Spade's apartment was exactly what a D-minus courier could afford. A single room in a crumbling building in the Tondo sector, where the Blessing had changed nothing except making the poverty more obvious by comparison. Water stains mapped the ceiling like continents, the window faced a brick wall three meters away, the bathroom was shared with five other tenants, and the lock on his door was held together with wire and hope.
But it was his.
He set the courier bag on the single chair, the only furniture besides a mattress on the floor and a plastic table that served as desk, dining surface, and storage. The decoy case had arrived exactly as Kaizer Ventura promised, delivered by a woman in tactical gear who'd handed it over without a word and disappeared back into the evening crowd.
Spade opened it now, studying the contents. Identical to the real case in every way except the liquid inside was slightly more blue-tinted if you looked closely. To anyone expecting a quick grab, it would pass inspection.
Fifty thousand pesos to carry a fake.
He pulled up his bank account on his phone. Current balance: 2,347 pesos. The advance payment had already cleared, twenty-five thousand deposited, with the rest promised on completion.
His fingers trembled slightly as he set the phone down.
You just made a terrible mistake.
The message had been deleted, but the words remained. Someone knew about the job, someone was watching. And tonight, they'd make their move.
Spade stood and moved to the window, looking out at the narrow gap between buildings. The sun was setting, painting the brick wall in shades of amber and rust. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of the city---traffic, voices, the occasional crackle of power use that had become as common as car horns.
His awareness expanded outward, a habit now. Those invisible threads of perception reaching into the space around him, feeling for disturbances, for threats, for anything out of place.
Nothing yet. He had two hours before he needed to leave for Port District. Two hours to prepare for a confrontation he probably wouldn't survive if it went wrong.
Spade opened the plastic table's single drawer and pulled out his equipment, the modest collection of tools a smart courier learned to carry. A roll of fishing line (stronger than his threads but less versatile). A small knife (mostly for opening packages, but it could cut if needed). A flashlight, and finally, a small notebook where he'd been documenting his power's development.
Day 167 post-Blessing
Thread generation: still max 15 meters before breaking concentration. Tensile strength: approximately 8kg before snap. Adhesive grip: can support body weight for up to 3 minutes before fatigue. Awareness radius: roughly 10 meters, degraded by loud noise/crowds.
Day 183
Discovered threads can be anchored and left passive, maintain structure for several minutes after generation stops. Adhesive properties stronger on rough surfaces (concrete, brick) than smooth (glass, metal). Awareness seems to function through vibration, I'm feeling air displacement, ground tremors.
Day 201
Tested thread patterns. Web-structure distributes force better than single strands. Can generate threads from any part of body with skin contact, not just hands. Awareness improving, starting to distinguish between different types of movement.
Scientific method applied to supernatural power, it had helped him survive this long.
Spade turned to a blank page and began writing.
Day 214
Mission: Decoy delivery to Port District warehouse. Opposition: Unknown number, likely C-rank or below. Advantages: They'll underestimate me. I know I'm walking into a trap. I can prepare. Disadvantages: Everything else.
He tapped the pen against the page. His awareness suddenly spiked, someone was outside his door. Heavy footsteps, trying to be quiet but failing. Spade's hand moved instinctively to the knife, his body tensing.
"Courier Bonifacio?" A woman's voice. "I'm a friend of Mr. Ventura. May I come in?"
Spade approached the door carefully, his awareness extended fully now. One person, no obvious power signature, but that meant nothing, some aspects didn't radiate energy.
He opened the door a crack, keeping his body behind it.
The woman was in her thirties, wearing street clothes that were too nice for this neighborhood, dark jeans, a leather jacket, combat boots. Her hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her eyes were sharp, assessing.
"I'm Eli," she said. "Kaizer sent me to brief you on tonight's opposition."
Spade studied her for three seconds, then stepped back and opened the door fully. If Kaizer wanted him dead, there were easier ways than sending an assassin to his apartment.
