12720/Full Metal Phobos

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Full Metal Phobos
Date of Scene: 08 February 2021
Location: Athletics Area, The Triskelion
Synopsis: Alexander shows he is super awesome and Nat is a jerk to him.
Cast of Characters: Phobos, Black Widow (Romanoff)




Phobos has posed:
Some time ago.

"Are you sure that's all it takes?"

The words were quiet, curious, with that tinge of skeptical inquisitiveness that is brought along when someone isn't entirely sure whether or not they believe the person they're speaking with. In the past that tone of voice might have been enough for her to rail and raise her voice, to threaten the speaker with such vengeance and the denial of blessing that no few artists in the past had quailed and begged her forgiveness. Though in modern times, she rarely got visitors these days who wanted to speak with her about her past and her talents. And almost all of them had that skeptical tone.

"Yes," Clio said, making a face as she turned her head away from the monitor. The back room in the used book store was dimly lit, piles of Harlequin Romance Novels were falling out of old cardboard boxes. Mack Bolan books were tossed willy nilly into a plastic container, and there was certainly no shortage of old Encyclopedia Brittanicas that hadn't been opened in long long years. "I don't give you shit when you terrify puppies or school children, don't give me shit when I work my wonders with information and history. Alright?"

The Muse was older than the youth who was there. Alexander Aaron, son of Ares, and the new Phobos had just returned from his time with his father. The long adventure that had taken much from them both. But had also given much as well. Such as the young demi-god's ascension to his new role.

"I was just asking. You know with all the weirdness. I don't wanna mess this up." The tall blonde young man looked to the side in that dim back room, meeting Clio's gaze steadily. She was the first to turn away, shrugging as if she didn't give a damn. Perhaps in some ways she didn't.

"Fine, then trust me. Alex and John Aaron are just two mortals running around living their mortal lives. No Phobos or Ares stuff remains in the computers or in files or whatever you have out there."

"Alright," Repeats the youth again. Though he couldn't keep that skepticism from his eyes.

To which Clio responded. "Now get out of here."

And with that the young man fled.

Today.

Which had made matters easier. To finish school, to travel, to try and build some semblance of a normal life. It had been difficult at times. The Fates would poke their noses in and cause some sort of conflagration with his family. But it was a true gift Clio had given him. The chance to start over and become a person in his own right. A person who eventually decided that what he wanted to do... was try and prove a point to himself.

"THAT WAS PATHETIC, AARON!" The instructor's voice was loud in the gym, heavy as it lashed sharp words that echoed off the cement walls deep in the belly of the government facility.

"PATHETIC! My grandmother got over that obstacle faster than you, and she's only got one leg! Though from what I'm seeing she's got damned more testosterone than you'll ever have, now move it maggot!"

Harsh words given with a face flushed with blood, but they did motivate the youth to make the leap over the side of the raised fifteen foot tall wall that each of the cadets had to assail. And down the track... there was more to come.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The course was meant to test the physical fitness, the obstacles challenging but not insurmountable. Those would come later, in a few more weeks. These were meant to get the recruits to a point where they could peform without being utterly spent after. Some were handling it well. Others, they were going to be lucky to pass the culling at the end of the week.

"Not going to make it," croaked Thomas. He had made it across the wall, barely. He was now standing still, bent at the waist with hands on his thighs, wheezing.

"Get moving. They spot you, you'll never hear the end of it," hissed the next woman over the wall. She grabbed Thomas by the arm. "C'mon. Run with me."

All the while, the instructors were positioned at different obstacles, keeping the people going, urging them forward in their angry, degrading way. That too was for a reason, to break the recruits down in order to later build them back up. If they lasted that long.

There were three other instructors who stood off to the side with clipboards. They would often walk the course, speaking to the Obstacle monitors and making notes. Then they would move on.

And furthest back was their commanding officer. A Level Six agent who had been doing this for almost twenty years now. He looked to another of the instructors, a woman writing on her clipboard. "Give them three more circuits then we on to the mats."

"Yes, sir."

Phobos has posed:
Three more circuits was a lot for some of them. It took the wind from a good half of the cadets, and it created a sea of red and sweaty faces while the recruits did as they could. There was still a sense of camaraderie in place at points, teamwork. Like the one woman who grabbed Kelso by his arm and helped drag him up and over. Rothstein was her name, and she was given a hand by the blond one that got screamed at. Aaron. They made an unlikely trio that landed with a heavy /whumpf/ on the other side of the obstacle and then started making their way.

Nelson, though, for his part he was bucking for that valedictorian role even though such didn't really exist. It was still known by the instructors and the stats guys. Who was leading the pack, who had the best scores, who did best at what. Nelson was pushing for that right of being known as the best of class 145.

So it was no surprise when he was the last to finish that third circuit, winded sure, heaving with a bright red face as he rested with his hands on his knees, taking long heavy breaths.

