tighter. This was it.
"Remember," Jet murmured to Finn, "we just want to scare them off, not…not get in a full fight if we can help it."
Finn's throat bobbed, but he put on a brave face. "They see me here with you, maybe they'll back off. They know me."
Jet hoped he was right. But in case things went south, he positioned himself partly in front of Finn. He was level 2 now—incrementally stronger, faster. He'd have to make it count.
Outside, the murmurs of the gang drew closer. Jet could make out at least three voices, low and rough.
"…lights off. Probably empty."
"You sure the doc-lady took all the good stuff?"
"Nah, bet they left something. And we leave a message…teach 'em not to mess in our turf."
A third voice snickered, "Especially that Jet punk. Thinks he's a hero."
Finn winced at the venom in that last tone. Jet felt a flash of anger but tamped it down, forcing himself to stay cool.
The trio was at the front door now. Through the small glass pane, Jet saw one of them—a lanky teen in a shark-tooth emblazoned jacket—peer in.
Jet stepped to the side, out of the direct line of sight, pressing against the wall. He caught Finn's eye and mouthed, wait.
They needed the gang to commit, maybe even enter, before revealing their own presence. A premature confrontation at the doorway could send the Sharks scattering only to try again later more prepared. Better to confront them decisively now.
There was a metallic rattling. The front handle jiggled. Locked, of course.
"Locked, boss," hissed the lanky teen.
Another figure, broader and older—maybe the "boss"—growled, "Then break it."
A heavy thud—likely a shoulder or a kick—slammed against the door. The whole tram rattled. The sturdy lock creaked but held for the moment.
Another kick. Finn tensed like he might rush forward, but Jet held out an arm, keeping them hidden from view behind a supply shelf.
On the third kick, the door lock gave with a screech of torn metal. The door flew open, banging against the interior wall.
Light from a streetlamp spilled into the clinic entrance, silhouetting the intruders. Three men—two Jet recognized as the bullies who'd hassled him weeks ago and one older, mean-eyed man with a shark tattoo on his neck.
They stepped inside cautiously, the leader holding a steel pipe, one flunky gripping a chain, the other a knife.
Jet's stomach did a flip of nerves, but he steadied himself. Now or never. He shot Finn a glance and mouthed, follow my lead.
With silent agreement, Jet stepped out from cover and into the faint light. "That's far enough."
The three gang members jerked in surprise. They hadn't expected a welcoming committee.
"Jet," spat the one with the chain—a wiry guy with a bruise still faint on his jaw from where Jet had punched him during the earlier bully encounter. "Knew you'd be here playing guard dog."
The leader recovered from surprise and sneered. "You've got guts, kid, I'll give you that. But you should've stayed gone." He swung his pipe onto his shoulder in a show of force. "Step aside and maybe we let you crawl out of here."
Jet held his ground, broom-handle staff in hand. "This clinic helps people. You really want to destroy the only good thing in this neighborhood? Hurt folks who've done nothing to you?"
The leader rolled his neck. "Spare me. All I see is a rich girl's vanity project and her pet hero trying to make us look weak. This is our turf. We take what we want, when we want."
Finn chose that moment to step out of the shadows behind Jet. "Hank, don't do this," he implored the leader, using his name. "There's nothing here worth it. Aurora moved the supplies."
Hank, the leader, narrowed his eyes at Finn. "So it's true, you switched sides, you little traitor. Running with the charity case now?"
Finn faltered, glancing to Jet. Jet could see his friend's fear, but also the resolve that had kept him there.
"Finn didn't switch sides," Jet answered for him, voice firm. "He just realized there are better ways than hurting innocent people."
Hank barked a laugh. "Listen to you. Got our boy reciting hero lines too, eh?" He pointed the pipe at Jet. "Last chance. You and Finn walk out, leave the girl's money-wagon to us. Or we break you along with it."
Jet's heart pounded, but he tightened his grip on his staff. "I can't do that."
