Chapter 8 - 8

Chapter 52: Hope Horizon Rising

Jet Walker gazed out over Mega-City Theta from the panoramic window of his new executive office atop Hope Horizon Medical Center. The neon glow of the skyline reflected off the glass, a constant reminder of how far he had come from the shadowy slums far below. Just days ago he had been fighting for his life in these same halls; now, at eighteen, he was the director of a network of seven hospitals. He ran a hand through his dark hair, still getting used to the crisp fit of the suit Aurora Zhang insisted he wear to "look the part." It felt surreal – the polished marble floors, the soft hum of sanitized air systems, and the hovering administrative holoscreens all signaled a world away from scavenging for credits on the streets.

Lexi bounced on her toes beside him, her brown eyes bright as she took in the sprawling cityscape. The thirteen-year-old looked healthy and full of energy again, a stark contrast to the frail girl he'd once carried through undercity alleys searching for help. "It's like we're in a dream," she whispered, pressing her palms to the glass. Far below, streams of mag-lev trains glinted like shooting stars between high-rises. Lexi's reflection showed a small smile of wonder. For a moment, they were just siblings marveling at a view, not a newly minted hospital executive and his prodigy kid sister.

Jet put an arm around her shoulders. "We earned this," he said softly. The executive office – their office – had already been informally dubbed the Hope Suite by staff. It doubled as their new home: a penthouse apartment atop the hospital tower, complete with living quarters for them. Sunlight was just beginning to creep through the perpetual smog, bathing the clouds in pink. Dawn of a new era, Jet thought. An era where people in this city wouldn't have to choose between healthcare and starvation.

A discreet chime sounded from Jet's holo-desk, drawing him back to present. The morning briefing. In a half-circle around the office, a small group of hospital administrators and doctors waited for him to begin his first official meeting as director. Aurora "Rory" Zhang stood among them in her modest charcoal blazer, giving Jet an encouraging nod. Despite being only twenty-four, Rory carried herself with experienced authority – after all, she had helped orchestrate this takeover of Theradyn's facilities for the public good. Her cybernetic left arm whirred softly as she adjusted a data slate.

Jet cleared his throat and guided Lexi to a seat off to the side. "Thank you all for being here," he began, voice steady. "As of today, the Walker Medical Trust assumes operations of these seven hospitals. We're rebranding them under Hope Horizon, and our mission is simple: genuine care over profit." A few people shifted uneasily – holdovers from Theradyn's regime, no doubt. Jet recognized one graying man in a sharp suit – the former CFO – eyes narrowed at the word "profit."

He continued, standing tall. "This means expanding free clinics, opening our doors to those in need, and reinvesting earnings into patient care and medical research, not executive bonuses." Jet couldn't resist a slight edge to his tone at that last part. The CFO frowned. Aurora hid a smirk behind her hand.

Almost on cue, the System's familiar presence stirred in Jet's mind. System: "Bold strategy, Director. Alienate the money-counter on day one." Its voice dripped with sarcasm, audible only to Jet. He suppressed a sigh. The AI had been relatively quiet during the hectic transition, but clearly it hadn't lost its snark.

Jet responded inwardly while keeping a confident smile for the room. I'm not alienating anyone, just setting new expectations., he thought. Out loud, he concluded, "I'll be counting on each of you for ideas on how we can deliver better care and still keep the lights on. Let's prove compassion and efficiency can coexist."

The meeting went smoother than Jet feared. Aurora presented a transition plan – severance for staff involved in Theradyn's crimes, audits of patient billing to eliminate fraudulent charges, and an outreach initiative to inform the public that Hope Horizon welcomed everyone. The System grudgingly helped behind the scenes, organizing financial data streams in Jet's vision. Charts and projections scrolled in his mind's eye: revenue, expenses, charitable care costs.

At one point, the ex-CFO, Mr. Lang, raised a hand. "Young man," he addressed Jet tersely. "Charity is admirable, but these facilities must stay solvent. Our margins were thin even before you plan to give services away."

Jet felt the System perk up, ready to amplify Lang's concerns. Instead, Jet answered calmly, "We'll stabilize finances by cutting excess. The System—" he caught himself, "I mean, our new analytics – have already flagged costly vanity projects Theradyn was pouring money into. Executive penthouse renovations, unnecessary PR spending… those funds can be redirected to care."

Lang pursed his lips but had no rebuttal. Aurora passed Jet a tablet showing the projected savings: the System had indeed reallocated resources overnight. Jet glimpsed a side notification:

SYSTEM NOTICE: Cost Optimization Quest Complete – Annual overhead reduced by 12%. +200 credits, +10 XP.

He managed not to smile at the gamified reward. It felt odd receiving XP for essentially doing budget cuts, but if those cuts meant more lives saved, he'd take it.

The rest of the staff gradually warmed to Jet's vision as the meeting progressed. Dr. Eli Kwon, the head of surgery, actually applauded when Jet approved a proposal to forgive debts for long-term patients who'd been trapped by Theradyn's predatory billing. By meeting's end, Hope Horizon's leadership looked invigorated. They dispersed to begin the day's work, some faces hopeful, others wary but resigned to the new order.

When the last administrator filed out, Aurora clasped Jet on the shoulder. "Nicely done," she said, her smile proud. "You have a real way of inspiring people, Jet."

He exhaled, feeling the tension release. "I'm just glad I didn't stumble too badly."

"You were great!" Lexi piped up, darting over to hug him around the waist. She had been quietly listening from her chair. "I liked the part where you said 'genuine care over profit.'" She stuck her tongue out playfully. "Bet the old suits hated that."

Aurora chuckled. "That they did. And they needed to hear it." Her comm tablet pinged then, reminding her of another meeting. "I have to run to City Hall to finalize some legal details for the trust. I'll be back later to check on the pediatric ward." She gave Lexi a gentle pat on the back. "And Miss Lexi, don't forget we have an appointment to get you ready for school tomorrow."

Lexi lit up. "I remember! Uniform fitting and everything."

Jet raised an eyebrow. "Uniform? Wait, which school is this again?"

Aurora shot him a wink. "The St. Ignatius Academy. Only the best for our Lexi." She lowered her voice. "They offered her a full scholarship when they heard what happened" – meaning the Theradyn scandal and Jet's new status – "plus a recommendation from a certain philanthropist doesn't hurt."

Jet's chest tightened with gratitude. Getting Lexi a real education had been a distant dream. "Aurora, I can't thank you eno–"

She held up her cybernetic hand. "Don't thank me. Lexi earned it with her entrance exams – which she aced, by the way." Aurora gave Lexi a high five, careful with her metal fingers. Lexi beamed with pride.

After Aurora left, Jet and Lexi rode the private elevator down through the hospital. As they emerged into the main atrium, they paused to take it in. The lobby had been renovated overnight – gone were the imposing Theradyn logos, replaced by banners bearing Hope Horizon's emblem: a sunrise cresting over a city skyline. The air smelled of antiseptic and freshly brewed kava from a volunteer-run coffee cart serving free cups to waiting families.

Patients and staff bustled about, but many paused to stare at Jet. Some smiled tentatively or whispered. He even caught a few snapping covert pictures with their retinal implants – a scrawny teenager in a suit running a hospital was certainly news. Jet tried not to blush and instead stepped forward, greeting people as he went. Lexi walked beside him, head high.

Near the reception, a young mother was arguing with a clerk. "I… I'm sorry," the mother was saying, bouncing a sickly toddler on her hip. "I don't have insurance right now. My husband…" Her voice cracked. "Please, she has a fever that won't break."

The clerk looked sympathetic but helpless, likely still bound by the old protocols. Jet quickly intervened. "Ma'am, I'm Jet Walker, the director here. I apologize for the confusion – your child will be treated immediately, free of charge."

The mother blinked in surprise and relief. "Free? Really?" Jet nodded and gestured for a nurse, who promptly escorted the mother and baby towards pediatrics.

Tears in her eyes, the mother mouthed "Thank you" as they passed. Jet felt his throat tighten. This single act made all the chaos worth it. Then a familiar ding sounded in his mind:

SYSTEM ALERT – Quest Complete: 'No One Turned Away' – You ensured a patient in need received care despite inability to pay. +15 XP, +100 credits.

System: "Starting the day by giving away services for free, are we? Sure, let's just give out money instead of making it." The AI's grumbling echoed in Jet's head, but he could sense a hint of begrudging respect beneath the sarcasm.

People over profits, remember? Jet shot back mentally. He couldn't help but smile as he felt Lexi tug on his sleeve.

"That was really nice of you," she said quietly. Lexi had watched the whole exchange, pride evident on her face.

Jet squeezed her hand. "It's what we're here for. Hope Horizon isn't just a name – we have to live it."

They continued on, Jet taking time to introduce himself to stunned nurses and custodians as "just Jet, happy to be working with you." Each interaction netted him small trickles of XP for bolstering staff morale and treating everyone with respect – something the System notably did not comment on, likely annoyed that kindness was now his business strategy.

By late morning, Jet had made rounds of multiple departments, Lexi shadowing him eagerly. He'd cut a ceremonial ribbon on a new free walk-in clinic on the ground floor and signed off on orders to restock the charity pharmacy twice over. The System continually updated him on the trust's finances with grumpy commentary:

System: "Charity pharmacy expenses up 200%. Forecasting shortfall in monthly revenue… Correction: offset by liquidation of Theradyn CEO's art collection." Jet nearly laughed out loud at that. Apparently, the System had been busy selling off Malcolm Vexler's extravagant personal assets to fund the hospitals. He certainly wasn't going to object.

Just past noon, as they returned to the top floor, Jet's HUD displayed a summary of his progress:

SYSTEM NOTICE: Daily Operations Quests Completed – Staff Morale Improved (minor), Free Clinic Opened (major). Total +50 XP.

Another line flashed:

Level Up! Jet Walker – Level 10 → Level 11.

A warm sensation coursed through him briefly. He felt… a little lighter on his feet, his mind a touch clearer.

