The warehouse smelled of solder, oil, and wet cement. Tables were crowded with parts scavenged from junkshops: buckets, pumps, coils of tubing, and rolls of bamboo cut cleanly at the edges. A faint haze of smoke hung in the air, curling from a neglected soldering iron.
"Careful with that seal, Arnel!" Maria barked from across the table. "If it leaks like last time, I'm the one who has to answer for another wasted crate of resin."
Arnel grinned sheepishly, twisting his screwdriver. "Relax, Chief. This time, I reinforced it. See? Tight as a drum." He gave the bolt an extra twist, though the clang echoed a little too loudly.
"Looks more like tight as a jeepney muffler," muttered Lolo Ed, the old mechanic. His hands moved deftly, wrapping strips of bamboo around the steel housing. "Metal costs too much. Bamboo bracing—cheap, renewable, and sturdy." He gave it a proud pat. The young workers nearby exchanged glances, half skeptical, half impressed.
At the corner table, Julian adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowed at a bubbling flask. The smell of char and sweet resin filled the air. "Activated carbon is fine, but if we coat it with my polymer blend, the lifespan doubles." He scribbled something on his notepad, lips moving as if lecturing an invisible class.
Rafael watched them all, leaning against a post with his arms crossed. To an outsider, the scene was chaos—arguments, tools clattering, bursts of laughter. To him, it was music. For the first time, AquaPure wasn't just him and a handful of loyal helpers. It was becoming something bigger.
"Alright," he finally said, raising his voice above the din. "Let's see what you've got."
The team wheeled out their creation: a waist-high cylinder, patched together with steel plates, bamboo reinforcements, and plastic tubing that snaked out like arteries. At the top, a simple hand-pump gleamed under the warehouse lights.
Maria crossed her arms, daring anyone to laugh. "This, gentlemen, is the AquaPure Canister. Designed for schools, barangays, disaster shelters. One unit, fifty liters per cycle."
Jericho, ever the joker, whistled. "Looks like a tin man from an old movie."
"Shut up and pump," Maria shot back.
They lugged the canister outside, where buckets of murky, floodwater-colored liquid waited. Children from the neighborhood had gathered, eyes wide at the strange machine.
Rafael nodded. "Let's do it."
Arnel worked the pump, muscles straining as dirty water gushed into the canister. Inside, Julian's carbon-polymer mix hissed and bubbled. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—clear water trickled out the spout into a waiting glass.
The children gasped. Rosa, standing nearby with her apron still on, crossed herself and whispered, "Diyos ko… it works."
Jericho snatched the glass before anyone else could, taking a dramatic gulp. He smacked his lips. "Pure. No aftertaste. Better than our tap water."
Cheers erupted. The workers clapped each other on the back. Lolo Ed puffed on a cigarette with satisfaction. Maria actually smiled.
But then, the flow slowed. A few seconds later, the spout coughed, sputtered, and stopped.
"…Uh oh," Arnel muttered.
Julian rushed forward, opening a valve. "The carbon layer's clogging too fast. Pressure's building inside."
The canister groaned, seams creaking.
"Everyone back!" Rafael barked.
With a loud pop, a jet of water shot out the side, spraying Jericho full in the face. The kids squealed with laughter as Jericho stood there, dripping.
Maria pinched the bridge of her nose. "Congratulations. It works. For about thirty seconds."
Rafael chuckled softly, shaking his head. He crouched beside the canister, running his hand along the bamboo braces, the patched seams, the smell of resin and water. "Not bad for a first try," he said.
The team looked at him, surprised.
"It's ugly. It leaks. It clogs." He grinned. "But it works. And that means we can fix the rest."
The laughter and relief spread through the group. For all its flaws, the prototype had proven one thing: AquaPure was no longer just an idea. It was becoming a force.
Rafael looked toward the horizon where the city's skyline glowed. HydraCorp was gone, but new rivals would come. And when they did, AquaPure would have more than a straw to fight with.
They would have an arsenal.