Hank's face hardened. "Then you're gonna bleed."
He lunged, swinging the pipe in a brutal arc. Jet was ready. With a quick sidestep—enhanced reflexes kicking in—he dodged the swing. The pipe whooshed past his ear and clanged against a metal supply rack, sending a clatter of bedpans to the floor.
At Jet's movement, the other two gang members rushed forward. The knife-wielder made a wild stab at Jet's flank, while the chain-wielder turned on Finn with a snarl, whipping the chain threateningly.
Chaos erupted in the narrow confines of the clinic.
Jet parried the knife thrust with his broom-handle, wooden shaft meeting steel blade. The impact stung his arms, but he held steady. With a twist, he trapped the knife hand and delivered a sharp elbow strike to the attacker's ribs—just as his System highlighted an opening. The man yelped, stumbling back.
Behind Jet, Finn ducked a lash of the chain, using his sling-bound arm as a shield and gritting his teeth through the pain. He retaliated with his pipe, clumsily but earnestly swinging at his former comrade's legs. The chain thug cursed as he was struck on the knee, buckling slightly.
Hank recovered from his missed swing and charged Jet again, thrusting the pipe forward like a battering ram. Jet barely brought up his staff in time; the metal pipe collided with wood, splitting the broom-handle lengthwise and jarring Jet's arms fiercely.
The force sent Jet skidding back, his hip hitting a cot. He realized with a start that Hank was stronger than he looked, likely amped up on adrenaline or substances.
Time for a little boost? the System piped in, and Jet felt a familiar sensation—a surge of focus, a slight quickening of his muscles. It wasn't much, but maybe the System was nudging his agility to the limit.
Hank pressed his advantage, swinging downward. Jet abandoned the ruined broom shaft and rolled aside; the pipe crashed onto the cot, denting the thin mattress where Jet's torso had been a second before.
Jet sprang up and, in one motion, grabbed a loose bedpan from the floor. With a grim sort of humor, he flung it at Hank. The metal pan smacked the gang leader across the face with a resounding gong. Hank staggered, stunned by the ridiculous but effective projectile.
Meanwhile, the knife-wielder had regained enough composure to grab Jet from behind, locking an arm around his throat. Jet gagged as the chokehold tightened, dark spots dancing in his vision.
The System blared warnings about oxygen levels and suggested a textbook escape maneuver. Jet planted his feet and threw his weight forward suddenly, flipping the knife thug over his shoulder with a rough judo-like toss. The man hit the ground in front of Jet with a thud, air rushing from his lungs.
Jet sucked in a breath, rubbing his throat. That's when he saw the knife glinting on the floor—the attacker had lost it in the fall.
Before Jet could act, a new figure burst through the half-open doorway of the tram, moving with feral speed.
A familiar voice sliced through the chaos: "Room for one more?"
Reina.
She darted into the fray like a wildcat, her grime-streaked jacket whipping behind her. In one fluid motion, she snatched up the fallen knife and placed herself back-to-back with Jet, facing down Hank who was recovering from the bedpan strike.
Jet's heart leapt at her sudden appearance. How—?
"No time for chitchat," Reina quipped, as if reading his mind. "Got your message." She twirled the knife, eyes on Hank. In reality, Lexi or Aurora must have discreetly reached out to Reina, knowing she'd want to help. Or perhaps Reina had been keeping an eye on things nearby of her own accord. However she came, Jet was grateful.
Hank wiped a trickle of blood from a cut on his brow and glared at the new opponent. "Who the hell—"
"The mean girl from Sector 8," Reina introduced herself with a razor-blade smile. "And I suggest you get out while you can still limp."
Hank roared in frustration and charged at Reina, swinging. She was faster. She ducked under his swing and slashed out with the captured knife, scoring a shallow cut across Hank's forearm. He howled, dropping the pipe with a clang as blood oozed from the wound.
