Code Fénix Maximum English Ver.

CHAPTER 148: Insurrection-17

The supermarket fluorescent light buzzed in the early morning. Endless aisles of shelves shone with impersonal light; the smell of plastic and cleaning powder floated in the air. Fénix moved slowly between rows of cans and bottles, his jacket stained and his face marked: one eye somewhat swollen, several bruises his skin was beginning to seal, cuts that no longer bled but hurt when he moved. His steps were measured, like someone who still doubts if their body will respond.

He stopped in the beverage section and grabbed a can of Red Bull with the hand that wasn't trembling too much. He opened it with a dry motion and sniffed it as if it were a routine gesture.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the screen: "Agnes." He answered without thinking much.

"Hello?" he said, his voice raspy from the night.

"Fénix?" asked Agnes on the other end with the worried tone she always used when she didn't hear clarity in his voice. "How are you? Did you sleep at all?"

Fénix sipped from the can and let the fizz sting his throat before answering.

"I had a shitty night," he replied, with an attempt at rough humor. "Got into a fight in an alley with a Chinese guy who knew Muay Thai. He wrecked me, but I'm still alive. And that's the only thing that matters now."

Agnes stifled a sigh through the earpiece.

"God! Are you okay? Where are you? I'm coming, I'll bring you something hot."

Fénix shook his head, barely visible in the dim light between fridges.

"No," he said firmly. "Don't get involved in this, Agnes. It's not your war."

"I'm not going to stand by and watch," she replied, her voice low but determined. "I can help you, take you to get that treated, or to a discreet doctor. You don't have to do it alone."

Fénix leaned his back against the cold shelf. The distant sound of a shopping cart, elevator music repeating an advertisement. His fingers tightened around the can. On the line, Agnes waited; the contained tremor in her voice was noticeable.

"Agnes," he said slowly, with the coldness of someone who has learned to protect. "I don't want to put you in danger. If you get involved, if they see you with me, Elena or that division will mark you. And I won't bear another dead person. I've already lost too many friends and comrades in this job."

"Fénix…" she whispered. "You're not a banner I have to admire from afar. If you have anyone left, it's us."

"I know," he replied, and for an instant, his voice lost its armor. "But I won't risk you. Not again. Not for my shit."

On the other end of the line, Agnes breathed heavily; her worry was a knot.

"Alright," she said finally. "If you insist… I'll keep quiet. But I don't promise anything if you're in danger. And if you need something, call me. Okay?"

Fénix tilted his head, looking at the row of cans lined up like little metallic soldiers.

"Okay," he replied, curtly. "Thanks for trying. Take care."

Minutes later…

He went down the metal stairs that creaked with an echo under each step. The basement smelled of damp, freshly brewed coffee, and old gunpowder. The only light came from a naked bulb hanging over the improvised table where Marcus was sitting, calmly eating a sandwich as if it were any Sunday and not a damn silent war.

"Jesus," Marcus murmured upon seeing him. "What happened to your face?"

Fénix left his jacket on a chair and ran a hand over his swollen jaw, as if downplaying it.

"Long story," he replied without emotion.

He opened the black case hanging from his belt. Inside, a vial with a green, dense, translucent liquid: Uber Lycan serum. Marcus watched without stopping chewing.

"You're going to inject that straight up again…" he said, more as a statement than a warning.

"Nothing this can't cure," Fénix replied calmly.

He loaded the syringe with surgical precision. He rolled up the sleeve on his left forearm, located the vein without hesitation, and injected it. The green liquid disappeared in a matter of seconds.

And then, the effect.

The wounds closed as if time were reversing. The bruised skin tightened again, the scars sealed, even the cheekbone bruise faded like smoke. Fénix took a deep breath; an electric charge ran through his body.

Marcus left the sandwich on the plate.

"Sometimes I forget what you are," he said, looking at him with a half-smile. "And then you do that."

Fénix just sat down, in silence.

The day hadn't even started yet. But it already smelled like it would be violent.

Fénix rested his elbows on the table, still processing the internal roar of the serum. His voice came out deep, level.

"How are we… statistically speaking?"

Marcus let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"We're a fucking mess." He took a sip from a dirty coffee cup, as if that were normal. "But at least I have some information worth its weight in gold."

Fénix looked at him, waiting.

"Elena will be at the Hellabrunn Zoo tonight," said Marcus. "Munich. Private presentation. Community event. Press, foundations, people with power. Charity to protect endangered species or some PR bullshit. The typical façade."

Brief silence.

"And the plan is…?"

Marcus shrugged as if he were talking about going to buy bread.

"Easy and simple. We go in. Find Elena. Bang. Done. Finish the job. Return to Enid Corp as heroes. And this fucking story ends."

Fénix held his gaze. Not a word. Just a moment of animal tension…

…and then nodded.

"Perfect." He stood up, taking it as a sentence. "Then let's hunt."

Enid was alone in her office. The cold light from the monitor didn't help her headache.
She had her phone in her hand.

Contact: "FÉNIX R."

Slow. Doubt.

Opens the empty conversation.

Types.