#codename k

Kev blinked away the grogginess threatening to set back in. As the rush of danger washed away, he felt weary. Dull. Leftover pain pulsed in the background. Aside from that, nothing of note.

"No changes," he replied.

"Any dizziness? Throbbing?" Nanke filled a plastic glass from the dispenser embedded in the wall next to his bed. "Nausea or vertigo?"

He shook his head, accepting the water. Sipped carefully.

"Hm." Nanke nodded in approval, scribbling on his files. "You skipped dinner yesterday," he remarked. "While we can agree you sorely needed rest, this better not happen again. You skip a few more meals, I'll have to prescribe you the black lunches. You don't want to deal with that, I assure you."

Kev's thoughts immediately went to a wide array of unpleasant options, before remembering he was in a hospital. None of the things that came to mind would be allowed in a hospital.

No-nonsense as always, Nanke asked a bunch of questions, which Kev pretended to have no answer for, checked his pupils, took note of his vitals. Satisfied, he strode out the room, already busy with other patient files.

A second glass of water in hand, Kev found himself fighting a new wave of fatigue. The heaviness in his limbs, in his mind, spoke of months of continuous strain. He numbly realized he'd gone through NR three times in the last half year only. Still hadn't fully recovered from the brutal struggle with death from poison damage, either.

Even accounting for that, this was absurd. Sixteen hours? And still feeling the tug of sleep? If he weren't under the care of an expert neurosurgeon, he'd suspect his cover concussion might be actually killing him. He waived the thought. No way Vekta's best could be that incompetent.

Time for a shower. That would wake him up, shock his body right back on task. He might have some leeway with Leska off his back, but this was still a test.

---

As expected, the bathroom was as pristine as everything else, shower a lot more polished than the rusty one stuffed in a corner at base. Transparent sliding doors enclosed an ample box lined with fake-marble tiles, the shower head in shiny steel.

Stepping in on autopilot, he initially did not notice anything unusual. Turned the water knob.

Nothing came out.

He did a double take. That was not a knob, but a lever. Why did it turn, then?

Perplexed, he flicked it open. Braced and hissed through a splash of cold. Then, before he could even fully resign himself to it, it started warming up.

The realization hit together with the stream raining down on him - warm, hot, hotter. Of course the hospital would have hot water.

Soon, steam filled the shower box. The scalding liquid ran down his neck, shoulders, back and chest. It felt pleasant. No, it felt amazing. He allowed himself a small sigh, one split second before hastily bracing against the wall as his muscles had the bright idea to go slack. He narrowly avoided stumbling face first into the glass-like doors.

The fuck? Get a grip.

He took a deep breath, warmth filling his lungs. Slowly, a rush of strenght peeked through the shroud of pleasant relaxation, pulsing in his veins. Building, building, building until it felt like he could take on the world. He didn't immediately clock it, caught off guard by how quickly it had ramped up, but the heady mix of pleasant calm and thrumming energy was unmistakable. Ghostfever.

Anatomy modules did say it could be triggered by intense heat, even if he'd always resorted to arousal to induce it. It must have been… around two years now, since he'd learned to manage bouts of dumb teenage anger without its help, and stopped seeking it. He'd missed this.

A familiar urge flickered in his mind, to push through, to curb the pleasant feelings and stay sharp, fully aware, ready for… for what? He was in a hospital bathroom, during an infiltration mission. No one else was in here. And if, for some weird improbable reason, vultures had orders to keep watch while he washed, lucky them. They could enjoy the show and go report back to Leska how fuckable he was on a scale of one to ten. Picturing the look of disgust on Leska's face at that kind of intel proved amusing enough to successfully dismantle the unnecessary tension.

Shifting right under the jet, he tilted his head down to let it envelop him completely. The whole world seemed to disappear, drowned out by the roar of water in his ears, the hot liquid soaking his hair and caressing his skin, the intense rush of blood and chemicals in his veins. A quiet, pleased hum rumbled in his throat as his eyes fluttered close.

For a few minutes, he just let himself be.

—-

A childish chuckle greeted him when he walked out the bathroom wearing a fresh set of hospital clothes. Leki was sitting on his bed, right at the center. "Your hair is a mess!" the boy proclaimed, "You need a trim, bet it gets all in your eyes."