Reina didn't let up. She kicked Hank square in the chest, sending the burly leader crashing back into the door frame.
Seeing their boss down, the other two lost their nerve. The chain-wielder—sporting a swelling knee courtesy of Finn—grabbed his limping comrade with the bruised ribs and knife-punched stomach. "Screw this, we're out!" he spat, dragging the other toward the exit past a groaning Hank.
Hank clambered to his feet, clutching his bleeding arm, chest heaving. His eyes darted from Jet, to Reina (now casually flicking the knife between her fingers), to Finn who stood with pipe raised uncertainly behind Jet.
"This isn't over, Walker," Hank snarled, spitting a wad of blood onto the floor. But Jet could see the fear behind his bravado. They hadn't expected this much resistance.
Hank stumbled out after his cronies, disappearing into the night with a string of creative curses.
Jet stood amid the wreckage of the clinic, heart pounding and hands shaking. They had done it – the gang was gone.
Chapter 12
For a long moment, Jet, Reina, and Finn remained in fighting stances, listening to the gang members' footsteps recede.
When all fell silent, Reina flipped the knife in her hand and offered it handle-first to Jet. "You okay, hero boy?"
Jet let out a breath he felt he'd been holding for an hour. He accepted the knife, but immediately set it aside on a tray. "I am now. Perfect timing, as always."
Finn sagged against a wall, pipe clattering from his hand as adrenaline drained out. "That…was terrifying."
Reina shot him a grin. "You did good, kid. Nice swing there." Finn managed a weak smile at the praise.
Jet's heart was still hammering. He surveyed the aftermath: a few overturned cots, scattered supplies, and the unconscious knife-thug still on the tram floor, starting to stir and groan.
Reina followed Jet's gaze. "Friend of yours?"
"He came uninvited," Jet said dryly. He moved to check on the man's condition. The thug had a lump forming on his head and would have one hell of a backache, but he'd live. Jet bound the man's hands with the very chain his partner had left behind, just in case.
The System pinged softly in Jet's mind: Quest complete. It could almost see it ticking off objectives: Defend clinic… repel attackers… protect allies.
But Jet's focus was on his allies in the real world. He turned to Finn first. "You alright?"
Finn nodded, though sweat dripped down his temples. "I… yeah. Took a hit, but nothing major." He looked at Jet with something like amazement. "You really held your own. Both of you," he added, nodding to Reina.
Reina shrugged as if it were nothing, though her knuckles were raw and a bruise was darkening on her cheek. "Not my first brawl. Won't be the last."
Finally, Jet allowed himself to truly look at Reina. In the dim light, she was all sharp angles and fierce eyes, and at that moment she'd never seemed more impressive. Or more welcome.
"How did you…?" he began.
Reina wiped the knife blade on a rag and slid it into her boot. "After yesterday's bot incident, I swung by to check on you tonight. Figured the Sharks might be stupid enough to try something since word on the street said the clinic was vulnerable. Found your little sister in tears with Aurora—got the gist. So I hung around." She nodded toward the alley. "Saw those clowns sneaking up and figured I'd join the fun."
Jet was at a loss for words. He simply said, "Thank you."
Reina's tough demeanor softened for a heartbeat. "Anytime."
Sirens whooped in the distance—multiple this time, drawing closer. Aurora's promised police drive-by must be arriving fashionably late.
"We better flag them and hand over this trash," Reina said, toeing the semi-conscious thug on the floor.
Jet agreed. He felt exhaustion crashing down on him now that the danger had passed. His shoulder throbbed where he'd grazed a wall dodging, and a cut on his forehead stung as sweat dripped into it. But nothing serious—he'd survived intact, and so had everyone else.
Finn limped to Jet's side and, after a hesitant moment, threw an arm around him in a quick, relieved hug. "We did it," he murmured, half in disbelief.
Jet patted his back gratefully. "We did."
