“Uh, actually, boss man. A word before we continue?” Echo interrupts, glancing at her wristlink.
Kane frowns. “Unless it’s personal, speak up.”
Echo shrugs. “All right. A contact said a kid in the neighborhood is due for his monthly nutrient regen therapy…” Her smile fades. “Normally done by Pulaski.”
Pulaski’s death left too many gaps. Kane hoped Rafael would never have to care for anyone outside the crew, where he could be monitored. But the boy needs those artificial nutrients, and no doubt his mother’s Lux Systems insurance doesn’t cover them. Employees at her level are only offered the basics, like the contagion vaccines—the Concord Eight’s bread and butterfrom the Collapse.
Without them, his augments could fail. The consequences would be far worse than sending a nurse from Midtown into Shreveport.
“Send me the address. I’ll handle it myself.” Kane doesn’t maintain control of these streets by leaving things to chance.
“Sir, what about—” Wren starts.
A sharp glare from Kane cuts her off. “You—” His gaze sweeps over the others, overlay scanning each in turn. “All of you, stay here. Have answers ready when I get back. I’ve had more useful intel from broken security drones than from the three of you. Prove me wrong.”
Viper scowls. Echo and Wren slump in their seats. He doesn’t wait for a response, exiting the room and taking the side door that leads to the underground passage.
Beneath the bar, the eastern corridor stretches ahead, lined with Coda’s motion sensors and signal jammers to block unwanted surveillance. A steel staircase at the end takes him to a reinforced door on the second floor.
He expects to find Rafael cowering in a corner when the door opens, but the nurse sits at the kitchen table, finishing an omelet while watching the news on his vidscreen. Terra’s ingredients are scattered across the counter behind him, alongside freshly washed utensils and pans.
Kane pauses in the doorway. Few people bother cooking anymore, not since Terra’s prefab meals became standard. The sight stirs old memories—of Sunday mornings in his aunt’s kitchen, flour on the counter, and muffins baking in the oven compartment.
He shuts them down and meets his eyes. Rafael’s heart rate flares in Kane’s HUD.
For a moment, neither moves. Then Kane forces himself forward. “Get ready. We—”
“G-good morning.”
Kane raises a brow. Why is he greeting him? Did he forget the kidnapping? He should be far past gentleness at this point. Or is this some kind of a trick? His gaze catches on the fork trembling in Rafael’s grip.
This is no act, simply naive innocence.
The observation unsettles Kane more than expected. He grunts and returns to business. “You’ve got a new patient. Grab your things.”
Without a word, Rafael carries his dishes to the kitchen console. The wash slot seals with a click, lights flashing as the cleaning cycle switches on.
“Ready.”
A soft voice snaps his attention to Rafael. He stands near the door, jacket on and bag in his hand, waiting on the floor. No signs of plotting an escape, just more blind faith that would get him killed here.
Still, Kane’s chest tightens before he turns toward the door. “Follow me.”
The tunnel echoes with the sound of their footsteps. En route, Kane sends a message via his wristlink to Echo for the civilian’s address. Once inside the medical bay, he ushers Rafael through the doorway.
“Gather what you need for a monthly nutrient regen therapy. We’re taking it outside the med bay today.”
Dark eyes widen, but after a breath, Rafael reaches for a large medkit. As he packs the supplies, his movements become hesitant. Every item he adds shifts his biometrics in Kane’s readings. Kane watches the silent struggle, patience thinning.
“Rafael.”
The nurse freezes and gapes up at him.
“Whatever you’re thinking—say it.”
His hands tremble, placing another tool alongside the others. “It’s nothing, really—”
“Never assume that with me.” Kane steps closer, voice lowering. “Now cut the Midtown manners and shoot me straight. I know you’re holding something back.”