"I can fix this," he said, meeting her gaze directly.

  Cox's ears flattened against her skull, pain and wariness battling in her expression. "Like you fixed Larissa?"

  "Not that extensive," Kevin assured her, already removing her boot with careful movements. "Just focused healing. The bone needs realignment first."

  He placed his hands on either side of the broken ankle, fingers finding precise positions as AIDA's voice materialized in his mind.

  "Tibia fracture with moderate displacement," the AI assessed. "Anterior talofibular ligament torn, multiple small avulsion fractures present. Recommend gentle traction before energy transfer."

  Kevin nodded, glancing up at Cox. "This will hurt, then stop hurting. Ready?"

  She gripped the overturned cart's frame, knuckles whitening. "Just do it."

  With a single smooth motion, Kevin applied traction to the joint, feeling bone edges grate back into approximate alignment. Cox hissed between clenched teeth but made no other sound. Once satisfied with the positioning, Kevin closed his eyes, visualizing the Redz40 energy as AIDA had taught him, a controlled flow rather than explosive force.

  His hands began to glow with subdued crimson light. The red bar in his vision dimmed gradually as he directed the energy into Cox's damaged tissue. Unlike his previous healing attempts, he maintained precise control, focusing the Redz40 particles specifically on knitting bone, repairing torn ligaments, and reducing inflammation in sequence.

  "Bone fusion at 60% integrity," AIDA reported after thirty seconds. "Ligament repair proceeding efficiently. Your control has improved significantly."

  Kevin maintained the connection for another minute, feeling tissue respond beneath his hands: cells regenerating, blood vessels reconnecting, pain signals dampening. When he finally released the ankle, the red bar had depleted by only twenty percent, far more efficient than his earlier healing efforts.

  "Try it," he said, sitting back on his heels.

  Cox rotated her ankle cautiously, testing the joint with incremental movements. Her ears perked forward in surprise as she applied more weight, finding no pain where moments before there had been grinding agony. She stood, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

  "Not even a twinge," she marveled, tail swishing with renewed energy. "That's some trick, Moore."

  Larissa approached, the sledgehammer resting across her shoulders, her violet eyes assessing the scattered wolf carcasses with practical consideration. "We should take these back," she suggested. "Meat's valuable. Fur too."

  Kevin surveyed their situation: an overturned cart, eight wolf carcasses, team members intact but equipment scattered. His tactical mind calculated options automatically, weighing time constraints against potential benefits.

  "Cart first," he decided, moving toward the overturned vehicle.

  Together, he and Larissa righted the cart, their enhanced strength making quick work of what would have been impossible for normal humans. The frame had bent slightly from the impact but remained structurally sound. Kevin made quick repairs, using his enhanced strength to bend metal back into alignment while Cox gathered their scattered gear.

  "We can fit five carcasses now, return for the rest," he determined, already calculating load distribution.

  They worked with efficient coordination, Larissa and Kevin lifting the massive wolf bodies while Cox secured them to the cart's frame with salvaged wire. The creatures weighed nearly two hundred pounds each, their mutated forms densely muscled beneath crimson-tinged fur. Once loaded, Kevin took his position at the pedals, the added weight barely registering against his enhanced physiology.

  "Southern Outpost will be happy to see these," Cox observed as they started back, the cart moving at a measured pace to accommodate the precarious load. "Red Wolf meat's a delicacy. Better than Blues, some say."

  The return journey took twenty minutes, the Southern Outpost's makeshift walls gradually resolving from the heat-shimmered horizon. As they approached, activity visibly increased along the ramparts, with guards pointing and voices raised in surprise rather than alarm. By the time they reached the gates, a small crowd had gathered.

  "Hold up," called the senior guard with the squinted eye, expression shifting from boredom to astonishment as she registered their cargo. "You took down a Red Wolf pack?"

  "Eight total," Cox replied with casual pride. "Five here, three more at the site. Worth sending a team for the rest?"

