2012-07-26 Proper Introductions

Natasha Romanoff, or Nancy Rushman, or the Black Widow depending on how she introduced herself to various trainees, is in the gym facility, trying to finish the workout she was interrupted during by the unplanned MojOlympics trip last night. She is working on the heavy bag, her hands taped, feet bare, delivering strikes and kicks to the red-leather covered piece of equipment. It's heavier than the average bag, to compensate for her peak strength.

Doug Ramsey was just happy to have escaped the MojOlympics relatively unscathed, and (as far as he knew) unrecognized by his old friends. To be fair, he *is* sporting a mild black eye when he arrives for his morning's workout, but that wasn't Mojo's fault. It was his own for not ducking when another agent's foot was coming at him.

He's still probably too friendly for his own good. He offers a "Good morning," towards Natasha while he settles in to stretch, knowing at least enough that being limber and loose *before* getting to work is a good idea.

"Agent Ramsey, good morning," Natasha replies. "You should put something on that eye, you know. It'll require a lot of makeup for when you go through your crash course in undercover work. Physical marks are a liability." She is teasing, but it's hard to tell. WHAM! She punches the bag, it shudders.

"Is it really that bad?" Doug asks with a wince. Of course, once he winces, the black eye makes itself a bit more obviously known to him due to the movement. Okay, ow, yes. It's really that bad. "...yeah, I should probably find some ice. Do you think they're going to want me in the field a lot, though?" He's a bit nervous by that prospect, but, well. His history with field work has some pretty major red marks in it, like a death certificate.

"Not likely, but it's not always a choice, like this Mojo thing," Natasha points out with a faint smirk. "So it's best if you get your full training. One never knows when Godzilla will try to flatten New York and it will be all hands or deck or something like that." WHAM! SMACK! BOOM!

Doug makes a quiet, thoughtful noise. "Good point. I'm sorry about that, by the way," he adds, taking a quick look around before he heads for a punching bag of his own. As much as he might like to run (there's a shocker), he's enjoying the socialization. "I mean, I know it wasn't my fault or anything, but still. It wasn't pleasant the first time, so I'm sorry you had to get stuck with it, too."

"It's not the strangest thing to have happened to me," Natasha snorts. "I'll tell you about Budapest sometime. But otherwise, you handled yourself well last night. Have you had teamwork training before?" He took orders very well and worked with her equally well.

"Sort of. I'd like to think I'm just good at recognizing when somebody's better at something than I am," Doug replies with a sheepish smile, squaring off against his own bag. The punches are slow and light, at first, and his form's definitely not as crisp as Natasha's is -- but he's clearly been in fights before, and he gradually works his way up to stronger, more powerful blows. "It would be silly not to follow your lead when you're more experienced. It's good training," he adds, allowing himself a quick grin.

Doug hasn't had 70 years of training, so he can be forgiven for not being at Natasha's level. "I wish more trainees had that kind of common sense," she quips. She glances over at him, before moving to steady the bag for him. "Keep your guard up a little higher. Your brain is your best weapon, don't let some one rattle in around in your skull, hm?"

Doug is paying enough attention to stop long enough for Natasha to get arranged with the bag, smiling gratefully. He glances down at himself before bringing his hands up a bit, giving her a questioning look to make sure he has them up far enough before throwing another punch. "Is this better? I'm sure I'll get my head settled soon, everything is still pretty weird. I'll get it."

Natasha nods in approval at the higher guard stance and watches his form with a discerning eye. "You're well ahead of the curve for the current class. I fully expect you to be named the team lead for the trainees by week's end. You and Iron Lad had the top scores on the written tests." That's public knowledge of course, they were posted outside the training facility last night.

That doesn't make the surprise on Doug's face any less genuine. He's not used to being on that end of the totem pole in a team situation. "Huh... if I am, I'll do my best," he promises. "I've never actually done something like that before."

"I'll be putting in my recommendation for you," Natasha explains, "Based on your calm and control during very bizarre circumstances last evening. I can't vouch for you from the prior one, as I wasn't there of course." She smiles. "I think you could actually do good work in the field, as well as with your translation skills. A cool head in the midst of chaos cannot be given enough value."

Doug isn't sure *why* this strikes him as such an important vote of confidence, but it does, and his lips twitch up into a quirky smile. "Thank you. If you think I could handle it, you're probably right," he admits. There was no sense in trusting her in the field if he couldn't trust her back here, after all.

"I should probably introduce myself more formally to you, Douglas," the woman says, stilling the bag, and offering him a hand. "Agent Natasha Romanoff, Field Name, Black Widow."

Oh. That's why it was such an important vote of confidence. Doug is clearly familiar with the field name, considering his stunned expression, but his hand reaches out to take hers despite the fact that his brain is clearly in the middle of a reboot. "...buh. Seriously? You're. You're serious."

"I am serious, yes," Natasha confirms, looking amused. "I take it you've heard of me. Nancy is the identity I employ for less combative official SHIELD duties, like observing and interviewing people whose background checks get flagged for having been deceased." She shakes his hand and releases it without any crushing or the like.

It's okay, Doug is still so stunned that she probably could have broken his fingers and he wouldn't have noticed. "I have. There are people who haven't?" Next thing she's gonna tell him there are people who don't like Firefly. What kinda nonsense is that? He gives his head a quick, firm shake to reorder it and drops his hand back to his side. "...now I'm *really* under no pressure not to disappoint, huh?"

"Pressure seems to suit you, Agent Ramsey, so I wouldn't stress too hard over it," Natasha notes calmly. "I think, in fact, you might have some talent for under cover work. With your languages ability and some training in disguise and acting, you could pass for any nationality." She folds her arms over her chest and gestures to a bench, moving to settle on one end of it. "How would you feel about that?"

Doug tilts his head slightly to one side, considering it. "As much as I like the idea of hiding up here in front of a row of computers," he says slowly, "It does seem like it would be a waste not to at least try. Finding out if I take to the training wouldn't hurt anybody."

"Excellent. We'll see how the rest of your training goes, Agent Ramsey," Natasha says as she unwraps her hands. "If you have any questions, feel free to contact me. I will be happy to assist."

"Y-yes'm." Oh, good, Doug stammered. It makes him wince, which just reminds him of his black eye all over again. "And I... am going to go find that ice," he says with a defeated sigh, lightly resting a hand over his eye before turning towards the locker rooms. There's bound to be some in there somewhere.