Then the rest of the class filtered in, Kelso, Rothstein, Aaron, Edmonds, Smythe, Greene. All of them trailing in but at least they all finished. Though Kelso fell onto his back and promptly lost his breakfast. To be fair though, he wasn't the only one.

Aaron, though, for his part...he was sitting on those mats with the fallen all around him. His head was bowed and low. That grey jersey t-shirt with the SHIELD logo clung to his sweat-slick body even as he steadied his breathing. He looked desolate, unable to look at the others.

But it would take someone with a medical degree, or an anatomist's understanding of the human body to read him from afar and realize that he was breathing slowly. Steadily. Not winded at all.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Many of the recruits saw this as a singular event. It was them pushing to be the best and win accolades for it. That's how Nelson thought. Many of the others that finished first. Some at the end were those too stubborn to take help when it was offered.

But those that worked as a team, that was noticed. Even if they were screamed at, told how useless they were having to get help, it was jotted down on paper and approved of. After all, when going into a combat situation, they would want someone on their team like that, not someone who would leave them high and dry while seeking glory.

Water bottles were being distributed to everyone. Two each. "Drink. Get yourselves hydrated then up to the Training Room. Hand-to-Hand starts in fifteen minutes." That was about the kindest the instructors had sounded thus far. When they were being offered something to drink between their training sessions. Then it would all start again when the next segment started.

Hand-to-hand was mainly focused on techniques used to help them protect themselves as well as subdue suspects. Those who had some training in their lives did alright. Those with previous military and law enforcement had an edge. Fresh faces from the street, they were a split group. Half would excel. They didn't have preconceived ideas and listened. It was the ones who refused to accept instruction well that struggled. Some of the women had issues for whatever reason, many seeming to think it was unfair to be put into a position they were fighting men twice their size.

Phobos has posed:
But reality was rarely forgiving, and in the future some of these agents might be facing beings that were a good bit more than just twice their size. Yet for most of them it taught one damn good lesson. And that was humility.

The SHIELD instructors were serious, intense, and when they went down the line and called out each cadet to step into the white circle marked on those bright blue mats, each of them were put on their ass and put on their ass soundly.

Kelso did his best and played into his role as class clown. He took stance, let out a high-pitched yowl as if he were an extra in a cheap Bruce Lee Hong Kong knock-off film, then attacked the instructor with two kicks that ended in a hit to the instructors shoulder, and then poor Kelso slamming onto the mats with his leg twisted pretty painfully around. But in some ways he got off lightly. Sitting on the edge of the gym with a bag of ice on his hip. Rothstein let her anger get to her when one of the instructors had made a few sharp misogynistic comments about her not belonging there. It served its purpose though, drawing her out, getting her angry, and fifteen seconds later she was passing out with an instructor's knee on her neck.

Nelson though, he took his fall with a hint of quietly seething anger, even tried to sweep the legs of the instructor when he rose up to explain what Nelson had done wrong in stepping in too close too quickly. Sure Nelson apologized after, saying he didn't know they were done. But folks were getting used to that sort of thing from him.

Aaron though, if there was one thing that his instructors marked against him for, it was that it was hard to light a fire under that kid's ass. No matter what they said, or what they did to him, when his instructor threw him to the mats, twisted his arm and bent his wrist back up towards his inner forearm. She tightened in, straddled to the side and /really/ dug in to yank his arm up painfully...

And the blonde young man winced, but not a squawk of pain nor protest.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
They'd had a discussions about Aaron in their meetings. He was good, top section of the class really. Both in physical and mental tasks. He got good grades in everything but didn't push to be the top spot. That was several other alphas in the group. Nelson and two others in particular.

Yet they hadn't broken him. Not even a little bit. He hadn't ended up in tears and, honestly, there were still walls there. The ones everyone built up through time, to protect themselves. Especially those with secrets. Others might be allowed in but only so far.

He was an enigma. They needed to get through. But how?

The instructors set them up in pairs, to work together for a bit going through specific movements. Aaron was placed with Kelso. Nelson with Rothstein.

Phobos has posed:
"Take it easy, alright Alex?" Kelso said as the two squared up and around the room the other cadets were hunkering down for their rounds. Probably ten minutes of this, then they'd swap partners, move on. Perhaps another half hour all told. But with SHIELD you never knew for sure what would be what.

Alexander gave a nod, "Yeah, you sure you're down to continue, thought you mighta popped your hip there, man." Which, to be fair, it was a close thing.

"That? Nah, I'm good. Asides, they're not paying attention." Which, the view behind them with the instructors now somewhat socializing, talking, one holding a bottle of water and drinking. True that they weren't watching, but little did the other cadet know that someone in SHIELD was always watching.

"Yeah, you'd be surprised." Said Alexander even as he smirked a little and gave the other cadet a slight shove...