  The guard barked orders to her subordinates, who scrambled with sudden purpose that contrasted sharply with their earlier indolence. "We'll get a recovery team out immediately," she confirmed, gesturing toward the cart. "Bring them in. Butcher will want these processed right away."

  They unloaded the wolves in the outpost's central yard, where an impromptu butchering station was already being assembled. The transformation in the guards' demeanor was remarkable, as the same soldiers who had barely acknowledged their departure now watched with undisguised respect. Several offered water and energy rations for the return trip, which Kevin accepted with a terse nod.

  "They act like they've never seen dead wolves before," Larissa observed quietly as they prepared for the second retrieval.

  "They haven't," Cox explained. "Not a full pack taken without casualties. Most scavenging teams lose at least one person to Red Wolves. Sometimes everyone."

  The recovery of the remaining carcasses proceeded without incident. By the time they'd delivered all eight wolves and continued toward their original objective, the Southern Outpost had transformed into a hive of activity, with skinning racks erected, meat being portioned, and pelts stretched for curing. The guards' salutes as they departed carried genuine respect rather than perfunctory acknowledgment.

  They reached the collapsed apartment building shortly before midday. The structure had once been an upscale residential tower, its thirty stories now compressed into a chaotic tangle of concrete and steel that rose perhaps ten floors from the ground at its highest point. Where the building had sheared away, the skeletal framework of its construction stood exposed, with thick rebar jutting from fractured concrete like the bones of some massive creature.

  "Perfect," Kevin assessed, surveying the site with a soldier's eye for resource acquisition. "Let's focus on the lower sections first. Less climbing, more accessible materials."

  They established a work pattern quickly, with Kevin breaking concrete away from steel reinforcements with measured sledgehammer blows, Larissa using her enhanced strength to pull and bend the exposed rebar, and Cox keeping watch from an elevated position atop a stable section of rubble. The sun climbed higher, its heat intensifying as they worked in concentrated silence.

  After an hour, they had accumulated a respectable pile of salvaged metal, primarily high-grade steel rebar but also copper wiring and aluminum conduit from the building's electrical system. Kevin called a break as the midday heat reached its peak, the team retreating to a shaded alcove formed by two collapsed concrete slabs.

  Cox disappeared briefly, returning with a three-foot snake gripped behind its head. "Lunch," she announced, already field-dressing the reptile with practiced movements of her combat knife. Using scavenged wire as a makeshift spit, she rigged a small cooking fire from debris, the snake meat soon sizzling over carefully managed flames.

  They ate in companionable silence, the snake meat surprisingly tender despite its spartan preparation. Kevin observed Larissa's growing comfort with their team dynamics, noticing her posture was more relaxed and her violet eyes were no longer constantly scanning for threats. Small steps toward belonging.

  "Why the eyepatch?" Larissa finally asked, gesturing toward Cox's covered eye. "Is it just for the implant, or...?"

  Cox's tail stilled mid-swish, her remaining eye focusing on something distant. For a moment, Kevin thought she might deflect the question, but then her shoulders settled into decision.

  "Had a partner once," she said, her voice taking on an unfamiliar softness. "Minnie. Best scout I ever worked with. We ran supply lines between settlements before I joined the UAC." Her fingers touched the eyepatch unconsciously. "Raiders hit us south of the old Richmond ruins. Crossbow bolt caught me in the face, took the eye clean out."

  She paused, taking a bite of snake meat, chewing methodically as if buying time to shape the painful memory into words.

  "Minnie could have run," she continued finally. "Should have run. Instead, she dragged me to cover, held off twenty raiders with my rifle while I bled all over her. By the time backup arrived, she had taken bolts in both legs, her side, her shoulder." Cox's ears flattened completely. "She died three days later. Infection. Nothing we could do back then."

  Larissa's crimson hand moved toward Cox but stopped short of contact, understanding instinctively that touch would not be welcomed with this particular memory.

  "What happened to the raiders?" Kevin asked quietly.

