Chapter 24: Power Overload - Part 1
POV: Kole Martinez
The serial robbery case dropped on the Nine-Nine like natural disaster requiring immediate all-hands response, five connected crimes in three days painting Brooklyn in shades of escalating violence and criminal sophistication. Kole threw himself into the investigation with intensity that bordered on obsession, deploying his abilities without restraint while chasing leads that demanded perfect recall, perfect analysis, perfect performance.
Five crimes. Three days. Professional crew with military precision.
Time to prove why they keep me around.
His photographic memory processed crime scenes with mechanical efficiency, absorbing every detail of violence-laden environments where trauma soaked into walls and floors like permanent stain. The first robbery at Brooklyn Savings had left behind blood spatter patterns, shell casings, victim statements that painted picture of coordinated assault by professionals who understood tactical movement and psychological intimidation.
Three gunmen. Military bearing. Specific knowledge of bank security protocols.
The second hit at Metropolitan Credit Union demonstrated escalating sophistication—electronic countermeasures, precise timing that avoided police patrol schedules, violence calibrated to control rather than eliminate witnesses.
Inside information. Technology assistance. Professional planning that suggests larger criminal organization.
The third robbery targeted Brooklyn Community Bank with surgical precision, but left behind evidence of internal conflict within the criminal crew. Blood evidence suggested one gunman had been wounded, witness statements described arguments about methods and target selection.
Crew fracturing under pressure. Opportunity for investigative leverage.
The fourth crime at Sunset Savings had erupted into extended firefight when off-duty security guard attempted intervention. Multiple casualties, extensive property damage, evidence suggesting desperate criminals abandoning careful planning in favor of brute force survival.
Desperation. Professional discipline breaking down under investigation pressure.
The fifth robbery—attempted hit at Bay Ridge Federal—had been interrupted by rapid police response, resulting in hostage situation that lasted four hours before SWAT resolution. Two criminals dead, one captured, multiple civilian casualties requiring ongoing medical attention.
Case closed through violence rather than investigation. No satisfaction in this resolution.
For forty-eight hours straight, Kole had worked the scenes with relentless focus, his enhanced abilities operating at maximum capacity while absorbing traumatic details that normal detectives could compartmentalize or forget. His photographic memory catalogued every victim's terror, every blood spatter pattern, every fragment of evidence that might contribute to understanding the criminal conspiracy.
Perfect recall of imperfect humanity. Every scream, every plea, every moment of violence preserved with mechanical precision.
His lie detection read deception in witness statements while simultaneously processing their genuine trauma responses, creating layered understanding of events that normal interrogation techniques couldn't achieve. His combat adaptation analyzed criminal movement patterns, reconstructing tactical approaches while understanding the psychology of violence applied to civilian targets.
All three powers working simultaneously for extended period. Processing trauma faster than human minds are designed to handle.
By the third day, physical symptoms began manifesting. His hands developed slight tremor that coffee couldn't explain, colors seemed oversaturated and harsh, sounds pierced through his consciousness like needles striking exposed nerve endings.
System overload. Powers consuming more energy than I'm generating.
Amy noticed during morning briefing, her analytical mind recognizing signs of exhaustion that exceeded normal investigative fatigue.
"Martinez," she said carefully, "when did you last sleep?"
Sleep. The concept feels foreign.
"I've been catching naps between crime scene processing."
Lies. I've been replaying crime scenes in perfect detail every time I close my eyes.
"You need actual rest. Your performance metrics are declining."
Performance metrics. Amy tracking my capabilities like scientific experiment.
"I'm fine. Just want to close this case before more people get hurt."
More people. Like the victims whose terror I can't forget, whose pain replays in perfect detail every time I access my enhanced memory.
The crucial interview came during hour fifty-one of the investigation, suspect from the fifth robbery conscious and ready for questioning despite gunshot wound and psychological trauma from losing his partners during SWAT operation.
Michael Torres, thirty-four, former Army infantry, financial problems, recruited by criminal organization through veteran networking group.
Desperate rather than evil. Circumstance rather than character.
Kole entered the interview room with accumulated fatigue and trauma pressing against his consciousness like physical weight. His photographic memory contained perfect recall of every crime scene, every victim statement, every piece of evidence that connected Torres to systematic violence across Brooklyn.
Time to get answers that justify the cost of perfect memory.
The interrogation began normally, Torres providing standard deflections while Kole's lie detection identified specific deceptions that could be leveraged for tactical advantage. But as the interview progressed, something catastrophic began happening to his enhanced recall.