Jet paused in the hallway and opened his palm, flexing. Leveling these days felt subtler than before, but it was reassuring. Lexi noticed and cocked her head. "Another level?" she guessed in a whisper.

He nodded, smiling. "We're getting there." He didn't mention how much experience was still needed for the next; Lexi just cared that it meant he was getting "stronger," however that worked.

They stepped back into the quiet of the penthouse office to grab a quick lunch. Lexi flopped onto the couch, happy but tired from following Jet around. She eyed him thoughtfully as he brought out sandwiches a grateful cafeteria staffer had pressed on them. "Jet, the System helps you do all this, right? Like, that's how you knew how to fix all those budget things?"

Jet considered his answer. He'd been honest with Lexi that he had an AI partner of sorts, though she didn't know all the details. "It gives me information," he said slowly, handing her a sandwich. "But the decisions are mine. Why do you ask?"

Lexi swung her legs, hesitating. "Do you think… I mean, since I'm going to a fancy school now… could the System help me too? Like, make me smarter or something? Everyone there is going to be really advanced and I…" She bit her lip.

Jet's heart squeezed. Lexi was brilliant in her own right – she'd educated herself with library access and life experience – but formal schooling at a top academy would be a new world. "You'll do great, Lex. You're already plenty smart."

She picked at the sandwich crust. "But not like them. They've been in school their whole lives, and I've been…" in the slums, she didn't finish. "I'm nervous."

Jet sat beside her. He knew Lexi hated feeling behind or out of place. The fact that she admitted it showed how much she wanted this. The System remained oddly quiet, perhaps waiting to see what Jet would do.

He spoke gently. "The System's power… it's sort of tied to doing good things. It doesn't just give out boosts for no reason." That was true – altruism was the fuel. "But," he added as she started to look downcast, "helping you succeed is a good thing in my book."

He mentally summoned the System interface. Hey, you listening? There's got to be a way to invest some of my XP into Lexi – something to help her confidence at school. Jet thought it with as much determination as any quest.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the AI sighed dramatically in his mind. System: "You realize diverting resources to someone else is wildly inefficient… but fine. The things I do for you, Bleeding Heart." A translucent stat menu popped up in Jet's vision labeled "Dependent: Lexi Walker." It listed rudimentary attributes like Health, Intelligence, Social, and Reflex – clearly the System had lightly quantified her too, since she was central to Jet's motivations.

Jet focused on the "Intelligence" field and the System highlighted it. Allocate 10 XP to raise Lexi's Intellect by 1? Y/N

He confirmed, and felt a slight drain of energy – a transfer. Lexi blinked suddenly, rubbing her temple. Jet watched with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah…" Lexi said slowly. "Just felt a little… I dunno, like a head rush. It passed." She smiled and popped the rest of her sandwich into her mouth.

Jet wasn't done. He next toggled "Social Instinct (Empathy/Charisma)" – another 10 XP. And finally, "Reflex/Defense" – 10 XP more for a small boost to her reflexes and poise. The System tallied the deductions with a grumble.

System: "There. Lexi Walker's stats modestly enhanced. She might not notice much beyond feeling more alert and confident. Hope you're satisfied, oh generous one. You've shaved a nice chunk off your own XP stash."

Jet ignored the sting of lost progress. It was well worth it. He patted Lexi's knee. "Just trust yourself. You're sharper than you think, and people will see how special you are." Unspoken was that he'd just given her a secret nudge. Lexi gave him a quick, fierce hug, then wolfed down the rest of her lunch, seemingly lighter in spirit.

As afternoon sunlight began slanting through the smog outside, Jet walked Lexi down to the hospital's rooftop helipad where a skycar waited to take them to St. Ignatius for her uniform fitting. Life felt strangely normal in that moment – an older brother escorting his little sister to get ready for school – except the backdrop was a hospital he now owned, in a city where his name was suddenly appearing on news streams as a rising figure.

Before Lexi climbed into the sleek white skycar, she turned and asked, "Will you be here when I get back? I know you'll be busy…"

Jet pulled her into a hug. "I'll always be here for you. I might have some meetings, but I'll be home by dinner. We'll celebrate your big day tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," she said into his shirt, then hopped into the vehicle with a wave. As the skycar lifted off, Jet's smile faded into a thoughtful frown. Tomorrow Lexi would step into a new world, and he needed to ensure it was safe and welcoming for her.

System: "You look worried. She'll be fine. Statistically, only 2.3% of students experience severe bullying at elite academies." The AI's attempt at reassurance was clunky but appreciated.

We'll make sure she's in that 97.7%, then, Jet replied, heading back inside. He had a hospital network to run and a sister to support – and he would succeed at both, System's efficiency obsession be damned.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork and planning. When evening came, Jet finally collapsed onto the penthouse couch, exhausted. Lexi returned beaming in a neatly pressed navy-blue academy uniform, twirling for him. In that moment, seeing her so happy and hopeful, Jet felt a greater victory than any battle with corporate thugs. He got another tiny ping of XP – as if the System itself acknowledged the quiet heroism of giving his sister a better life.

That night, Jet fell asleep to the lullaby of distant hovercar engines and Lexi's soft humming in the next room. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, here atop Hope Horizon, they had peace – and hope – at last.

Chapter 53: Academy Days

The next morning, Jet stood outside the stately gates of St. Ignatius Academy, feeling oddly more nervous than when facing corporate mercenaries. A dozen uniformed students milled about the manicured courtyard beyond the iron fence, their laughter echoing off marble arches. Lexi adjusted the strap of her new backpack, which was emblazoned with the academy's crest. In her crisp navy blazer and skirt, she looked every bit the part of a student at the city's most prestigious school—if one ignored her wide-eyed awe.

"You okay?" Jet asked softly. He'd flown with her here in a hospital-marked autocar, drawing curious looks from other parents' limos. He knelt to be eye-level with his sister.

Lexi nodded rapidly. "I'm… yeah. Just first-day jitters," she admitted. Up close, Jet could see her slight tremble of excitement and nerves. But she was also smiling, cheeks flushed with anticipation rather than fever or fear. That alone was enough to steady Jet's heart.

A tall woman in a smart suit—Principal Okoro, according to her ID tag—approached to greet them. "Mr. Walker, Miss Walker. Welcome." The principal's tone was warm, but Jet noticed her eyes flicker with recognition when she shook Jet's hand. He was used to that now: his face had been on a dozen news feeds as the "Street Samaritan" who took over Theradyn's hospitals. Still, she focused on Lexi. "We're delighted to have you, Lexi. Your entrance assessments were exceptional. I'm sure you'll thrive here."

"Thank you, ma'am," Lexi replied politely. Jet smiled at her poised response—perhaps that little boost to her social instincts was helping already.

As Principal Okoro led Lexi inside, Jet walked along the fence, watching. Lexi hesitated just once at the threshold of a grand doorway, turning to wave. Jet gave her a thumbs-up and a grin. You've got this, he mouthed. She straightened her shoulders and disappeared into the halls of academia.

Jet exhaled. The urge to trail after her, to guard her from every potential unkind word or stare, warred with his rational side. He had to let her find her own way here. Still… "System, keep an eye on her vitals, okay? Just in case," he muttered under his breath as he headed back to the autocar.

System: "Already on it. Her heart rate's elevated but stable. No imminent disasters—unlike at our job, which starts in 10 minutes."

Jet rolled his eyes but felt relief. With the System quietly monitoring Lexi's well-being and ready to alert him if anything went truly wrong, he could focus on work for now.

Inside homeroom at St. Ignatius, Lexi took a seat near the middle of the classroom, trying not to attract too much attention. The room was bright and modern: desks with built-in holo displays, a wall of smart screens scrolling through news and science facts, and a teacher's podium projecting a gentle classical music piece. A few students threw curious glances her way—new students were rare mid-year, especially one rumored to be connected to the Walker Medical Trust.

"Hi! You must be Lexi," chirped a voice to her left. A girl with neon-pink braids and round glasses scooted over. "I'm Priya. I read about your brother. Is it true you live in a hospital penthouse?"

Lexi blinked at the barrage, then giggled softly. "Um, kind of true. It's also an office. And it's not as fancy as it sounds." She didn't mention how fancy it felt to them, coming from a single cot in a basement shelter.

Priya grinned. "That's so rad. My parents said your brother's some kind of hero. He shut down that evil company."

Lexi felt a swell of pride. "Yeah. He just wants to help people. He's pretty cool." It felt nice to speak openly; in the slums she'd often hidden her admiration for Jet to avoid making him a target. Here, apparently, having a hero brother earned social points.

Their homeroom teacher, a kindly man with cybernetic implants peeking out from his temples, called class to order and had Lexi introduce herself. She simply said she was excited to learn here. A few students whispered, likely expecting a more dramatic backstory, but Principal Okoro had advised discretion about her past.

The first half of the day went smoothly. In math, Lexi found herself answering two problems correctly on the board, surprising the teacher with her quick mental arithmetic. She marveled at how clear her mind felt—the concepts clicked as if she'd studied them for years, not just crammed bits of street-learned math. Jet's quiet gift of Intellect was already paying off.

At lunch in the airy cafeteria, Priya and a couple of other friendly classmates sat with Lexi, peppering her with questions about Hope Horizon and how she liked the school so far. Lexi navigated it with shy smiles and honesty, mentioning how different it was from what she used to know. When someone asked what school she'd attended before, she hesitated. "I was… homeschooled, sort of. My brother taught me a lot." Not untrue; Jet had taught her survival and reading under flickering neon lights.

One boy across the table scoffed. "No wonder she's overwhelmed. Homeschool in the lower city probably just means learning to count rats." His tone was soft but barbed. The table fell silent.

Lexi's cheeks burned. She recognized the type—like countless bullies on the street, but richer and more subtle. The boy, Anders, wore an expensive augmented reality visor pushed up on his head, a sign of wealth and arrogance. Lexi mustered a polite smile. "Actually, we learned to count credits pretty well. When you don't have many, you get good at math." A couple of kids snickered, and Anders frowned, not expecting a retort.

