“Yes, this will work. I’ll start setting up,” Rafael answers after a brief look around.
Kane moves to stand behind the couch. “Listen to the nurse.”
“Hi. I’m Rafael. I’ll be attending to you today,” he says, guiding the drone with the regenerator into the room. When the machine hovers before them, he sets the medkit down andturns to Runchu. “Can I see your neural-vascular junction?”
Runchu casts a look at his brother, then extends his arm, revealing the exposed port of his cyberelbow. His augments are unpolished but still mimic skin, closer to Lian than Kane and his gang’s chrome.
Rafael starts up the machine, connecting the regenerator cord and tapping the display. The device hums, lights flickering as it powers up. He adjusts the settings using data from the previous session, muscles moving on autopilot. Nutrient regeneration is routine for him, but never in a living room patched together like this.
“Who is he?” Yichen breaks the silence. Rafael’s shoulders tense instantly as he peers up.
“Dr. Pulaski’s no longer with us.” Kane’s voice is flat, frown deepening.
Runchu twists back. “Did he…”
Kane nods, and the realization settles over Rafael. This gang hasn’t just lost their medic. An entire neighborhood has lost their doctor. These kids, their families, everyone who depended on him.
“Won’t be too much longer,” Rafael says softly, hoping to ease the weight in the room. Or maybe he’s trying to comfort himself.
Yichen’s expression lightens. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Rafael.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. But as he turns back to the equipment, reality crashes back in. How many more of these treatments will he be forced to perform? How long until Kane finds his replacement?
Rafael’s gaze shifts to the man inspecting his wristlink. In this ordinary room, Kane—with all his chrome and ear—standsout sharply, but his presence is more human here. He forces his attention back to the equipment.
The rest of the time passes in relative silence, broken only by the city noises outside the window, the boys’ hushed voices, and the occasional beep of the machine.
When the treatment finally ends, Rafael exhales. “All done.” He disconnects the cable from Runchu’s exposed elbow before powering down the regenerator.
“Feeling better already!” Runchu stretches his limbs above his head.
His brother slings an arm over his shoulder. “Great! Now I don’t have to take it easy on you in our fights.”
“Hey, I won the last—”
“Boys.”
Everyone’s attention snaps to Kane, standing rigid. He draws breath to continue, but a sharp ping from his wristlink interrupts him. His hand lifts to the side of his visor, the faint green pulsing around his eyes. “Baron here.”
Assuming he’s finished here, Rafael begins packing away the device—until Kane’s voice stops him.
“Send every security drone we have. Echo, alert your contacts—get civilians out of there. Now.”
The fury in Kane’s tone sends a chill down Rafael’s spine. Even the boys stiffen as he continues, “Wren, get the medtruck here with an escort. Everyone else, stand by. I’m on my way.”
Medtruck?Rafael perks at the familiar word, but before he can ask, Kane is already storming across the room.
“Civilians trapped in a fire. We move now. Leave the regenerator. I’ll have someone collect it.”
Rafael’s stomach knots, but he has no choice, following Kane out of the house after a soft smile to the boys. His footbarely hits the last step before a medtruck screeches into the alley in front of them.
The driver’s door swings open. A pink-haired girl jumps out, clad in similar armor with weapons holstered at her belt. She’s not someone Rafael remembers from the bar, but Kane rushes over to her.
“Pixie?” Kane asks. The girl—Pixie—glances between them, then nods. “Escort the nurse to the scene. Make sure nothing happens to him.”
There’s no softness in Kane’s order, but Rafael’s chest tightens, anyway. Kane gives a few more instructions before disappearing down the block. Pixie barely acknowledges Rafael except to jerk her thumb toward the back of the HOV. He hesitates, then climbs inside, buckling himself into the single seat by the gurney.
As she slides into the driver’s seat, Rafael steals a glimpse out the rear window. A green HOV bike tears past, engine rumbling with an unnatural growl. The medtruck lurches forward, and his grip tightens on the seatbelt.