The eastern district recovery facility looked nothing like a medical center from the outside. Housed in a converted art deco hotel, its brass fixtures and copper inlays blended seamlessly with the surrounding architecture. Only the enhanced security systems cycling through discreet protection patterns suggested its true purpose.
Kasper stood by the window of his recovery suite, watching the morning sun glint off distant skyscrapers. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, unsuccessfully masked by artificial pine scents that reminded him of military barracks. Three days of enforced rest had reduced the rejection symptoms to manageable levels. The strange metallic scarring along his face had stopped spreading, settling into a pattern that resembled circuit pathways more than damaged tissue.
Secure Communication
The red light on Kasper's secure terminal blinked three times in rapid succession—the pattern they'd established years ago. A message from the academy.
Kasper hesitated, his hand hovering over the acceptance key. He'd deliberately cut ties to keep them safe, to prevent Costa del Sol's darkness from reaching back to the people he cared about. But the triple blink meant urgent. Critical.
He pressed his palm against the biometric scanner. The screen flickered to life, encrypting automatically.
Valerian's face appeared, the aristocratic features taut with concern. The quality was poor—signal degradation from multiple reroutes to avoid detection—but the voice came through clearly enough.
"Kasper. I know we agreed to maintain distance, but this couldn't wait." Valerian glanced over his shoulder before continuing. "The Syndicate intercepted communications between your Director and someone we've been tracking for years. Someone you know well."
Kasper's fingers tightened on the edge of the terminal.
"The cyberlitch," Valerian continued. "The patterns match. Not just similar operations—direct communication. According to our intelligence, your Director is providing test subjects and research data in exchange for enhancement technology that surpasses anything currently available."
A three-dimensional schematic appeared beside Valerian's face—enhancement ports with a distinctive copper tone. The same design Kasper had seen on the Director.
"We believe the cyberlitch is using Costa del Sol as a testing ground. The experiments on children, the enhancement rejections... they're perfecting something bigger. The same operation your brother uncovered, but evolved."
Valerian's expression softened momentarily. "We're working on our end, but we're limited by jurisdiction. You're in the eye of the storm, Kasper. Whatever they're building, it goes beyond Costa del Sol, beyond the ATA's original agenda. Be careful—the Director isn't just another corrupt official. They're the cyberlitch's right hand."
The transmission cut abruptly, leaving Kasper staring at a blank screen. The pieces were aligning—Project Ascension, the enhancement experiments, the Director's unusual interest in his condition.
This wasn't just about cartels and corruption. This was connected to everything—to Javier, to Sarah, to Mirage City.
Kasper erased the transmission, leaving no digital trace. But Valerian's warning remained, another weight added to his already heavy shoulders.
The Director wasn't just another target. They were a direct line to the cyberlitch. To vengeance.
He then executed a quick series of combat forms, testing his body's responsiveness. The pain was still there, but different now—less like rejection and more like adaptation. When he pushed himself to quicken his movements, his damaged enhancement ports cycled through error patterns visible as red flashes beneath his skin. Then something strange happened.
A tingling heat spread from the metallic scarring on his face, racing down his spine like liquid fire, then branching outward through his limbs. Where it flowed, his muscles responded with unexpected precision. Kasper's breath caught in his throat as his reflexes suddenly accelerated, his strike landing a full second faster than his brain had anticipated. His fingertips buzzed with electricity, nerve endings alive in a way he'd never experienced. The sensation was intoxicating—like having a second nervous system that operated independently of pain or fatigue.
Then it vanished, leaving him breathless and disoriented. His damaged enhancement ports flared with warning patterns, but the organic structures beneath seemed to pulse with a rhythm of their own.
"What the hell was that?" he whispered to the empty room, his voice unsteady.
Fascinating. And terrifying.
A knock at the door interrupted his experiment. "Looks like you're feeling better," Santos observed as he entered, medical scanner already analyzing Kasper's biometrics. The doctor's movements were precise, economical—a lifetime of medical training evident in every gesture. "Though 'better' might not be the right word."
"Different," Kasper corrected, allowing the doctor to examine the metallic scarring along his face. The scanner's cool surface made his skin tingle where it passed over the damaged areas. "The rejection pain is changing. Less acute, more... directional."
Santos's enhancement ports cycled through analysis patterns, the blue-green lights casting shadows across his weathered face. His eyebrows shot up. "Your neural pathways just experienced a massive surge. What were you doing just now?"
"Combat forms," Kasper replied, rubbing his arms where the strange heat had flowed. His skin still felt electrified, hypersensitive to even the fabric of his shirt. "Something happened. Like my body found a workaround for the damaged ports."
Santos adjusted his scanner, focusing on the metallic scarring. The device emitted a soft hum that increased in pitch as it worked. "Your system is rewiring itself. The organic structures are creating alternative neural pathways." The doctor's left hand trembled slightly as he switched scanning modes. "I've never seen anything like it. It's as if your body is evolving in response to the damage."
