The seven days crawled like molasses. Each morning Rafael woke to a new worry and each night fell asleep with the Codex's cold computations looping through his mind. The warehouse hummed with the steady rhythm of production, but beneath the noise a quiet current of danger flowed.
On the third day of waiting, the first sign of sabotage arrived in an almost laughably mundane form: a shipment of activated carbon that reeked of kerosene. The mesh filters clogged the moment they were tested. An entire crate of parts had become useless overnight.
Rafael stared at the ruined materials, anger and calculation warred inside him. He fed the sample into the Codex.
"Contaminant signature: petroleum-based. Probability of intentional tampering: 96%."
He slammed a fist on the workbench. "HydraCorp," he muttered. "You're not subtle."
The Codex reacted with its usual clinical calm.
"Countermeasure protocol: Evidence logging; plant redundancy; supplier rotation. Suggested action: trace origin via chain-of-custody simulation."
Rafael set to work immediately. He logged the contamination, photographed the parts, and saved every vendor receipt. Then, following the Codex's simulation, he contacted alternate suppliers—small, informal vendors in distant markets—routing deliveries through intermediaries the Codex suggested. It was slower, messier, but it created complexity that HydraCorp's simple intimidation couldn't untangle quickly.
Two days later, someone slipped a thin envelope under the warehouse door. Inside: a photograph of Rafael leaving the procurement office and a typed note—"We saw you"—with an anonymous phone number. No threats, just ominous surveillance.
Rafael's skin prickled. The Codex flagged the number and ran a quick geo-analysis.
"Number originates from a burner line rented by a private investigations firm known to take contracts from corporations. Probability of link to HydraCorp: 71%."
He didn't call the number. Instead, he planted it in the Codex's evidence file, combined it with the contamination data, and began building a dossier. If HydraCorp wanted to play dirty, he would show the world their fingerprints—piece by piece.
But the Codex also suggested a subtler move: "Use audience sympathy. Amplify missteps by opponent through legitimate channels."
Rafael drafted a polite letter to the procurement committee and attached the contamination photos, the anonymous envelope, and the recorded intimidation clip from the warehouse. He framed it as concern for public safety: if contracted vendors were being sabotaged, the procurement process was compromised and public funds were at risk. No accusation. Only facts.
When the letter was delivered through a trusted NGO contact, the Codex projected a 43% chance the committee would initiate an internal review. Not a guarantee—but enough to make HydraCorp's handlers sweat.
HydraCorp sensed the pressure. Their next move combined charm and stealth: a seemingly innocuous offer to partner with a large charity group doing disaster relief. On paper, it read like goodwill—HydraCorp would supply infrastructure while AquaPure handled last-mile distribution. They sent the proposal to the procurement office and, with practiced smiles, leaked it to sympathetic reporters.
It looked, to the public, like a cooperative solution. It looked, to Rafael, like another trap. If the committee accepted, HydraCorp would snuff him out by folding AquaPure under their own umbrella, stripping him of independence and any future leverage.
Rafael prepared his response with the Codex guiding every line. He publicly praised collaboration, then quietly proposed a pilot: AquaPure-run local deployments, independently audited by third-party labs. Transparent results, no corporate umbrella, no strings.
The Codex simulated the optics: this move would make AquaPure look civic-minded and professional while forcing HydraCorp to either reveal heavy-handed control or play fair in public. Either outcome improved Rafael's standing.
That night, a man with careful manners and a calm smile arrived at the warehouse under the pretense of being a "concerned local councilor." He spoke respectfully, praising AquaPure's community work and hinting—subtly—about "benefactors" who could help scale production if Rafael was willing to "cooperate."
Rafael listened. The man's calm face and polished words hid the same undercurrent he'd heard before: influence disguised as charity. The Codex quietly ran emotion and motive analysis on the man's speech patterns and microexpressions.
"Probability of third-party corporate affiliation: 78%. Suggested response: maintain cordiality; request formal proposals; avoid private agreements."
Rafael thanked the councilor, accepted his business card, and invited him to an official tour—public, photographed, and transparent. The man blinked, surprised at the move, then smiled thinly and agreed.
It was a small victory. Each time Rafael chose visibility over privacy, he narrowed HydraCorp's options: they could no longer act entirely in the shadows without a public trail.
The Codex rewarded his restraint with a new—unexpected—function unlocked during the siege. In the dim light of the warehouse, a line of text shimmered into being:
Function Unlocked: Legal Strategy Module (Basic)Capabilities: Evidence compilation, regulatory navigation, litigation simulation.
Rafael let out a slow breath. The Codex was evolving alongside him—not only creating technology but also the means to defend it.
He didn't celebrate. There was no time. But he felt something like calm settle into his bones. HydraCorp had money, reach, and hired muscle. He had the Codex—and increasingly, a toolbox that extended beyond gadgets into law, media, and public trust.
Outside, Manila glowed and buzzed with life, unaware of the quiet war unfolding in a cramped warehouse. Rafael tightened his jacket, looked at the stack of prototypes on the wooden shelf, and thought with cold clarity:
They had started a war. He would finish it.