Priya changed the topic to an upcoming science fair, diffusing the tension. Lexi's heart was pounding, but she felt oddly exhilarated. The old Lexi might have shrunk away, but now she'd stood up for herself, if only a little. Maybe Jet was right—I am stronger than I think.

Meanwhile, at Hope Horizon Medical Center, Jet managed a working lunch meeting, though his mind strayed to Lexi often. He half-listened to a report on automated investing (the System had, apparently, taken the initiative to invest some of the trust's liquid funds in diversified city bonds and biotech stocks). "In the past 24 hours, our portfolio yield is up 3%," one financial advisor noted, impressed. Jet just nodded along, hiding a knowing smirk as the System whispered in triumph:

System: "Free money, baby. High-frequency trading algorithms for the win. Now if only someone let me keep all those profits instead of funneling them into charity…"

Jet tuned it out and refocused on drafting a policy to provide subsidized cyberprosthetics for injured veterans. The System flagged a minor bureaucratic alert on his HUD: the city Health Bureau wanted to schedule an "inspection" of Hope Horizon's accounting. It felt like red tape retaliation for Theradyn's public takedown, but Jet scheduled it anyway. He'd face that soon enough.

Back at the academy, final period was Physical Education. Lexi changed into her gym clothes—a simple white shirt and shorts—feeling self-conscious about her thin limbs amidst peers who'd clearly had nutrition and sports. Today was a self-defense basics class, taught by a burly instructor with a cybernetic leg.

The class paired off to practice simple holds. By some luck or cosmic joke, Lexi ended up with Anders, the boy from lunch. He towered over her, smirking. "Try not to get hurt, street rat," he whispered, too low for the coach to hear.

Lexi's temper flared, but she remembered Jet's advice (and the System's upgrades humming in her muscles). They took positions, and on the whistle, Anders lunged, attempting a mock takedown. To his surprise, Lexi sidestepped lightly—her reflexes faster than even she expected—and tapped his back as he stumbled past.

She couldn't resist quipping, "You okay? Must be all those rats I counted giving me quick feet." Anders flushed red, and a few students laughed outright. Even the coach hid a grin, admonishing Anders to control his balance. Lexi felt a small surge of triumph. Not only had she defended herself, she'd done it without even needing the little taser device tucked in her bag. That would remain a last resort.

When the final bell rang, Lexi left class with a bounce in her step. Outside the school gates, Jet was already waiting, leaning against the autocar and checking his comm. The afternoon sun caught the highlights in his hair—he looked strangely at ease in his role now, a young professional with a purpose.

Upon spotting Lexi practically skipping toward him, Jet broke into a relieved smile. "There's my superstar. How'd it go?"

Lexi launched into an excited recount of her day as they settled into the car. She told him about Priya, about answering math problems, and even about Anders' attempted jab. Jet's jaw tightened at the mention of the boy's insult, but Lexi quickly recounted her comeback and the PE class moment.

"So I guess those self-defense lessons with you helped," she concluded happily. "And maybe… maybe something else too?" She gave him a sidelong glance. "I felt… I dunno, like I could think faster. And I definitely moved faster. That wasn't just in my head, was it?"

Jet smiled ruefully. He should've known she'd pick up on it. "I might have asked the System to give you a little boost," he confessed. "Nothing dramatic, just… enough to help."

Lexi squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said softly. "But also… I think I could have handled it. It just felt nice to not be afraid."

Jet felt pride and a twinge of guilt; he wanted her to be safe but also confident on her own. "You could have handled it. You did handle it. The boost was just me being a worrywart big brother."

She laughed. "Maybe a little. But I don't mind." Her expression turned earnest. "Jet, I really like it there. For the first time, I feel like… like a normal kid. Well, mostly normal."

Jet ruffled her hair gently. "You deserve normal, Lex. And extraordinary. Both at once."

As the skycar whisked them away from the academy's ivy-clad walls back toward the neon city center, Jet received a new notification:

SYSTEM NOTICE: Quest "A Brighter Future" completed – Lexi successfully completed her first day of school. +20 XP.

He grinned at the simple acknowledgement. Sometimes the System's game-like structure highlighted what truly mattered in life.

The autocar merged into the skylane traffic. Below, the city sprawled in all its stratified glory. Lexi leaned on Jet's shoulder, already discussing a science fair project idea Priya had suggested. Jet listened, interjecting encouraging comments while mentally preparing for the challenges awaiting him back at the hospital. For this brief ride, though, he let himself savor the victory of today—no battles, no corporate intrigue, just a good day for his sister.

In the shifting golden light of afternoon, Jet felt a rare contentment. There would be more struggles ahead, he knew; but if he could give Lexi days like this, every fight was worth it. They sped onward, two siblings against the cyberpunk skyline, ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.

Chapter 54: Building Tensions

Jet's days quickly filled with the mundane heroics of running hospitals. By the end of the week, Hope Horizon's wards were buzzing with new patients—many of them lower-city residents who would never have set foot in a Theradyn facility before. Jet made a point to walk through the charity clinic each morning, greeting patients and staff. Each thank-you he earned from a relieved family gave him more satisfaction than any corporate profit report.

Not that profits were ignored. The System ensured that. Late one afternoon, Jet sat in his office reviewing financial dashboards projected in his vision. The AI had spun up an automated investment portfolio for the Walker Medical Trust's reserve funds. Graphs trended upward.

System: "Our initial 10,000 credits have grown to 11,200 in just five days. If we reinvest and compound, we'll have a tidy fortune to fund your grand philanthropic crusade—assuming you stop spending it as fast as I can earn it."

Jet chuckled under his breath. Keep it up. The more we grow, the more clinics we can open. He approved a System suggestion to allocate some funds into Aurora Enterprises' latest biomedical device venture. It wasn't insider trading, just informed optimism—Aurora's prosthetic limb tech was top-notch and aligned with his mission to help patients.

A ping on his desk terminal interrupted his thoughts. The hospital's legal advisor appeared on holo-comm, brow furrowed. "Jet, the City Health Bureau just notified us of a comprehensive audit and inspection tomorrow. They're sending a team at 7 AM sharp."

Jet frowned. "That was fast. We only took over a week ago. Is that… normal?"

The advisor grimaced. "Not really. It smells political. I've heard Commissioner Sloan wasn't happy about the Theradyn scandal fallout. Maybe he's looking for any excuse to slap fines or worse."

After the call, Jet leaned back, mind racing. Commissioner Horace Sloan oversaw public health regulations. If he was loyal to the old corporate network, he could indeed cause trouble. Jet briefed the System. Unsurprisingly, it advised a preemptive strike:

System: "We could quietly pay a courtesy 'fee' to smooth things over. 500 credits under the table might make Sloan's team less enthusiastic."

Jet's stomach turned. Bribe a health inspector? No. We have nothing to hide. He paused. Right? The System had been sorting records meticulously, but there were still skeletons from Theradyn's tenure.

System: "We've cleaned up 95% of Theradyn's mess, and I've shredded the rest. But Sloan's people can always invent issues." A pause. "Your call, Optimist. High road it is."

The next morning, a trio of Health Bureau inspectors descended on Hope Horizon's flagship hospital. Jet personally escorted them, determinedly polite as they combed through patient files, facility permits, and hygiene logs. The lead inspector, an austere woman with a tight bun, seemed almost disappointed at the cleanliness of the ORs and the up-to-date licensing paperwork.

Finally, they converged in Jet's office. "Your operations seem... acceptable," the lead inspector conceded. "However, we noted some irregular charity expenditures." She tapped her tablet. "Unapproved free vaccination drives in low-income zones. Those require city clearance and tax allocation adjustments."

Jet clasped his hands calmly. "We'll file the paperwork, of course. But I didn't realize providing vaccines to kids needed special approval. We were responding to an immediate need."

The inspector gave a thin smile. "All city health interventions require coordination. We'll be issuing a notice of violation. It's minor—just a warning for now." Her tone implied it could become major if desired.

Jet felt a flash of frustration. Bureaucracy punishing him for doing the right thing—it echoed the absurdity of this city's system. He stood. "Understood. We'll cooperate fully with the Bureau's guidelines."

As he walked them out, one inspector lagged behind and murmured, "Director Walker… off the record, someone high up wants to make you sweat. Watch your step." Then he hurried after his colleagues.

That confirmed it: this was pressure, not routine. Jet's jaw tightened. Back in his office, Aurora found him pacing. She had returned from a day of meetings with her own board.

She listened as Jet vented about the inspection. "It's Sloan, I'm sure," Aurora said. "He's quite tied in with old money healthcare interests. Specifically, Meridian Health Systems."

Jet recognized the name—Meridian ran several elite clinics and pharmacies in Mega-City Theta. "Their CEO is Julius Caldwell, right? He hasn't made any statements about us yet."

Aurora folded her arms. "He wouldn't publicly. But Caldwell has been quietly lobbying city council, saying your takeover sets a bad precedent and that a teenage do-gooder can't handle city healthcare. He likely nudged Sloan to find faults."

The System immediately searched Caldwell's profile, feeding Jet snippets: a photo of a silver-haired executive, net worth in the billions, a reputation for ruthlessness behind a philanthropic veneer.

System: "Caldwell's an apex capitalist. Don't underestimate him. If he feels his empire threatened by your free care model, he'll try to absorb or eliminate you as competition."

Jet thanked Aurora for the intel. "So what now? Just wait for them to pile on pressure?"

Aurora's eyes glinted. "We fight back with results and public support. Show the council that Hope Horizon is saving lives and that any move against it will be very unpopular." She smiled. "I've arranged a presentation at the next City Health Council session. You'll present the success of your first week and your expansion plans. Let them see Jet Walker in action."

Jet swallowed; public speaking to officials wasn't exactly his forte, but he nodded. "Okay. I'll show them what we're doing for the city."

