Hobbling through the decorated corridors of the Voltaire estate, Sabir and Warren leaned on each other, both their steps uneven. The constant stinging of their injuries replaced the adrenaline that coursed through their veins during their spars with Elektra.

With every step that Sabir took, a sharp jolt of pain struck him like needles. Exhaustion made his feet feel like lead, yet he gritted his teeth and pushed on; causing beads of sweat to run down his brow. Sabir looked to his side to see Warren. He was not faring any better; his breathing was ragged, and his normally steady hands trembled slightly as he gripped Sabir’s shoulder.

As they turned towards the corridor that led to Warren’s room, a man wearing a suit, similar to what Sabir was wearing but clearly of superior quality, blocked off the pair. The man had fashioned a tie for himself with red and black stripes that blended together.

The man peered at them with a titled gaze. Loose strands of his thinning hair hovered over his inquisitive gaze. “Master Warren, it’s good to see you.”

Sabir could hear Warren curse under his breath upon coming face to face with the elderly gentleman. “Hello Frederick, how are you doing?”

“Oh the usual, the Voltaire family doesn’t run by itself, as you should know,” the old man responded. He looked again at Warren’s condition and grinned with a smile that made Sabir shiver. “I see Elektra, and you are continuing training. Good, it excites me knowing the family’s future is in excellent hands.” The man shifted his gaze towards Sabir, his smile disappearing entirely, as he ran his hand through his gray beard, occasionally scraping his deep wrinkles on his face. “And who is this Master Warren? I don’t remember hiring this boy.”

Sweat trickled down Warren’s face as he smiled weakly. “Oh, I hired him myself. He’s my uh…personal manservant. Don’t worry though, I’ve trained him myself. You need not worry, Frederick.” Warren’s nervousness transmitted itself onto Sabir, who didn’t understand what was going on.

The old man, known as Frederick, puffed his chest and raised his chin. “Master Warren, I am the head butler of the Voltaire family. All staff should be hired by me and only me. I have heard rumors of a new manservant, but to think it was true. I really don’t like losing control.”

Sabir could feel his intense stare as he analyzed him from head to toe. “Young man, what is your name?”

“Sabir…Sabir Quinn.”

Upon Sabir enunciating the last syllable of his name, Frederick’s rather pale skin morphed to a scarlet, the air around Sabir became thick, he struggled to breathe as the old man seemed to have turned larger, almost demonic. If Sabir had the energy to scream, he would do so, but fear rooted his legs to the ground, and without Warren’s support, he would have already collapsed.

“He’s gonna kill me.” That was the only thought that ran through Sabir’s mind. Confusion and fear conquered his mind.

“-Ahem, well, I must be going now.” Frederick coughed, readjusting his collar and tie, his words cutting away any tension. “I’ll make sure the physician arrives shortly, Master Warren.” The old man turned to leave in a hurry, but his gaze never left Sabir for a moment.

Before Sabir could question Warren about that man, Warren pushed him into the room with a shaky hand. Sparse furnishings filled the room, such as a single bed pushed against the wall, a small desk cluttered with papers, and a wardrobe that appeared untouched for weeks. Whilst the room was ornate and expensive, it didn’t match the opulence of the Voltaire family, but he didn’t comment on it. Warren guided Sabir to the bed, where they both collapsed, the springs creaking under their combined weight.

Sabir’s fear dissipated as quickly as it came, and his only thought was to regain his breath and relax on the cushioned bed.

“Frederick, the head butler.” Warren uttered amid his heavy breaths.

“Should I be worried?” Sabir questioned, as he remembered the murderous atmosphere that the head butler released towards him.

Warren rolled to his sides. “I don’t know. We should be fine. Although I don’t know him very well, he seems like the type of person to keep to himself. He just creeps me out is all. In his prime, he used to be a hunter, one of the best of the best, working for Zeus.”

A sense of relief washed over Sabir. If Warren wasn’t too worried, more than likely he’d be fine. Perhaps that killing intent he felt was merely an illusion by his fatigued mind. Yet his instincts had rarely ever failed him. It’s what kept him alive for so long. Sabir pushed away such thoughts. He was fine; he was safe. There was no reason to read into such a small interaction.

A silence hung between them as they reflected on today’s events. “Sorry about…all of that, by the way,” Warren muttered, breaking the quiet reflection that had settled between them. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Sabir’s eyes, guilt clear in the way he slouched forward, his shoulders hunched.

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“It’s fine. I doubt an old butler would do anything.”

“-No, not that… my sister.”

“Oh.” Sabir shook his head, forcing a tired smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got my own issues with Elektra.” He winced as he adjusted his position, trying to find a spot that didn’t make his ribs scream in protest.

Warren looked at him, his eyes filled with guilt. “You’ll never be able to beat her, you know,” he whispered, his voice laced with bitterness. “You’re… you’re a dud.” There was an edge of self-loathing as he talked, his mentality of defeat projected onto Sabir.

