The Training Begins


gwen_icon.gif hugh_icon.gif rami_icon.gif

Scene Title The Training Begins
Synopsis Three members of the newly-formed Company arm of the Kill Squad chat while in the gym.
Date December 30, 2008

Primatech Research: Gym

So it's been a rather exhausting day. Mental and physical drills the likes of which Rami hasn't experienced in years. Their taskmaster has left and so have the other agents, leaving him with the couple. Despite how hard they just worked, his adrenaline's still pumping, so he's working it out on a speed bag. He's wearing the Company-issue gray sweat pants and a black tank top that hangs off his slim, but muscled frame. His is deceptive strength.

The former Agent Petrelli once made the mistake of perceiving Gwendolyn as bookish. Of course, five minutes later they were assaulted by Jessica, and Gwendolyn had managed to put the powerhouse of strength on her knees. The hours of training they've just endured has revealed Wickham the Missus as being a rather savvy pressure point fighter. It explains a lot. At the moment though, she's seated in lotus on one of the mats, eyes half lidded as she watches the others. She too is clad in the Company issue sweatpants and tank top. It looks better on her. Just saying.

Hugh is slugging away at one of the heavy bags, though he's obviously gauging Remy's performance with the occasional sidelong glance. ANd it does. She's not a bizarre shade of pink with her exertion, now, unlike her darling husband. "So, what's your background?" he wonders of the other male Agent, bluff and amiable.

Rami's form is crisp and precise. There's no sloppiness to the methodical way that he beats the speed bag. His breath is even, his gaze steely and focused. He gives the bag one last slap, then glances sidelong to Hugh. "CIA. Counterterrorism." He flashes a white-toothed smile. Any more than that is classified, like so much of their backgrounds. He glances Gwen's way, but doesn't interrupt her meditation. Your wife tells me you were both MI-6."

"No, no." Gwen's tone is mild and smooth. "Just myself. Hugh was SAS." She remains in her lotus position, though her eyes open more fully as turns her head and considers the pair.

"Aye, she's the brains, I'm the brawn," he says, all but simpering at Gwen. Please, let him be joking, because otherwise that is utterly sappy. Not that Hugh is in any way sentimental, oh, no, not at all.

Rami just quirks a brow and forms a half-smile at that. He rubs his hands and then starts to unwrap them. "So. What do you think about this whole thing, mm? I think it's about bloody time we have this authority. We, in gneeral. I don't mean it in a selfish sense. Though I'm quite happy to be doing what I'm good at again. Bagging and tagging requires…so much politeness."

"B and T has its amusement." Gwen says. "It's something more subtle than a fox hunt. It certainly had its moments. I'm more interested in seeing how we interact with these various government agencies. Such things tend to be sticky with Americans. They're full of piss and vinegar."

Hugh looks utterly satisfied. "I think it's going to be fun," he says, bluntly. Cue the line about Hugh being recognized for having a funny sense of fun.

Rami steps over to pick up a bottle of water. He takes a swig. "I admit I still get a sick delight in flashing a badge at the bastards from Homeland Security who try to ethnically profile me." He grins and shakes his head. "I welcome a higher security clearance. After five years of the same routine, bombs and such notwithstanding, I could use a change of pace. I do warn that I'm not quite used to being a team player. I'm not resistant to the idea, I'm simply not accustomed to it."

"Adaptation is the key to survival." Gwen supplies with serene pithiness. "It's not always easy. You'll see how you take to it. Trust does take time to develop, both in partnerships and in teams. It can be very satisfying if one allows it." The corner of her mouth turns up in a smile. "It can lead to unexpected rewards."

"That's alright. The SAS is like a herd of cats. Rampant individualists who have to work together like clockwork. You'll do grand," Hugh assures him, but he nods at the idea . "Yeah. I'll be very happy to have a Do Whatever I Want and Get Away With IT Badge," he adds, with relish.