As Aurora left, Jet stood at the window that had so enchanted Lexi days before. Down below, a crowd was gathered outside the hospital—patients and families, many from the slums, queuing for the free clinic hours. A few waved up at him, having spotted his silhouette. Jet waved back. These people were his shield as much as he was theirs; the more lives Hope Horizon touched, the harder it would be for Sloan or Caldwell to shut them down.

A soft ping sounded in his head:

SYSTEM ALERT – Quest Initiated: 'Prove Them Wrong' – Garner public and political support for Hope Horizon before the council review. Reward: +100 XP, ??? bonus.

Jet smiled grimly. Challenge accepted.

That evening, he worked late drafting his presentation and reviewing data—patient recovery rates up 20%, dozens of community members treated at no cost, even a few formerly jobless patients hired as orderlies (Jet believed in second chances). The System optimized the slides for maximum persuasive impact, though it kept suggesting a concluding line of "Profit Margins Maintained." Jet opted for "Lives Improved" instead.

Before heading to bed, Jet checked on Lexi, fast asleep after another fulfilling day at school. He gently adjusted the blanket over her shoulder. The city might throw its worst at him tomorrow, but seeing Lexi safe and thriving steeled his resolve. He whispered, "For her, and for all of them," and closed the door quietly.

In the darkness of his own room, the System piped up one more time, softer than usual: "You know, if we pull this off, you'll be running this town's health scene. Big leagues, Jet."

He stared at the ceiling, imagining a future where no kid had to beg for medicine or fear a hospital bill. One step at a time, he answered silently. We're not in it for power.

The AI snorted. "Speak for yourself. But fine – one step at a time. Level by level."

Jet drifted to sleep with a faint smile, gathering strength for the battles to come, both in the council chamber and beyond.

Chapter 55: Council Confrontation

A week later, under the harsh white lights of City Hall's council chamber, Jet found himself facing a semi-circle of stern council members and officials. The City Health Council's special session had been called to review the transition of Theradyn's assets to the Walker Medical Trust. In practice, it felt like Jet was on trial.

Aurora sat in the audience behind him, offering a reassuring nod. At Jet's side was Dr. Eli Kwon and a representative of the hospital's board, but all eyes were on Jet himself—youthful, composed, and determined in his charcoal suit.

Commissioner Sloan presided at the center. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Walker, this council has some concerns about the recent changes in our healthcare system. Please summarize your first month of operations and address how you plan to maintain stability."

Jet took a breath, steadying his pounding heart. He clicked a control, and the holoscreen behind him lit up with graphs and images. "Honorable council members," he began, voice echoing slightly, "Hope Horizon Medical Center and its sister clinics have, in four weeks, provided care to 2,300 patients, including 600 who were uninsured or unable to pay—people who previously fell through the cracks."

He gestured to a graph showing a rising line. "Patient satisfaction and recovery rates are trending up by 20%. We've implemented cost-saving measures that keep our budget balanced, despite increasing our free services by 150%."

Murmurs ran through the chamber as Jet spoke confidently. The System fed him real-time data cues in the corner of his vision, highlighting key stats. Jet made sure to emphasize human stories too: a holo image of a little girl getting a prosthetic leg (Aurora's tech) drew soft gasps. "This is Mina, age 8. After a mag-tram accident, she couldn't afford the prosthetic she needed. We fitted her with a new cybernetic leg last week at no charge. She's walking again—because we put patients before profit."

A few council members smiled or even clapped quietly at that. Commissioner Sloan, however, interjected. "Heartwarming anecdotes aside, Mr. Walker, what about the financial viability? Charity is admirable until the money runs out. You've liquidated assets and run aggressive investments, I hear, but what happens when there's a shortfall?"

Jet knew this was coming. "We are keeping a careful reserve, Commissioner. In fact, thanks to efficient management and some wise investments, the Trust's assets have grown by 8% since takeover. All surplus is reinvested into services. We are sustainable and improving." He kept his tone respectful but firm.

Sloan raised an eyebrow. "Your report glosses over the inspection findings. Minor violations were noted."

Jet's jaw tightened, but he forced a diplomatic answer. "Our eagerness to help did lead us to start some programs before paperwork caught up. We've since rectified those administrative oversights. No patient was harmed—quite the opposite. And we are fully cooperating with the Bureau moving forward."

A voice spoke up from the side of the chamber, smooth and resonant. "Commissioner, if I may." Julius Caldwell stepped forward. The CEO of Meridian Health had been invited as an "industry expert" today. Tall and immaculately dressed, Caldwell gave Jet a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. "My company has operated healthcare facilities in this city for two decades. We all applaud young Mr. Walker's passion." He glanced to the council, projecting genial concern. "But passion and good PR cannot override economics forever. He mentions an 8% asset growth—Meridian routinely manages 15% yearly growth while expanding care. It's a matter of experience."

Jet felt the System chime, feeding him options: Caldwell's clinics charge five times more per patient on average; Caldwell's profit comes from skimping on charity care (less than 1% of his budget, the System noted). Jet decided to use that. "Mr. Caldwell is correct that experience matters. But with respect, your growth comes by targeting only wealthy clientele. Last year Meridian's charity care was only 0.8% of its expenditures." Jet's eyes locked with Caldwell's. "Hope Horizon has already dedicated 20% to charity care and still balanced the books. We're showing a new model can work."

A ripple of reaction went through the audience and council—impressed or scandalized. Caldwell's polite smile tightened. "Commendable. Yet I worry about consistency. Jet Walker's background is, shall we say, unconventional. He's not a trained administrator. We must ask if a teenager, guided by an AI, should be steering critical infrastructure."

Sloan leaned forward, seizing that point. "Indeed. There are also public safety concerns. The Theradyn incident involved significant violence, and Mr. Walker was at the center of it. Some of that is still under investigation."

Jet's stomach knotted. The implication that he was a dangerous vigilante hung in the air. Aurora had warned some might try this tactic. He took a calming breath. "Theradyn's crimes were exposed by evidence I provided. Yes, I defended myself and others when attacked by Theradyn's mercenaries—actions the police have since deemed justifiable self-defense. I wish it hadn't come to that, but if I hadn't intervened, those criminals would still be preying on patients." His voice gained steel. "Make no mistake, the violence happened because people in power valued profit over lives. I'm here to end that cycle, peacefully, through better healthcare."

Aurora subtly led a round of applause at Jet's words. Even a couple of council members joined in. Sloan banged his gavel lightly for order.

Caldwell's eyes flashed with irritation behind his composed mask. He stepped closer to the dais, speaking directly to Jet now. "No one doubts your good intentions. But running a hospital network is a long-term game. If—hypothetically—Hope Horizon falters, who picks up the pieces? Private providers like Meridian might have to step in anyway. Perhaps it'd be wiser to partner now. I extend an offer: Meridian could manage the financial and administrative aspects, while you focus on philanthropic outreach. A collaboration for stability." His tone was magnanimous, but Jet heard the underlying message: hand over real control.

System: "Classic hostile takeover maneuver disguised as help. Don't you dare." it hissed in Jet's mind.

Jet didn't need the warning. He addressed the council but kept his eyes on Caldwell. "Thank you, Mr. Caldwell, but that won't be necessary. We are not faltering. In fact, Hope Horizon is expanding community programs next quarter. The people of Mega-City Theta have embraced our approach—our clinics are full every day. The trust of the public is our greatest asset." He then looked to Sloan and the council. "You asked who picks up the pieces if we fail. I won't let us fail. I have incredible doctors, staff, and yes, advanced analytics on my side making sure we succeed. If anything, Meridian and others might learn from our example."

A faint smile crossed Councilwoman Darzi's face at that, one of the more progressive members. Sloan, however, looked impatient. He shuffled his papers. "Thank you, Mr. Walker. The council will deliberate on these matters. For now, the Walker Medical Trust retains its charter. We will revisit oversight in three months."

With that, the hearing concluded. Jet let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The overall outcome was positive—no immediate sanctions, just continued scrutiny. As the crowd dispersed, Caldwell approached Jet, offering a hand. Jet shook it out of courtesy, finding the man's grip cool and firm.

Quietly, Caldwell said, "Impressive presentation. You have conviction, I'll give you that. But remember, convictions don't pay for cutting-edge biotech or keep ERs open at 3 AM. Money does. If you ever find your convictions running on empty, my offer stands."

Jet met his gaze evenly. "We'll be fine. Meridian should focus on its own house, not mine." He wanted to add that if Caldwell truly cared, he could increase his own charity care, but decided against further provocation.

Caldwell's lips twitched in a shadow of a scowl. "Very well. Best of luck, Director." The word carried a faint sneer. With a swish of his coat, he strode off, his aides flanking him.

Aurora came up and clapped Jet on the back. "You did fantastic," she cheered. "They didn't know what hit them."

Jet smiled, though he felt a residual tremble of adrenaline in his hands. "I hope I made the right impression. I doubt Caldwell will back off."

"No, he won't," Aurora said soberly as they headed out. "He'll try subtler means now. Watch everything, Jet. Security, supplies, personnel—men like him prefer to sabotage in the shadows."

Jet nodded, mind already turning. Sabotage in the shadows… he'd have to be vigilant. The System chimed in his head with a report:

SYSTEM NOTICE: Quest 'Prove Them Wrong' – Success. +100 XP.

And an unexpected follow-up:

BONUS Reward: Leadership Skill Unlock – "Inspiring Orator" (Small bonus to persuasive speech).

Jet smirked as he walked down the grand steps of City Hall, Lexi's face popping into his mind—she'd laugh to know her brother got a "speech perk." He felt a rush of pride and possibility. He had faced down power with truth and empathy, and for now, they had held their ground.

Outside, dusk was falling. Neon signs flickered to life in the distance. Jet tapped his ear comm to check in with the hospital—everything routine, thank goodness. As he and Aurora parted ways, Jet caught his reflection in a window: a young man standing tall against the city's powerful elites.

For the first time, he truly believed: they could do this. But the fight wasn't over—it was only just beginning, and he would have to guard Hope Horizon against whatever came next.

