"Three hours since we dragged his ass out of Los Sueños, and he's getting worse," Torres muttered, neural targeting systems highlighting the alarming patterns in Kasper's biometrics. "Maybe we should've just let him sleep it off in Marisol's room."
"Yeah, because that was working so well for him the past three days," Moreno shot back, fingers dancing through access protocols on the security panel. The panel flashed red, rejecting his first attempt. "Nothing says 'healthy coping mechanism' like tequila and prostitutes between unsanctioned killing sprees."
Vega pressed his massive frame against the corridor wall, enhancement ports cycling stealth patterns despite his bulk. The medical bay's air filtration system hummed in counterpoint to Kasper's ragged breathing on the gurney. "Status on Chen?"
"Ninety seconds till contact. Upper approach. With medical personnel," Torres replied, eyes unfocused as he tracked heat signatures through walls. "Because of course she'd pick now for morning rounds."
"Fucking perfect timing," Vega growled. If Chen caught them with Kasper in this condition after explicitly warning them following Altamira, it wouldn't just mean reassignment—it would destroy everything they'd built in Costa del Sol. His sister's treatments, Diaz's family protection detail, Moreno's immunity from deportation—all gone with a single protocol violation.
"I'm starting to think Kasper times these episodes specifically to maximize our career suicide potential," Moreno grumbled, smacking the security panel with the heel of his hand when it rejected another access attempt.
"Yes, because Enhancement Rejection Syndrome is something he schedules," Torres replied dryly. "Right between 'massacre cartel operatives' and 'drink until unconscious' on his daily planner."
"Fuck you and your logical arguments," Moreno grinned as the panel finally yielded with a soft click. "Door's open. Second level storage. Move."
Diaz glanced nervously at Kasper's unconscious form, hands trembling slightly as he adjusted a stabilization patch on the man's neck. "His core temperature's still rising. Enhancement rejection's accelerating since we found him."
"Which part of the rejection?" Torres asked. "The part where his body's physically expelling the hardware, or the part where he's gone completely off the reservation with these solo missions?"
The gurney's wheels squeaked as they turned the corner. Torres winced, reaching into his tactical belt for lubricant. Three years of working with Kasper had taught them all to come prepared for improvised medical transport.
"Both," Diaz replied, wiping sweat from his forehead. "His system's destabilizing faster than I've ever seen. Whatever he did in Sector Nine these past three days pushed him over the edge."
Inside the storage room, the antiseptic smell mingled with the metallic tang of blood from Kasper's poorly-treated wounds. The cramped space was lined with shelves of medical supplies – standard issue diagnostics on the left, emergency triage equipment on the right, and outdated stabilization tech stacked haphazardly in the back. Their gurney barely fit between the narrow aisles, forcing them to maneuver at awkward angles.
Diaz's fingers danced through inventory holograms as his enhancements identified what they needed. "Stabilization patches. Neural suppressants," Vega ordered, lowering Kasper onto a maintenance table that groaned under his weight. "Anything to mask biometric anomalies for twenty minutes."
"You want to pump him with more shit?" Torres challenged, examining a stabilization patch's expiration date. "His system's already rejecting everything we put in it. Add suppressants and we might finish what three days of self-destruction started."
Vega locked eyes with Torres. "Better option?"
The silence lasted two seconds before Moreno broke it. "We could always tell Chen he was conducting an unauthorized experiment on how much alcohol and combat trauma a human body can withstand while enhancement architecture fails catastrophically... which technically isn't even a lie."
"Six weeks minimum lockdown," Diaz countered, anxiety evident in his voice. "Team reassignment. My mother and sister lose their protection detail in Sector Three."
"And there goes the neighborhood," Moreno said bitterly. "Literally. Remember what happened to the Rodriguez family when they lost protection status? Three days before cartel enforcers moved in."
"Tactical assessment," Vega ordered, cutting through the banter.
Torres's eyes unfocused briefly, running probability models. "Seventy-percent chance of successful concealment if we exit within fifteen minutes. Assumes Chen maintains current movement patterns."