  Something cold and terrible flashed behind Cox's single eye. "Tracked every last one. Fifty-two total in their band." Her voice lowered to something barely human, her canines visible as she spoke. "Took me a week. Used Minnie's knife for most of them. Made it personal." She looked up, meeting their eyes directly. "Buried her proper afterward. Under a maple tree. She always liked those."

  The silence that followed carried weight beyond words, acknowledgment of grief transformed into purpose, loss channeled into relentless drive. After a moment, Cox stood, stretching with deliberate casualness that reset the emotional temperature.

  "Break's over," she announced, her tail resuming its habitual movement. "Metal won't salvage itself."

  They returned to work with renewed focus, the afternoon passing in productive labor as they accumulated nearly five hundred pounds of high-quality metal. As dusk approached, Kevin secured the final load to the cart, the reinforced frame sitting low on its suspension under the weight.

  At the Southern Outpost, the guards saluted as they passed, a formal gesture reserved for those who had proven themselves. The wolves had been fully processed, meat smoking on racks that would feed the outpost for weeks. In the fading light, they began the final leg of their journey back to Fort DC, the day's mission accomplished beyond expectations.

  "Not bad for your second day," Cox remarked to Larissa as they approached the south tunnel entrance, nudging her with a friendly shoulder bump. "Wolves, metal, and you didn't even die once."

  Larissa's violet eyes caught the last rays of sunset, her crimson lips curving into the first genuine smile Kevin had seen from her. "Thanks," she said simply. "For letting me help."

  Kevin pedaled steadily, the weight of the salvaged metal a satisfying resistance against his enhanced muscles. Behind him, the quiet conversation between Cox and Larissa continued, with small stories exchanged, questions asked and answered, and the tentative framework of trust being constructed one interaction at a time. The red bar in his vision pulsed at nearly full capacity, ready for whatever challenges tomorrow might bring.

  Chapter nineteen

  UAC AINT NOTHING TO FUCK WITH III

  Kevin hefted the sledgehammer, its weight familiar in his enhanced grip as he lined up the strike. He brought it down with calculated force, utilizing just enough power to shatter concrete without damaging the precious rebar beneath. A satisfying crack echoed through the ruins as chunks of weathered material fell away, exposing a twisted lattice of high-grade steel. Beside him, Larissa mirrored his technique, her crimson muscles flexing with each powerful swing of her own hammer.

  "Good angle," he commented, watching her methodically work around a steel support beam. "Always strike parallel to the rebar, never across."

  She nodded, violet eyes narrowed with concentration, sweat beading along her forehead despite the cool air. Her borrowed fatigues were already caked with gray dust, and the temporary uniform was taking on the permanent stains of honest labor. She paused, studying his technique before resuming her own attack on the crumbling structure.

  The apartment building rose above them like a toppled giant. Thirty stories of luxury living were now compressed into a chaotic tangle of broken dreams and exposed infrastructure. Where balconies had once overlooked manicured grounds, twisted metal frames now jutted from fractured concrete. Sunlight filtered through collapsed floors, creating shafts of illumination that cut through the perpetual dust cloud surrounding their work area.

  From her elevated position atop a stable section of rubble, Cox kept watch. Her wolf ears swiveled constantly to catch any sound that might signal danger. Her rifle rested across her knees, ready but not anxious, while her single eye scanned the horizon methodically. Between hammer blows, Kevin heard her occasional soft whistle, an all-clear signal that allowed them to focus on their task.

  Kevin stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm, leaving a streak of gray dust across his face. The red bar in his vision pulsed steadily, his enhanced physiology easily absorbing the strain that would have exhausted normal humans hours ago. He surveyed their progress with satisfaction, noting a growing pile of salvaged metal accumulating beside the cart. It was far more than he had initially hoped to find.

  "The structural supports are military-grade," he observed, kneeling to examine a particularly thick piece of rebar. "Pre-war hurricane reinforcement. Perfect for armor plating."