Chapter 56: Penthouse Interlude

For the first time in weeks, Jet managed to carve out an entire evening free of emergencies or meetings. In the penthouse atop Hope Horizon, a gentle rain pattered against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city beyond a blur of neon streaks. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and homey. Lexi insisted on helping cook dinner—a simple pasta from actual fresh ingredients that Aurora had sent over as a gift.

Jet stood at the kitchen island, chopping herbs with practiced ease. Lexi stirred a simmering sauce, wrinkling her nose in concentration. "Careful, chef," Jet teased, "don't let it burn."

"I know, I know," Lexi laughed, bumping him lightly with her elbow. "We didn't rescue a city just to lose the battle with marinara." She sprinkled in a bit of sugar. "That's Nurse Mei's trick, remember? To cut the acidity."

Jet smiled softly. Nurse Mei had been overjoyed to join Hope Horizon's pediatric clinic after the Theradyn fallout. She'd become something of a surrogate aunt to Lexi, often sending recipes or snacks. "I remember. Mei's saved my hide in more ways than one."

With dinner soon ready, brother and sister set the table by the wide window. They ate by the glow of the city, chatting about Lexi's upcoming science fair. Lexi excitedly described her project idea: a small portable water purifier inspired by the struggles in the undercity. "Priya and I are partners. We want to make something that could help kids down below get clean water easily."

Jet twirled his pasta. "That's a fantastic idea. You'll have to show me your prototype. Maybe we can even fund it into a real product through the hospital."

Lexi's eyes shone. "Really? If it works, I'd love to distribute them at the shelters." She paused, then her tone grew more tentative. "It feels weird sometimes, you know… going from being one of those kids to being someone who can help them."

Jet reached across to squeeze her hand. "It's not weird. It's why we did all this. So you—and others—could have that chance. Never forget where we came from, Lex, but don't feel guilty for moving up. You're going to do amazing things and help so many people."

She nodded, comforted. "I just… I hope I don't ever start acting like some of those rich brats at school." She made a face. "Like Anders. Ugh."

Jet snorted. "If you do, I'll personally drag you back to the slums for a reality check."

Lexi grinned. "Deal." She cocked her head, studying her brother. "What about you? You're basically a fancy executive now. Living in a skyscraper, doing board meetings... Is it changing you, Jet?"

The question gave him pause. He set down his fork, considering. The boy who once scraped for scraps was now making policy that affected thousands. "I… I don't think so. I still feel like me. I still want the same things." He gave a small shrug. "I wear better clothes now, I guess. And I talk to politicians. But inside, I'm still that guy worrying about how to keep you safe and fed."

Lexi reached over to poke his arm. "And doing a fine job of it." She pretended to check his suit sleeve for dust. "Though I admit, I like this new wardrobe. Makes you look like a Mega-City superhero incognito."

Jet chuckled. "If you say so. Honestly, I'd kill for a day in my old hoodie and jeans."

As they cleaned up dinner, music played softly from the penthouse sound system—Lexi had discovered old 2030s pop songs at school and subjected Jet to them, to his mock dismay. He insisted on washing the dishes by hand ("The dishwasher's too quiet, and I need the practice," he joked), while Lexi dried.

Halfway through scrubbing a plate, Jet's gaze drifted out the window. Far on the horizon beyond the city's edge, he could see faint flashes of lightning in the wasteland storms. He recalled reading a report of cholera outbreaks in some nomad camps out there. Resources in the city could probably save those people… if anyone bothered to try.

Lexi noticed his distraction. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He nodded toward the distant darkness beyond the city. "The Wasteland. I was just thinking—there's a whole world outside Theta still struggling. We've been so focused here… sometimes I wonder if we should do more out there one day."

Lexi followed his gaze. She had heard terrifying stories of the radiation zones and lawless expanses in school. "It's really dangerous, they say. And remote. But… maybe someday we can help them too." She turned back to Jet, eyes earnest. "Just promise you won't go until you're ready. The city still needs you. I still need you here."

Jet gently pulled her into a side hug. "I'm not going anywhere just yet. Don't worry." He ruffled her hair. "And if I ever do go, I'll make sure you're safe and probably grounded in the nicest way possible."

Lexi rolled her eyes but smiled, reassured. "Good."

They moved to the couch, Lexi grabbing her school tablet to show Jet a stellar report card from her first month—top marks in science and literature. Jet whistled appreciatively. "All that reading by flashlight paid off, huh?"

She giggled. "Yep. Also, I think the System boost helped a tad."

He raised an eyebrow playfully. "Hey now, you're plenty smart on your own. The System just maybe… cleared some mental cobwebs."

They spent the next hour in companionable quiet—Lexi sketching designs for her purifier project on her tablet while Jet skimmed through hospital status reports on his. All was calm: ER visits stable, supply levels normal, staff morale high. It was almost unsettling how routine it felt.

System: "Is this what normal people do at night? Sit around, relaxing? We could be analyzing expansion sites or training skills." The AI's tone was a mix of genuine confusion and mild annoyance at the inactivity.

Jet nearly laughed out loud. Yes, this is downtime. Get used to it once in a while. Even hyper-efficient AIs need to recharge. He poured himself and Lexi some tea, a new blend a grateful patient had gifted them.

The System huffed. "Recharging is what I do in the 0.2 seconds between tasks. But fine… enjoy your human leisure. Don't blame me when our XP/hour rate plummets."

Amused, Jet glanced at Lexi. She was humming softly, that old lullaby their mother used to sing, completely absorbed in her sketch. Outside, the rain intensified, drumming steadily. Jet felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude. Moments like this—simple, safe, together—were once inconceivable.

Quietly, he asked, "Do you miss anything… from before? It's okay if you do."

Lexi put down her stylus, thinking. "I miss some people. Miss Rosa from the soup cart, old Mr. Thompson who gave us those thermal blankets. I wonder how they are." Her voice was soft. "And Mom and Dad, of course. I wish they could see us now."

Jet's chest tightened. He placed an arm around her. "They're watching, I'm sure of it. And they're proud of you. Of us."

Lexi leaned into him. "I know." After a silence, she added with a mischievous grin, "I also maybe miss not having homework. Being an adult looks hard, but being a student at a fancy school is tough too, you know!"

Jet snorted. "Oh I know. I saw your curriculum; it gave me a headache. Rather fight gangsters, right?"

She made a faux-consideration face. "Hmm, integrals or Iron Sharks gang? It's a toss-up."

They both cracked up, laughter filling the penthouse. It felt good, healing.

Eventually, Jet noticed Lexi's blinks growing long. It was past her usual bedtime. He nudged her. "Alright, sleepyhead. Time to turn in."

"But—" she began to protest, then yawned widely, betraying herself. "Fine, fine."

Jet escorted her to her room down the hall. It was once the executive suite's guest room, now filled with Lexi's personal touches: drawings on the wall, her beloved threadbare plush cat perched on the smart shelf. She climbed into the big bed that dwarfed her, and Jet pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Good night, Lex," he said, brushing a kiss on her forehead.

"Night, Jet," she mumbled. "Thanks for… everything."

He gave her hand a squeeze as her eyes closed. In minutes, she was fast asleep, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing the only sound besides the rain.

Jet quietly returned to the living area, intending to finish one last review of tomorrow's surgical schedule. Before he could sit, however, an urgent alert flared in his vision, crimson and pulsing.

SYSTEM WARNING – Critical event: Power outage detected at Hope Horizon Sub-Clinic Alpha (Undercity District 6). Backup generators offline. Immediate attention required!

Jet's calm shattered. The undercity clinic—one of the smaller hospitals they'd inherited—was in trouble. Patients would be vulnerable, life support machines failing. Adrenaline surged through him as he snatched his coat and keys.

Lexi stirred at the sudden sound of the penthouse door swishing open. But Jet was already on the move, determination etched on his face.

The quiet respite was over. Darkness had fallen in more ways than one, and Jet Walker was needed once again in the city below.

Chapter 57: Crisis in the Dark

Jet's autocar raced through rain-slick streets toward the undercity, sirens blaring. The normally vibrant neon of District 6 was dimmed by a rolling blackout. Only emergency lights glowed faintly. The closer Jet got to Clinic Alpha—a modest two-story hospital crammed between tenements—the more his heart pounded.

Inside the car, he was on a comm call with the night charge nurse. "…manual ventilation in ICU for two critical patients. Dr. Reza is using a hand-pump on one; we're rotating staff but—"

"I'm five minutes out," Jet interjected, adrenaline sharpened in his voice. "Keep it up. Any sign of the backup generator?"

"Dead as the primary, sir. It looks… it looks like a systems failure. We've never had both go at once."

Jet grimaced. A systems failure or sabotage? The System had flagged anomalies, but he'd know more on site. "Hang tight, you're doing great. I'll be there any moment."

He killed the call as the autocar descended. At the clinic's entrance, the doors were propped open—no power for automatic sensors. Jet dashed through puddles and into organized chaos lit by dim battery lanterns and the red glow of exit signs.

Nurses guided him by flashlight. The air was stuffy without ventilation. In the ICU, he found a grim scene: two elderly patients on life support, machines silent. A doctor and a nurse took turns compressing an Ambu bag to force air into one patient's lungs. Another nurse was about to do CPR on the second patient whose vitals were crashing.

Jet immediately took over the chest compressions. "I've got it. Steady rhythm," the System murmured counts in his head—keeping perfect timing for him. The nurse resumed ventilating that second patient as Jet pumped the man's heart with his hands.

Sweat beaded on Jet's brow, but his enhanced Endurance kept his arms from tiring. "Come on, come on…" he whispered between count intervals. The man's pulse fluttered under Jet's fingertips. After a tense minute, the portable monitor beeped weakly; a heartbeat was restored. Jet exhaled in relief.

He looked up at Dr. Reza. "How many patients are on critical support?"

"Just these two now. We evacuated the others by ambulance to Hope Horizon main as soon as everything went dark, but these two weren't stable enough to move," the doctor replied, voice strained.

