The AV could cruise at speeds over 400 km/h, meaning it could reach any point in the city almost instantly.
David had just shoved his mom into the apartment when he heard the whine of an AV engine from the top of the high-rise.
Like a drop tower ride, the craft dropped straight down to the 6th-floor balcony.
Inside the H4 Megabuilding, the core was a skylit atrium — the same place where the residents' walkways ran.
The AV settled at the balcony's edge. It's smart floodlights projected a glowing "restricted zone" over the doorway, and several heavily armed Trauma Team operatives jumped out, weapons in hand, moving quickly toward Diez with all manner of med-gear in tow.
They pumped him full of hormones, nutrient packs, and emergency meds, then slapped a multi-function cardiac stim unit on his chest and wired it into his cyberware.
Beeeeeep—
Szzzt!
Diez's consciousness snapped back from the black.
One emergency save later, he was staring at a helmet he'd seen a thousand times before, paired with the Trauma Team combat medic uniform — the same one hanging in his own locker.
The chemical cocktail coursing through him made him feel like he could run a marathon, but his mind was on one thing only—
"Save her! You've gotta save her first! We're on duty!"
"She's not a client. Get him out first."
The cold answer hit Diez like a hammer.
Maybe it was the stimulants, but suddenly his mind was razor-clear.
Right… neither of them were Trauma Team subscribers.
So why…?
If Kanek's story was true, they should've been here to save him. So why did they stabilize Diez instead?
And Kanek? Gone?
One teammate gave him the corporate smile and the explanation:
"Thank you for using our one-time rescue service, Mr. Diez Falanchi. The fuel surcharge, medical fees, and any combat hazard costs incurred will be billed directly to your account."
Kanek hadn't just bought himself a Trauma Team package with Diez's eddies — he'd also booked a one-time emergency rescue for him.
Which meant he could've booked one for Petro, too.
But when Diez checked his account, he saw he didn't have a single eurodollar left.
"No, no, no! You have to save her! We're Trauma Team too — we're on official duty!"
"Duty rescues are handled by another department. That's not a service this company offers. If you're one of ours, you know the protocol: pay up or die waiting."
The medics hefted him onto the stretcher, tilting him just enough to see Petro on the floor.
As his view cleared, he counted fourteen bullet holes in her — each one bleeding.
Kanek was a damn good senior operative — combat and first-aid both. Petro's condition was as bad as it gets without already being dead. Two minutes tops.
Diez snapped. He didn't even know where the strength came from — he lunged off the stretcher, grabbed a teammate, and slammed both of them into the floor.
If the rescue target refused treatment, they might have to change the plan.
The other carrier clamped down on him immediately, but it still complicated the save. If the patient resisted or showed signs of self-harm, they'd have to alter the playbook.
The medic reached for a sedative injector—
Diez knew exactly what was coming, but he was in no shape to resist — every movement hurt.
Truth was, he and Petro were just friends… friends he hoped might become something more. He thought they'd been doing pretty well.
Now? That was over.
When people hit rock bottom, they get extreme, and extreme thoughts turn dark.
For one split second, he wished every cold-blooded corpo bastard here would choke on a taste of their own medicine.
And then it happened.
Gunfire rained in, tracers arcing through the air, slamming into the medics' flanks.
The stretcher carrier and the medic with the sedative both went limp under the hail.
The two Trauma Team guards on overwatch reacted instantly, rounds sparking off their armor as they swung their weapons toward the source—
"Hostile contact!"
And this hostile knew their SOP inside out.
Kanek's fire came from the med-side, sprinting toward the rescue zone as he shot.
Smart rounds couldn't reliably punch Trauma armor from range, but up close? Different story.
Sandevistan kicked in. Time stretched. Kanek's focus narrowed to two targets:
Trauma Team's first-wave package was five people: driver, medic, two junior combat operatives, and one senior operative.
Only the senior ran a Sandy.
One senior left, one junior — junior had to go first.
Kanek swapped mags mid-run, keeping his back armor toward the senior and muzzle locked on the junior—
The senior's smartlink kept a perfect lock on non-vital unarmored zones, but the windows to hit were shrinking fast.
Smart rounds were slow, and threading through armor gaps at point-blank tanked the hit rate. Too much risk of stray rounds hitting the client meant lockouts.
In the end, he had only a sliver of viable target left — and not much ammo to use on it.
The junior's lock frame started drifting.
Smart targeting was based on multiple data vectors — if he couldn't match the target's speed, his accuracy tanked. He'd have to manually tweak the targeting algorithm… which he couldn't. Wrong skill set, wrong hardware.
Kang Tao had built this weapon system for Trauma Team, not for him.
And with Kanek's client status, his gun's targeting was getting choked even more.
Brrrt—
Rounds punched through armor and flesh, one slipping between helmet and gorget, into the skull — instant kill.
The junior staggered back two steps, clutching his wounds.
Kanek didn't walk away clean — his back took several hits, non-lethal but painful.
Both he and the senior had now run their mags dry.
Trauma operatives trained to reload instantly and resume suppression fire.
As the junior toppled, they both went for fresh mags.
On paper, Kanek was at a disadvantage — he'd have to spin around to shoot, while the senior could just slap in a mag and fire.
Both were running Kang Tao's new Reality Warp Sandy — no speed edge.
But in reality… Kanek was faster.
The senior's eyes widened in shock.
Turning gave Kanek just enough delay that both slid their mags home at the same time—
Then the unexpected:
The senior's targeting frame flashed red — Kanek had leaned into the muzzle.
The SMG jammed.
Click.
Kanek's barrel pressed under the senior's jaw.
Brrrt—