Chapter 7: Consociatio Symbiotica Telarum

The holographic images of the disaster left behind by that obese, psychopathic trafficker crashed over the three rookies like a brutal avalanche, crushing their pulse and breath.

Ángela drowned in raw anguish, trapped by a thought chewing at her mind without mercy:

— "Virgencita de la Cabeza... may this never happen to anyone in my squad. Dios mío, protect my little sister Amy... don't let anyone touch her." — Her hands tightened so hard her knuckles went pale, her emerald eyes trembling under a sheen of tears. Her vine‑like hair, along with her red spikes, quivered as if praying with her.

Beside her, Jim fought the nausea twisting his stomach after seeing the crime scene and the state of the altered children. Then a spark of logic struck him like a whip:

— "Wait... there, in the back of the photo. That red fog in the neighborhood... Typhonio!" — He ran toward the hologram projecting the evidence. — "That bastard is using La Plaga as a weapon!"

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While the kids remained stunned by a reality they never imagined, the Hinotori tried to climb out of the crater left by their foster brother. For some incomprehensible reason, Kyōko had decided to camp right there to reorganize the group, a tactical move both found doubtful.

— Did you feel it, Oniisan? What happened to the traps?" — Vanessa whispered in her native tongue as she saw him leap out of the pit to check the scorched perimeter.

— "They found us," — he answered in nihon, signaling her to stay alert.

At that moment, Nazz's blood ignited. He refused to swallow another manipulation from Kyōko. He charged forward in fury, grabbed her by the shōzoku*, and shook her violently.

— "What the hell do you want, Swiper?! Guardians... or kamikaze puppets?!" — The crow spat, sick of her cheap speech.

His mind flew back years. As a child, sensei Ikki fed him the same speech to control him, forcing him to give his soul in training, binding him slowly to the Triada* of Nippon Vigilantes*.

— "Get up, Aram‑chan! You... you were born to protect the innocent. And your new brothers... your family... the innocent victims... they don't care if you can't anymore. They need you, scrap." — The master roared with a force that shook the air, while the crow‑haired boy struggled through push‑ups beneath a heavy stone slab. On top of it, the metal‑masked master stood unmoving, arms crossed, balanced impossibly. Heavy, cruel, and relentless as his Fate.

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Suddenly, the crow's burst of rage stopped when a dry, old, harsh laugh rose from the bushes of the pit.

— "Ea, niña*... why don't you answer him?"

From the scorched bushes emerged a man in a trench coat, scruffy beard and a face that screamed trouble, recording everything with his phone. He didn't even manage a single step before one of Vanessa's knives sliced through the air like lightning and shattered the device into a thousand pieces.

— And this is why we can't leave our safety in the hands of kids like you... No way in hell! — the man grumbled, raising his hands and spitting out the cigarette hanging from his mouth. A few gray hairs peeked through his chestnut hair, and his blue eyes... Puffy, ringed with exhaustion... hadn't closed in days. The poor guy was dying for a decent cup of coffee.

Two massive shadows tore across the sky at blinding speed. Descending like meteors that split the wind with a thunderous roar, two masked Luchadores* —Beta hybrids, about eighteen, fused with golden eagles—landed to form an impenetrable wall of muscle between the stranger and the Hinotori. Their enormous tattooed arms made Hawk look like a scrawny little parakeet beside them.