The sun dipped below the horizon, bleeding its last light across a sky speckled with purples and oranges. Baz's grip on the control panel tightened as they approached the Lebanese border, the mechanical whir of robot sentinels punctuating the evening calm.

"Did you guys really cross?" Ren's voice cut through the tension that filled the vehicle. Her wide eyes scanned the looming silhouettes of the robot guards, their sensors sweeping the landscape like searchlights from some dystopian lighthouse.

"Piece of cake," Toshiro replied, though his heartbeat seemed to argue otherwise.

"Seems too easy," Ren murmured. "I can't believe we made it this far."

"Believe it," he assured her, though his own relief was palpable as they made it past the robot battalion.

After an hour's drive in silence, broken only by the soft crunch of tires over rough terrain, they reached a secluded grove where the incessant buzz of drones faded into the background.

Baz killed the engine, allowing darkness to envelop them. "What's the plan, Toshiro?"

"Why don't you start?" Toshiro said, turning to Baz, whose eyes glimmered with the reflection of the moon.

"Emily's got us a place to lie low for the night," Baz responded, his voice a mix of excitement and resolve. "Short drive from here. We'll move out before first light, hit the hospital after the night shift."

"Good," Toshiro nodded, considering their next steps. "And the interrogation?"

"Simple grab," Baz said with a nonchalant shrug. "Corner one of the workers, get what we need, then—"

"Then I wipe their short-term memory clean," Ren interjected, patting the device in her pocket with a confidence that belied the gravity of their mission.

"Exactly," Toshiro affirmed. "We snatch an unsuspecting night shift worker, interrogate them about the work being done at the hospital, and employ threats to extract information if necessary."

"Without leaving a trace," Ren added, her words hanging in the air like a promise.

"Right," Toshiro agreed, his mind already racing ahead to the challenges that awaited them. "We get in, we get out. No complications."

"No one gets harmed in this mission—right, Toshiro?" Ren's voice was a whisper, yet it cut through the stillness with urgency.

"Of course not," Toshiro replied, locking eyes with her. "We will not lower ourselves to Zo's level."

Ren's expression softened, but the question lingered in her eyes. "Do you promise?"

Toshiro offered a nod, firm and resolute. "Yes. I'll ensure we hurt nobody."

Twenty minutes passed before they arrived at the safe house—a modest structure nestled between the gnarled branches of ancient olive trees. The door creaked open, revealing a compassionate Lebanese man with a warm smile and a steaming pot in his hands.

"Ah, my friends! You must be famished," the man greeted them, ushering the group into the humble abode that smelled of herbs.

He ladled generous portions of soup into bowls, the aroma weaving through the room like a comforting embrace. Ren took a tentative sip, her eyes lighting up at the burst of flavor.

"Better than those sugar pump rations, hmm?" the man boasted, his chest puffing with pride.

"Definitely," Ren agreed, the corners of her lips twitching upwards.

The man proceeded to lay bare his aspirations of opening a soup shop.

"Do you mean like a café?" Ren asked.

"No, soup only. A soup shop!" he declared with a chuckle.

Laughter bubbled up among them, a fleeting reprieve from the weight of their cause. The man leaned against the counter, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"What rebel shenanigans are you guys up to this time?" he inquired, a playful edge to his voice.

"Just like your tasty soup recipe, it's best to keep it secret," Toshiro answered, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Touché," the man responded, the shared laughter echoing off the stone walls, a testament to the camaraderie that bound them in their fight against a common enemy.

***

The darkness before dawn pressed against the windows of the safe house as Toshiro checked his gear for the umpteenth time. He could feel the weight of the mission settling in his chest, a heavy stone that wouldn't budge. His eyes flicked to the sleeping form of Ren, her breaths even and calm, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.

"Ren," he whispered, nudging her awake with his prosthetic arm. "It's time."

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, nodding as she slipped on her boots. They moved silently, leaving no trace of their presence behind, a ghostly departure befitting the stillness of the pre-dawn hours.

Outside, Baz was already sitting in the driver's seat of their nondescript vehicle, the engine idling softly. Toshiro climbed into the passenger seat, his gaze fixed ahead as they set off towards the heart of Beirut.

"This mission is crucial, and I mean life-or-death crucial!" Toshiro stated firmly, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade.

