Waking up would’ve almost been peaceful if Reese didn’t burst through the door and yank Adya’s charging port from her neck. She jolts upright with wide eyes, almost throwing a fist out to the side and punching a hole in the drywall. That’d be a hell of a story to explain to the neighbors upstairs.

Adya lets her body relax and buries her face in her hands. “You are going to be the death of me,” she mutters. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Come downstairs, right now. You have to see this.” Reese responds. Her girlfriend glares at how awake she sounds at eight in the morning. Nevertheless, she stretches her metal joints and stumbles down into the living room. You couldn’t tune out the reporter on the TV if you tried-- Reese has the volume deafeningly loud, but Adya blames it on her ears still adjusting to the abrupt awakening. This better be good, Adya thinks.

A shot of an amphitheatre packed with people fades into a closeup of a young man in an army uniform waving to the crowd. He stands with square posture and even blows a kiss or two to the crowd. Adya looks at her hands, then his. She notices the suggestion of a seam on his skin, much less conspicuous than her own.

“The American Cybernetics Association has introduced their newest diplomat: A young, Texas native with a bright smile and a knack for being on center stage,” the reporter goes on. “Casper Sable qualified for the mind transfer program and had his conscience successfully uploaded to his bionic body seven years ago; since then, he’s served with the US Army on countless successful missions.”

Adya groans. “You woke me up for some military propaganda?” she asks.

“Keep listening,” says Reese.

The screen fades to Casper, now in a sleek uniform with a stiff, white collar, standing at the end of a long row of others dressed the same. He salutes the commander with a hand over his chest and a casual grin.

“It looks like Adya Prisham may have some competition,” the reporter jokes.

“For those of you new to the world of bionics, Adya Milana Prisham became the first human conscience in a bionic body almost a decade ago,” her cohost continues after a light chuckle. “She’s been serving as an agent for the Goddard Institute of Cybernetics in Los Angeles, but recently stepped back from field work. Whether or not it’s a permanent decision remains to be seen. One thing’s for sure, though: the ACA is eager to put a fresh, new face out into the field. And this time, the field isn’t just LA-- it’s the whole world.”

“Corporal Casper Sable is now Agent Casper Sable. With his newly recognized status, the Sovereign Agent Program has recruited him to be a diplomat and a protector for communities all across the world. Truly an honor, isn’t it?”

Adya slumps back against the couch with a furrowed brow. She makes one change to her work, and the ACA has the gall to sideline her. All for a pretty white boy in uniform. It’s almost laughable, but her fists ball in her lap.

“The people need someone new, and putting him on the international stage will put vigor in the world of cybernetics that hasn’t been seen since the days of Adya Prisham.”

“They’re talking about me like I’m dead!” she shouts.

Reese shoots up from the couch and paces to the kitchen, downing what’s left of a cup of coffee on the counter. Her metal hands slap against the granite. “You busted your ass to be here,” she spits. “To come to the US, to become an agent, to be a role model-- not a celebrity, a role model. And the moment you make one personal decision, they decide to throw you out for some… bootlicking country boy with a big ego!”

Adya slips an arm over her girlfriend’s shoulders, insisting that they relax. Only a little bit of the tension subsides.

“You and I have both met sovereign agents,” Reese continues. “They’re recruited to be international peacekeepers not because of what they do, but who they are. He didn’t earn that title; they gave it to him so that their pretty poster boy isn’t just some kid in uniform, driving around in a humvee.”

“Easy, babe,” Adya says with a gentle squeeze around her waist. “You don’t get to be more mad about this than I am. Trust me, I’m not gonna let anyone sideline me. Just because I’m not a field agent anymore doesn’t mean I don’t have a voice in the ACA.”

The front door flies open, crashing into the wall behind it. Reese instinctively dives in front of Adya and raises her fists. They don’t stay up for long when the blonde woman in front of her, motorcycle helmet tucked beneath her arm, meets her eyeline.

“You could’ve fucking knocked, Caelius!”

“Too early for a little breaking and entering? To each their own, I guess.” Caelius shrugs and tosses her keys and her helmet onto the counter. She shoves Reese out of the way and throws a gentle fist into Adya’s chest. “You better not just let this happen, Prisham. This kid is gonna give you and me a bad name, right when things were starting to mellow out for people with bionics. I almost don’t feel like a walking freak when I tell people what I am, but now, I’m just gonna feel like a pretentious asshole.”

“You are a pretentious asshole! You and I could not be more different. I’m not about to have this conversation with the mercenary who tried to kill me all those years ago.”

“I think you are. It’d be rude to throw out a guest, wouldn’t it?”

She turns to Reese, who now stands on top of the stairs. “You invited Caelius over?” Adya asks, a look of bewilderment passing over her face.

“You’re both mind transfers and you both hate this guy. If I know anything about either of you, it’s that you don’t like other people defining who you are. The enemy of your enemy is your friend.” She disappears into the bathroom, leaving Adya and Caelius to their own devices in the kitchen like two bulls in a pen. Adya swats her hand away and retires to the couch, still grimacing at a term like friend being in the same context as Caelius.

“Sable will want to meet you,” Caelius mentions. She reaches for the remote to mute the TV as the reporter continues babbling on about mind transfers. “Now that the news has branded him as your replacement, he’s gonna want to talk about it with you. What it means to be ‘the face of bionics’, or whatever it is he’s trying to do.”

She scoffs. “What, so I can pass him the baton? I’m not even on my victory lap yet. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“The ACA might not give you a choice.”

Adya rests her chin in her hand and does the mental gymnastics. “This how you saw me five years ago, isn’t it?” she asks. “Just some pretty face, putting the ACA on a pedestal and doing interviews for magazines. Now, I understand.”

Caelius nods. “I was also a wanted fugitive. And a criminal. And absolutely fucking pissed every minute of the day. That definitely amplified it. But I’m not paying you a visit to reflect on my past.”

“Wow. I gave you the opportunity to talk about how much you hated me, and you didn’t take it. You must really hate this guy.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Agent.” She produces a sly, charming smile that’s gone as fast as it appears. “Meet with this guy and propose that you two team up for a few weeks. Keep him in the US for as long as possible while I get some dirt on him and figure out what he’s up to.”

Adya folds into herself, head hanging between her knees. “Caelius, you are not going to sabotage this man’s career!” she yells.

“I don’t plan on it!” she responds. “I sure would like to, though. Sable is pouring gasoline on a fire that was already out of control. The ACA’s new poster boy is an army vet with the best bionics money can buy and a title he doesn’t deserve. But he has no conviction. No humility. He can smile and wave and throw a punch, but that’s it. I would not put it past him to be taking orders from someone with an agenda that both you and I won’t like.”

She almost sounds… intimidated by him. Just as much as his personality is laughable to her, there’s a sense of ambition to her words. A chill slips down Adya’s spine. Charlotte Caelius, the once ambivalent bounty hunter who wanted to reduce Adya to scrap metal for a quick profit, now worrying about someone’s lack of humility. She doesn’t doubt it for a second after her first impression of Casper Sable, but her eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”

“He was part of a sample group of a hundred volunteers being evaluated for the mind transfer program,” she explains. “Ten passed the test, but only two ended up going through with the procedure.”

“Him and who else?”

Caelius clasps her hands together, elbows leaning against the armchair in front of her.

“Me.”