2012-07-20 You're Not In Trouble

The SHIELD office in the United Nations Building isn't terribly impressive. Well, it's nice and all, but it's not what you think of when you hear SHIELD. It looks like any other office really. Doug Ramsey put in an application as a UN Translator a little bit ago, but his background check turned up some things of interest. The results were passed on to SHIELD, who dug deeper and found someone useful.

He received a call yesterday, asking him to come in and meet with SHIELD Analyst Nancy Rushman. The red-head is seated in her small boxy office with her hair in a severe bun, and thick-black rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She looks rather plain Jane, almost no makeup, cardigan sweater over a blouse, tailored pants.

Mind you, 30 minutes ago she was the Black Widow, swinging around the city on a line and blasting badguys, and the name on the office was Bob Smythe before they swapped out the name plates. She waits patiently for Doug's arrival.

To his credit, Doug didn't take long to show up as requested -- but, well, he needs a job. Badly. A trip to Goodwill earlier in the week had managed to get him a halfway decent suit, though it wasn't quite the right size. Still. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

When Doug arrived and told the nice lady in the reception area his name, he was ushered up to what would normally be Mr. Smythe's office and told to go right in. With a polite smile and a nod, he still knocked first and waited for a response before letting himself in. Hopefully, it would be a nice, normal, smooth interview.

Riiiiight.

Nancy Rushman looks up from her (Well, Bob's) paperwork with a small smile. She rises and extends a hand over the desk for him to shake. "Mister Ramsey. A pleasure. I'm Nancy Rushman, and I'd like to talk to you about your UN Translator application," she says cheerfully. She gestures to a seat for him in front of her desk. "Can I get you some coffee or water?"

"Pleasure's mine, Miss Rushman," Doug replies with a smile, closing the door behind himself before quickly crossing the room to accept the offered handshake. He considers the question as he obediently slides into the seat. "Maybe some water, if it's no trouble."

The librarian-esque woman moves to a sideboard and plunks ice cubes from a bucket into a glass, setting it and a bottled water in front of him. "I will start by assuring you that you're not in any trouble," she begins, sitting back down. "There were a few, ah, inconsistencies in your application, and the UN asked SHIELD to double-check them. We found a death certificate for a Douglas Ramsey, who seems virtually identical to you?" She folds her hands on the desktop and stares at him through her glasses. "Care to explain?

Of course the lenses are feeding her other data, his body temperature changes, heart rate, etc, reflected on the one way glass.

The relief at having a nice, cold glass of water evaporates remarkably quickly. First, with mild confusion and a furrowing of his brow as she assures him that she isn't in trouble. He's... pretty sure that isn't standard job interview talk. Once she elaborates, though... yeah. That gets his pulse speeding up *right* quick, and for a moment, he resembles nothing more than a deer caught in a pair of oncoming headlights.

The water will wait for later. For now, Doug rapidly weighs his options before he holds up his hands, face contorting slightly in a wince. "It's... it's mine. I know it sounds crazy, but it is mine. It just..." He gestures at himself, awkwardly. "...stopped being quite so accurate."

"A normal place of employment would be looking to have you committed for that statement, Mister Ramsey," Nancy points out with a faint smile. "But this is SHIELD, and we've heard weirder things between Breakfast and Lunch on any given day." Like defrosted Super Soldiers, Asgardian Gods on Earth, and inventors with mini Arc reactors embedded in their chests. "So I'd like to hear your story. In exchange, SHIELD is interested in bringing you on as an Agent. Your language skills are extraordinary, and we think they can become more extraordinary with some training."

Doug Ramsey couldn't keep the surprise off of his face if he tried. Really? That was it? For once, words genuinely failed him.

*Now* Doug needs a quick sip of that water.

"First of all, thank you for not freaking out," Doug says with a quiet, nerve-tinged laugh. "You're the first person I've told. I can only really tell you about how I wound up with the certificate in the first place, though," he notes, frowning. This is something that clearly concerns him. "I honestly don't know how I'm sitting here talking to you right now. I wish I did." He thinks. Maybe. Probably.

"Stranger things have happened," Nancy notes. Like the fact he's sitting across a desk from an 87 year old Russian super spy legend who doesn't look like she's seen thirty yet. "But we find you interesting Mister Ramsey, so I'm listening."

This is also, upon reflection, the first time Doug's had to put the experience into words, and he has to figure out a way to do it without compromising the professor's school. This is a very, very strange day, and he literally doesn't even know the half of it. "I was with some classmates out in the city," he says slowly, and it's true enough. "One of them... well." He gestures to his face. "He had fins, someone took issue with it, and a fight broke out. I was trying to stay out of it, they were all a lot bigger than me, but I saw a gun, and... I guess my brain stopped working." He smiles ruefully. "I just remember trying to get between it and my friend. I guess I succeeded."

"That was a show of extreme courage, Mister Ramsey. You noted your friend had fins? Do you have any special qualities yourself?" Nancy asks, in a tone that hints that they may, or may not, already know what he can do. It may or may not be a bluff. Hard to tell with SHIELD. Sneaky bastards.

It is hard to tell with SHIELD. *Something* is niggling at the corner of Doug's mind as he watches her, but he can't tell if he's just imagining things. Still. He's taken enough stupid risks for one lifetime. He isn't sure he wants to add lying to the government's face to the list.

"Languages," Doug admits, his voice almost resigned. "That's all. I'm good with languages."

Nancy smiles. She likes it when they tell her the truth. Mind you, SHIELD will have to teach the boy how to lie lie lie for his job, but honesty at the beginning is a boon. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out an employment contract, with Doug's general info already filled out (the real stuff for the most part). It explains non-disclosure and clearance levels, needing to undergo a training period on the Helicarrier, and all that fun stuff, but there is also a rather nice paycheck number listed, and free room and board if he resides on the Argus. "Thank you, Mister Ramsey. This is our offer. Our only offer. If you agree and sign the contract, we'll have your space in the training program set up within 72 hours."

Doug isn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. Certainly not with that many zeroes. He has to actually pick the contract up and examine it more closely to make sure his vision isn't playing any tricks on him. "...wow. Do you have a pen on you?" he asks with an odd smile, looking over the contract to aim an odd smile at her. "This is... very, very generous."

A pen is offered before the question is even finished. "Your languages ability is astounding. You will be an invaluable asset to our intelligence and communications teams." Nancy is almost grinning now.

And no field work. Be still his beating heart. ...well, not literally. Doug is happy to take the pen and smooth the contract back out on the desk, taking a moment to make sure he's read the *important* parts more thoroughly. Nothing seems to bother him enough to prevent him from signing on the dotted line. "I'm happy to help however I can, especially with everything that's been happening lately. It's even scarier out there than it used to be."

"It truly is, Mister Ramsey. Soon to be Agent Ramsey," Nancy replies as she takes the contract and tucks it into a folder, then into a briefcase. A metal briefcase. "We'll send a flying car to come pick you up on Monday morning, 8 am. Bring a few changes of clothing and a few personal items. Everything else will be provided for you. Welcome to SHIELD."