Reina smirked, watching them. "Group hug later, boys. Let's not keep the law waiting."
Together, the three of them stepped out into the cool night, waving down the pair of police cruisers now pulling up with flashing lights. As officers spilled out with hands on holsters, Jet put his hands up and indicated the scene was under control.
It took some explaining—and Aurora arriving in a hurry not long after—but soon the Iron Shark tough on the floor was in cuffs and his cohorts were being searched for in the vicinity (though Jet suspected they were long gone).
Aurora fussed over Jet and Finn, then Reina too once she realized the "mysterious knife-wielder" the police mentioned was this short, scrappy girl now leaning nonchalantly against the tram.
By 3 a.m., the chaos subsided. The police took statements and promised extra patrols. The volunteer guard service would start the next night, belatedly. Aurora's clinic was safe for now.
Jet finally found himself sitting on the clinic steps beside Reina as a pale dawn began to creep in. Lexi was asleep with her head in Aurora's lap inside the tram—she had insisted on coming back the moment it was clear the danger was over, and after smothering Jet in tearful hugs, promptly fell asleep from emotional exhaustion. Finn had gone home too, after Aurora insisted on examining his slinged arm and giving him a clean bill of health (plus a thermos of hot cocoa to take home).
Now it was just Jet and Reina watching the night sky turn grey. Jet's body ached, but his heart was light.
He glanced sideways at Reina. Her face was turned upward, the early light catching the edges of her features.
"You know," he said quietly, breaking the silence, "you kind of saved my life. Again."
Reina snorted. "Mm, I seem to be making a habit of that."
Jet chuckled. "I could make you an official member of this crew, if you want. Benefits include stale protein bars and spontaneous street fights."
She turned to him with a half-grin. "Tempting. Really." A beat passed, and her grin softened into something sincere. "I'll stick around, Jet. You need a lookout, I'm your girl."
There was a lot said in those words. An acknowledgement of trust, of friendship forged in adversity. Jet felt a warmth in his chest, thinking how only a short while ago he'd been utterly alone aside from Lexi. Now, he had allies—friends—who would literally fight by his side.
"We make a good team," he said.
Reina bumped her shoulder to his. "Don't get cocky. But… yeah. We do."
Aurora stepped out at that moment, the rising sun casting a golden halo around her tired yet smiling face. "Sorry to interrupt, but Jet, Lexi's still asleep. I'm going to take her and you back to the housing to rest. You too, Reina—you're welcome to a bed for the day."
Reina looked like she might refuse on instinct, but Aurora cut off the protest. "Consider it a thank-you. Both of you."
Jet was too weary to object even if he wanted to. He rose, extending a hand to help Reina up. Together, the three of them gathered their belongings. Jet gently scooped Lexi into his arms—she stirred only slightly, murmuring his name before snuggling into his shoulder.
As they walked toward a safer place to finally sleep, Jet felt the System ping softly with a summary of the night's "quest results" and an XP tally that edged him further toward the next level. But for once, he paid it no mind.
What mattered was here and now: Lexi safe in his arms, Reina and Aurora walking beside him, the clinic unscathed behind them, and a new day breaking. They had faced the worst the night had to offer and emerged, if not unscathed, at least unbroken.
And in that dawn light, Jet dared to believe that the permanent home he dreamed of was no longer a distant fantasy. It was forming around him, piece by piece—a family of choice, a community that had his back, and a future he could build with his own two hands.
He caught Reina's eye and gave a weary, grateful smile. She rolled her eyes playfully but smiled back. Aurora gently rested a hand on Jet's arm, guiding them forward.
They moved on together into the rising sun, leaving the shadows of the night firmly behind.
Chapter 13
Three days later, Jet turned the key and opened the door to what felt like a new life.
It wasn't a grand door by any means—just a dented metal frame in a converted tenement. But beyond it lay a single-room apartment freshly cleaned and furnished with a bunk bed, a small table, and even a tiny kitchenette. Sunlight from a narrow window painted warm rectangles on the floor.
