Chapter 29 (Part 4)

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"It's a real joy living in this 'progressive' post-capitalist future," I muttered with heavy sarcasm, glancing at the electronic pass I'd just bought two minutes ago while we were still stuck in traffic.

"People usually say things like that with a bit more enthusiasm," Sasha smirked, noticing the less-than-pleased look on my face.

"A pass for five hundred eddies is pretty steep, don't you think?" I raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look.

"You didn't pay for it; I did. So why do you care?" She shrugged, genuinely puzzled by my irritation.

"I just have a strong distaste for greedy corporations," I replied, rolling my eyes as we reached the door we needed. "And now… we wait." I sat down on a nearby bench, mentally preparing myself for the doctor's arrival.

"He said he'd be here in ten minutes," Sasha said, taking a seat beside me.

"More waiting, then," I sighed and, after a moment's thought, activated my visor. "I'll dig up some info on your doctor in the meantime. Give me a nudge when he shows up."

"Alex..." Sasha's voice reached me just as I lowered my lenses.

"Spit it out," I said, barely turning to look at her.

"Are we really going to be able to take my mom with us? She's got a contract with the company, and I doubt they'll just let her go."

"I already told you — let me handle it. Worst-case scenario, we terminate the contract unilaterally. Your mom's condition falls under the Silver insurance package, so if I can prove they haven't met their obligations, we can demand compensation. Not that we'll need to," I added with a grin, catching her surprised expression.

"No compensation? Why not?" she asked, clearly confused.

"Simple." I snapped my fingers, a satisfied smile crossing my face. "This way, it'll look like we're making a concession. The corporation will see our 'request' as a compromise and likely won't throw up any roadblocks. If all goes well, they might even cover the costs themselves," I said, reaching over and gently patting her head. There was something about Sasha that reminded me so much of Lucy; I just couldn't help myself.

"I'm starting to think you're some kind of comic book superhero," she said, with a slight scoff, but she didn't brush my hand away.

"You're exaggerating. For one, I'm a bit smarter than your average cape — no late-night latex outfits or scandalous escapades." I couldn't help but chuckle. With an imagination like mine, picturing myself as a stereotypical comic book hero was too easy.

"So, what would you call yourself?" She turned to me with a curious look in her eyes.

"Well, let's just say… I think 'Noble Demon' sums it up best," I replied, giving her a playful eyebrow wiggle.

"How gracious of you, my lord," Sasha scoffed, casting me a sidelong glance with a playful smirk.

"Fun's over — the doctor's coming." I muttered without a hint of respect, eyeing the figure striding down the hall toward us.

"Hello, Sasha," he greeted, her name faintly tinged by a mild accent. "You mentioned something urgent. Have you managed to gather the amount required for treatment?"

"Unfortunately for you, no," I replied, rising from my seat and towering over the overly smug doctor. "We're here to terminate your services unilaterally," I stated bluntly, cutting straight to the chase — not in the mood for formalities.

"Mr...?" The doctor adjusted his glasses, clearly worn more for style than for function, as he tried to size me up.

"Alex Mitchell." I crossed my arms, locking eyes with him, daring him to push his luck.

"Ahem, well then, Mr. Mitchell, as per the contract between Trauma Team and Miss Yakovleva, I'm afraid we cannot proceed with a termination at your request," he replied, visibly flustered.

"So you're saying her treatment is entirely your responsibility, yet you've also stated it's not covered by her current insurance. That gives us grounds to terminate," I shot back, watching as the doctor shifted uncomfortably. Clearly, he hadn't expected someone who knew even the basics of medical protocol.

"May I ask, who exactly are you to Miss Yakovleva? And on what grounds do you presume to make decisions on behalf of our patient?" He adjusted his glasses again — a clear tell of his nerves.

"Looks like we're doing this the hard way," I closed my eyes briefly, sending a quick signal to Vega. "I'm here as a trusted representative of the Yakovlev family. Sasha approached me for assistance as a qualified specialist. In short, I'll be taking over her mother's care."

"Are you seriously telling me that, at your age, you actually have the credentials for this?" He chuckled, derisively.

"Certified at Level Six in medicine — general, not limited to any one field," I replied coolly, handing over a set of documents and credentials to Sasha. Distance learning has its perks. I could've gone for Level Seven, but that required in-person clinical hours, which I hadn't completed at the time.