"So we're fucked," Moreno translated.
"I prefer 'tactically disadvantaged,'" Torres corrected.
"I have an idea," Moreno said, tapping his enhancement port. "Distraction protocol. Level three security alert in Sector Five. Maintenance glitch, nothing tactical. Chen diverts for standard assessment. Window extends to thirty minutes, success probability jumps to eighty-three percent."
"And if she traces it back to you?" Diaz asked, concern evident for his friend despite his own anxiety.
Moreno shrugged with forced nonchalance that didn't quite mask his fear. "I'll claim I was running penetration testing after Altamira. Forgot to log it. Worst case, I spend a month scrubbing enhancement ports with a toothbrush."
"Better than scrubbing toilets in Sector Seven," Torres noted.
"Voice of experience, Torres?" Moreno smirked.
"Sanitation rotation is standard Academy training," Torres replied stiffly. "Something street recruits might have missed between picking pockets and dodging enforcement drones."
"Do it," Vega ordered, cutting off Moreno's retort. "Minimal trace."
"Stealth is my middle name," Moreno winked, fingers already dancing through security protocols.
"Thought it was 'perpetual fuck-up,'" Torres muttered, but moved to help apply medical countermeasures.
"That's my confirmation name," Moreno replied without missing a beat. "Given by the Sisters of Perpetual Disappointment themselves."
The alarm triggered with subtle efficiency – no blaring klaxons, just the precise reallocation of security resources that would catch Chen's enhanced attention without triggering facility-wide protocols. A soft ping echoed through their tactical comms.
"Diversion successful," Diaz confirmed, shoulders relaxing slightly. "She's heading toward Sector Five with medical team in tow."
"Twenty-five minute window," Torres calculated. "Assuming standard assessment protocols."
"Move to auxiliary medical bay. Lower level," Vega ordered, enhancement-assisted strength once again lifting Kasper's deadweight. "Where they sent Jensen after Rivera."
"The way he tells it, he single-handedly saved the entire operation," Moreno remembered, checking the corridor.
"The way he tells it, he's also slept with half the enhancers in Sector Two," Torres snorted.
"Jealousy's an ugly emotion, Torres," Moreno grinned. "Not everyone can pull off the 'divorced and bitter' vibe you've perfected."
Torres's jaw tightened, hand unconsciously moving to his empty ring finger. Moreno's smile faltered, realizing he'd crossed a line.
"Focus," Vega growled. "Movement at junction seven. Security patrol."
The team froze in practiced unison, enhancement systems cycling to stealth mode. The patrol passed without incident, the lead guard nodding to Vega while carefully avoiding looking at Kasper.
"Clear," Diaz confirmed, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I hate this sneaking shit. Every time my enhancement ports cycle to stealth, I get phantom itching from my childhood implants."
"Could be worse," Moreno offered as they continued moving. "My first street enhancements gave me seizures for a month."
"Explains a lot about your personality," Torres muttered.
The auxiliary medical bay occupied a forgotten corner of the facility's lower level, accessed through a narrow service corridor that smelled of damp concrete and old circuitry. When the door slid open, stale air rushed out – this space wasn't part of the regular ventilation cycle. Inside, outdated medical equipment lined the walls, their displays flickering to life as movement triggered ancient sensors. A central examination bed sat beneath a yellowed light panel, surrounded by diagnostic equipment at least two generations behind current Association standards.
Moreno accessed the systems with practiced ease, security protocols yielding to enhancement signatures that shouldn't have had clearance. "Whoever designed this place was either paranoid or planning to disappear people," he muttered, noting the absence of external monitoring connections. "No network uplinks, no automated reporting."
The holographic display above Kasper erupted with alarming colors – red warning indicators highlighting cascade patterns through neural pathways.
"System's trying to fight what's already gone," Torres observed, leaning closer to the display. "Like my ex-wife trying to salvage our marriage after finding my deployment orders."
"Damn, Torres. That's almost introspection," Moreno said, genuinely surprised.
