Blood dripped onto medical readouts. Through dying enhancements, Kasper watched each drop track the countdown to system failure. Costa del Sol's heat pressed against the Association building's art deco windows, making the brass fittings gleam like funeral ornaments.
Circuit's hands moved across diagnostic screens. "Core temperature rising. Neural patterns destabilizing." Her words carried the precise edge of someone who'd seen too many systems fail.
The morning's sounds filtered through his enhanced hearing: rookie team Delta checking weapons, Caribbean squad's boots on marble, old hardware singing war songs between the building's copper-veined walls.
Ghost set coffee beside him - their old ritual. A hairline crack ran down the cup's side, match for the scar on Ghost's trigger hand. "Twenty minutes." Left unsaid: *maybe our last twenty*. "Enhancement core's running hot. Like White Forest."
"Optimizing thermal distribution." Circuit's neural patch had grayed, but she paused to help the rookies calibrate. "Point-seven variance in your targeting mesh. That'll get you killed in the field." Her hands steadied as she worked, muscle memory overriding withdrawal.
Kasper's enhanced vision caught her sudden stillness when the new data hit her screen. Professional mask cracking as she recognized patterns. The same look from her sister's case.
"Ghost." Her fingers flew across brass keys. "Parliament records. Project Lazarus. The shell companies link directly to—"
The old soldier crossed in two steps, already calculating angles of fire. One look at her screen made his medallion still. "Circuit, start data transfer. Scope, watch the east approach. Standard ambush protocol."
"Like Mirage City?" Scope chambered a round. "Abuela always said the devil works through paperwork." His prayer beads clicked carbon fiber. Each tap marking targets acquired.
A message burned through Kasper's dying systems: *"ATA data confirms Project Lazarus connections. Association leadership compromised. Watch your back. -V"*
His jaw clenched. Valerian's warning tasted like copper and old betrayal.
"Parliament's feeding enhanced kids through black clinics." Circuit's hands trembled as she downloaded files. "Same surgical signatures we found at St. Michael's."
"Move." Ghost's command carried the weight of his first team's graves. "Delta formation. Clear the exits first."
Through failing ports, Kasper watched his team prep for war. Each motion born from countless missions. Circuit checking tactical feeds, Scope marking firing lines, Ghost calculating extraction routes.
Fresh blood painted his vision red. Something evolved through neural pathways, burning like ice in his veins. His enhancement feed screamed warnings in frequencies that made his teeth ache.
Twenty minutes until system failure.
Twenty minutes to expose the truth.
Twenty minutes before the void claimed its first victims.
The hunt was about to begin.
And his team would pay the price for necessary vengeance.