Chapter 68: They Made Her a Hero

They made Sarah a hero the same night Kasper killed her.

The med bay's night lights cast long shadows as Headmistress Vega watches them cover Sarah's body. Each fold of the sheet settles with terrible finality, turning a person into a shape, a life into paperwork. The overhead quantum-lights flicker at 42.1 MHz, making the scene feel almost dreamlike.

First-year med students hover near the doors, whispering about their fallen mentor. How many had she taught? How many lives had she actually saved between her betrayals?

"Where is he?" Vega's voice cuts through the murmurs.

Valerian stands at perfect attention, but his usual military bearing seems hollow now. His hands keep twitching toward his pockets where evidence bags hold Sarah's bloodied scanner - still pulsing weakly at 47.3 MHz, their frequency. "With the team. His quarters."

[The Next Morning]

The funeral chapel's stained glass turns morning light into broken rainbows. Sarah's portrait smiles down at the mourners - the hero who died exposing corruption. The brilliant doctor murdered by ATA hitmen.

In the back corner, Nailah's Caribbean combat enhancers hum at barely controlled frequencies. Her eyes, sharp as obsidian, catch every detail - the too-perfect arrangement of flowers, the carefully crafted lies in the eulogies. Her fingers trace abstract patterns on her thigh, Caribbean Division code spelling out truths she can't voice.

The official story spreads in whispers:

- Found evidence of trafficking

- Tried to protect her patients

- Died fighting corruption 

Each lie sits like poison in Kasper's throat.

He remembers different truths:

- Her hands steady on his neural ports

- Jasmine perfume mixing with antiseptic

- The way she trembled, just once, before he pulled the trigger

Maria's hand finds his, warm with healer's energy. Trying to ease pain she doesn't understand. Can't understand. Her frequency - 82.4 MHz - pulses with desperate need to help.

Across the aisle, Valerian and Nailah exchange a look loaded with unspoken knowledge. Their Caribbean Division training picks up matching frequencies in the carefully orchestrated ceremony - patterns that speak of cover-ups and convenient martyrs.

Around them, students and faculty paint a hero with their tears:

"She saved my sister during the quantum core breach..."

"Best neural calibration instructor we ever had..."

"Always made time to help..."

The priest speaks of sacrifice. Of dedication to truth.

Kasper's laugh comes out as a sob.

"Hermano..." Maria squeezes his hand. Her healing frequency spikes, trying to reach past physical pain to something deeper.

He pulls away. Stands. The chapel's rainbow light suddenly suffocating. Sarah's smile in the portrait feels like an accusation.

"Kas, wait—"

But he's already moving. Past Lucas's concerned face, his medical scanners probably picking up Kasper's stress signals. Past Sean's watchful gaze, combat nanites humming at ready. Past Valerian's perfect, guilty posture - the slight tremor in his hands betraying knowledge he shouldn't have.

Nailah's fingers twitch toward her concealed firearm - an instinct born of Caribbean streets where truth and violence dance too close. But she forces herself still. This is his moment of breaking. His grief to bear.

Maria follows him into the courtyard. Of course she does. Always trying to heal. To help. Her healer's aura reaches for him like a lifeline.

"You need to let us—"

"Let you what?" His voice comes out wrong. Jagged. "Tell me more lies?"

Cherry blossoms drift past them - Sarah's favorite. She'd helped plant these trees three years ago. Nailah's combat enhancers pick up the faint resonance of memory in their petals - 47.3 MHz, Sarah's calibration frequency. Even the trees remember.

"We're trying to protect—"

"Like Valerian protected me?" The words taste like blood. "I saw his frequency logs. In Sarah's lab. After they took her body."

Maria goes still. Her healing frequency stutters. Behind her, Nailah's muscles coil with Caribbean grace, recognizing the tone of a man about to shatter completely.

"The Syndicate's encryption pattern. 89.4 MHz. The same one in Sarah's private files." His laugh comes out broken. "Our perfect leader, coming to her lab every week. Checking her work. Her 'calibrations.' Watching her destroy us."

"The bitch is dead." The words fall like bullets. "That's all that matters."

Nailah's combat enhancers surge at his tone - she knows that sound. The voice of someone trying to convince themselves that hatred is easier than grief. Her own frequencies spike with memories of similar choices made in Trinidad's streets.