Eli entered, taking in the sparse room with a single glance. She didn't comment on the poverty, which Spade appreciated. She pulled out a tablet and set it on the plastic table.
"The people who tried to intercept you this afternoon," she said, getting straight to business. "We've identified them. Small-time operators working for a middleman named Ego Ruz. C-rank Pyrokinetic and his partner with enhanced strength, you already met them."
"They'll come after the decoy," Spade said.
"Probably. But Ego's cautious after you embarrassed his people. He might send someone better." She swiped through images on the tablet. "These are the likely candidates."
Three faces appeared.
Hilda Santos - C-rank Arachnid-Aspect (Scorpion variant) Poison generation, enhanced reflexes, hardened skin.
Argus Tan - C-rank Insect-Aspect (Beetle variant) Dense carapace armor, enhanced strength, can't be easily moved.
Shino Rendoza - D-rank Swarm-Aspect (Ant variant) Controls approximately 200 ants, uses them for surveillance and distraction.
Spade's stomach tightened. A scorpion-aspect. Another spider-cousin, but evolved for direct combat rather than trapping. Everything his power wasn't.
"If Hilda comes," he said slowly, "I'm dead."
"Maybe." Eli tone was matter-of-fact. "But she's expensive. Ego would have to pay premium rates to hire her for what looks like a simple intercept job." She zoomed in on Shino. "This one's more likely. Cheap, effective for surveillance, and his swarm tactics work well in enclosed spaces."
"The warehouse," Spade said, understanding. "He'll have ants positioned throughout the building. They'll track my movements, report back to the main force."
"Exactly." Eli looked impressed. "Most couriers wouldn't think that far ahead."
"Most couriers are stronger than me," Spade said. "I've learned to think more."
Eli smiled slightly. "That's why Kaizer chose you." She pulled out three small devices, they looked like hearing aids. "I'll be monitoring from a vehicle half a klick away. If things go bad, I can have a response team to your position in four minutes."
"Four minutes is a long time in a fight."
"Then don't fight for four minutes." She stood up. "The warehouse is abandoned, supposedly. Actually, it's owned by a shell company connected to Ego. He'll have people positioned inside and outside. Your job isn't to win, it's to identify who hired Ego... we need to know who's trying to steal Kaizer's assets."
"And if they just kill me and take the case?"
"They won't." Eli's voice was certain. "They need to confirm what's inside first. That's your window, when they're checking the contents, you run. The comms unit has a tracker. We'll pick up whoever's left."
Spade picked up one of the comms units, studying it. Smaller than his pinky nail, designed to nestle invisibly in the ear canal.
"What if they send Hilda anyway?" he asked.
Eli was quiet for a moment. "Then you better be as clever as Kaizer thinks you are."
She left him with the tablet, the comms units, and a detailed map of Port District with the warehouse marked. The sun had fully set now. Manila's night was descending, that strange twilight period when the city transformed, when the daylight workers retreated and the night's predators emerged.
Spade had ninety minutes to reach the warehouse, thirty minutes to prepare.
He started with his threads. His apartment's ceiling was low enough to reach without stretching. Spade pressed his palms against the water-stained surface and let his power flow. Threads emerged from his skin---thin, nearly invisible strands that adhered to the ceiling and trailed down to his hands. He'd been practicing this for months, generating and holding multiple connection points simultaneously.
One strand, five strands, ten. His concentration wavered at twelve. The threads dissolved back into nothing, leaving only a faint tingling in his palms.
Twelve simultaneous threads. That was his current limit. But what if he didn't hold them? What if he generated them and released, generated and released, building up a reserve?
Spade spent the next twenty minutes doing exactly that, creating thread structures throughout his apartment, testing patterns, seeing how long they'd maintain cohesion without his active concentration. Some dissolved in seconds. Others held for nearly five minutes before fading.
The web-patterns held longest. Something about the interconnected structure made them more stable.
Interesting.