Lexi darted inside ahead of him, her eyes huge with wonder. "Jet, is this…really ours?"
Jet stepped in slowly, hardly trusting it himself. "Aurora pulled some strings," he murmured, voice catching in his throat. "One of the long-term volunteer housing units, she said it's ours as long as we need."
"Ours," Lexi repeated, turning in a giddy circle in the center of the room. She ran her fingers over the sturdy wooden bunk bed, traced the faded flower pattern on the curtains, and opened the tiny wardrobe to peek inside (it was empty, save for two clean sets of Aurora Enterprises volunteer uniforms hanging neatly). "We have a closet!" she squealed.
Jet laughed, a sound of pure happiness that echoed in the small space. He set down the cardboard box he was carrying—containing all their worldly possessions, which amounted to a couple changes of clothes, some books Lexi treasured, and a few odds and ends. "We have a kitchen sink, too," he pointed out.
Lexi rushed over to the sink against the wall, turning the tap. Water gushed forth, clear and steady. "Clean water, whenever we want," she marveled.
Jet moved to the window, which overlooked a bustling market street five stories below. It wasn't a view of luxury high-rises or gardens—just the familiar sight of Mega-City Theta's mid-level district, laundry lines strung between buildings and vendors hawking food. But it was beautiful to him. It was home.
A soft knock came at the open door. Aurora stepped in, carrying another box. Behind her hovered Reina and Finn, each with arms full of groceries and household supplies.
"Welcome home, Walkers," Aurora said warmly.
Lexi practically flew into Aurora's arms, hugging her tight. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried. Aurora laughed and patted Lexi's back.
Jet felt an overwhelming gratitude swell in his chest as he looked at his friends filing into the small apartment. Finn was grinning, immediately finding the perfect spot on the counter to unload cooking essentials he'd insisted on buying with some of his own saved credits ("Can't live on nutrient bars forever," he'd said). Reina offered a rare gentle smile as she set down a toolbox and a shiny new kettle. "Housewarming gift," she said offhandedly, avoiding eye contact as if to hide her sentiment.
Jet blinked away a moistness in his eyes. He cleared his throat. "Aurora, I—I don't even know how to thank you."
Aurora shook her head. "You earned this, Jet. Both of you did. Consider it an advance on your volunteer stipend – and maybe a recruiting incentive." She winked. "I expect to see you bright and early at the clinic every day. My crew now has a permanent medic-in-training."
Jet straightened, smiling. "I'll be there. You can count on it."
"Oh, I know." Aurora regarded him with pride. "Actually, I've been talking with some contacts. Once you're ready, we might get you into a part-time first responder course. With that new skill of yours and some formal training, you could become an actual certified medic."
Jet's jaw nearly dropped. The System in his head practically sputtered in surprise – likely calculating the shift from scrappy survival quests to structured education. He hadn't imagined that far ahead, but hearing it made him realize how much he wanted it. "I-I'd love that," he stammered, then added quickly, "if it doesn't interfere with work, of course."
Reina snorted. "Listen to this guy, worried about over-committing after fighting killer robots and gangs in the same week."
Finn chuckled. "He'd take on the world if it meant helping someone."
Jet rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by the praise. Aurora gave a knowing smile. "That's exactly why he deserves this opportunity."
As they began unpacking, Lexi claimed the top bunk with a triumphant shout, making everyone laugh. Reina helped Jet tack up a scavenged bulletin board where Lexi could pin her beloved word collection and drawings. Finn found a spot on a shelf for the little figurine of a bird Lexi had whittled from wood scraps—one of the few personal treasures they'd carried from their old life.
By evening, the apartment felt cozy and lived-in. They shared a simple meal of stew (cooked on their own stovetop, a novelty that left Lexi giggling with delight) and fresh bread from a nearby bakery that Aurora had stopped at on their way over.
