“Took you long enough,” Murphy mutters from the open doors of the transport truck. Tucked under his arm is a helmet with a tough shell on all sides, save for a goggles-shaped visor in front of the eyes. He tosses it at his colleague, who barely manages to grab onto it. Nate slips it over his head and flips up the visor for now.

“Just giving my regards to my cadet,” he says. Murphy slams the doors shut and knocks on the wall twice, signaling to Val in the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life and the truck speeds out of the lot.

“Our cadet,” Murphy adds.

“Oh, shit, I guess I’m forgetting something. I’m sorry, Agent, were you personally chosen by General Morales to oversee her training?”

A gentle shove into Nate’s shoulder gives him a laugh. Now’s as good as ever to keep spirits lifted. The briefing was pretty brutal; a small office building that withstood six decades of LA rain, heat, and earthquakes, finally reaching its limit on a Tuesday when it’s full of employees. If only it was a Sunday.

He presses down on his wrist. “Any new developments we should know about, Val?”

“They’re almost done evacuating the premises,” Val says from the front, “but it’s slowing down. Elevators stopped working a few minutes ago. Tristan and Murphy will go in and sweep the building for stragglers. Nate, you and I will handle the wounded on the ground.”

“Copy that, Rivera.”

“Did I ever tell you I almost went to school for architecture?” Tristan mentions, drumming his fingers on the helmet in his lap. “We watched a video about the dangers of structural failure and it gave me a good scare. The thought of being responsible for a building that crumbles was horrifying. Changed my major before the lecture was even over. Not like it mattered much, anyway.”

Murphy scoffs. “And being an agent is less scary?”

“I can be in control when I run in and rescue someone! Better to throw myself into danger than stand there and watch because all I do for a living is make blueprints and little 3D models.”

“My dad wanted me to study marketing,” Nate says. “Had this whole plan for me. Go to business school, graduate, find a girl, get married, give him a grandchild by thirty. Evidently, I have done none of those things.”

“You’re married to your work,” says Val.

“Funny, but that doesn’t quite count. Luckily, I don’t care what is or isn’t good enough for him.”

“The more you talk about your dad, Anastasio, the more I hate him. Almost as much as I hate Murphy’s mom.”

Murphy lets out a hoot and slaps Nate’s shoulder in his fit of laughter. “Nate’s dad versus Murphy’s mom. I’d pay to see that.”

His colleague is quick to poke fun at his lack of a bond with his parents; Nate, not so much. It’s still not quite water under the bridge for him yet. He leans his head against the shaky walls of the vehicle and lowers his visor.

Goddard taught Nate that he’s more than his lowest moments; passing that onto his cadet only feels right. Despite his persuasion, General Morales declined when he asked to bring Adya along on this mission. Her last experience of him in action was a bitter threat made to a bounty hunter, which paints an ugly picture in his mind. Resorting to pins and chokeholds is a strategy beneath him, but he can’t deny that it used to be the only strategy. Growing up on tough love tends to leave a mark.

The fact of the matter is that there have yet to be any reported fatalities-- only minor casualties. While Nate intends to keep it that way, General Morales insists that the latter is “a hell of a lot for a cadet to witness a month into her training”. He trusts her judgment, but worries when her statements are more concerned with the press than about his cadet’s experience. Just as much as Adya benefits from Goddard’s training, Goddard benefits from her presence in good press and public trust. Keeping her around is one thing-- making sure it’s not purely for company gain is another. She has no interest in becoming their picture-perfect poster child. Nate knows that much.

Val comes to a screeching halt and the engine goes quiet. Her helmet clicks into place on her head and she shoves open the trucks’ back doors. Dozens of rescue missions but the scene of a disaster never gets any less unpleasant to stomach.

It’s just as described in the briefing-- unstable, ready to all come crashing down with as much as the drop of a dime. The north side of the building is half as tall as the rest, now sitting in a pile of concrete and dust in the parking lot.

“Look alive, agents,” Nate says when he steps out of the truck, but it’s mostly just to himself. 

One of the employees nurses a small gash on his shoulder and tells Val that the inside looks worse than the outside. She pulls the med kit from her back and sets up in the back of the truck. A handful of EMTs are already on the scene, but they’re far outnumbered by the number of injured employees that have safely made it out of the wreckage already.

“Kauri, Murphy, head in!” she orders. The boys lower their visors and sprint through the front doors, disappearing among the rubble. 

Nate begins to bandage the small cuts and bloody gashes of the victims, doing his best to ease their trembling and assure them that everyone will get out safely. Against his better judgment, he tosses his helmet back into the truck and ties back his hair. If he’s not entering the building, he might as well make himself look less intimidating for the civilians' sakes. A quick smile can go a long way for someone who has no reason to feel hopeful.

