The stench hit Marco first. Salt, motor oil, and something that made his stomach clench. He pressed against the warehouse wall, expensive suit catching on rusted metal as Santos Negros soldiers dragged another body toward the docks.
Third one this week.
Brass streetlamps cast writhing shadows across wet cobblestones. Steam from the nearby processing plant mixed with fog rolling off the harbor, turning the night thick and choking. Marco's enhanced hearing picked up low voices carried on the wind.
"Association pays double for enhanced meat."
"Hayes wants the fresh ones delivered intact."
"This one fought too hard, damaged the merchandise."
Marco's blood went cold. They were talking about people like livestock. Enhanced veterans, judging by the conversation. And Hayes, that name kept appearing in his father's worried conversations.
A photograph slipped from his jacket. Surveillance shot of Kasper leaving the cathedral plaza, blood on his shirt, those lethal hands that had carved through six professional killers like they were children.
Santos Negros wanted him to find weaknesses in the de la Fuente family.
Instead, Marco was discovering why his father looked like he wasn't sleeping.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the alley. Multiple sets, moving with the patient coordination of predators who'd found prey far from home.
Marco's family augmentations kicked his reflexes into overdrive. Not enhanced veteran level, but enough to slip behind a steam pipe before three soldiers emerged from the shadows. Tattoos crawled up their necks like poisonous vines. Brass knuckles caught the lamplight.
"You lost, rich boy?"
Too late.
The lead soldier's gold teeth glinted in a shark's smile. Behind him, two more stepped into view, blocking escape routes with professional efficiency.
"Just taking a walk," Marco managed, trying to keep his voice steady while mentally cataloguing options. None looked promising against men who killed enhanced veterans for sport.
"Funny place for a walk." The soldier moved closer, stale tobacco and motor oil heavy on his breath. "Moretti boy, right? Your daddy know you're slumming in our territory?"
"My father knows I handle family business."
"Business." The soldier laughed, but his eyes stayed predator-cold. "Speaking of business, we hear you got problems. Enhanced freaks who like hurting good Catholic boys."
They were fishing, but they already knew about the cathedral. Which meant they'd been watching longer than anyone realized.
Marco let real anger color his voice. Wasn't hard, considering enhanced strength crushing his ribs still woke him up screaming. "Kasper de la Fuente nearly killed me. My father's considering permanent solutions."
"Permanent." The soldier stepped close enough that Marco could smell the violence on him. "We like permanent. But quality work costs quality money, boy."
Marco reached into his jacket, feeling the weight of bills his father had given him. Blood money, Vincenzo had called it. The price of dancing with devils.
"How much quality we talking?"
The soldier's grin widened. "Show me what daddy's approval is worth."
Twenty minutes earlier, Moretti family compound
"You're walking into a slaughterhouse, Marco."
Vincenzo Moretti didn't look up from shipping manifests spread across mahogany that had witnessed three generations of family decisions. Steam from his coffee caught light from art deco desk lamps, creating patterns that looked like prison bars to Marco's nervous eyes.
"Santos Negros approached us, Papá. Not the other way around."
"And you think that's coincidence?" Vincenzo's fingers drummed against wood worn smooth by decades of difficult conversations. When had his father's hands developed those liver spots? "Professional hit teams don't just manifest in our territory without someone's blessing."
Marco shifted in the leather chair that had intimidated him as a child. Now it felt like expensive furniture that couldn't stop bullets. His ribs ached with phantom pain from enhanced veteran strength applied with surgical precision.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Vincenzo stood, moving to windows that overlooked New Karenan's port district. Steam carriages crawled between warehouses like mechanical insects, carrying cargo that kept the family fed and the city running.
"That investigator, Hayes." Vincenzo's reflection looked older in the glass. "He's been asking questions. Not about crimes or evidence. About enhanced veterans who refuse Association contracts."
"Like Kasper."
"Like Kasper." Vincenzo turned, crime boss mask slipping enough to show worried father underneath. "Santos Negros doesn't have resources for military-grade weapons, Marco. Someone's backing them. Someone with access to enhanced veteran psychological profiles."
The words settled like ice in Marco's chest. He remembered those Thompson guns, the surgical precision of cathedral attackers, the way they'd moved like professionals executing a training exercise.
