This one's set just after Maine and Caboose were taken to Project Freelancer and Silver is still settling in with her new team. This would make her about 23, and Nick and Tinu are 17.

Sniper Training

I sling the sniper rifle over my shoulder a little harder than intended, nearly smacking the side of my face. A few strands of hair hang in front of my eyes and I blow a puff of air toward them. The hair flies up and dances over my forehead for a second before settling back in front of my eyes. I growl slightly in frustration and reach up to roughly tuck the hair behind my ear.

"That hair still giving you a hard time?" a jovial voice calls from behind me.

I turn to face the taller boy. The scowl slowly fades from my face in light of his easy smile. "I swear, one of these days I'm just going to cut it all off" I answer.

"Oh, don't do that!" Tinu says from behind her partner, panic in her voice. "Your hair looks so pretty."

"Oh, please" I say, rolling my eyes. "It's bleach white. Makes me look like an old woman." I freeze as the words leave my lips. My eyes drift to Nick, years younger than me and yet somehow looking much older. I've never had the courage to ask him how he feels about the accelerated aging. I know I hate the idea that he has so much less time to live than the rest of us, but I don't know if it bothers him or not. I'm worried that my old woman comment will upset him.

Nick's smile grows even wider, if that's even possible. "Good. Now I'm not the only one who looks like I belong in a nursing home."

"You're not that old" Tinu says seriously, an uncharacteristic frown forming on her lips.

"Not yet" Nick corrects her. "Just you wait. In a few years, I'll be charging into battle in a wheelchair."

Tinu's eyes suddenly widen. "Oh. My. Gosh!" She says slowly, voice pitching higher on the last word. "You're going to lose all your hair! You have to let me style it again while you still have the chance."

"No no no" Nick says, backing away and holding out his hands defensively. "Never again. Not after last time."

"But you looked so cute" Tinu pouts.

"I did not look cute, I looked ridiculous" Nick counters.

Tinu folds her arms. "I think cornrows were a good look for you."

"They most certainly were not." Nick's hands are still raised, as though he expects he'll need to fend Tinu off to prevent more hair fiascos.

"Fine" Tinu finally says grumpily. "But one of these days you're going to give in, and me and my flat iron will be ready!" She then storms out of the training room.

I watch her leave before glancing at Nick. "You know, if we could redirect her passion for fashion toward combat training, she could probably kick all our butts."

Nick laughs briefly. "Was that on purpose?"

"Was what on purpose?"

"Passion for fashion" he repeats, emphasizing the rhyme.

I think about it for a second, then shake my head. "But Tinu would love it."

"That she would," Nick agrees. He looks at the rifle still balanced on my shoulder and reaches for it. "Now, let's see if I can help you with that aiming problem."