"His system's rewiring itself," Diaz interrupted, zooming in on neural scans. "Not just rejecting enhancements. Adapting to their absence."
"Is that even possible?" Vega asked, massive frame shifting uncomfortably.
"Theoretically," Torres replied with audible uncertainty. "Academy research mentioned post-rejection adaptation in controlled environments. Nothing like this."
"This isn't adaptation," came a new voice from the doorway. "This is evolution."
Doctor Santos stood silhouetted against the corridor lighting, enhancement ports cycling medical assessment patterns. His tall, lean frame and perpetually rumpled appearance belied the precision of his enhancements. He entered the room with the careful gait of someone conserving energy for necessary tasks, each movement purposeful despite the appearance of exhaustion. The slight tremor in his left hand – the result of a battlefield injury that even enhancement therapy couldn't fully repair – became more pronounced as he approached the medical console.
"Doc," Moreno greeted, smoothly stepping away from the security terminal. "Fancy meeting you here."
"In the medical bay I personally maintain?" Santos raised an eyebrow, stepping inside. His voice carried the controlled modulation of someone who'd spent years delivering bad news to families. "Astonishing coincidence."
"We were just in the neighborhood," Moreno began. "Thought we'd drop by, check your inventory, maybe steal some medical supplies—"
"Don't bother," Santos interrupted, moving to the medical interface. His fingers moved across the controls with the practiced precision of muscle memory, occasionally pausing when his tremor interfered. "Chen's been tracking his operations for weeks. Waiting for exactly this scenario to implement mandatory recovery protocols."
"And you're telling us this why?" Torres asked suspiciously. "Instead of calling security?"
"Because I've been falsifying his medical records since Altamira," Santos replied, fingers dancing through medical adjustments. The holographic display shifted from alarming reds to cautious yellows as he worked. "Erasing evidence of field treatments. Classifying biometric anomalies to prevent automated alerts."
"Well, shit," Moreno said, genuinely surprised. "Turns out everyone in this place is breaking protocol. Except Torres, of course. He probably files his enhancement maintenance reports in triplicate."
"That was one time, and it was a required documentation procedure," Torres shot back.
"Why risk your position?" Vega asked Santos, cutting through the banter.
Santos's fingers paused, a muscle in his jaw tightening. The tremor in his hand became more pronounced as emotion briefly overcame his medical conditioning. "My daughter would have been fifteen next month." His voice, normally modulated for professional distance, cracked slightly. "Disappeared from Sector Three during initial cartel expansion."
He took a breath, forcing his hand to steady before resuming his work. "Association classified the case as 'unresolved' after standard investigation parameters yielded no actionable intelligence."
"The void remembers," Moreno said quietly, all humor gone from his voice.
Santos nodded once, a sharp military gesture that spoke of discipline maintained through personal loss. "Kasper found something in Sector Nine during his three-day... episode." He pulled up surveillance footage from Kasper's field equipment, the hologram casting harsh shadows across his weathered face.
The footage showed a medical facility – sterile and modern in stark contrast to the auxiliary bay they now occupied. Children in containment units lined the walls, their small forms connected to enhancement apparatus designed for adult subjects. At the center stood General Reyes, his military uniform unmistakable as he conversed with white-coated technicians.
"Is that... military command? With cartel enhancement technicians?" Torres asked, shock evident in his voice. "Shit just got real."
Santos manipulated the controls, bringing the image into sharper focus. "This is why he's been burning himself out," he explained, cycling through additional footage that Kasper had captured. "Building evidence the Association refuses to officially acknowledge."
"Politics," Vega rumbled, disgust evident.
"While children die," Moreno added quietly, hand moving to the child's drawing in his tactical belt—a memento from their last rescue operation.
Santos nodded, the gesture conveying both agreement and resignation. "The rate of experimentation has increased. They're attempting to force enhancement architecture to integrate with neural tissue in ways our technology can't match." He brought up additional medical scans. "The same patterns we're seeing in Kasper, but artificially induced rather than adaptive evolution."