"They were testing him," Marco realized. "Seeing what he could do under pressure."
"And now they know exactly what kind of weapon they're dealing with." Vincenzo moved to his desk, adjusting a family photo with unconscious tenderness. Marco as a child, before violence became part of the family business. "Which means they'll be back. With better preparation."
Sharp knocking interrupted. Professional rhythm that made both men tense.
"¿Quién es?" Vincenzo's hand drifted toward the drawer where he kept his .45.
"Carlos, señor. We have official visitors."
The door opened to reveal three men in expensive suits that couldn't quite hide weapon bulges. The leader removed his hat with old-world courtesy that felt like a velvet glove over iron knuckles.
"Señor Moretti." His smile belonged in a funeral parlor. "Agent Hayes, Bounty Hunter Association Internal Affairs. Mind if we discuss some mutual concerns about enhanced veteran security?"
Vincenzo gestured to chairs with the careful hospitality that came from understanding when courtesy masked threats. "Of course. Coffee?"
Hayes settled like he owned the room, accepting Carmen's best china with genuine appreciation that made him seem almost human. Almost.
"Hell of a thing at the cathedral," Hayes said, sipping coffee while his eyes catalogued exits and defensive positions. "Professional coordination, military weapons, civilian casualties narrowly avoided." He paused, watching Vincenzo's face. "Someone really wanted the de la Fuente family eliminated."
"So it appears."
"Course, we both know who has that kind of reach in New Karenan." Hayes's smile never wavered. "Enhanced veterans make dangerous enemies, don't they? All that training, all that anger. Easy to see how things could escalate."
Marco felt something cold settle in his stomach. They weren't investigating the cathedral attack. They were engineering it.
"What exactly are you suggesting, Agent Hayes?" Vincenzo's voice carried the careful neutrality of someone who recognized predators disguised as allies.
"I'm suggesting that enhanced veterans who refuse reactivation become problems that require creative solutions." Hayes leaned forward, expensive cologne failing to mask gun oil and something else. Fear sweat. "We have situations developing globally. European cells using enhanced technology we don't understand. We need our best weapons motivated properly."
"And if they refuse motivation?"
Hayes's smile finally reached his eyes, and Marco understood why his enhanced hearing was screaming warnings.
"Well, that would be unfortunate. For everyone they claim to protect." Hayes checked his watch, nervous gesture that suggested he had somewhere else to be. "I have a daughter your son's age, Señor Moretti. Beautiful girl. Studies medicine at the University." He paused, letting implications settle. "Family men make the best weapons. They always comply."
The threat hung in expensive air like poison gas.
"What do you need from us?" Vincenzo asked with the resignation of someone who recognized when courtesy became coercion.
"Information. Enhanced veteran psychological profiles are useful, but nothing beats street-level intelligence about pressure points." Hayes stood, smoothing his suit. "Kasper de la Fuente values family above everything else. We need to know exactly how much pressure those values can withstand."
After Hayes left, Vincenzo sat heavily in his chair, looking every one of his sixty years.
"Papá?"
"We're not investigating enhanced veterans, Marco." Vincenzo's voice carried the weight of understanding that came too late. "We're helping them be hunted."
Present moment, docks
Marco counted bills with hands that wanted to shake, expensive currency that felt like thirty pieces of silver. The Santos Negros soldier, Raul, examined each note with professional interest.
"Your daddy raised you right, boy. Knows the value of quality information."
"What exactly am I buying?"
Gold teeth caught lamplight as Raul's grin widened. "Protection services. See, word is your enhanced freak problem's about to solve itself. Association business, you understand."
Marco's augmented hearing picked up engine sounds approaching through maritime fog. Multiple vehicles, moving with military coordination that made his enhanced reflexes spike with combat chemicals.
"What kind of Association business?"
"The kind that needs enhanced veterans properly motivated." Raul pocketed the money with practiced ease. "Ever wonder why enhanced vets always lose family members right before big missions?"
The vehicles were closer now. Headlights cutting through fog like predatory eyes, engines humming with the patient hunger of professional killers approaching their hunting ground.
"You should go, rich boy. This neighborhood's about to get real unhealthy for civilians."
Marco backed toward the alley, mind racing through implications that made his enhanced metabolism spike with adrenaline. Association business. Enhanced veterans. Motivation through family elimination.