He wasn't wrong. It had been a while since Kev last hacked away the excess. It was still not much of a nuisance, but became obvious when it got wet.

"You got a knife?" he asked, approaching.

"We're not allowed weapons in the hospital" Leki drawled out the words, rolling his eyes. "Why?"

"There wasn't one in the kit."

That got the boy chuckling again. "Is that why your haircut is so bad? Maybe you were out on a long term operation before you scrambled your brains" he grinned cheekily. "There's autocasks on ground floor, I can show you later."

Leki shuffled to the side to make space for him, balancing a hefty packaged tray on his knees. The metal box, lined in light blue, bore the number 223 impressed in a corner. It had an industrial look, very different from standard market meals in Regell, with their cheap plastic and colorful, misleading pictures of freshly cooked food plastered all over.

"The smartcart should be here soon. I passed it just at the end of the hallwa- oh, there!"

Announcing itself with a soft chime, the blocky contraption did indeed slide past the door and approach, a similar sealed tray emerging from the top. Just to stop in the middle of the room, where a sharp blade of light from the window, apparently, read as an obstacle. It beeped pitifully, calling for attention.

That did nothing to discourage Kev's hatred for supposedly intelligent machinery.

Leki snorted. "They always do that! Uncle's been complaining since these new models arrived. It's so funny!"

The not so smart smartcart beeped again, a red light blinking insistently. Kev resolved to walk past the insurmountable line of light himself. As he lifted the meal box, the bulky device chimed in confirmation, light turning blue, and glided away.

"No way! You get the read meals?" Leki stared affronted at the red lines on his box, "That's not fair! I want the reds too, all I get here is stupid bird meat and tasteless fish…" As he grumbled, he pressed the buttons on the sides of his own tray. The lid unlatched releasing a cloud of vapor. "Ugh! Not whitefin again!" He lifted the top layer, revealing a second one underneath. "No, come on! I hate agre sprouts…"

Sitting next to him, Kev opened his own. Inside was a compact block of soft brown rice filling a whole half, same as Leki. Instead of fish, however, the other side was stuffed with four thick cuts of seared red meat. It took him a moment to find the notches and pull up the inner tray, to find hard boiled eggs, a side of leafy greens, one of thin white roots and one of round mushrooms, plus a thick milky cream resembling soft cheese. And cutlery.

Leki watched with the wide eyes of a starving man. Which he most certainly wasn't. "Do you wanna trade?" he shoved his top tray in Kev's lap, "At least some! Pleaaase, I never get the good stuff in here…"

Kev took in his expectant expression. This boy was begging to be manipulated. With a half smirk, he passed a slice of meat.

"Yes!" Leki curled excitedly on his tray to hide the unauthorized goods. "Thanks! You can eat my sprouts." Judging from the mischievous little smile, that was actually going to benefit him, too. Kev got the feeling Nanke was not a fan of picky eating. He graciously offered his tray for the boy to dump the generous serving of purple wiry veggies in.

Everything in the trays looked a lot simpler than boxed meals in Regell. No mixed ingredients, no sauces or added gravy. Still, the meat tasted quite strong, like wild game, the roots bitter and the mushrooms a weird mix of sweet and savory. Leki's sprouts were crunchy with an aggressive earthy flavor. Only the leafy veggies were quite mild, on the sweet side when coupled with the sour milky cream. All in all, he didn't mind any of it.

Leki hummed, happily chewing the forbidden meat, before tearing through the rest of his meal without much of a complain. In fact, he was enthusiastic about the mushrooms they both got. Between mouthfuls, he shared more information of dubious value about favorite meal combos, a trip he had with his fellow trainees and related shenanigans. The only relevant fact was his younger age compared to the rest of the squad, already stated in the intel files.

Kev took his time, methodically emptying everything. His red box was easily twice the calories of the blue one, which already looked more filling than Regell's market meals. By the time he swallowed the last mouthful, he didn't feel like having any more.

That was new. He rarely was still hungry after a meal, but not wanting extra food? At all? Weird.