“Sending three more out of the front. Old gentleman and two middle-aged women,” Tristan says through his wrist comm. Arms wrapped over each others’ shoulders, the group emerges from the broken front door. Two EMTs rush to their aid and guide them away, just in time-- another chunk of the building cracks off and crashes onto the existing pile of debris with a resounding crash.

“How many more, boys?” Val asks, rummaging through her med kit for more gauze. One of the EMTs tosses her a fresh package. Even if the relationship between agents and police officers (or what’s left of them) is… unkind, they can always count on medical and fire departments for a hand. Without any one of the emergency response groups on this scene, the injuries would be a lot worse than some bruises and cuts.

“Three coming out of the left door and two coming out of the right makes five. I think that’s it. We’ve swept all three floors and they’re the last we found,” Murphy answers. “Coming out now with them.” 

Tristan carries a young, unconscious man in his arms like he weighs nothing more than a sack of groceries. When he’s not relegated to being The Babysitter or The Negotiator between civilians and suspects, he’s the strongest muscle they have-- even without the bionic spine. He hands off the man to a group of medics on the far side of the building.

Another crash startles the victims scattered around the lot; the south side of the building has begun to cave in on itself. More chunks of the walls hit the ground and kick up dust. The last of the employees head for the medics as fast as they can manage.

Nate’s heart drops into his stomach when he looks up at the third floor. A woman pounds against the glass.

Murphy runs a nervous hand through his buzzed hair. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Can she break the glass and jump?”

“It’s too thick. I checked,” Tristan answers. “This building’s about to crumble no matter what we do. We need to figure something out, now.”

“Something that doesn’t involve doubling the casualties, please,” Val says. “We save as many people as we can, but--”

We can’t always save everyone. Val says it every time a threat gets too big to handle. But Nate’s already through the front door and heading for the stairwell. Against his better judgment (again), against Val’s instructions, and without a helmet.

He throws himself out of the door of the third floor and tries to keep his balance when navigating the shaky hallways. Occasionally, a chunk breaks off from the roof and he slips out of the line of fire as quickly as possible. “Tristan, I need you on top of that pile of rubble. I’m sending her to the north side of the second floor where the wall is open. Catch her when she jumps,” he orders.

“The fuck is the matter with you, Anastasio?” Murphy shouts. “You can’t make it before this whole thing turns to dust!”

“But she can.”

Nate reaches the corridor and grabs the woman by the arm. He spots a hole in the floor a few feet away, barely wide enough for her to fit through. Bracing himself against the wall, he holds her hands and asks if she can jump down to the floor below and make her exit. She wipes away the tears and nods.

Still grasping onto her hands, Nate lowers her through the hole until she lets go and drops to the second floor. She doesn’t waste a second in sprinting down the hall, where daylight floods in through the open wall.

“Tristan has her in his sights. Get out of there. That’s an order!” Val shouts. She’s not one to let her voice waver, but Nate can tell. He can always tell when someone’s holding on by a thread.

The walls rumble and the floor caves beneath him. He hits the ground with a resounding thud that shoots a sharp ache all through his body. The sound of crumbling concrete makes it almost impossible to hear his wrist comm.

He climbs to his feet and grips the shoulder he broke his fall with. “I don’t report to you. Sorry, Val.”

“Yes, you do! Nate!”

“Do me a favor when you get back: don’t be too hard on Adya. Tough love isn’t my style. Tell her that some things are bigger sacrifices than others.”

“You can’t be serious. You tell her yourself.”

The walls continue to crumble. A massive chunk of the concrete foundation breaks off above him and lands against his shoulder, cutting into his neck and jaw along with it. He cries out in hysterical pain and barely hears the rip of his uniform. Blood starts to pool down his chest, but within seconds, he stops feeling much of anything from the site of the impact. With the last of his strength, he manages to shove the boulder from his body.

“Train that kid well, you hear me?” he says through tears and gritted teeth. The spots begin to take over his vision. “She’s just like everyone, but she’s also like nothing you’ve seen before. There is nobody like her.”

A childhood of struggle led to an early adulthood of ignorance and violence. Nate never hesitates to admit that, in the grand scheme of things, he’s been a good man for only a fraction of his life. He was not born with the inclination to do good. His father bred him for chaos, competition, and success-- never compassion. But now, people look at him and see a hero-- even Adya, after only a month of knowing him. That’s all he could want.

The hallway collapses in on itself like a crushed soda can and his only exit becomes blocked. Even if he could stand, it wouldn’t mean anything. The shaking of the walls becomes too loud and the air becomes too thick with dust and debris. Murphy, Val and Tristan all shout at him through his wrist comm, but his hearing becomes distant. His sight follows and soon, everything simply feels far away.

He can only hope that Adya will pick up where he’s left off. He just wishes that he had a little more time to teach her how.