They weren't just hunting Kasper. They were systematically eliminating anything that might interfere with recruitment.
"Raul," Marco called back, decision crystallizing with desperate clarity born from watching his father's fear. "That money was payment for intelligence about Santos Negros operations. Not the de la Fuentes."
The soldier's smile vanished like smoke. "What?"
"My father sends his regards. And a message. New Karenan belongs to the Morettis. You're trespassing on family territory."
Marco ran.
His family augmentations kicked his speed beyond normal human capability. Not enhanced veteran level, but enough to outpace Santos Negros muscle who'd gotten comfortable hunting civilians. Behind him, Raul's shouts mixed with engine noise and the distinctive metallic clicking of automatic weapons being readied for violence.
The port district erupted into controlled chaos as Moretti family soldiers emerged from positions Vincenzo had spent weeks carefully preparing. Santos Negros had been expecting easy prey hunting in neutral territory.
They found war instead.
Kasper's house, moments after Hayes's visit
The house felt wrong.
Kasper stood in his living room, enhanced senses cataloguing every sound within six blocks. Steam carriages moving with unusual coordination, footsteps that matched military cadence, the distinctive metallic whisper of weapons being prepared for professional use.
His ears picked up engine rhythms that didn't belong in residential neighborhoods. Too coordinated. Too military. His hands found his sidearm before conscious thought engaged, muscle memory from Costa del Sol screaming warnings his civilian family couldn't hear.
Carmen emerged from the kitchen carrying coffee that would go cold, maternal intuition reading stress indicators in her enhanced son with accuracy born from years of loving someone weaponized by his own government.
"How bad, mijo?"
The smell of café cubano mixed with gun oil from his cleaned weapons, creating sensory cocktails that reminded Kasper of everything worth fighting for and everything that made him dangerous.
"Bad enough that we need to leave. Now."
Carmen nodded with calm efficiency that came from decades of loving enhanced veterans. No questions, no arguments. Just immediate action that might mean the difference between family survival and becoming statistics in Hayes's recruitment program.
"Isabella's workshop has a rear exit. Camila..."
"I'll get Camila." Kasper was already moving, enhanced reflexes calculating timing and routes with Costa del Sol precision. "Emergency protocols. Pack light."
"¿Y después?"
The question carried weight beyond immediate tactical concerns. Carmen was asking about the future, about whether her enhanced son could ever truly come home, about whether loving him meant accepting that normal life had become impossible.
"We find allies," Kasper replied, enhanced honesty cutting through comforting lies that might get them killed. "Even ones who used to be enemies."
Carmen moved toward the kitchen closet, her hands steady as she retrieved the shotgun Aldair kept there. "Mijo, I didn't survive raising two children through war to lose one to bureaucrats with badges."
Outside, New Karenan evening sounds were shifting. Normal civilian rhythms giving way to professional coordination that meant violence was coming whether they were ready or not.
His phone buzzed. Text from unknown number:
"Warehouse District, Sector 7. Steam plant #3. Come alone, or your family dies on tomorrow's news. We have a common enemy now. V.M."
Vincenzo Moretti.
The crime boss wanted to talk.
For the first time in years, Kasper was grateful for enemies who kept their word.
Steam Plant #3, thirty minutes later
The abandoned plant smelled of rust, betrayal, and decades of New Karenan industrial dreams gone cold. Steam pipes hissed overhead like mechanical serpents, creating art deco shadows that danced across cracked concrete.
Kasper's mind ran through the numbers. Too many variables, too many ways to die. Seventeen escape routes, four sniper positions, and the exact distance to where Zariff Queen waited in concealment behind massive brass generators. Trust was luxury neither family could afford tonight.
Vincenzo Moretti sat across from him at a makeshift table. Wooden crates and a brass lamp that had seen better decades. Between them lay surveillance photographs that painted Hayes as something worse than corrupt bureaucrat.
"Three meetings," Vincenzo said, sliding images across scarred wood with crime boss precision. "Same warehouse each time. Santos Negros muscle, but the money flows from sources with Association credentials."
Kasper studied photographs with tactical analysis that came from too many years identifying threats that killed enhanced veterans. Hayes shaking hands with men whose tattoos told stories of violence that made Costa del Sol look civilized. Briefcases changing hands. Most damning, Hayes examining military equipment designed specifically for enhanced veteran elimination.