Crime scenes bleeding together. Memories overlapping. Past and present losing distinction.
All five robberies began replaying simultaneously in his mind—overlapping images, sounds, emotions bleeding together into chaotic symphony of recalled trauma. A victim's scream from the third crime scene interrupted his questions about the first robbery. Blood patterns from the fourth scene overlaid his vision while processing Torres's answers about the second crime.
Which memory is current reality? Which violence is happening now versus recalled trauma?
The suspect noticed him spacing out, confusion replacing defensive hostility as Kole struggled to maintain focus on present conversation while his enhanced memory replayed accumulated trauma without permission or control.
Memory malfunction. Perfect recall becoming perfect curse.
"Detective?" Torres asked with genuine concern. "You okay?"
The criminal is worried about the cop. Role reversal that suggests serious problem.
Jake appeared in the observation room doorway, having watched the interview deteriorate through one-way glass. His detective instincts recognized crisis developing in real-time, prompting immediate intervention to protect both investigation and partner.
Jake taking over. Recognizing my incapacity before I admit it.
"Martinez," Jake said with careful professionalism, "can I see you outside for a minute?"
Professional courtesy masking personal concern.
In the hallway, away from suspect observation and recording equipment, Jake's expression shifted from professional to deeply worried.
"What the hell just happened in there?" he demanded. "You looked terrified of your own thoughts."
Terrified of my own thoughts. Accurate assessment.
"Just tired. Long case, too much coffee, not enough sleep."
Standard deflections that don't explain supernatural memory overload.
"That wasn't tired, Martinez. That was something else. You were somewhere else entirely, and it wasn't anywhere good."
Jake's detective instincts reading symptoms I can't explain without revealing impossible truth.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Whatever's happening in your head, you need to deal with it before it deals with you."
Before it deals with you. Warning that comes too late.
The migraine hit like physical assault, skull-splitting pain that transformed fluorescent lighting into torture device and normal precinct sounds into piercing agony. His photographic memory continued replaying traumatic images without pause, creating feedback loop of recalled violence that his consciousness couldn't escape or forget.
Perfect memory as perfect prison.
Kole stumbled toward the men's room, nausea overwhelming as accumulated trauma and enhanced recall created physical symptoms his body couldn't process. He barely made it to a stall before vomiting, pain and sensory overload combining into crisis that threatened to expose his impossible circumstances to anyone who witnessed the breakdown.
Physical collapse from supernatural exhaustion.
Powers have costs I've been ignoring.
Rosa found him there, crouched on bathroom floor with head in hands while fluorescent lights stabbed through his consciousness like physical weapons. Her expression shifted from curiosity to recognition—someone who understood trauma responses from personal experience.
Rosa knows what breakdown looks like.
She didn't ask questions or demand explanations, simply helped him to Terry's office where darkness and quiet provided minimal relief from sensory overload. Her practical approach to crisis management created safe space without requiring disclosure of circumstances that couldn't be explained.
"Whatever's happening in your head," Rosa said quietly, "you need to deal with it before it deals with you."
Second warning in thirty minutes. Message received.
"Get some rest. Real rest, not just closing your eyes while your brain keeps working."
Real rest. Impossible when perfect memory won't stop replaying trauma.
Terry appeared with mandatory medical leave orders, recognizing symptoms that exceeded normal investigative fatigue while lacking context to understand their supernatural source.
Mandatory rest. Terry protecting me from myself.
"Terry's seen cops burn out before," Terry explained with characteristic warmth. "Terry knows what happens when good detectives push too hard for too long. Go home. Sleep. Come back when you're ready to be healthy."
Go home and replay crime scenes in perfect detail until morning.
Powers that were supposed to make me exceptional are destroying me piece by piece.
Walking home through Brooklyn evening air, Kole carried the weight of accumulated trauma that his enhanced memory refused to release or diminish. Every victim's fear, every criminal's desperation, every moment of violence preserved with mechanical precision that normal human consciousness wasn't designed to endure.
Perfect recall of imperfect humanity.
And no way to forget any of it.
His apartment felt like sanctuary and prison simultaneously—safe from external scrutiny but offering no escape from internal replaying of traumatic memories that his supernatural abilities had absorbed without mercy or restraint.
In darkness, his perfect memory replayed every traumatic image he could never forget.
Time to learn whether powers are gift or curse.
And whether I'm strong enough to survive the answer.
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