Nico Santos loved three things: drones, his best friend Colene, and proving people wrong. Not necessarily in that order.
"Bro, look at this footage," he said, leaning over his laptop in Colene's apartment. "I flew over the boulevard at exactly the same time she filmed her video. Same angle. Same lighting. Same everything."
Colene peered at the screen. "And?"
"And there's NO WAY this was CGI." Nico zoomed in on Glad's flying figure. "Look at the wing movement. The way the light hits the membranes. The SHADOWS, Colene. CGI doesn't cast shadows this perfectly unless you're ILM-level, and you're telling me some random cosplayer in Dumaguete has Industrial Light & Magic money?"
Colene frowned. She'd posted the video as a joke. A "look at this weird thing I caught" moment that accidentally exploded. But Nico's obsession was starting to worry her.
"Maybe it's a really good drone?"
"No drone flies like THAT." Nico pulled up another video—slow motion, frame by frame. "The wing joints bend in ways that aren't mechanical. And what's this?" He pointed to a dark, trailing shape. "Intestines. REALISTIC intestines. You don't make prop intestines that move with the fluid dynamics of actual human tissue."
"Ew."
"SCIENCE, Colene. Not ew. SCIENCE."
Colene's younger sister Rigen emerged from her bedroom, glasses askew, hair resembling a startled bird's nest. "Can you guys keep it down? I'm debugging code and—" She glanced at the screen. "Oh, the Manananggal video again. My Tita Glad loves that one."
Nico spun around. "Your Tita Glad?"
"Mm-hmm. The lady next door. Well, not next door, but in my building. She thinks the video is hilarious. Keeps asking me how 'computer magic' works."
Nico and Colene exchanged a look.
"Rigen," Nico said slowly, "does your Tita Glad have... wings?"
Rigen laughed. "What? No. She's like sixty-something. She has back problems, though. Always stretching her shoulders."
"Can we meet her?"
"Why?"
Colene jumped in, her influencer instincts tingling. "Because I want to apologize! For the video. She might know the person in it, or... something."
Rigen shrugged. "Sure, whatever. She's always home. Doesn't go out much. Very private person." She grabbed a snack from the fridge. "Just don't mention her blood collection. She's weird about that."
Nico's eyes widened. "Blood collection?"
"She says it's for a friend with anemia. Very dedicated friend, apparently. Gets deliveries every two weeks."
After Rigen retreated to her room, Nico turned to Colene with an expression of pure, manic excitement.
"That's her," he whispered. "The Manananggal. Living in your building. Getting blood deliveries."
Colene shook her head. "Nico, that's insane. You're talking about folklore. Myths."
"Was the video a myth?"
"Special effects!"
"Was the blood delivery special effects?"
Colene opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because Nico was right—it was too many coincidences. The video. The "back problems." The blood deliveries. The reclusive woman who never went out.
"What do we do?" she asked.
Nico grinned. "We investigate. Scientifically. Ethically. With drones."
"DRONES?!"
"Small ones. Quiet ones. She won't even notice."
From the corner of the room, where Anino had silently entered through an open window, a soft "mrow" escaped.
The cat's eyes glowed in the dim light.
He'd been following Nico for three days now, ever since the drone operator started camping near Glad's building. And he didn't like what he'd learned.
Nico Santos was smart.
Too smart.
And smart humans were dangerous.