"They're not buying information," Kasper realized, enhanced memory sorting through patterns that painted pictures of systematic hunting. "They're buying specialized weapons."
"Enhanced veteran elimination equipment," confirmed a voice from the shadows.
Zariff emerged with fluid grace that had made him legendary among bounty hunters who survived long enough to retire. Enhanced reflexes that moved like deadly poetry, combined with old-world courtesy that never quite hid predatory intelligence.
"Six months of surveillance," Zariff continued, producing a brass tablet loaded with classified files. "Enhanced veterans disappearing from Association records. Always the same pattern. Veterans with psychological profiles indicating family loyalty, specific skill sets, and moral flexibility regarding civilian casualties."
The words hit like ice water in Caribbean heat. Enhanced veterans were the Association's most valuable assets. Their systematic disappearance meant either mass casualties or something worse. Recruitment by forces that didn't respect international law.
"How many?" Kasper asked, though enhanced intuition was already calculating numbers that made Costa del Sol look like training exercise.
"Eighty-three confirmed missing. Probably twice that in reality." Zariff activated the tablet, displaying tactical analysis that painted pictures of coordinated strikes across multiple continents. "Someone's building an enhanced veteran army with very specific operational parameters."
Marco stepped from behind a support pillar, expensive suit wrinkled from stress and rapid movement. His father had insisted he attend. Part of growing into the man violence was forcing him to become.
"They tested you at the cathedral," Marco said, demonstrating strategic thinking that went beyond privileged boy playing at crime. "Professional assessment. Wanted to see exactly what kind of weapon they were dealing with."
The observation proved Marco had evolved beyond arrogant youth who'd needed brutal education in consequences. This was someone who understood that survival required analyzing enemies who viewed enhanced veterans as resources to be harvested.
"Testing for what?" Kasper asked, though enhanced perception was already connecting dots that led to conclusions he didn't want to acknowledge.
"Elimination protocols," Zariff replied grimly. "Enhanced veterans who refuse reactivation become obstacles. Hayes and his backers needed field data. How much force required to remove assets who won't cooperate voluntarily."
The revelation settled like lead in enhanced metabolism designed for processing combat toxins. Costa del Sol had been recruitment through violence. The cathedral plaza had been elimination assessment. Two different approaches to the same mathematics: weaponizing enhanced veterans for purposes beyond Association mandate.
Vincenzo leaned forward, crime boss understanding the economics of leverage and coercion. "They want you back in the field. And they're willing to eliminate your family to ensure compliance."
Kasper felt something cold settle in enhanced mind. The same tactical calculation mode that had kept him alive through two hundred thirty-seven confirmed kills in Costa del Sol. But violence wouldn't solve this problem. Hayes had resources, institutional backing, and the patience to escalate until resistance became impossible.
"There's more," Marco said, producing photographs with careful precision of someone who'd learned that details mattered when professional killers were involved. "Santos Negros has been recruiting outside New Karenan. Bringing in specialists from places that don't ask questions about enhanced veteran elimination equipment."
The images showed faces Kasper recognized from Costa del Sol intelligence files. Mercenaries who specialized in enhanced veteran hunting. Soldiers discharged for excessive brutality even by wartime standards. Professionals who made Santos Negros street muscle look like amateur hour.
"How many confirmed?" Kasper asked, enhanced memory already calculating tactical assessments that made his enhanced reflexes spike with combat preparation.
"Two dozen confirmed. Probably more in reserve." Marco's voice carried steel core that violence had forged during cathedral plaza firefight. "They're establishing operational bases in neutral territory. Places where Association jurisdiction becomes diplomatically complicated."
Zariff's enhanced eyes reflected brass lamplight like predatory metal. "They're not planning to eliminate just you, Kasper. They're preparing systematic removal of every enhanced veteran who might resist recruitment for operations that violate international law."
The warehouse felt smaller suddenly, shadows deeper, steam pipes hissing countdown timers for violence that was coming whether they were prepared or not.
"We need intelligence," Kasper decided with enhanced veteran tactical assessment. "Real information about Hayes's backing, operational timeline, target lists. The kind of data that requires getting close to people who hunt enhanced veterans for sport."
"I can do that," Marco said, straightening with determination born from watching his father's fear and understanding that some fights required personal sacrifice.
