From Bullets To Billions Chapter 145 145: Jay's Past

"You want to know… why I fight? Why I joined Dipter?" Jay echoed, his voice cracking around the edges.

It wasn't just surprise in his tone. It was sothing heavier. Sothing tangled deep in his chest. No one had ever asked him that before, not like this. Not as a person. Not as soone who mattered.

And he hadn't expected it from Max. Of all people.

He thought Max just saw him as the muscle. A blunt tool for a dirty job. Big guy, big fists, end of story. But now Max was asking why, and what's more, he'd said Jay didn't have to fight at all if he didn't want to. No pressure. No strings. Just a choice.

That ssed with his head more than anything.

Those words echoed, twisted into sothing warm and unfamiliar. They brought him back to the first ti Max had stood up for him, that mont with Snide. When Max had drawn a line and said Jay didn't deserve to be treated like trash.

That had stuck with him. Maybe more than he wanted to admit.

"If it's you asking," Jay said slowly, "the one who's been backing up… then yeah. I'll tell you."

He took a deep breath. And opened the door to everything he usually kept locked away.

*****

Jay had always thought of himself as a protector. He didn't earn that title. He claid it. Carved it out of necessity.

Because no one else was going to do it.

He wasn't alone in the world, not at first. He had a sister. Mira. Her na ant "light," and maybe that was fitting, because she was the one good thing that hadn't been taken from him.

But from the day she was born, everything else had gone wrong.

Their mother died giving birth to her.

Jay had been nine. Nine years old, standing in a hospital hallway he barely rembered now, clutching the edge of a plastic chair while his father stared blankly at the floor.

It destroyed them.

His dad turned into soone else. Soone cruel. Angry. Dangerous. He blad Mira for the death, openly, bitterly. Even though she was just a baby. Just a tiny bundle with wide eyes and no idea how broken the world already was.

Jay didn't know what to do. So he stepped in.

When his dad scread, Jay took the shouting. When he swung, Jay stood between him and Mira. At nine years old, he was already bigger than most kids. Big enough to shield her. Big enough to take the hits. And he did.

Every single one.

Until one night, in a storm of fear and fury, Jay shouted sothing he didn't an, but maybe he did. That they'd be better off without their dad. That if he left, maybe things would finally stop hurting.

He didn't expect those words to matter.

But they did.

A year later, their dad was gone. No note. No goodbye. Just vanished. One day he was there. The next, he wasn't.

The rent was prepaid, but that was it. Jay and Mira were alone in a tiny apartnt with peeling paint, empty cabinets, and no idea what ca next.

So Jay decided.

At ten years old, he beca a father, a brother, and a survivor, all at once.

He learned how to change diapers by watching old videos online. He boiled water for bottles. He held Mira against his chest when she cried and whispered lullabies he barely rembered from before everything fell apart.

He taught himself to cook with canned beans and instant noodles. He visited food banks, telling them his father sent him. He used fake nas and made up stories. Anything to keep the food coming.

But it was never enough.

There were days he didn't eat. Nights he cried into a couch pillow while Mira slept next to him, wrapped in a secondhand blanket and wheezing softly in her sleep.

He reached out to everyone he could think of, neighbors, teachers, people at church. But help never ca. People looked away. Or they gave him tight smiles and muttered "that's so sad" before turning back to their own lives.

By the ti he turned fourteen, Jay stopped asking.

Growing up, Mira never got stronger. She got sicker.

She had been born too early. Her lungs had never developed right. Her immune system was weak. Sotis it felt like the world itself was too heavy for her to carry.

She missed more school than she attended. Spent more ti in bed than out of it. So mornings, she couldn't even lift her arms. Her cough sounded like it was tearing her apart.

Jay would sit next to her, hold her tiny hand, and tell her things he wished were true. That one day they'd live in a house with big windows and sunlight that kissed her face. That one day she'd run without gasping. That one day she'd breathe like everyone else and never have to stop halfway up the stairs.

He made her believe in those dreams, even when he didn't.

Behind the scenes, he was breaking.

He took jobs he wasn't old enough to have. Worked night shifts at greasy fast food joints. Lifted crates until his back throbbed. He skipped breakfast, lunch, and sotis dinner, just so Mira wouldn't have to.

He sold everything. His phone. His sneakers. His gas. Everything he'd ever saved, gone to the nearest pawn shop.

But the bills kept coming. Rent. dication. Doctor visits. Inhalers. X-rays. Lab tests. Always more. Always sothing.

And then, one night, Mira collapsed in the bathroom. Blood in the sink. Tears in her eyes. Jay holding her in his arms and begging her not to die.

That night rewrote everything.

That night, he stopped pretending kindness was enough.

That's when Dipter found him. Or maybe he found Dipter. Jay couldn't rember anymore. Just that soone offered him money. Real money. And he took it.

He hated himself for it. Hated the things he had to do. Hated the bruises. The lies. The way Mira looked at him like he was still her hero, even when he didn't believe it anymore.

But every ti he handed cash to a pharmacist or paid off a stack of bills, he told himself it was worth it.

And then Max showed up.

Max handed him five grand like it was nothing. No questions. No conditions.

To Jay, it might as well have been five million.

It ant a month of treatnts Mira couldn't afford. Blood tests the clinic had been pushing for. A real blanket, one that didn't sll like damp and mildew. It ant hope, sothing he hadn't dared to feel in a long ti.

That's what broke him.

That's why the tears ca.

"And that's my story, Max," Jay said finally. His voice shook with all the weight he'd just unloaded. "I'm not giving this back. I can't. I need it. Bad."

Max nodded. Calm. Steady.

"I told you. It's yours."

Jay t his eyes. "But I need you to know sothing."

He took a breath. It felt like stepping into new air. Fresh. Real.

"I'm not just thankful. I'm… changed. No one's ever helped without wanting sothing in return. Not once. You didn't even ask what it was for. You just… gave. That ans more than you could ever understand."

He straightened up, taller than before. His voice stopped shaking.

"Whatever you're doing, whatever you need, I'm with you. For life, Max. You've got ."

Max looked at him for a beat, then nodded again. "Good. Because I don't need followers, Jay. I need people I can count on."

Jay smiled.

For the first ti in years, it wasn't forced.

"You've got one."

There was a beat of quiet.

Then Joe burst in, all grin and no filter. "Great! So I've decided sothing. Now that you're officially part of the main group… you get to be the Pink Ranger."

Jay blinked. "… the Pink Ranger?"

Joe shrugged. "Yup. Because you're a big ol' softie."