You wouldn’t expect a Tuesday night to be the busiest time of the week for a bar, but it seems like an eternity passes before the commotion finally dies down. It’s been countless years since I (willingly) went on a date; missions in which I had to extract information from someone by sweet-talking them don’t count. Neither does third wheeling behind Adya and Reese, who are sometimes so hopelessly in love that it gives me heartburn. As young agents, we did almost everything together. Adya as the brains, Reese as the spitfire who’d raise hell on anyone causing trouble, and myself as the token blonde gunslinger with a predisposition for being a smartass. We all come from vastly different walks of life but came together with one thing in common: a desire to protect the people. And a distaste for police officers, I suppose. Years of being playfully prodded as the Charlie’s Angels, the Three Musketeers, the Powerpuff Girls of our organization-- it all feels so far away now. It’s been almost two years since we were all in a briefing room together before an operation; that is, unless you count gathering in the kitchen and making our grocery list “coming together for a mission”. Good things come in threes, but good things never seem to last.

I’ve kept my heart guarded whether I like it or not. I like to tell myself it’s for my own protection, but truthfully, it’s because there’s already someone who’s managed to slip between my walls-- and I can’t find it within myself to kick her out, no matter how many other people I let in.

My date drums her short nails on the granite countertop of the bar, glancing at the ID shoved gingerly into the back of my phone case. “Sasha Colburn,” she reads. “I thought your name was Colby.”

“Some high school softball teammates shortened it to Colby, and it’s stuck ever since. I haven’t gone by Sasha in years,” I answer.

“How mysterious,” she jokes. I give her a gentle, playful slap on the shoulder. “You must be full of secrets, then. You were an agent, right? Got any fun stories of busting arms dealers or saving people from collapsing buildings?”

I had plenty of fun stories, working in a field where I was constantly meeting new people, but being an agent was never as glamorous as it seemed. On the surface, they were America’s saving grace; a law enforcement body built on a sturdy backbone of science, technology, and cybernetics. A progressive replacement for police officers. But beneath all of it was a political and logistical nightmare. It was the constant battle for government funding. It was watching innocent people die because you weren’t assigned to a mission. My job, along with the safety of millions of Americans, could vanish the moment the federal government snapped its fingers and decided it no longer wanted agents protecting the people. And eventually, it did.

I can see her gaze land on my hands as I compress and extend their bionic joints. The overhead light of the bar reflects off the metallic plating when you look from the right angle. “Oh. I didn’t mean to--”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I say. “I have plenty of stories-- including how I ended up with bionic hands. I’m just bummed that it all came to an end. Ten years is a long time to hold a dangerous job.”

She nestles her hand back into her dress pocket, fidgeting it idly. “What do you do now that you’re not an agent anymore?”

“I’m an office assistant. Nothing special. It gives me plenty of time to find myself again and reconnect with old friends.”

“‘Reconnecting with old friends’ sounds an awful lot like an ex. I hope that’s not why you’re on this date.”

I chuckle dryly. “It’s a bit of both.”

I can see her in my mind. Narrow, mellow eyes. A thousand piercings on both ears. A bionic arm built like a Swiss army knife. I hear the gentle footsteps of her boots, the teasing tone with which she’d call me by my first name, and the slight lowering of her voice when she spoke Spanish on the phone with her mother. When I gave up agent work for a year to run amuck around LA as a vigilante, Alondra and I were inseparable. She knew how to vanish like a ghost and keep herself off of anyone’s radar, and I knew how to hit a moving target from five hundred feet away. Somehow, I can’t stay away from teamwork, whether I’m one of three Musketeers or the Bonnie to someone’s Clyde. Had she said the word, I would’ve postponed my return to being an agent indefinitely. I wanted everything to do with her.

“What was her name?” she asks.

“It’s not really important, honestly. I’m on this date to move on from that, right?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t mind. Does she have a nickname like you?”

The fidgeting in her pocket becomes too obvious to ignore. I narrow my gaze and insist that, again, my ex’s name isn’t important. She continues to pry for an answer. Her tone just barely tiptoes off the edge of nosiness, bordering into territory that makes me suspicious of her intentions.

Familiar footsteps creep up from behind and leans over her shoulder. The woman’s right hand gently pulls my date’s hand from her dress pocket and a slender device with a button on the top clatters to the floor. In the woman’s metallic left hand holds a pocket knife, slowly digging into my date’s side.

“Two centimeters deeper with this blade and it’ll cut into some very vital parts of your body,” she mutters into her ear. “It will be slow, it will be painful, but it won’t kill you. You’ll almost bleed out, but not quite. That’s a hell of a mess to make for these underpaid bartenders.” She stiffens as the woman’s blade edges closer. “I suggest you tell your boss that your date stood you up. Maybe even pick up a different target. I don’t take too kindly to bounty hunters.”

My date grabs her jacket and, even in heels, practically sprints out of the bar. I hardly even pay attention to her footsteps as they fade away; my gaze is fixed in front of me. Alondra’s wry grin is just as I remember it. “It’s been a long time,” she says.

“Since we last saw each other or since someone’s been after you?” I ask.

“Both.”

“Why the hell are you here? You live two hours out from LA.”

“I got a call.” Alondra nods towards the back exit of the bar. Adya and Reese chat among themselves, but flash a quick gaze in my direction. “They did some digging about your date. She’s a bounty hunter who goes after people with expensive bionics. Both of us are on her radar.”

I lean around Alondra and stare at Adya. You stalked my date? I mouth.

You’re welcome! Adya mouths back, holding two thumbs up and smiling broadly. Even as a grown adult, she can’t help but mother anyone she’s close to. Ever the nurturer by nature. I toss a twenty onto the bar, push in my chair, and head out with Alondra, Adya, and Reese. The small chain from Alondra’s helix to her ear lobe swings gently with every step she takes. Her short curls bounce around them. “What kind of an issue warrants dragging Alondra all the way to LA?”

“She runs a sanctuary city for people with unregistered bionics. If she’s on someone’s radar, that means that dozens of other innocent people are, too,” explains Reese. “The cops aren’t gonna bother. They don’t know a thing about handling cybernetics related crime. Keeping people safe might not be our job anymore, but it is our responsibility.”

“I take a lot of risks doing what I do, but it’s never gotten my friends involved before,” Alondra continues. “I can’t afford to relocate, and I can’t afford to let some bounty hunters keep endangering people just trying to get by. If there’s a price over my head, someone can claim it by going after me. Not by going after the people I care about.”

I’m still processing the fact that Adya and Reese stalked my date online after I left for work this morning, managed to dig up some information, and called Alondra. Even as we edge into our thirties, only they would go to such lengths to keep me safe. If I didn’t just almost bring home a bounty hunter, I would’ve called this situation endearing.

Alondra stops me a few feet away from Adya and Reese, who climb into their car. Her silver fingers delicately hold onto my own. “We don’t mean to drag you into this mess if you’re trying to move on from agent work. But there’s nobody I trust more than you,” she mentions. “A whole lot of people are at risk if these bounty hunters keep trying to get their hands on valuable technology.”

“I did keep your existence a secret from Adya and Reese for almost three years after we split,” I say. “I think I could use a victory lap.”

Alondra smiles. It’s like a breath of crisp, dry air on a rainy day-- you don’t realize you’ve missed it until it’s staring right at you.

We slip into the backseat of Adya’s car. The quiet hum of its engine only fills the atmosphere briefly, before Reese turns up the radio and grins at me through the rearview mirror. Good things that come in threes always come to an end. But, just this once, maybe I can luck out with four.