"No," Kasper and Vincenzo said simultaneously, enhanced veteran and crime boss recognizing suicide missions with professional accuracy.
"Santos Negros knows my face, but they don't know I know about their expanded operations." Marco continued with calm resolve of someone who'd found courage in cathedral plaza chaos. "I can ask the right questions, gather operational intelligence without triggering elimination protocols they reserve for enhanced veterans."
Zariff studied Marco with professional assessment that evaluated courage, capability, and survival odds. "You understand what you're proposing? These aren't street criminals. They're enhanced military specialists with authorization to eliminate anyone who threatens operational security."
"I understand." Marco met legendary bounty hunter eyes without flinching. "I also understand that my family's survival depends on destroying Hayes's network before they achieve operational superiority in New Karenan."
Kasper felt enhanced perception shift. Recognition that Marco had evolved beyond arrogant boy who'd needed brutal education in consequences. This was strategic thinking from someone who'd learned that protection required sacrifice, that survival demanded alliances between natural enemies.
"There's another complication," Vincenzo said quietly, crime boss mind working through implications that went beyond local territorial disputes. "Hayes isn't operating independently. He has backing from inside Association hierarchy. People with access to enhanced veteran psychological profiles, operational histories, family information."
The words carried weight that made warehouse shadows seem deeper, steam pipes sound like funeral dirges. The Bounty Hunter Association had been Kasper's brotherhood, his purpose, his identity beyond family connections. Learning it harbored elements willing to murder enhanced veterans' families for recruitment leverage felt like discovering his own body was cancerous.
"How high does the corruption go?" Kasper asked, though enhanced intuition was already calculating possibilities that threatened everything he'd believed about his service in Costa del Sol.
"High enough to access your psychological profile," Zariff replied with grim certainty. "High enough to know about family leverage points, Costa del Sol trauma responses, exactly which pressure points would ensure compliance."
Marco stopped moving, expensive shoes silent on concrete that had absorbed decades of industrial dreams and broken promises. "They know about your protection deal with President Rivera, don't they? The security protocols for your family?"
The observation demonstrated understanding that went beyond crime family experience. Marco was thinking like someone who grasped international politics and enhanced veteran operational security limitations.
"Rivera's protection extends to Costa del Sol territory," Kasper confirmed with enhanced honesty that cut through diplomatic softening. "Outside his jurisdiction, my family becomes vulnerable to exactly the threats Hayes is coordinating."
Vincenzo settled back with crime boss calculation of angles and advantages. "Which means Hayes's backers understand they can force compliance by threatening operations beyond Rivera's ability to protect. Classic leverage. Make the asset choose between personal loyalty and professional obligation."
The mathematics were elegant and brutal. Kasper's enhanced capabilities made him valuable enough to justify elaborate recruitment efforts. His family connections provided perfect pressure points. His Costa del Sol reputation guaranteed compliance once properly motivated.
"They're not trying to eliminate me," Kasper realized with enhanced perception that connected patterns faster than normal human analysis. "They're trying to own me."
"Family men make the best weapons," Zariff confirmed grimly. "They always comply."
The warehouse fell silent except for steam pipes hissing mechanical warnings and brass generators humming with art deco power that belonged to better times. Four men representing different worlds. Enhanced military, organized crime, legendary bounty hunting, privileged youth learning hard truths. United by shared recognition that they faced enemies with resources beyond local capability.
"We move fast," Marco said, breaking silence with voice of someone who'd learned that hesitation cost lives. "Santos Negros expands operations daily. Whatever Hayes's timeline, we're running out of opportunities to gather intelligence before they achieve operational dominance."
Kasper looked around the table. Crime boss, crime prince, legendary bounty hunter. His mind ran through survival odds that required perfect coordination between natural enemies who had every reason to betray each other.
"Three days," he decided with military precision that came from Costa del Sol operational planning. "Marco gathers Santos Negros intelligence. Zariff tracks Hayes's Association contacts. Vincenzo monitors enhanced equipment shipments through port facilities."
"And you?" Vincenzo asked.
Kasper's enhanced reflexes checked weapon placement, escape routes, tactical advantages that might matter when this alliance faced its first real test under professional violence.
"I prepare my family for war. And God help anyone who threatens them."