Jet nodded. "Alright. Keep manual support here. I'm going to see what I can do about the power."

With the immediate life-and-death moments stabilized, Jet followed the System's directions down to the maintenance room. The air reeked of burnt plastic. He found the backup generator closet – the metallic tang of smoke confirmed something had overloaded.

Shining his flashlight, Jet spotted that the generator's circuit board was blackened and fused. A strange cylindrical device was attached to it, blinking a tiny red LED. It looked out of place, like an add-on.

System: "That's a remote scrambler. Someone deliberately fried the generator's control circuits. No wonder it didn't kick in." The AI's voice was icy with certainty.

Jet felt anger flare hot in his chest. Can you do anything?

System: "Too late to save this hardware. But I can jury-rig a bypass. Give me a moment… Remove that scrambler and attach me to the panel via your comm link."

Jet ripped the small device off – it had a magnet clamp – and tossed it aside. Using his augmented comm, he linked the System to the generator's port directly. He felt a buzz in his head as the AI worked its digital magic.

Upstairs, lights flickered – the building's connection to the city grid had partially been restored via some automated workarounds the System managed. It wasn't full power, but a few essential systems hummed back to life.

Returning to ICU, Jet saw monitors blinking on again faintly. The mechanical ventilator restarted with a groan, allowing exhausted staff to transfer the patient back onto it.

A collective sigh of relief moved through the room. One nurse actually clapped quietly when she saw Jet. "Director Walker, you got the power back!"

"Some of it," Jet said, still catching his breath. "We'll need a tech team to properly fix it by morning. But this should hold for now."

Dr. Reza shook Jet's hand firmly. "You saved their lives. And ours. Thank you."

Jet's fists were still clenched even as he nodded. "Let's make sure everyone's stable. Then we need to talk about what happened here." He held up the scrambler device, eyes flashing. "Because this was no accident."

In the aftermath, as dawn neared, Jet convened a quick huddle in the staff lounge. A few nurses huddled in blankets after the stressful night, and security staff had arrived to sweep the premises. The scrambler was evidence enough of foul play.

"Who would do this?" one nurse asked shakily. "Shut down a clinic… they could've killed people!"

Jet's face was grim. He thought of Caldwell, of Sloan, of anyone threatened by Hope Horizon's success. "I don't know yet. But I promise, we will find out." Internally, he was already instructing the System to analyze the device for any digital fingerprints.

System: "Working on it. Hmm, this design… I've seen something similar in Meridian's tech patents. Not proof, but highly suggestive."

Jet expected as much. It pointed to Caldwell's hand without outright naming him. Enough to act on? Perhaps not legally, but Jet wasn't going to sit idle.

He placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder of the maintenance chief, who looked guilt-ridden. "This wasn't your fault. Increase security rounds and keep an eye on all systems for now. We'll send a new generator unit by midday."

Before leaving, Jet checked each recovering patient, earning tired smiles and tearful thanks from their families who had arrived at first light. One older woman squeezed Jet's hand, voice quavering: "God bless you, son. We thought we lost him..."

Jet just shook his head gently. "He's tough. We're just doing our jobs, ma'am." The System quietly logged a chunk of XP for "Lives Saved During Crisis." Jet barely noticed the pop-up; he was too furious and focused.

Stepping out of Clinic Alpha into the gray morning, Jet surveyed the damp alley and flickering street signs. The rain had stopped, leaving puddles reflecting the graffiti on the clinic's outer wall. Someone had spray-painted a crude halo over the Hope Horizon logo mural. In that moment, Jet didn't feel angelic—he felt a fire of resolve.

He called Aurora on a secure line as his autocar pulled up. When she answered, voice alarmed (she'd seen the overnight incident report), Jet cut to the chase: "This was sabotage, Rory. Deliberate. I have a device in hand that likely traces back to Meridian."

Aurora cursed under her breath. "I'm so sorry, Jet. I never thought they'd stoop this low, endangering patients."

"They did," Jet said flatly. "We need to hit back. Not violently," he added quickly, knowing her concerns, "but expose this. And prevent the next one."

Aurora agreed to leverage her contacts in the city cybersecurity department discreetly to analyze the device officially. "If we can tie it to Caldwell, even circumstantially, we can nail him in the court of public opinion if not in court."

Jet ended the call as he slid into the autocar. Lexi's face popped up on the dashboard screen—it was past time he'd normally be at home. She had left him a sleepy-eyed video message asking if everything was okay. Jet sighed; he hated worrying her.

On the ride back, the System chimed:

SYSTEM NOTICE – Quest Complete: 'Night Clinic Crisis' – Patients saved: 2 (major), Systems restored (minor). +80 XP.

Jet barely reacted, except a grim nod.

System: "That could have been far worse. You handled it… well." For once, the AI's tone lacked snark, replaced by something almost like respect. "Caldwell won't stop here, you know."

Jet gazed out at the city as it woke. "I know. He just made the worst mistake of his life." Because now Jet wasn't just fighting to prove himself or enact a vision—he was protecting his people from a direct threat. And he would stop at nothing to ensure their safety.

As the car sped him back to Hope Horizon's main tower (where he'd shower and then jump into another day of work), Jet steeled himself. The shadow war with Caldwell had escalated. Next time, he intended to be one step ahead.

Chapter 58: Rallying Support

By midday, news of the night's events at Clinic Alpha had spread across Mega-City Theta. Headlines on the city nets read: "Hospital Director Rescues Patients During Blackout", and "Sabotage Suspected in Clinic Power Failure."

Jet initially hadn't intended to go public so soon, but Aurora convinced him that transparency was their ally. So he held a brief press call outside Hope Horizon's main entrance, the charred scrambler device in an evidence bag for all to see.

Flanked by Aurora and Dr. Kwon, Jet addressed a cluster of reporters and hovering camera-drones. "Lives were put at risk last night by a deliberate act of sabotage," he said, voice steady but urgent. "We have recovered a device that indicates someone intentionally disabled the backup power at one of our clinics. Thanks to our dedicated staff, all patients are safe. But make no mistake: this was an attack on the most vulnerable members of our community."

A reporter thrust forward a mic. "Director Walker, who do you believe is responsible? Is a rival corporation involved?"

Jet exchanged a glance with Aurora. Legal counsel had advised not to name names without proof. "We are working with cyber-forensics experts and authorities to trace it," he answered carefully. "I won't speculate yet. But whoever it was, I promise they will be exposed. And we will not let these cowardly tactics stop us from providing care."

That statement was broadcast widely. On social media, #HopeHorizonHeroes was trending as citizens voiced support, awed by Jet's hands-on heroism. A few conspiracy murmurs tried to claim Jet staged it for publicity, but they were drowned out by photos of exhausted nurses and recovering patients giving heartfelt thanks.

At St. Ignatius Academy, Lexi found herself swarmed during lunch. Priya had pulled up the news clip on her tablet, showing Jet's impassioned speech. "Lexi, your brother is amazing!" she squealed. A small crowd of classmates—ones who rarely talked to Lexi before—now peppered her with questions.

"Did he really do CPR for an hour?" one boy asked.

Lexi laughed at the exaggeration. "Not an hour. But yeah, he saved two people last night."

Even Anders, the bully, lingered at the edge of the group, looking uneasy for ever having mocked her. Lexi met his eyes briefly; he flushed and looked away.

Inside, Lexi was a mix of pride and worry. Pride because Jet was being recognized as the hero she'd always known him to be. Worry because if someone powerful was behind this, her brother was in their crosshairs. That afternoon in ethics class, while the teacher droned about corporate responsibility, Lexi couldn't focus. She doodled a small sketch of Jet with a halo and a worried frown on her notebook.

After school, Lexi headed straight to Hope Horizon instead of home. She found Jet in his office going over security reports with a stern expression. When he saw her at the door, he managed a smile and dismissed the staff to take a break.

Lexi rushed in and hugged him fiercely. Jet hugged back, surprised. "Whoa. You okay, Lex?"

She pulled back to look at him. "I am. Are you? You nearly got yourself killed last night, didn't you? You didn't even wake me!"

Jet brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I'm sorry. It all happened so fast, and I didn't want to scare you. I had it under control."

She crossed her arms, looking so much like a concerned adult that Jet had to stifle a chuckle. "Jet, someone tried to hurt our patients. They could try to hurt you. I saw how you talked on the news… whoever did this will be mad that you're calling them out."

Jet's smile faded as he knelt to meet her eyes. "Listen, I won't lie. This is dangerous. But I'm taking precautions. I have security doubled at all facilities, and Aurora's helping with the investigation. I'm not taking this lightly."

Lexi's eyes glistened with tears she had been holding back. "Just promise me you'll be careful. I... I can't lose you."

Jet felt his heart clench. He rested his forehead against hers gently. "I promise, Lex. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be around to embarrass you at your graduation and beyond, okay?"

That earned a small giggle from her. She wiped her eyes. "Okay. Good."

The System chimed privately to Jet: "Heartfelt. Now maybe reassure me we won't get killed chasing corporate snakes."

Jet gave Lexi a playful poke. "How about you? Safe at school? I heard you had an entourage today."

Lexi rolled her eyes. "Ugh, suddenly everyone wants to be my friend because you're famous. It's weird. But at least no one's messing with me now."

Jet smirked. "Perks of being related to 'Hospital Batman', hmm?"

She gave him a light punch on the arm. "Don't get a big head."

As evening fell, a statement came from Meridian Health's PR department condemning the sabotage at Hope Horizon. Caldwell himself hadn't spoken, but a polished message offered "support and equipment to ensure patient safety city-wide." Reading it on his office holo, Jet scoffed. The man had gall—positioning himself as a concerned ally, all while Jet suspected his fingerprints were on that scrambler.

Aurora called shortly after. "The cyber unit traced a component purchase to a shell company linked to Meridian's supply chain," she reported. "It's circumstantial, but it strengthens our suspicions. The mayor's office is aware. Caldwell's feeling the heat—thus his PR olive branch."