Since he was granted that pass to enter Havana, Sabir had been used to those words of scorn. A dud was useless. A dud had no value. A dud was a dud. Hearing it from Warren was just another reminder that he was a weakling. He was pathetic, and he knew it deep down. However, wouldn’t it be better to try defying the odds you were given instead of just settling and rolling over? Sabir had always lived with that mentality, Cynthia instilled it in him.

Amidst Sabir’s contemplation, Warren’s expression twisted into a painful wince, and he stared at his hands as if they held all the answers he couldn’t grasp. “And I’m not much better. I’ll never be able to beat her, either.”

“Stop it,” Sabir said, his voice firm despite the pain that lanced through his chest with every breath. Warren looked up at him, surprised by the forcefulness in his tone. “You’re plenty strong, Warren. Just standing up to that bitch takes guts, more than most people have.”

The self-hatred that Warren felt waned. His eyes softened as Sabir’s words sank in. Approval, something Warren had rarely felt in his life, glimmered in Sabir’s face. He’d been living in the shadows of expectations for so long that he didn’t even know what it felt like to be recognized for his own efforts, no matter how small.

“Thank you,” Warren murmured. For once, he didn’t feel the crushing weight of failure pressing down on him. He didn’t feel like he was drowning in the expectations of others.

Sabir leaned back against the bed’s headboard, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs. “I’m sure your Esper abilities will get stronger if you put your mind to it. You’ve got potential, Warren. I mean, c’mon, you got that crazy noble bloodline. Not like me, man. I’m from the dirt.”

Warren let out a bitter laugh, but there was a trace of hope in it. “Maybe, but I’ve got the worst ability in the entire academy. Everyone looks down on me. Especially Elektra.”

Sabir shrugged, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his chest. “Let people talk. You’ve got it in you to make people eat those words. What happened in that training room… it proved you’re not as weak as they think. You stood up and faced someone you knew you’d lose against. I wonder if they’d do the same.”

Warren stared at Sabir, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all he found was honesty. Sabir wasn’t just saying these things to make him feel better; he believed them. And for the first time in a long while, Warren felt a spark of determination that had been missing for years.

He didn’t want to let Sabir down. The faith Sabir had shown in him was a rare thing, and Warren clung to it like a lifeline. He felt a renewed sense of energy, a drive to prove that he wasn’t the weakling everyone thought he was. He wanted to become stronger, not just for himself, but for Sabir, for his mother’s memory, and for the promise he’d made to her.

“I won’t let you down, Sabir. I’m going to get stronger. I’ll make sure of it and then I’ll get you out of this place.”

Sabir smiled at his friend’s new determination. “Damn right. You better get me out of here, you promised, after all. Now you’ve got the drive, that’s more important than any Esper power.”

Warren nodded, but his mind wandered away. Reminded by his mother’s tender voice in his mind, he recalled the valuable lessons she had instilled in him. She constantly encouraged him to back Noah, to assist him, as he was the future patriarch. She molded Warren’s ambitions, fostering a feeling of obligation towards his half-brother, even though Noah had reciprocated none of his affection.

He dedicated his childhood to gaining Noah’s acceptance and showing his worthiness to be considered a Voltaire, regardless of his origins. The aspiration of standing behind him someday. Noah’s indifference always scarred him, even though he tried his best. The icy, dismissive hatred caused more pain than Elektra’s scorn or anyone else’s ridicule.

Warren understood he could be strong without seeking approval from Noah, even as Sabir’s words lingered in his thoughts. He didn’t need to follow in anyone’s footsteps to prove his worth. If he were to create his own way, perhaps he would at last achieve the approval he had been seeking, not only from Noah but also from within.

“I’ll make you proud, Sabir.”

Warren clenched his bruised fists, “And I’ll make her proud too.” He said under his breath.

Sabir nodded, satisfied with the resolve he saw in Warren. “That’s the spirit! Y’know, in a situation like this, I think my buddy Max would probably say some stupid words of advice like…”

Sabir cleared his throat and brought his voice to a higher pitch. “You, as an aristocrat, have a duty to serve the people. Strength must come with action. If you don’t look after the regular man, society will perish!!!” Ignoring the pain in his body, Sabir grabbed Warren and shook him vigorously.

Warren laughed heartily, a genuine smile reaching his eyes, as his body shook. “No way someone talks like that. HAHA. Is your friend an idiot?”

Warren composed himself, as Sabir let go of his shoulders that he was holding. “But I promise I will use my strength for good. And Sabir…thank you. For believing in me.”

“Anytime,” Sabir replied, his voice tired. “We’ve got to look out for each other, right?”

“Right,” Warren agreed, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his Esper powers. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. It was the feeling of being accepted, of being valued for who he was, not just for what he could do.

Eventually the physician arrived, annoyed he had to come so far. Once all patched up, the day wore on and the two of them sat in companionable silence, each lost in their thoughts. They found solace in each other’s presence, in the bond they had forged through shared hardship, as the pain of their injuries faded into the background.

For the first time since childhood, Warren didn’t feel alone.