Baz glanced at him. "You're thinking of Alex."

"Every second," Toshiro admitted, clenching his jaw. "I have to prove Emily wrong about me. But more than that...I made a promise to rescue him."

"Then we'll make sure we keep it," Baz replied, determination etched into his features.

The city loomed ahead, a maze of concrete and steel, still asleep as they navigated through its arteries.

"Here we are," Baz murmured.

The van crept around the building, guided by Baz's hand, the moon casting an eerie glow upon their path.

"Strange, isn't it?" Toshiro observed, his voice low, as they entered a back alley shrouded in shadows. "This quietness...is it the right place?"

"Remember, Emily said the building has a back alley where we can hide out and wait for the right moment to strike," Baz reminded him.

"Yeah, but something feels off," Toshiro mused, taking in the desolate scene—the broken wheelchairs, the used latex gloves, the bandages discarded without care. It was as if the place had been forgotten by time itself.

Ren leaned forward. "At least there aren't any drones—as far as I can tell."

"That's great, but shouldn't there be a constant flow of patients?" Toshiro questioned, his brow furrowing as he scanned the area.

"Considering the hour, six in the morning, it's normal for it to be slow," Baz answered.

"Right," Toshiro conceded, though unease gnawed at him. "We'll just have to wait for the night shift to end."

With the wave of a hand, Baz silenced the engine, plunging them back into semi-darkness. As they settled in the gloom, each of them lost in their own thoughts, Toshiro waited for the right moment to act—a moment that would define not only their fates but also the fate of Alex.

The dawn splashed the sky with a watercolor of oranges and pinks, the crisp air imbuing their lungs with a semblance of tranquility amidst the tension. Huddled in the van, they watched as two figures emerged from the hospital's rear entrance, clad in the sterile blue that marked them as night shift workers. After exchanging a few words, they each autowalked away in separate directions.

As one figure drew nearer, Toshiro whispered, "Looks like we've got our unlucky contestant."

"No one gets harmed," Ren reiterated, her tone firm yet laced with concern.

Toshiro's gaze shifted to Baz, whose hand rested on the hilt of a knife. "What on earth are you thinking?" Toshiro snapped.

With an edge of nonchalance in his voice, Baz retorted, "You said we should intimidate them." Letting out a heavy sigh, he added, "Relax, guys, it's just for show."

"Be careful with that," Ren cautioned, her eyes narrowing at the gleam of the blade.

"Prepare the van door," Toshiro commanded, feeling Kura twitch with anticipation. They watched the worker approach, the rhythmic steps of the autowalk growing louder.

As the target passed by just outside their van, Baz threw the door open, and Toshiro sprung forth, Kura whirring into action. With swift precision, the prosthetic wrapped around the worker's midsection as Toshiro stifled any potential screams with a well-placed right hand.

"Into the van," Toshiro grunted, hauling the struggling figure inside. Baz leapt to assist, pinning the worker down, while Ren peeked outside, ensuring no prying eyes had witnessed their act.

"Ren, status?" Toshiro panted, chest heaving.

She slammed the door shut. "All clear," she confirmed, her voice steady despite the danger.

"Good," Toshiro said, turning to the captive.

"What do you want from me?" the man cried out, panic tainting his words.

"I am Hayato," Toshiro introduced himself with a calm he did not feel. "You may have heard of me..."

"You're that terrorist," the man spat back, fear flaring in his eyes.

"Whatever you call me is irrelevant," Toshiro sighed, frustration evident on his face. "We're here for information. Your name?"

"Gu-Gushvin," the man stammered.

"Okay, Gushvin, let's make this simple," Toshiro proposed. "Tell us about the hospital, and you walk away from this."

"What hospital?" Gushvin balked, his brow creasing in confusion.

"The one you just came from," Toshiro explained, impatience threading his voice.

"That's not a hospital," Gushvin muttered, clenching his jaw.

"Then what is it?" Toshiro demanded, but Gushvin remained silent. Baz stepped forward, brandishing the knife with a menacing glare.

"Talk, or—" Baz began, but Toshiro cut him off.

"Enough," he growled. "What exactly goes on there?"

Under the threat of steel, Gushvin's resolve crumbled. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he whispered, "It's a research facility."