  Larissa paused mid-swing, her breathing controlled despite the exertion. "Will it be enough?"

  "More than enough," Kevin replied, already calculating the potential yield. "Duncan can work miracles with half this amount."

  He returned to his section, swinging the sledgehammer with precise force. Each impact sent vibrations up his arms, concrete dust billowing in small clouds that caught the sunlight. The methodical rhythm of destruction became almost meditative. Locate, strike, extract, repeat. Locate, strike, extract, repeat. His enhanced muscles flexed with each blow, finding satisfaction in the simple physics of applied force.

  Beside him, Larissa developed her own rhythm, her crimson form moving with increasing confidence through the ruins. Where her first strikes had been tentative, uncertain of her new strength, she now worked with purposeful efficiency. The transformation went beyond the physical. Kevin noted the growing assurance in her movements, the quiet competence replacing the previous day's hesitation. She was learning not just how to break concrete, but how to trust her transformed body.

  The pile of salvaged metal grew steadily, rebar and support struts gleaming dully in the midday sun. Kevin evaluated their haul with a soldier's precision, calculating weight, quality, and potential applications with each new addition. They had already accumulated over two hundred pounds of usable material, far exceeding his initial expectations for the day's salvage operation. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the pleasant burn of muscles working at their enhanced capacity, dust clinging to sweat-dampened skin as he selected his next target.

  "This section here," he called to Larissa, pointing toward a collapsed support column partially hidden beneath rubble. "High concentration of steel reinforcement. Worth the extra effort."

  Together they cleared away broken drywall and shattered glass, exposing the twisted spine of the building's skeleton. The concrete here was denser, a military-grade composition designed to withstand hurricane-force winds in the pre-war era of climate disasters. Kevin positioned his sledgehammer carefully, calculating the precise point of impact that would crack the casing without damaging the precious metal beneath.

  He brought the hammer down with controlled power, muscles coiling and releasing in a seamless flow of energy. The concrete resisted for a moment, then surrendered with a satisfying crack that reverberated through the ruins. A cloud of fine gray dust billowed upward, catching in his throat and coating his skin with chalky residue. He coughed once, then continued, methodically breaking away chunks of material to expose the metal framework beneath.

  Larissa matched his pace, her crimson skin darkened with exertion, violet eyes narrowed against the constant dust. Her technique had improved remarkably in the hours since they had begun. Each strike now landed with calculated precision rather than brute force. She no longer hesitated before swinging, no longer doubted the strength of her transformed body. Instead, she worked with growing confidence, her movements becoming more fluid with each successful extraction.

  "Look at this," she said, voice tinged with pride as she pulled free a six-foot length of unbent rebar. "Perfect condition."

  Kevin nodded his approval, noting the thickness of the steel and its resistance to corrosion despite decades of exposure. The quality of materials used in luxury construction before the war would translate directly to superior armor and weapons. These were practical benefits that justified their exhaustive effort. He watched as Larissa carried the heavy metal to their growing pile, her crimson muscles flexing without strain beneath the considerable weight.

  They continued working in companionable silence, the rhythm of their hammers creating a percussive soundtrack that echoed through the ruins. The red bar in Kevin's vision remained steady, his enhanced stamina easily handling the physical demands. Occasionally, he glanced toward Larissa, assessing her form and technique with a commander's eye. Where yesterday she had been a novice struggling with basic movements, today she showed the nascent skills of a soldier: adaptive, persistent, and focused on the objective.

  "Movement at three o'clock," Cox called suddenly from her perch, her wolf ears swiveling toward a distant sound. "Just wildlife. Proceeding away from our position."

  Kevin paused mid-swing, listening with his own enhanced hearing. He detected the faint rustling of something large moving through undergrowth. It was probably a mutated deer or wild boar, nothing that presented immediate danger. He resumed his work, grateful for Cox's vigilance that allowed them to concentrate on their salvage mission without constant defensive awareness.