"They're using children as test subjects," Diaz whispered, horror evident in his voice. "Because their neural pathways are still forming."
Before Santos could respond, the medical bay door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. The team froze as Chen entered, her enhancement ports cycling command patterns that automatically triggered respect responses in Association operatives. Unlike Santos's rumpled appearance, Chen's uniform remained immaculate despite the early hour, her posture military-perfect as she surveyed the room.
"Interesting gathering," she observed coolly. "Especially for an 'unscheduled enhancement maintenance' procedure."
"We were just leaving," Moreno offered with a weak smile. "Got lost on our way to the cafeteria. All these corridors look the same."
Chen ignored him, moving with precise steps to the surveillance footage still displayed. Her expression remained neutral, but her enhancement ports cycled through patterns too complex for standard recognition. "Evidence that, if officially acknowledged, would require immediate diplomatic response. Withdrawal of all Association personnel from Costa del Sol." She paused, something flickering behind her eyes. "Abandonment of ongoing rescue operations targeting abducted minors."
Her enhancement ports cycled through an encrypted pattern. "Kasper requires seventy-two hours of mandatory recovery. During this period, his team will be reassigned to security detail for the Sector Four reconstruction ceremony."
Vega frowned at the unexpected response. His enhancement ports cycled confusion patterns that he couldn't entirely suppress.
"A security detail," Chen continued with strange emphasis, "that places you in direct proximity to General Reyes and his command staff, who will be attending the ceremony."
Understanding dawned on Torres's face. "Security protocols requiring comprehensive surveillance of all access points and communication channels," he said carefully.
"Precisely," Chen nodded. "I expect meticulous documentation of all security observations, particularly any... irregularities... that might compromise Association interests."
She stepped closer to Vega, the subtle scent of her enhancement coolant detectable only at this proximity. Voice dropping to barely above a whisper, she added, "Sometimes, Director Chen cannot see certain things. Cannot know certain things."
"Understood," Vega acknowledged.
She turned to leave, her movements as precise as her arrival. At the door, she paused, her back to them. "The void remembers," she said quietly. "Even when official records must forget."
After she left, the team stood in shocked silence, the only sound the soft beeping of medical equipment and Kasper's steadier breathing.
"Did that just happen?" Moreno asked finally, breaking the tension. "Did Chen just give us unofficial authorization to continue Kasper's investigation?"
"Under the guise of a punishment detail," Torres confirmed, already calculating the implications. "Fucking beautiful. If it goes wrong, we're rogue assets. If it succeeds..."
"We still found evidence through unsanctioned means, but with plausible deniability for Chen," Vega finished.
"Politics," Diaz sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Santos checked Kasper's vital signs one final time, the tremor in his hand less noticeable now that he was back in his element. "He'll stabilize enough for transport within the hour. I'll create documentation showing he self-admitted for enhancement maintenance – nothing unsanctioned, nothing requiring official investigation."
"So we've got seventy-two hours to gather evidence against a corrupt military general running illegal enhancement experiments on children," Moreno summarized, leaning against a diagnostic console. "While babysitting a ceremony full of diplomats, maintaining our cover, and keeping Kasper from completely rejecting his enhancements."
"Just another Tuesday," Torres shrugged, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his concern.
"We've had worse odds," Vega noted. "Torres, profiles on military command. Moreno, communications. Diaz, facility layouts."
"And what will you be doing?" Santos asked, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd asked similar questions of too many operatives.
"Making sure we don't waste the window Chen just gave us," Vega replied, enhancement ports cycling determination patterns. "And figuring out exactly what 'el ángel de la muerte' discovered in Los Sueños that was worth nearly dying for."
"You know," Moreno said with a grin as they prepared to move out, "for a punishment detail, this is shaping up to be a pretty interesting week."
"Only you would find infiltrating a military-cartel conspiracy 'interesting,'" Torres shook his head.
"Beats scrubbing enhancement ports," Moreno winked. "Though I might end up doing both."
The void remembers. And sometimes remembering required action outside sanctioned parameters.