The warehouse stank like a graveyard for machines, all rust and rot and things left to die. Aurelio's mouth tasted like copper pennies, and bile rose in his throat as he checked his watch one last time.
Get it together.
He'd picked this place for a reason. Exits everywhere if things went sideways. Open sight lines so nobody could hide. Concrete thick enough to swallow gunshots before they reached the street. Most important: tactical hell for anyone trying to fight their way out.
Including Zariff Queen.
His phone buzzed against his ribs. "Five minutes out."
Aurelio moved toward the loading dock, forcing his legs to work. The shipping containers offered cover but trapped you if things went bad. Perfect for what he needed. Everything had to look real. Zariff hadn't stayed alive thirty years by walking into amateur hour.
But something twisted in his gut. The Association badge felt heavy in his pocket. I used to believe we protected innocent people. Now I just follow orders.
The joke was, this wasn't the trap Zariff expected.
Footsteps echoed across the concrete. Measured. Calculated. The sound of someone who killed people for complicated reasons and slept fine afterward.
Zariff appeared through the main entrance like smoke deciding to be human. Expensive suit that hid the muscle underneath. That art deco mask catching light from the fixtures overhead. But Aurelio's enhanced hearing caught what others missed. The slight drag in his left foot. The way he favored his right side when he thought nobody was looking.
Time was hunting this legend. And it was winning.
"Manager Torrealba." Zariff's voice bounced off the walls. Cultured. Controlled. "Your message suggested urgency."
"Information about Kasper's liberation." Aurelio let his shoulders bunch up, made his voice tight. Like someone about to sell out everything he'd ever believed in. The act came too easily these days. "I know who arranged his bail."
Zariff's mask tilted toward the shadows by the loading bay. Three decades of violence had taught him to smell ambushes. His posture shifted subtly, weight redistributing.
"We're not alone."
The lights exploded to life. Industrial floods that turned the warehouse into an operating theater. Hayes walked out of the shadows with four federal agents, their gear heavy with the weight of people who'd learned that authority meant never having to say you're sorry.
"Manager Torrealba." Hayes sounded like she was ordering coffee. Casual. Bureaucratic. "Step away from the terrorist."
Aurelio's chest went tight. There it was. Terrorist. Like Zariff was some kid with a bomb vest instead of a man who'd spent thirty years keeping worse things from happening.
When did we become the people we used to hunt?
Zariff looked at Aurelio. No anger in that mask. Just seasoned interest. Like he was watching a chess move he hadn't expected but could appreciate.
"Ah," Zariff said. Quiet amusement threading through his voice. "Your information was more accurate than advertised."
The federal agents spread out. Special operations training adapted for hunting people like them. Augmented reflexes. Augmented strength. Augmented willingness to follow orders that regular people couldn't stomach.
Hayes stepped forward, tablet in hand like some digital bible. "Zariff Queen, also known as Elias Cargill. You're under federal detention order 7751. Augmented individual of interest for consultation regarding technological advancement programs."
Aurelio watched Zariff do the math. Five agents against one man pushing sixty in the worst possible terrain. The kind of numbers that ended careers permanently.
"Consultation." Zariff tested the word like it might bite him. "How civilized."
Hayes smiled. The expression belonged on a loan shark. All teeth and empty promises. "The Obsidian Syndicate's operational methods represent valuable intelligence assets. Your cooperation could prove mutually beneficial."
"And if I decline this consultation?"
Hayes pulled up something on her tablet. A photo. Woman with graying hair and kind eyes. Teenage girl with her father's stubborn chin. She turned the screen toward Zariff like she was showing vacation pictures.
"Then we discuss terms with Mrs. Cargill and your daughter. Augmented individuals often run in families, I understand."
The warehouse went silent except for distant traffic. Normal people living normal lives while dangerous people negotiated the price of souls in concrete boxes.
Aurelio felt his stomach drop. Hayes was looking at that photo like she was planning a grocery list. Family photos. Leverage. Just another tool in the federal toolkit.
This is what I serve. This is what thirty years of loyalty bought me.
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Believing the Association meant something better than this. Telling himself the hard choices were worth it because they protected innocent people.
But Hayes wasn't protecting anyone. She was shopping for research subjects.
Sofia was right. I gave my soul to people who don't deserve it.
His ex-wife's words echoed in his head. All those fights about his job. About how he cared more about the Association than her. About how he'd forgotten what he was supposed to be protecting.
She'd been right. About everything.
Zariff moved. When violence erupted, it was beautiful and terrible.
The first federal agent went down hard. Zariff's palm drove into his throat, crushing the windpipe. The man dropped, clutching his neck.
But the math was unforgiving. Four against one. Trained agents with institutional backing against a legend whose best years were behind him.
The second agent fell to a combination that belonged in textbooks. Zariff's elbow found the sweet spot behind his ear. Lights out. But Zariff was breathing hard now, sweat mixing with blood from where knuckles had found their mark.
Hayes stepped back, pulling her sidearm. Federal issue. Designed specifically for augmented individual containment. "Enough demonstration. Surrender or we transition to less diplomatic methods."
Blood ran from a cut above Zariff's left eye. His expensive suit was torn, showing the tactical vest underneath. But he stood steady, ready to sell his life at the highest possible price.
The third agent moved with coordinated precision. Forced Zariff to choose between blocking one threat and exposing himself to another. Age and numbers started telling their story.
A kick caught Zariff's left knee. The joint that had absorbed punishment for thirty years finally buckled. He stumbled, breathing ragged, and Aurelio saw the moment when experience couldn't quite overcome accumulated damage.
Hayes raised her weapon. Bureaucratic satisfaction written across her face. "Mr. Cargill, you're under federal custody. Resistance will be met with lethal force. Though I suppose your daughter will understand that daddy was a terrorist who resisted lawful auth—"
Aurelio's hand found his revolver. The weight felt wrong. Heavier than usual. Loaded with implications that would reshape everything.
This isn't who I wanted to become.
But maybe it was who he needed to be.
He drew the weapon, aimed at Zariff. Let silence stretch while everyone calculated their next move. The legendary operative met his gaze through that art deco mask, ready to die with dignity.
"The good thing is your daughter will remember you as a hero."
He pivoted. BANG. Hayes's smug expression vanished in arterial spray. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. The agents fell like dominoes, no time to think, no time to react.
Just death painting the warehouse red.
Silence. Brass casings rolling across concrete.
Zariff stared at him through that mask.
"Interesting consultation," he said quietly.