The Cotabato pilot ended with crowds lining up daily, journalists snapping photos of children drinking clean water, and NGOs already drafting proposals. On paper, it was a triumph.
But victories came with strings.
At the barangay hall, Rafael sat across from the mayor, who leaned back in his chair with the smug ease of a man who had just won free political capital.
"You see, Dela Cruz," the mayor began, sipping his coffee, "what you've done here… it makes me look good. Real good. But if you want to keep operating, you'll need friends. Strong friends. Otherwise, every syndicate from here to Maguindanao will want their cut."
Maria shifted uneasily beside Rafael, her arms crossed. Jericho muttered under his breath, "Here it comes."
The mayor leaned forward, lowering his voice. "So here's my offer. Register Cotabato as your southern hub—but through my office. I'll handle permits, protection, logistics. In return, a small percentage of profits runs through city hall. Everyone's happy."
The Codex pulsed coldly in Rafael's vision:"Analysis: Proposal ensures short-term safety. Long-term cost: dependency and loss of autonomy. Risk: entrenchment in local patronage networks. Alternative: Independent logistics hub. Success probability: 54% with higher risk of sabotage."
Rafael rubbed his temples. Accepting meant faster expansion but under someone else's shadow. Refusing meant painting a target on AquaPure.
He stood slowly, meeting the mayor's eyes. "I appreciate your protection, Mayor. But AquaPure doesn't pay tribute. We build partnerships, not dependencies."
The mayor's smile thinned. "Careful, Dela Cruz. Pride has a price."
That night, the warehouse in Cotabato buzzed with unease. Workers whispered about the mayor's veiled threat. Rosa slammed a crate down harder than necessary. "We can't fight politicians and warlords at the same time. Maybe we should've just agreed."
Jericho snapped back, "And what, become their puppets? Boss is right. We stand on our own."
Maria stayed quiet until everyone's voices died down. Then she looked at Rafael. "So what's the plan? Because if we don't pick one fast, they'll pick it for us."
The Codex glowed again:"Recommendation: Establish independent hub under disguise of NGO partnership. Strategy: recruit local allies through service, not politics. Secure logistics via trusted community networks. Reduce reliance on single patron."
Rafael exhaled. "We're not bending to anyone. Tomorrow, we start recruiting locals—not politicians, not syndicates. Real people. Drivers, mechanics, warehouse guards. Cotabato will protect itself because the people will own it, not a single man."
Maria's lips quirked into the faintest smile. "That's either genius… or suicide."
"Maybe both," Rafael admitted.
The next morning, AquaPure banners were hung not on city hall, but in the public market. Rafael himself helped hand out filters to mothers carrying infants. Jericho joked with tricycle drivers while recruiting them as couriers. Maria oversaw a makeshift hiring booth, interviewing mechanics and welders from the barangays.
The mayor's allies sneered from afar. His men whispered threats. But the villagers rallied. The same people who had cheered the trucks past the blockade now lined up to sign their names.
By sundown, Rafael had the beginnings of an independent hub—not tied to politics, but to the people.
The Codex pulsed softly in his vision, like a quiet heartbeat:"Trajectory stable. Local support increasing. Warning: Political retaliation imminent."
Rafael gazed at the Cotabato skyline, the call to prayer drifting across the dusk air. He knew the mayor wouldn't take this insult lightly. But this was the path he chose.
If AquaPure was to stand on its own, it had to stand without bending.