"Fresh coconut water can replace plasma in an emergency."
---
Thump-thump-thump.
Hurried footsteps echoed across the hall. A moment later, the front door opened to reveal a woman in her forties. Her skin was well cared for, but now her eyes were red and swollen, her face drawn from a sleepless night.
The moment Mrs. Smith saw Gwen, her composure cracked. She rushed forward, gripping Gwen's hands.
"Since Aileen came home last night, she's locked herself in her room. It's been more than ten hours—she won't eat, won't drink, won't answer me." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Spider-Woman, please—can you help her?"
Gwen hesitated, glancing at Russell. Mrs. Smith's gaze followed hers, hopeful.
Russell froze. Why's she looking at me? I told you I didn't have a plan.
But out loud, his voice softened beneath the mask. "There is a way, Mrs. Smith. May I see her?"
"Of course. This way."
Mrs. Smith led them to a bedroom door and tapped gently. "Aileen, honey… the doctor's here. Please open the door."
A muffled cry came from within—half snarl, half sob. "Don't come in!"
Mrs. Smith sagged, pressing her forehead to the wood. "Aileen…" Her shoulders shook, tears spilling freely.
Russell touched her arm. "Don't worry. We'll manage."
Then, to Gwen: "Go grab the coconuts from the trunk."
Coconut water—rich in potassium and micronutrients—was close enough to plasma to work in a pinch.
Russell eyed the door. "You won't mind if I… damage this, right?"
Mrs. Smith nodded.
He quickly shut off the lights, checked the angle of the sun, made sure no rays could reach inside. Then he swapped masks—ditching the Guy Fawkes grin for something cartoony and less terrifying. Rookie mistake. Shouldn't scare kids with revolution chic.
He flexed his arm. "Miss Smith, I'm coming in."
CRACK.
His fist splintered the wooden frame, breaking the lock from inside.
The door creaked open.
"Stay back! Don't come near me!"
A girl of fifteen or sixteen crouched in the corner, knees to her chest. Her clothes were disheveled, lips cracked, skin deathly pale. Scratches marred her arms. Every so often, her mouth parted, sharp teeth glinting—fangs she was desperately trying to hide.
Mrs. Smith stumbled forward, gathering her daughter into trembling arms. "It's all right, sweetheart. You're safe now. You're safe."
Russell crouched nearby, pulling a cup from the bag Gwen had fetched. Coconut water sloshed inside, cool and sweet.
"Drink," he said gently. "It'll help."
Aileen blinked at him, startled by the strange masked man—but something in his calm steadied her. She took the cup and gulped it down.
"Another."
She drank again. And again.
With each swallow, her color returned, the scratches on her arms fading before their eyes. The trembling stopped. The hunger in her gaze dulled, replaced by exhaustion.
Moments later, she sagged against her mother and slipped into sleep.
Russell finally let his eyes roam the wreckage of the room. Stuffed animals torn apart. Dresses shredded. Journals ripped to pieces. One page had fluttered to the floor at his feet. He picked it up, reading words scrawled again and again: Hold on. Don't give up. Aileen. Stay strong.
His chest tightened. Fighting it alone… She's tougher than most adults I know.
He placed the page back down, then turned quietly to Mrs. Smith.
"When she wakes, keep her on coconut water. The natural stuff—nothing processed. It'll ease the symptoms."
Mrs. Smith nodded rapidly, clutching her daughter close.
"We'll look for a cure," Russell added. "I have a friend who might know how."
"Thank you—thank you both." Mrs. Smith's relief was fragile, already shadowed by worry. "But… if something happens again, how do I reach you?"
Russell recited a number. She repeated it twice to commit it to memory.
---
Back in the car, silence stretched. Gwen sat stiffly, staring at her hands.
"I should have seen it," she whispered at last. "When I left her last night, she only seemed… shaken. I never thought—"
"It's not your fault." Russell cut her off gently. "You did everything you could. No one wants this to happen."
Except the vampire who'd caused it. And he was already dust.
"Mm." Gwen's voice was barely audible. She kept her gaze down, guilt written across her shoulders.
Russell patted her arm once, then returned his focus to the road.
Minutes passed before Gwen realized. "Wait—we're not heading back to the bookstore. You're going to see that friend now?"
"Yeah."
"You didn't even call first? What if she isn't there?"
"She'll be there," Russell said with mock gravity. "If she wants to see us, she'll be waiting."
He reached for his phone anyway. Gwen plucked it from his hand.
"Eyes on the road. Who am I texting?"
"Dr. Yao. Ask if she's at her office."
Gwen raised a brow. A shrink? Really? Him?
Russell rolled his eyes beneath the mask. "Lots of people need therapy. More than you think. You should consider it, too."
She gave a short, skeptical laugh but said nothing.
If only he knew. Peter. The serum. The blood on her hands. The guilt that never let her breathe. And now Aileen…
Her phone buzzed with a reply. Gwen read aloud: "She says, 'Come now.'"
---
Yao Residence
Russell knocked.
"Come in," a serene voice called.
They stepped inside. The lights were dim, the room warm. On the television, Constantine played, flickering shadows across the walls. A coffee table sagged under the weight of snacks and cold drinks.
"Sit wherever you like," came the voice again, low and lazy. "Help yourselves."
The Ancient One—today inhabiting the guise of Dr. Yao—was sunk deep into a sofa, looking for all the world like a casual moviegoer rather than Earth's Supreme Sorcerer.
Russell blinked, then slowly took a seat. This is the Ancient One? Really?
Well. No sense wasting hospitality. He poured sodas for himself and Gwen, tore open a bag of chips, and settled in.
Gwen hesitated, baffled—but followed his lead.
For the next two hours, they said nothing. Only the light of the movie, the hiss of carbonation, and the quiet crunch of snacks filled the room.
And somehow, the silence was comfortable. Safe.
When the credits finally rolled, the Ancient One stretched, catlike.
"I already know what you're here for," she murmured. "I can help. But there will be a price."
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