"Research?" Toshiro echoed, a chill creeping up his spine.

With a sharp movement of the knife, Baz made the man speak. "We study anomalies...the children," Gushvin gasped.

"Children?" Baz echoed, exchanging a look of disbelief with Toshiro.

"They're immune to A52," Gushvin revealed, his voice breaking. "Zo can't touch them."

"You're telling me there are multiple children immune?!" Toshiro pressed, every word tightening the knot in his stomach.

Gushvin pressed his lips together, the muscles in his jaw tensing as Baz once again raised his knife to demand an answer. "Do not keep us waiting any longer!"

"Of course there are. There are hundreds of children...a thousand maybe," Gushvin choked out. "Please, let me go! That's all I know!"

Toshiro nodded slowly, reacting to the immense gravity of the revelation. Around him, the van felt smaller, the weight of their discovery pressing in. They had come looking for answers, and they had found them—along with a new and unexpected mission.

"Quick, in here!" Gushvin's voice was a panicked hiss as he signaled to the hulking form of a robot guard suddenly visible through the van's closed window.

Baz was quick, his hand on the knife—until it wasn't. Gushvin's desperate grip found its edge, blood slicking metal as he twisted the weapon free and thrust it upward. A gurgle, a gasp, and then a scarlet bloom spread across Baz's neck, his jugular sliced open.

"Baz!" Ren's scream was raw, tearing through the confined space of the van like shrapnel.

"Drive us out of here on my signal!" Toshiro bellowed over the chaos. He opened the door, seizing Gushvin by the collar and hurling him against the advancing metallic enforcer. The collision of flesh and machine echoed in the alleyway.

"Go now!" Toshiro yelled.

"But Baz needs help!"

"Just do it!" His words left no room for argument. The engine roared to life, and the van lurched forward, tires screeching against the pavement.

Ren maneuvered the narrow streets with dangerous speed. "What now?" she cried.

"Keep driving!" Toshiro yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. In a swift motion, he leveraged Kura, extending surgical tools with precise control to apply direct pressure to Baz's neck wound. Despite the lack of proper medical supplies, Toshiro's use of his arm's capabilities turned him into a one-man emergency response, battling against time to control the hemorrhage.

Baz gasped. "Don't worry about me. It's just a cut." He smiled as blood gushed from his vein.

"Idiot! Why did you bring a knife?" Toshiro's anger was tinged with desperation. His prosthetic arm, now more a lifeline than a limb, danced above the wound, instruments deploying in a desperate attempt to close the gap between life and death.

"It worked, didn't it? You got what you needed." Baz's chuckle was choked, his grimace trying to pass for a smile.

"Got what I needed?! I came here to get intel on Alex, and instead, I find out there's a thousand other kids that need rescuing!"

"Those kids...they belong to Zo now. And Zo is a virus—" His words were delirious, but his gaze bore into Toshiro's.

"Stay with us!" Toshiro implored, his tough exterior cracking open. Kura, meanwhile, continued her frantic work, instruments moving with determined precision. Suddenly, her built-in diagnostic system activated, her synthetic voice cutting through the tension, "Prognosis unfavorable. Estimated chance of survival: 7%."

Baz's eyes pleaded with Toshiro as he whispered, "Can't you see? They are children of the virus. And you are Hayato. Save them! Save them all!"

"Stop talking nonsense. You'll save them with us!" Ren's voice trembled between sobs.

"No I won't, Ren." Baz's voice was a whisper of finality. "Promise me, Toshiro."

Silence stretched, filled only by the sounds of a van fleeing through the early light of dawn.

"You son of a bitch! Promise me you'll save those kids!" Baz insisted, despite his imminent end, his passion burning with an unrelenting intensity, raging like a wildfire within him.

"I promise," Toshiro cried at last as he gripped Baz's hand, his prosthetic arm ceasing its movements in silent acknowledgement of the battle lost.

Baz smiled and whispered, "That's my king," before his body went limp, falling back into a crimson pool of his own blood.

As the van cruised beyond Beirut's outskirts, autopilot engaged, Ren and Toshiro sat in the cold embrace of their loss. No words could fill the space where Baz's fiery spirit had been, nor stem the sting of tears shed for a friend who'd become one with the stars.