Mondays are for close-quarters combat training. Tuesdays are for target practice. Wednesdays are for agility courses. Thursdays are for deescalation lessons and medical aid. On Fridays, Adya can choose whatever she wants and then spend the afternoon on her own time. A month of Val’s cookie-cutter schedule and it’s pretty much drilled into her head. She’s organized, but not painfully strict-- Adya has learned that much now that their time together is much more frequent. 

She throws her body over a four-foot-tall mat in the middle of the room, following out with a leap up to a ten-foot platform attached to the wall. Rapidly, it drops altitude and sends her over the edge. She grabs onto the rungs beneath to avoid the fall.

“Be aggressive,” orders Val from the floor. “Your body can take harder hits. Use it.”

If anything is nice about having a bionic body, it’s the pain tolerance. Adya keeps hers within a reasonable range, but acts of force are far less of an issue when that range is completely in her control. Walking away from a twenty-foot fall unscathed certainly comes in handy.

She lets go and rolls out of the fall once she hits the ground. The rest of the course winds around the room, consisting of short mats on the floor and platforms that unfold from the wall. Adya sidesteps between a set of mats arranged in a staircase, and with a resounding grunt, leaps off the last one and barely latches onto the edge of a wall platform. She hurls herself onto it and lies on her back-- not breathless, but still tired.

“Come on, Cadet, this is only your first run!”

Adya leans back and hangs her head upside-down off the edge of the platform. “Well, you’ll have to forgive if my joints are starting to rust,” she mutters.

Val looks up. “That can happen?”

“No! Titanium is rust resistant! You have two bionic arms. You should know this--”

Adya yelps as the platform drops another two feet. She winces when her back slams against the metal. Unscathed falls aren’t necessarily painless falls.

“That’s not fair!”

“No fight ever really is. But if you don’t want it to get more unfair, don’t get smart with me. Keep going.”

Adya rolls her legs over her head, throwing her body into a crouch on the ground. She pounces up to the first of a long row of mats that stretch further across the room. Her footwork stays light beneath her heavy body, which she’s still getting used to throwing around recklessly in the name of combat. Learning how to chase someone down is a far cry from learning how to walk again.

“Toss me your gun,” she says after a long pause on the highest wall platform. Val hurls the gun up to Adya on the platform and she flicks the safety off. “What’s the range on this thing?”

“About sixty feet,” Val answers.

Taking aim, Adya eyes a dummy pressed up against the back wall. “I’ll take those odds.”

Two whirring shots dissolve into a dark, ashy paste against the dummy’s chest. It rocks back and forth, only dancing with the thought of falling over.

“The farther your distance, the less effective a shock round will be,” explains Val. “If that was a real target, they’d only be out for a minute, tops.”

“Plenty of time to get down there and hit them with another round.”

Adya leaps down to the floor and hands the pistol back. Val’s hand sits on the barrel for a long while when she meets her gaze. “Don’t get cocky, Adya. Pulling a trigger is always a last resort-- nonlethal or otherwise. Just because shock rounds won’t leave a scar, doesn’t mean they won’t hurt. Your entire purpose as an agent is to keep that hurt to a minimum. Understand, Cadet?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Her wrist comm chimes and blinks rapidly. After only one run of the course, she insists that they take a break and get some fresh air. Adya pulls her worn sweatshirt over her tank top and wanders out, knowing better than to say no to a lieutenant.

“She’s keeping me on a pretty short leash,” Adya says, starfished across the grass and running an arm up and down over the earth. “Weekly schedule, and very few breaks since I don’t have to worry about eating, or hydrating, or... breathing.”

“She keeps everyone on a short leash. Even me,” Nate says from the bench. “That’s the reason anything gets done. She even brought me my wrist comm so I could stay in the loop.”

The sun catches the metal plating against his neck and jaw just right, sending a glare into his own eyes. He scoots over to the shaded side of the bench. His days of wandering around without a shirt are over now that his scars have healed enough and his damaged nerves have begun to acclimate to the bionics. Occasionally, the thin chain around his neck will emit a soft, metallic swish when it rubs against the plating. For once, he pulls it out and lets the cross pendant rest over his shirt instead of under.

“I didn’t know you were Catholic,” Adya says.

“I’m not. My mom is,” explains Nate, “and I was baptized but that’s about it. I like faith, but not religion. Needing something to believe in has kind of become my Achilles’ heel.” He tucks the chain back under his tee. “I meant to tell you this before I went under for the surgery, but I never got the chance. I know I kind of… dumped my life story onto you, and it doesn’t exactly inspire trust.”

“Nate.”

“Getting hurt didn’t exactly help, either. In hindsight, it was reckless, but I think that me from three years ago would’ve been too selfish to do it. If you have doubts about your training because of everything that’s happened in the past two months, I don’t blame you. But I can promise you--”

Adya grabs his wrist and shakes around his rapidly blinking wrist comm. “Nate!”

He turns up the volume, holding it up to his ear. On one end is a young voice, winded. On the other, an older woman with a stiffness-- almost a bite-- to her words.

“There are still civilians in the building, but the suspect is getting away, Lieutenant!” he shouts through heavy breaths. 

The comms lieutenant lets out a huff of frustration. “Follow them. Let the police handle the victims and get their testimonies. Ball’s in their court now.”

“But some of them got injured in the break-in. They need medical attention. We can send a squad--”

“That’s an order, Agent. We’re not losing this guy again.”

Adya whips her head around and lets the conversation cycle in her head. “People are hurt and they’re not gonna send another squad?”

Nate’s hands fold in his lap. “Some lieutenants prioritize certain things more than others. Either way, they’re the ones giving orders. The agents know better than to defy them.”

“That’s a lot of talk coming from the guy who ran into a crumbling building against Val’s orders,” she says scornfully. 

“And you should heed my advice and never do that,” he responds with a broad gesture across his neck.

“Nate, this is different! This isn’t a sudden catastrophe. This is people sitting around a building, waiting for help that’s never gonna come. That doesn’t bother you?”

Bowing his head, he chews on the inside of his cheek and groans into his own chest. “I’m grounded. I also haven’t trained in over a month. I can’t really offer much.”

“I can.”

He raises a finger; as his brow furrows into disbelief, a smile grows across his cadet’s face. He comes closer and closer to admitting that Adya is right, but the words never quite make it out of his mouth. She may be a good listener, but the one person she listens to best is herself.

Nate groans. “Take my wrist comm and my car and stay out of sight. I’ll be in touch. Drive smart, please. I just got my engine fixed.”

“What do you mean, you’ll be in touch?” she asks, brushing the dirt from her pants and snapping the comm around her wrist. The elastic band sits comfortably, but still a little loose from years of being stretched over the hand. She twirls his keys around a finger.

Nate huffs out a breath and slowly rises to his feet, careful not to move faster than he can handle. “What kind of mentor would I be if I let you make a stupid decision by yourself?” he says, at last producing a grin that matches Adya’s.