"Impressive, Mr. Mitchell," he said, after skimming through my records, likely verifying their authenticity with a quick digital check.

"Let's get to the point. Patient Galina Yakovleva sustained an injury leading to complications. While the root cause of her condition was identified, you've already stated that you're unable to provide adequate care."

"So, you're requesting that we simply transfer the patient to you, correct?"

"Precisely."

"In that case, we'll need to assess certain fees," he replied with a brazen smirk, clearly expecting me to back down.

"Sir, whatever your name is — have you completely lost it?" My blunt question threw him off guard, and he froze in place. His mouth opened slightly, his breathing stalled, and his hands trembled faintly. "Every cent of this treatment has been paid for by my client. So if anyone here should be demanding compensation, it's me. In the future, I'd suggest you watch your words carefully." I fixed him with a stern gaze, folding my arms to emphasize the point.

"Are you sure about this decision?" The doctor finally recovered, slipping into an air of forced calm.

"Absolutely." I nodded, feeling a small hand clasp around mine. The conversation must've rattled Sasha more than I'd realized for her to reach out like that — a small gesture of trust from a stranger.

"Very well," he responded, barely masking his irritation. "I'll need time to clear this with my superiors. I trust you understand, Mr. Mitchell." His tone was sharp as he turned on his heel, clearly displeased with our exchange.

"Then I'll be waiting in the patient's room. Visiting hours aren't over yet, right?"

"No objections," he muttered, adjusting his glasses as he unlocked the door remotely. "Feel free to wait inside the room." With an abrupt spin, he strode back down the corridor.

"Was it really necessary to respond like that?" Sasha asked quietly as we stepped inside.

"It was. Otherwise, he'd just keep pushing his agenda. Don't worry, this won't backfire on me. You probably don't know this, but that kind of behavior is common in corporate circles. I just made it clear where we stand." I quickly activated a jammer from my bag to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. "Understand this, Sasha: respect is something you demand, not something you're handed. If you always compromise, people will start walking all over you."

"You're explaining basic stuff like I'm a kid," she grumbled, crossing her arms before heading to her mother's bedside.

Silence settled over the room as she sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing her hand over her mother's leg. An IV bag hung nearby, and an oxygen mask covered her mother's face. They'd really let her condition deteriorate.

"Hey, Mom," Sasha whispered, lowering her gaze. "I think I found someone who can actually help you..." It was clear she'd been holding onto this anxiety for too long, needing the comfort of talking to her mom, even if she couldn't respond.

"Don't get too sentimental — your mom's gonna be lecturing you soon enough when she's back on her feet." I stepped over and placed a hand on Sasha's shoulder, pulling her close. It probably wouldn't soothe her completely, but maybe it'd help her feel a bit steadier after everything she'd been through just to fund the treatment. "Stay put and relax — you need this," I murmured, gently keeping her in the embrace as she blushed and tried to wriggle away.

"Why are you going to such lengths for a stranger?" Sasha asked, her voice soft but curious.

"Just felt like helping you out. You can think of me as a hopeless fool if you want." I gave her a gentle tap on the head and stepped back a few paces.

"You're many things, but definitely not a fool." She huffed, wiping her slightly teary eyes.

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence." I flashed her a warm smile. "Oh, so that's the infamous securicine." Only now did I notice the medication on the bedside table — the stuff they'd been pumping into her mom. "Those bastards must've known about the side effects and still kept giving her this garbage." I looked into the plastic container, taking stock of the pills left. "Nearly the whole pack is gone…"

"Is it really that bad?" she asked, picking up on the grim tone in my voice.

"Well… let's just say it's not good. If they've been adding it to her IV fluids, your mom's nervous system might be hanging by a thread. It's hard to say for sure, but it's probably pretty close to the truth."

"I see…" Sasha replied, her expression downcast.

Our conversation trailed off after that. Sasha sat quietly by the bed, holding her mother's hand, lost in her own thoughts. I turned to rough out some treatment plans, realizing the damage might be more severe than I'd anticipated. Two weeks might not be enough to get her mom back on her feet. Looks like Galina would need a longer recovery period under closer observation than I'd initially planned.