—-

At first glance, Kev would have clocked the so called autocasks as torture devices.

A line of padded seats against the wall, seemingly comfortable, if not for the suspicious oversized helmets hanging over, which seemed to have some kind of restraining feature. On the wall was a control display, which did not help the electric chair look.

The two patients using them didn't seem to be in pain, however: an older man on the second seat was skimming through a big tome mumbling to himself, and a young girl far in the corner swung her legs in boredom.

Leki went straight for the monitor next to the fourth seat.

"Do you want a short cut or to keep it longer?"

Kev sat and warily rested his forehead against the support, eyeing the screen. There were only four options: a buzz cut, the classic crew cut with wild hair on top that seemed most common in Vekta (same as Leki had), one with the same top and side hair tied in a ponytail instead, and finally a simple longer cut, like he'd seen mostly women wear in Regell. He had no time to think before Leki tapped the third one for him.

"Let's keep it long for now, you can always change it later."

The helmet descended and locked his head in place. Suddenly his hair was wet, and his every nerve tensed to the sound of snipping and the feeling of scissors pulling on strands here and there.

"It'll take ten minutes" Leki announced, "I'm getting a snack."

Despite being hyper aware of every time a blade or buzzing razor got anywhere close to his neck, it was a very uneventful ten minutes. Both other occupants finished and walked away before him, a fine mist of pungent disinfectant enveloping the chairs as they left. Finally, after getting blasted with hot hair a couple minutes, the helmet chimed and let go of his head.

In the mirror lining the opposite wall, he could see his haircut was mostly the same, a touch shorter and much neater. Still spiky but less chaotic, no bangs falling on his forehead except for a couple well trimmed locks. The only real change was a competent (automated) hand took care of it, instead of him with a knife and zero shits given. Surprising, how much of a difference that made.

Leki was there just as he was about to stand, carrying a small pack of nuts and dried fruit. He grinned like he'd just accomplished a feat. Kev got the feeling he had a habit of showing up last minute, but still irreproachably on time. A careful balance of small acts of rebellion within the confines of a good soldier and son.

—-

They weren't alone on the rooftop this time.

Leki stopped his brisk walk around the perimeter to respectfully salute a tall woman with a broken arm sitting on one of the benches. Legs hip-distance apart, the boy firmly hit his chest with the side a fist, straight to the heart. She nodded back. Kev got a very sharp look for not doing the same. As Leki lifted his foot with the clear intention of kicking his ankle, he imitated the fist-to-heart motion.

"That was late, and sloppy" the woman chastised, "You better not be in training."

"I don't know."

"He has amnesia, Sir!" Leki explained, standing up straight for the first time since Kev met him. "Forgot even his name. He probably forgot salutes too."

"Is that so." The woman searched Kev's expression, eyes sharp and jaw set.

"Yes."

She raised an eyebrow.

"…Sir."

"I do not like your tone, youngling. Nor the way you stand in front of an official."

"Yes, Sir" Kev repeated, in the exact same tone and posture. The flat affect of his voice did not fully mask the hint of defiance beneath.

"Apologies, Sir" Leki quickly grabbed his arm, flushing red. "He's still out of it, his brain is slow. May we resume exercising?"

"By all means." The woman stood up, "I do not appreciate the view as much when it's crowded. Do not exert yourself, young Kin."

"Yes Sir!"

The boy stood firm and nervous until the official closed the door of the stairwell behind her. The second its clack rose in the air, he melted into a chuckle.

"Ancients, what was that? You can't do that!" Still, his eyes were sparkling with the thrill of the forbidden. "Are you an anarchist or something?" he whispered, "I won't tell anyone, on my ancestors' memory."

"Not that I know of." Kev tilted his head, putting on the ghost of a smirk. Leki definitely had a rebel side, one he could leverage to get into his good graces. "If I was, wouldn't I have to kill you now?"

"Hah! I'd like to see you try. I'm the best of my generation!"

He was, Kev knew that for a fact. Unfortunately, he was also twelve, and no more special than the handful of best elites in every generation. The ones Kev had to worry about were his age and older - a Leki, he could smoke on a sick day.

Of course, the boy had no way of knowing that. Not yet.

---

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