He turns to leave, but Valerian stands in his path. Their leader. Their rock. Their liar. The obsidian ring glints at his throat where his uniform has come loose.

"I couldn't tell you." Valerian's voice carries genuine pain. "The Syndicate suspected—"

Kasper's fist connects with perfect aim. Cartilage crunches. Blood sprays across cherry blossoms.

Nailah moves - faster than thought, her Caribbean training singing through enhanced muscles. But she stops herself. This isn't her fight. Some wounds need to bleed.

Kasper's next swing misses as Sean tackles him from the side, massive arms trying to lock around his chest. Combat nanites flare at 91.7 MHz - full restraint protocol engaging.

But Kasper trained for this. Knows how Sean fights.

He drops his weight, breaks the hold using Sean's own momentum. Cherry blossoms scatter as they crash into the courtyard's stone benches. Something cracks - stone or bone, neither knows.

"Stay down!" Sean's voice strains as Kasper slips his grip again. "Damn it, hermano—"

Kasper's elbow finds Sean's ribs. Combat protocols kick in automatically - the ones Sarah helped optimize. The ones she probably reported to the ATA.

Lucas appears with a sedative injector, but Kasper sees it coming. Knocks it away. The syringe skitters across bloodstained petals.

"Maria, hold him!" Sean manages to catch one of Kasper's arms. "The frequency—"

Maria's healing resonance floods the courtyard - 82.4 MHz trying to slow Kasper's enhanced reflexes. But grief makes him stronger than their frequencies.

From her position in the shadows, Nailah's enhanced senses register every frequency shift, every pattern of his breakdown. Her own combat enhancers match his rhythms unconsciously - her body remembering similar rages, similar pains.

He breaks free again. Lands two solid hits that make Sean stagger. Combat nanites flaring red as they absorb the damage.

"Get his legs!" Lucas has another injector.

Sean goes low while Maria's frequency spikes higher. The combination throws Kasper off-balance just long enough.

The sedative burns as Lucas finally finds a vein. Kasper fights it, enhanced metabolism trying to burn through the drugs. But even perfect soldiers have limits.

Nailah's fingers clench as she watches him fall. Her Caribbean training screams to intervene, to protect. But she forces herself still. Sometimes the kindest thing is to let someone break completely - so they can rebuild themselves stronger.

The last thing Kasper sees is Sarah's portrait through the chapel windows, still smiling down at their violence.

Still lying, even in death.

[Hours Later]

The hospital room spins lazily as Kasper surfaces from sedation. The monitors pulse with familiar frequencies - 47.3 MHz, Sarah's preferred calibration. Even here, he can't escape her.

Sean sits in a visitor's chair, holding an ice pack to his temple where Kasper landed a lucky shot. His combat nanites hum at rest frequency now - 45.2 MHz.

Through the window, Nailah's shadow passes like a ghost - her combat enhancers registering one final frequency check before she melts away into the night. She leaves no trace except a single Caribbean lily on the windowsill - mourning flowers from her homeland. A reminder that some truths can't be buried with pretty lies.

"You done being an asshole?" Sean's voice holds no judgment. Just understanding. The ice pack shifts, revealing an impressive bruise. "Because that's my job, and one of me is enough."

Kasper stares at the ceiling. Counts the tiles. Tries not to smell jasmine in the antiseptic. "She was a monster."

"Yeah." Sean shifts, wincing. His ribs probably hurt from restraining Kasper. "But you loved her anyway. Makes it worse."

"How do you..."

"Live with it?" A bitter laugh. "You don't. You just learn to carry it better." Sean stands, bones cracking. "Rest up, pendejo. World's still turning, even if it feels like it shouldn't."

He pauses at the door. "For what it's worth... your aim's still perfect. Even angry as hell."

The door clicks shut, leaving Kasper alone with morphine dreams and the ghost of jasmine perfume.

Outside his window, Costa del Sol's flag flies at half-mast for a hero who never existed.

And somewhere in the city, a list of names waits to bring down an empire built on children's tears.

Some lies, it turns out, serve truth better than honesty ever could.

But all Kasper can smell is cherry blossoms and blood.

And all he can hear is Sarah's scanner, still pulsing at 47.3 MHz.

Their frequency.

Their lie.