Although the temperatures only drop come November, fall in Los Angeles is comfortable. The sun sets earlier, the mornings are crisp, and the air is-- usually tolerable. When you’re an agent, working in a stuffy facility and riding around in a transport truck all day, you learn to appreciate the outdoors.

Nate throws his car keys in the air and catches them as he walks towards the employee entrance. He glances at the main entrance and the sleek text above it; the Goddard Institute of Cybernetics has never been one to spare a dime on making a good impression on the public. They’re the heart of bionics on the West Coast and might as well be the head of ACA agencies, too. As the former head of mission communications, the shoes that Nate had to fill were big; but as fate would have it, the field has always been more his speed and it called his name sooner than later.

Nate wanders the corridors until he reaches the training center, where his colleagues are already sorting through files and getting ready for the day.

“I remember a day where you wouldn’t be caught dead clocking into work after your subordinates,” Reese says. She’s sitting with her back against the wall, receiving a small adjustment to her bionic arm. Her other arm lies flat on the table beside her, waiting to be reattached. Armless, she blows a brunette stand of hair out of her face.

“You’re not my subordinates.”

“Then how come you’re so bossy, anyway?”

Nate scoffs playfully. “Zion, did you get those plans I sent you?”

“Sure did.” Zion sets down the drill in his hand. He navigates to the other side and retaches Reese’s right arm, as well. “Alright, Reese, I think you’re good. Let me know if there’s any hiccups.”

Reese smiles and stretches her arms. She wheels her chair over to her desk, looking at the spreadsheet open on the computer. “Alright, boys, are we excited to train some underqualified agents in combat?”

Zion crosses his arms. “I’m shocked that Goddard even opened up their doors for this. Allowing a bunch of random kids to come in and train with us? Sounds like a shot in the dark to me.”

Nate slips off his jacket and equips his combat gear. He fixes his hair in the mirror and runs his fingers over the cybernetics that line the left side of his neck. After his injury years back, he’s been relatively unapologetic about the metal that covers a fifth of his face. Being an agent is his everything; a little bit of attention drawn to him is nothing compared to the work he does for his community. “Most of them aren’t random,” he says. “They’re a mix of new agents, academy graduates, competitive fighters... shouldn’t be too bad, but we have our work cut out for us.”

“Hey, Nate, there’s another kid on this roster with your last name.”

“Really? That’s funny. What’s the first name?”

Reese runs her finger along the screen. “Uh... Leonard.” She chuckles. “Who the hell names their kid Leonard anymore?”

Nate turns around. His eyes go wide and the color leaves his face.

“My dad.”