Jet thanked her. "We won't accept anything from them. Last thing I want is their 'help' loaded with spyware or strings."

"Agreed," Aurora said. "But be careful. A cornered animal can lash out. Caldwell might try something bigger next."

Late that night, Jet sat on the penthouse balcony after Lexi had gone to bed. The city glimmered peacefully, belying the shadow games being played. The System ran scenarios in his mind: likely next moves Caldwell could take. Most were ugly—legal attacks, false scandals, even physical threats.

One scenario stood out: Direct confrontation. The System projected odds that Caldwell would eventually try to eliminate Jet as an obstacle if subtler methods failed. The percentage was uncomfortably high.

Jet clenched the balcony rail, resolve hardening. If Caldwell wanted a fight in the light of day or the dark of night, Jet would give him one. But on Jet's terms, not Caldwell's.

He glanced inside where Lexi's bedroom door was ajar, the faint sound of her sleep-heavy breathing audible. She was counting on him to come home safe every night. The entire city's needy were counting on him to keep these hospitals running.

System: "We should consider a preemptive strike. Gather the dirt on Caldwell and broadcast it, like we did with Theradyn's evidence."

Jet nodded slowly. Working on it. I want enough proof to bury his credibility. And if Caldwell stepped over the line again, Jet wouldn't hesitate to involve law enforcement—or handle it personally, System or not.

For now, though, the public tide was on their side. Jet's genuine care and transparency had won hearts. People were watching, ready to defend Hope Horizon if needed. Caldwell could scheme all he wanted; he'd find out that Jet Walker was not just a street kid to be bullied into submission.

Jet allowed himself a moment of weariness then, letting the adrenaline of the last day drain away. As he stepped back inside, the System displayed a small notification he hadn't noticed in the chaos:

SYSTEM NOTICE: Reputation Up – Public Trust +10.

He smiled faintly. It wasn't a traditional stat, but it might be the most powerful asset he had in this fight.

Tomorrow, he would double down—secure the clinics, advance the investigation, and prepare for whatever Caldwell tried next. But tonight, with the city lights as their guardian, Jet and Lexi were safe, and that was enough.

Chapter 59: Shadowed Ultimatum

Two nights later, Jet agreed to meet Julius Caldwell in person. The invitation had come via a politely worded message on Jet's secure comm: Caldwell suggested a "private dialogue to resolve misunderstandings," offering a high-rise restaurant as neutral ground. Jet knew walking into the lion's den was risky, but Aurora and even the System concurred it might be an opportunity to gauge Caldwell's next move—and possibly record incriminating words.

So just after 9 PM, Jet stepped off a private elevator onto the rooftop garden of The Aerie, an exclusive club owned by Meridian. The sky was clear, the city spread below like a field of stars. Only a few other patrons lingered at distant tables. Caldwell had effectively booked them privacy.

Caldwell rose from a table near a decorative waterfall, all smiles. "Jet. May I call you Jet? Thank you for coming." He extended a hand.

Jet shook it briefly. "Mr. Caldwell. You wanted to talk."

They sat. A server drone poured two glasses of expensive amber liquor. Jet ignored his. Caldwell swirled his drink, studying Jet with sharp grey eyes. "You've had a dramatic week. I'm glad those patients are alright. Terrible thing, that sabotage." His tone was smooth velvet over steel.

Jet met his gaze evenly. "Cut the act. We both know it wasn't some random vandal."

Caldwell's brow twitched. He set down his glass. "Accusations already? I had hoped we could speak openly, man to man, without media or council theatrics."

"By all means," Jet said, leaning back. "Speak openly."

Caldwell's veneer of charm thinned. "Alright. I'll be plain. You are an impressive young man, Jet, but hopelessly out of your depth. Your crusade endangers the balance that keeps this city's healthcare afloat. The wealthy subsidize advancements that eventually trickle down—disrupt that, and you risk breaking the system for everyone."

Jet felt a familiar presence scoff in his mind at Caldwell's choice of words. System: "'Breaking the system?' Tempting."

Jet kept his voice calm. "The old system you describe left thousands with no care at all. That's what I'm fixing. And it seems to be working—unless someone deliberately undermines it."

Caldwell tapped a finger on the table, a ring on his hand gleaming. "You think I sabotaged your clinic." He shrugged, not bothering to deny it outright. "Suppose I did, to test your resilience. You passed the test. Congratulations."

Jet's jaw tightened. The casual admission, even hypothetical, made his blood boil. "People could have died. You call that a test?"

"For a greater good, sometimes sacrifices are necessary," Caldwell said coldly. "You should understand that, given how you took down Theradyn."

Jet clenched his fists under the table. "Theradyn was killing people. I stopped them."

Caldwell leaned forward, mask fully off now. "And now you're a hero. But heroes have short lifespans in our world, Jet." His eyes flicked meaningfully to a corner behind Jet.

Jet had sensed them already—two bulky figures lurking by a potted tree, likely Caldwell's private security. His pulse quickened, but he forced a smirk. "So this is the part where you threaten me? Or try to beat me into submission?"

Caldwell sighed, almost regretful. "I had hoped intimidation wouldn't be necessary. I've offered money, partnership, and you refused. Public opinion shields you for now, but accidents… they happen."

Jet stood slowly, muscles coiled. "You think if you eliminate me, Hope Horizon falls? Others will rise. Aurora, the city… they won't let you win."

Caldwell stood as well, signaling with a subtle hand gesture. The two guards stepped out of the shadows. One positioned by the elevator, the other blocking the exit stairs—a clear message that Jet wasn't leaving until Caldwell allowed it.

Caldwell spoke softly, "One last offer, Jet. Walk away. Take your sister and vanish from Mega-City Theta. I'll quietly absorb your hospitals, ensure care continues—on my terms, but patients won't suffer. You get your life, and the girl grows up safe. Otherwise…" He didn't finish. His guards took a step closer.

Jet's heart thundered, not with fear for himself but at the mention of Lexi. Threatening her was the last straw. His vision narrowed. "Otherwise you'll target a child? You really are scum, Caldwell."

Caldwell's face hardened. "I do what's necessary. What's your answer?"

Jet didn't bother with words. In a flash, he flipped the heavy oak table up and into Caldwell, catching the older man off guard. Liquor and glass shattered as Caldwell stumbled back.

The nearest guard lunged, swinging a baton crackling with stun energy. But Jet's reflexes, honed and boosted, were faster. He sidestepped, driving an elbow into the man's gut. The guard wheezed, surprise in his eyes as Jet then hooked a leg behind his knee and shoved—sending the big man toppling into the decorative pool with a splash.

The second guard rushed from behind, managing to clamp a beefy arm around Jet's shoulders. Jet felt the vice-like squeeze on his windpipe. Instinct and System alignment kicked in; Jet slammed his head backward into the man's nose. There was a crunch and a howl. The arm loosened. Jet twisted free, following with a precise palm-strike to the guard's sternum that sent him reeling.

Caldwell had recovered enough to pull a slim pistol from inside his jacket. It hummed with lethal plasma charge as he pointed it at Jet. "Enough!" he barked, breathing hard. His hair was disheveled, suit soaked with spilled drink. "You stupid boy—"

Jet froze, hands slowly raising. Across the rooftop, the first guard struggled out of the pool, dripping and furious, but hesitating with Caldwell aiming a weapon.

Time seemed to slow. Jet's mind raced options. He could possibly dodge one shot at this range… but if Caldwell kept firing?

System: "Multiple outcomes calculated. Suggestion: provoke him to monologue."

Jet eyed Caldwell. The man's finger was tense on the trigger, but his pride was even more wounded. "Go on then," Jet said in a low, taunting voice. "Do it. Prove to the whole city what you are. You think you can cover up my murder? Aurora has evidence. The police know I'm here meeting you. The second I'm gone, you're done."

It was a bluff—Aurora only knew they were meeting, not where—but it gave Caldwell pause. A vein throbbed in his temple. "I… I will ruin you," he snarled instead. "I don't need a gun for that. By the time I'm through, you and your sister will be destitute pariahs, begging on the streets you came from."

The guard with the broken nose coughed, blood on his face, reaching for his fallen baton. Jet subtly shifted his weight. The rooftop door by the stairs was a few yards behind him—unblocked now. If he could just—

Suddenly, the elevator dinged. All heads turned as the doors slid open. Two municipal police officers stepped out, weapons drawn. "MCPD! Drop your weapon!" one shouted at Caldwell.

Jet's heart soared with relief and surprise. Caldwell, stunned, slowly lowered the pistol. The police moved in swiftly. One cuffed a sputtering Caldwell, while the other demanded the guards get on the ground.

Aurora emerged from the elevator next, worry and determination etched on her face. Jet realized she must have traced him via the System or a tracker and called the police when things looked to be going south.

Caldwell barked at the officers, "This is a misunderstanding! He attacked me!" He pointed at Jet, playing victim even as he was being restrained.

Aurora stepped forward, her voice ice. "I have recorded footage of this meeting. Your own cameras, Caldwell—I hijacked the feed. It shows everything, including your threats." She held up her phone, which indeed showed a live security feed of Caldwell pulling his gun moments ago. The System had clearly done its job in the background, feeding her the evidence.

Caldwell's face went ashen. Whatever clout he had, an actual video would be damning. He fell silent as the cops led him away, reciting his rights.

Jet breathed again, flexing his sore neck. One officer approached him. "Director Walker, are you alright? We received an anonymous tip to be on standby. Good thing—we heard sounds of a fight."

"I'm fine," Jet assured, rubbing a forming bruise on his throat. "Thanks to that tip." He shot Aurora a grateful look.

The guards were also taken into custody. Caldwell, as he was loaded into the elevator, turned a venomous glare at Jet. "This isn't over…" he hissed, though with far less conviction now.

Jet returned a calm stare. "Oh, I think it is. For you." He realized his hands were trembling slightly with adrenaline comedown. Caldwell had effectively confessed and threatened violence on record. Even if his lawyers worked miracles, his reputation was finished.