"I learned to be self-sufficient. The kind of work I did was the kind that governments deny if you're caught. And likely executed for it. I rarely had any back-up on my ops. It…takes some doing to break that and go back to having people watch your back." Rami swallows another mouthful of water and regards them both. "But at least I've a pair of countrymen to do it."

Gwendolyn's grin is outright Cheshire. "Well, you're very - how do the Americans say? 'Butch'. If you're that tough, you'll have no problem adapting. If you like, we can play lovely trust games, like the one where you stand on a table and fall backward while trusting everyone to catch you." Gwen's sarcasm, it is a subtle thing.

Hugh folds his lips like a muppet, trying not to snicker at his wife. "We'll keep you safe, hold your hand when you cross the street, make sure your dentures don't fall out," he says, all innocence.

"Oh. Well I can see I am going to be hazed by you lot now, aren't I? It's no fair two on one like this." A lazy smirk trots across Rami's lips. "It's was a necessity of the job. That, and I'm quite certain I was expendable if it came down to it." He chuckles roughly.

"We're all expendable." says Gwendolyn with the serenity of a tulku. "It's the first lesson we learn. But your former job is just that - former. Instead of looking back at ways that made you individual, look toward finding means to learn to work with a group."

Hugh pff. "No, not necessary. And well, we do what we must, but I don't think the Company expends resources lightly, huh?" he suggests, tilting his head a little.

"Well aren't you the pep talking mum," says Rami with a hint of good-natured teasing in his tone. "I didn't say I wasn't looking forward to it or was resisting it. I'm simply letting you know where I'm coming from. I am a quick learner, Mrs Wickham. And I have a feeling our taskmaster will beat trust of each other into us whether we want it or not."

"Bite your tongue. If Hugh and I ever decide to breed, I can assure you there will be a veritable army of nannies involved." Gwen snorts delicately. "And you do have a point. They'll make us a team if we appear deficient in forging it ourselves. So why not jump the gun on that score?"

"They'd have to be some tough nannies, to deal with our spawn," hugh says, amused at hte idea. "WE understand, though. We won't expect too much of you, too soon," he says, wandering over to clap Rami on the shoulder.

"Well, I might know some former Farm instructors who would be looking for a challenge," drawls Rami. That was a compliment, really! Formidable spawn. "I've no doubt they're going to make us study up on each other, but the short history on me is that my speciality is anything that fires a projectile." He grabs a towel and swabs off his face. "That and undercover work."

"I was swiped up from university." Gwen replies. "I'm a polyglot. They got the idea that it make me good agent material."

Hugh beams at Rami. "A man after my own heart. Scout/sniper and commando, here," he says, thumping himself on the chest with a fist. Me caveman.

Rami's no caveman. In fact, he looks like a good stiff wind might blow him over, especially with the tank top hanging off his narrow shoulders and whipchord thin frame. His height only accentuates his build. "Well then. It seems we'll get along fine. I've no doubt Sabra chose us for that reason."

"Likely." Gwen admits. "But she's also considering Bryan and Elle. Bryan's quite thorough. Elle is…" she trails off, "Very enthusiastic."

Hugh slants a look at Gwen. "She's ….unstable," he says, with uncharacteristic hesitation.

"There seems to be too much at stake for Sabra to put someone to this task whom she couldn't control, even if she is unstable." Rami swabs his face, then swigs back the last of the water. "Well, I'm off to hit the showers. I'm sure I'll see you both soon enough. And here's hoping that this isn't a strain on either of you." Or their marraige.

Gwendolyn blinks. "I hope it's not a strain on you." she counters. "Hugh and I met on a mission. Be careful, or we'll subject you to the whole winding tale of our romance. It includes visual aids. We carry our wedding pictures around."

"We're really quite disgusting," Hugh says, with the saccharine grin of the happily married.

"Oh, please. I'd rather not. I'm a hollow shell of a man and other peoples' happiness burns me," though Rami smiles through that and there's a twinkle in his eye, there seems to be a touch of truth there. "Good evening to you both." And then he's headed for the door and out towards the showers.

December 30th: Reminisces Over Cocoa
December 30th: Batten Upon Lambs
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