"Evolution requires selection pressure," Kasper murmured, echoing a phrase from his brother's final message about Project Lazarus. The words felt heavy, significant in a way he couldn't fully articulate.
Santos's eyes narrowed. "Where did you hear that?"
"My brother. Before Mirage City." Kasper moved to the desk where a holographic display showed the data Chen had authorized for their investigation. The blue light from the display threw his scars into sharp relief. "He was looking into Project Lazarus, trying to understand why the American Empire and the Association had funded a program that ultimately created the CyberLitch."
The name hung in the air between them. The mastermind behind the Mirage City attack. The terrorist who had killed Kasper's brother and Santos's daughter, along with thousands of others.
Santos's shoulders stiffened at the mention, his clinical detachment momentarily cracking. "And now we're seeing similar patterns with Project Ascension," he noted, setting down his scanner with a deliberately controlled movement. "Military funding. Enhanced subjects. Connections to criminal organizations." He shook his head. "History repeating itself."
"Not if we stop it this time," Kasper replied, activating the holographic display. His jaw clenched as he cycled through the data. "The Association database shows limited information on someone matching the Director's profile. A scientific advisor for Project Lazarus, code-named 'Arbor.' Specialized in adaptive enhancement architecture."
"Arbor," Santos repeated. "Like a tree. Fits with the branching insignia you saw."
"Exactly." Kasper expanded a section of data. "But all records of Arbor officially end after Mirage City. The American Empire disavowed any connection. The Association scrubbed most references."
"Convenient," Santos observed dryly. "Though not surprising. After the truth about Mirage City started leaking—that the American Empire and the Association had effectively created and trained the CyberLitch—everyone involved wanted distance."
Before Kasper could respond, the security panel beside the door flashed with warning patterns, red and amber lights blinking in sequence. Someone was attempting to access the building's surveillance systems from an external connection. Kasper's enhancement ports automatically cycled to defensive patterns, even as pain lanced through his damaged architecture. The room's temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
"We're being monitored," he whispered, gesturing to the security panel. "Military intelligence, probably."
Santos glanced at the panel, his enhancement ports cycling through recognition patterns. "That's General Reyes's personal encryption signature. I'd recognize those patterns anywhere." His voice lowered. "He's checking on your recovery progress."
Kasper's mouth went dry, his pulse quickening. He felt cold anger crystallizing in his chest, sharp-edged and dangerous. "Let's give him something to see, then." He deliberately resumed his combat forms, but this time exaggerated the stiffness in his movements, amplifying signs of weakness and fatigue. Each movement calculated to suggest a man struggling with his limitations.
A sudden knock at the door preceded Torres entering, neural targeting systems already cycling through security assessment patterns. The soldier's posture was rigid, muscles coiled tight beneath his uniform. He noted Kasper's performance with a subtle nod of understanding before announcing: "Reyes has been released. Official statement cites 'lack of actionable evidence' and 'national security considerations.'"
Kasper's enhancement ports cycled frustration patterns he couldn't suppress, the lights beneath his skin flaring brighter than intended. His fists clenched at his sides, the newly formed organic pathways throbbing with unused potential. "Chen expected this. The military leadership couldn't risk the fallout if Reyes implicated them." His voice was pitched louder than necessary, a performance for their unseen audience.
"There's more," Torres continued, his expression grim. "Colonel Vargas has been reassigned to border security detail. His loyalty to Rivera is being framed as 'susceptibility to Association manipulation.'"
Kasper slammed his fist against the desk, enhancement ports cycling anger patterns. The holographic display flickered momentarily, data streams stuttering before resuming. "Damn it!" The outburst wasn't entirely performance. "Vargas was our best link to the military structure. Without him, we lose credibility with the rank and file."
Torres moved closer, his eyes darting meaningfully to the security panel. He slipped Kasper a small data chip while pointing at something innocuous on the holographic display—a distraction for surveillance. "Military intelligence has been monitoring our communications since the ceremony," he murmured, voice barely audible. "Vega is creating a secure channel downstairs. Meet in thirty minutes."
Kasper nodded almost imperceptibly, pocketing the chip. The metal was cool against his palm, in stark contrast to the heat still lingering in his modified pathways. Aloud, he said, "Tell Chen we need expanded access to the historical archives. If Reyes is back in command, we need leverage."
"I'll pass it along," Torres replied, then departed with a formal nod to Santos. The door hissed shut behind him, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
The moment the door closed, Kasper activated the data chip, projecting a tiny holographic message visible only from his exact position: Complete security sweep in progress. Military intelligence has compromised facility systems. Maintain cover behaviors until clearance signal.
Kasper felt his blood run cold, the chill spreading through his veins like ice water. If Reyes's people had already penetrated their secure facility, what else did they know about the investigation? About his evolving condition?