When the police were gone, Aurora rushed to Jet's side. She gently touched a reddening scratch on his cheek. "I'm sorry I cut it close. Are you hurt?"

Jet shook his head, offering a wobbly grin. "Nothing a healing stim and a hot shower won't fix." He then frowned. "How exactly—?"

She smiled, tapping her temple. "I had a feeling he'd try something. Your System sent me a live transcript of the conversation once voices were raised. I wasn't far, so… figured I'd bring friends."

Jet silently thanked the System, which chimed smugly: "You're welcome. That's what you get for going in without backup, dummy."

Jet let out a long breath, taking in the city night once more. What a sight they must have been—an 18-year-old squaring off against a corporate kingpin on a rooftop. But it was over. Caldwell's empire would crumble as Theradyn's did, under the weight of its leader's crimes.

Aurora looped her arm through Jet's as they headed to the elevator. "Let's get you home. Lexi's likely pacing by now."

As they descended, Jet felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He had confronted the darkness head-on and survived. More than that—he'd won, without compromising what he stood for.

Yet in the back of his mind, he knew a larger world of troubles still lay beyond the city walls. Caldwell was just one piece of a much larger puzzle of injustice. And Jet Walker was far from done.

Chapter 60: New Horizons in Sight

The fallout from Julius Caldwell's arrest swept through Mega-City Theta's halls of power like a cleansing storm. Over the next week, investigations revealed how Caldwell had bribed officials like Commissioner Sloan and orchestrated sabotage against Hope Horizon. Sloan resigned in disgrace, facing charges of corruption. Meridian Health's board removed Caldwell and publicly pledged to "follow Hope Horizon's example" by increasing their own charity care — a hollow gesture as the corporation reeled.

For Jet, it was a hard-won victory. At a special city council session, he was formally commended for "exceptional service to the people." Councilwoman Darzi even joked, "At this rate, Mr. Walker will put us politicians out of a job." The public's trust in the Walker Medical Trust soared. Donations poured in to support free clinics; volunteers signed up in droves.

One bright morning, Jet found himself back in the council chamber, but this time as a respected guest. He had been invited to present future plans for the city's healthcare. Aurora stood beside him as he clicked through a holo-slide of expansion plans: more clinics in under-served sectors, mental health outreach, and a training program for medics recruited from the slums.

Applause filled the room when he finished. It felt different from the last time he was here—then, he had been on the defensive; now, momentum was with him.

As the session wrapped up, Mayor Guzman approached Jet with a warm handshake. "I hope you know, son, that this city owes you a great debt. You've fundamentally changed how we think about healthcare."

Jet flushed slightly. "It's been a team effort. I've had a lot of help, and there's still much to do."

No sooner had the mayor departed than Lexi appeared, having slipped in with Aurora. She barreled into Jet for a hug. "Jet, guess what?" She was practically bouncing. "Priya and I won first place at the science fair!"

She held up a sleek cylindrical device – the portable water purifier prototype they'd worked on. "It filters even chemical waste from water. The judges were super impressed."

Jet lifted the device to examine it, pride in his eyes. A small "Hope Horizon Labs" logo was etched on the side; Aurora had arranged materials and sponsorship to help Lexi's project. "This is incredible, Lex! Congratulations." He grinned. "Practical too. Clean water on the go… could save a lot of lives."

Lexi nodded vigorously. "That's what we said. Actually…" She bit her lip. "I was thinking about what you said, helping people outside the city someday. Maybe these purifiers could work out there, where the water's really bad."

Jet's heart swelled. His thirteen-year-old sister talking about humanitarian tech for the Wastelands—she truly shared his vision. He ruffled her hair gently. "I think that's a brilliant idea."

Aurora placed a hand on Jet's shoulder. "Speaking of outside the city, Jet, there's something you should see." She led them to an adjacent conference room where a wall screen displayed a live drone feed.

On the screen: a sprawling refugee encampment just beyond Theta's shield wall, in the Wasteland fringe. Hundreds of makeshift tents, people lining up for what looked like a meager water pump, some fires burning. Aurora pressed a button and the audio crackled in: reports of a disease outbreak sweeping the camp, with minimal medical aid available.

Jet watched in silence, jaw set. The System scrolled data: high mortality rates, children particularly at risk, local gangs blocking some relief deliveries. It was a humanitarian crisis, practically at their doorstep yet outside city jurisdiction.

Lexi's hand found Jet's. "Those kids… they're just like we were, aren't they? Or worse."

Jet nodded slowly. His eyes never left the screen. In his mind, he wasn't seeing strangers; he was seeing what could have been Lexi and him, had they been born outside the city's walls.

"They need help," he said quietly.

Chapter 61: Into the Wasteland

Aurora's eyes met his. "I've been pushing the city to send aid convoys, but bureaucracy and fear of the Wasteland's dangers slow everything. However, with Caldwell's mess cleaning up, some resources freed... If Hope Horizon leads a mission out there, the public would back it. You have political capital to spend."

Jet drew a long breath. The thought of leaving the city, even temporarily, gave him pause—Lexi's safety being his foremost concern. But he felt an undeniable pull. This was the next step, the next quest calling to him.

That evening, back at the penthouse, Jet discussed it with Lexi over dinner. "If I go," he said, "it'll be dangerous. I can't take you out there, and I might be gone for a little while."

Lexi poked at her food, clearly unhappy but trying to be brave. "I figured. The radiation pockets, raiders… it's no place for kids. I read about it." She squared her shoulders. "I don't like the idea of you going, but… those people need you more than I do right now."

Jet reached across the table to hold her hand. "You'll always need me, and I'll always come back to you. This is just something I feel I have to do. But I won't go until I'm sure everything here is stable and you're alright."

She managed a small smile. "I'll be alright. I have school, and friends, and Auntie Aurora checking in, and an entire hospital of people that treat me like family." Her smile faded. "Just… promise to call. Often."

"Every chance I get," Jet promised.

They spent that night curled up on the couch watching an old animated film, something neither had time to do in ages. Lexi fell asleep halfway through, head on Jet's lap. He sat there quietly, stroking her hair and contemplating the journey ahead. The penthouse felt particularly safe and cozy, making the idea of stepping into the harsh unknown that much starker.

Jet gently carried Lexi to her bed. The System spoke in his mind once he returned to the living room:

"Logistics for Wasteland trip prepared. I've compiled routes, supply needs, and risk matrices. Also, given your absence, I can maintain hospital operations in advisory mode. Think of it as the 'idle mode' of a game—profits and XP tick up, slower maybe, but steady."

Jet smiled at that. I appreciate it. I'll be counting on you to keep things running and to keep an eye on Lexi from afar. He had already considered setting the System to alert Aurora or security if anything odd happened around Lexi during his absence.

System: "I'll babysit the empire, don't worry. Just… try not to die out there, okay? It's taken me a lot of effort to level you up this much." The attempt at lightness didn't hide the genuine concern under the AI's tone.

Jet responded with quiet resolve. I have no intention of dying.

The next days were a blur. Jet assembled a small expedition team: a couple of volunteer doctors from Hope Horizon eager to serve, some ex-rangers familiar with Wasteland terrain for security, and Reina—the scavenger girl turned courier who had stayed a friend—stepped up with her knowledge of the fringe communities. Supplies were packed: medicine, portable shelters, food, water purifiers (Lexi insisted he take several of her prototypes).

Lexi helped where she could, even organizing a drive at her school for blankets and books to send along. It kept her mind busy and eased the impending goodbye.

Finally, the eve of departure arrived. A rugged all-terrain transport and two drones were prepped on Hope Horizon's loading dock. The staff and even some recovered patients came to see the team off, giving hugs, cheers, and prayers.

On the rooftop helipad overlooking it all, Jet stood in his travel gear—sturdy boots, an armored coat, medical kit slung at his side. He looked every bit the young adventurer he was, albeit one carrying the hopes of a city.

Lexi was beside him, trying to smile. "I packed you something." She handed him a small tin. Inside were cookies she and Nurse Mei baked, and a folded drawing. Jet unfolded it to find a childlike but touching sketch of him, Lexi, and many smiling stick-figure people under a bright sun. "So you don't forget to come back," Lexi said, her voice wobbling.

Jet hugged her tight, lifting her off the ground for a moment. "I could never forget. I'll be back before you know it. Just listen to Aurora, ace your exams, and save a spot for me at your next science fair."

Lexi clung to him, then let go, wiping her eyes briskly. "Deal."

Aurora stepped forward, embracing Jet in turn. "Take care of yourself out there. The city will be here waiting. Your System and I have things handled on the home front."

Jet nodded gratefully. "Couldn't ask for better guardians."

As twilight fell, Jet Walker descended via lift to the loading dock where his team awaited. Before he boarded the transport, he glanced up. Far above, on the hospital's rooftop edge, he could make out Lexi's small figure watching, and beside her the faint glint of Aurora's cybernetic arm as she kept a comforting hand on Lexi's shoulder.

Jet felt a surge of emotion—love, determination, and a tinge of sadness at leaving even temporarily. But this was the path he chose the day he'd saved a stranger for nothing in return: to help wherever he could, no matter the scope.

He raised a hand in farewell. Lexi waved back vigorously from on high.

System: "Ready for the next chapter, Jet?" the AI chimed softly.

Jet managed a grin as he climbed into the transport's passenger seat. Ready.

With a roar, the vehicle set off, threading its way through a heavy gate in the city's perimeter. Jet looked back once, seeing the colossal skyline of Mega-City Theta recede, lights twinkling like distant stars. He knew the System would watch over it—and over Lexi—in his stead, until he returned.

Facing forward, Jet gazed into the vast, unknown expanse of the Wasteland. The road ahead was uncertain, likely perilous, but filled with the potential to help countless more in need.

And so, with resolve in his heart and the System by his side, Jet Walker ventured forth beyond the horizon, confident that what he'd built in the city would stand strong until he came home.