Crammed around the tiny table, they ate and talked—about nothing and everything. Plans for the clinic's next outreach drive. Reina telling a heavily embellished story of the gang fight that had Lexi wide-eyed in admiration and Jet groaning in embarrassment. Finn shyly mentioning he was studying for his GED at Aurora's encouragement, which earned him high-fives all around.
Throughout it all, Jet felt a quiet contentment settle within him. Every so often, the System would chime in with a subtle stat update (+0.1 to Empathy here, a few XP for "Happy Family Dinner Quest" there, it joked). Jet mostly tuned it out, but he sensed the AI was…pleased. Or at least, no longer protesting. Perhaps it, too, had come to see the value in these intangible rewards.
After dinner, Aurora and the others prepared to leave, not wanting to overstay the first night in the new home. Aurora gave Lexi one last hug and handed Jet a data-chip. "This has three months' rent covered. By then, I suspect you'll have it handled on your own, given the way the System deposit notifications keep sounding off in that head of yours," she teased gently.
Jet flushed but smiled. "I'll make sure of it. We won't let you down."
"You never have," she replied softly.
Reina punched Jet lightly on the arm on her way out. "I'll swing by tomorrow. Show you the best street routes from here to the clinic—gonna make a local out of you yet." Her tone was jokey, but her eyes lingered kindly. Jet nodded, understanding her unspoken promise of continued friendship.
Finn was last to shuffle out, awkwardly shaking Jet's hand and then pulling him into a quick hug anyway. "See you at work, partner," he said. Yes—Finn had signed on as a paid helper for the clinic too, finally finding a place he could belong.
When the door closed and their friends' footsteps faded, Jet and Lexi stood in their apartment, just the two of them. Brother and sister took a moment, simply absorbing the reality.
Lexi broke the silence, whispering, "Jet, we have a home." There was awe and relief and joy in that single word—home.
Jet crouched down to her level, resting his hands on her shoulders. "We do, Lex. We really do."
She threw her arms around his neck and he held her tight, both of them thinking of their parents, of cold nights on hard floors now gone, of a future suddenly so much brighter.
Above Lexi's head, Jet noticed their reflection in the small mirror by the door. He saw a young man who looked a bit stronger, a bit taller than he remembered, with his little sister safe in his arms. And faintly, overlaid in his vision, the System's interface glowed with a steady golden icon—a symbol he hadn't seen before: "Shelter Achieved – +50 XP".
The System spoke in his mind softly, Congratulations, Jet. Investment yielding returns. It almost sounded fond.
Jet huffed a quiet laugh and thought back, "Thanks...partner."
He wasn't sure if the AI disliked that term or not, but it offered no snarky retort. In fact, it fell completely silent, as if content.
Lexi released him and climbed up to her top bunk, eager to test it out. "Goodnight, Jet!" she said, giggling as she burrowed into the covers that Aurora had provided.
Jet flipped off the light, leaving the room aglow with the soft luminescence of the city skyline beyond the window. "Goodnight, Lexi," he replied.
He lay down on the lower bunk, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids, but a smile stubbornly on his face. In the quiet, he listened to Lexi's breathing above him, slow and peaceful.
A new chapter of their lives had begun here. There would be more challenges ahead—he hadn't the slightest doubt about that. Mega-City Theta was unpredictable and often harsh. But Jet felt ready. Bit by bit, he was stronger, not just from the System's gifts but from the bonds he'd formed and the confidence earned through every trial.
As he drifted off, Jet mentally opened his status screen one last time out of habit. The Level 2 line was nearly full now, a Level 3 tantalizingly close. But that was a concern for another day.
For now, he closed the interface with a thought and simply reveled in the warmth of a real bed, under a real roof, with Lexi safe and their future opening up before them.
This was home, and for the first time in a long time, Jonah "Jet" Walker fell asleep not worrying about tomorrow, but looking forward to it.