And that was how the time proceeded. It was a steady back and forth between all the paired people. And if one examined the tape that showed Kelso and Aaron doing their sparring, they'd see two youths working out and each of them taking turns putting the other on the ground. At least, on the surface.

An expert of deep understanding of the movement of physical bodies in conflict, they'd at first glance perhaps perceive little wrong. But they might be left with a niggling feeling. Enough of one that might draw a second or a third glance. Draw attention to the way he taller cadet seemed to move, how he matched well with his partner, seemed to read what his opponent wanted to do. And then let him.

Something intensely fishy there. But to be fair. Someone that expertly trained is one in a billion.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
There was always someone watching. During training, there was recording happening. They had all signed waivers. They had no privacy when in active training. Only during their down times, which were mainly the evenings. Though sometimes they would be woken in the wee hours to be dragged out for physical exercise drills. Not every night though. They learned quickly to sleep when they could as nothing was certain for schedules. Everything was random, even day to day. Though the instructors might have a schedule, it wasn't shared with the recruits.

After thirty minutes, the instructors didn't call a stop. Ten minutes later, they were still on the mats, having swapped partners a third time. Now Nelson and Aaron were matched. Kelso was against Green. Rothstein against a fellow female cadet who wan't quite on her level, yet Rothstein worked with her, helped her so she would improve.

That's when the room went dark. Complete, utter darkness, inky black with not a hint of light anywhere. Nothing from a door frame or a window.

Phobos has posed:
It was a sudden rush, a burst of feeling. For most everyone in that room it was the surge of adrenaline, the realization something was off. The cadets all stopped what they were doing, hard to spar with someone when the lights went out in an underground training gymnasium. Even harder to see anything with eyes suddenly having to adjust to the darkness, though not even having emergency lights to help their irises shift.

Yet for Alexander, he had a hint.

For when the lights went out, that adrenaline ran through the systems of the trainees, triggered that fight or flight instinct, creating that palpable tinge of stress that most would consider the first hints of fear. Nervous laughter was heard from one of the cadets. Then people turned in the direction of the instructors but didn't see them. Aaron stepped back, just one pace with a smooth motion utterly silent. Yet for him the room was partially clear...

For he could see... could feel the palpable tension of those around him. The cadets and their fear giving him a subtle taste of that first hint of terror though controlled. And there across the way, the instructors who didn't seem afraid at all, though there was... stress?

His voice lifted as he glanced one way, then told Kelso. "Get down."

The other cadet laughed again nervously. But had never heard Aaron's voice being quite so serious. And abruptly he hit the mats with a thump.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The sounds in the room seemed louder. The breathing of different people. The shuffling of feet on the mats. Even the hum of air coming in through the ducts.

Tink. Tink tink.

The sound of metal hitting the floor, something bouncing perhaps as the tink sounds happened more closely. Then the rumbling roll before it stopped. Two more loud tinks announced more objects. One landed with a tink then more of a thud as it actually hit the mats.

BOOM!

The flashbangs went off. Deafening sound followed by the second which was a blinding flash of light, especially after the darkness. The third added to the roar in their ears.

Loud sounds of people hitting the floor, trying to avoid what they thought were explosions. The fear climbing--and feeding into Alexander.

Then the sound of men and women shouting, figures appearing and visible only because of the headlamps they were wearing. They all had weapons and they began to forcefully try to gather the cadets and instructors into a group against a wall. Then he might feel that spike of fear from an instructor. Were they not in on this part?

Some tried to actually resist only to be put down, hard. A fist here, the butt of a gun there.

Phobos has posed:
The Triskelion had been attacked before, at least three times depending on what one considered an attack. It wasn't unheard of that such might break in and get to this point. Some might imagine it was just another tactic by the instructors only for that illusion to partially be dispelled when the flicker of a helmet lamp flashed over the features of some of those instructors.

For most of the cadets it was a bleary wildness of sensation. The flash bangs had done their jobs. People were reeling, staggering back, left and right. The cadets were gathered most of them unable to make out anything but the brilliant fireworks-like flashes of illumination that were burned into their retinas.

And those intruders were quick, like clockwork moving from point to point. Though it was when one was reaching down to grab the collapsed Kelso that a voice went up from one of the intruders.

"There were supposed to be ten right?"

"Yeah, ten."

And suddenly one of the gunmen with the headlamps finds his arm twisted up behind his back, locked into place as Alexander's hand twists within his other arm to grab hold of the firearm and snap it in line with the other intruders.

"Freeze!" It's just a split second. For the gunmen to realize one of theirs had lost his weapon. And then for the other trying to grab Kelso to realize that his cadet isn't blinded as he quickly grabs onto the other gunman's weapon and yanks it down. Quick as that two of the soldiers are at least partially disarmed, the others are covered. And the clean snatch and grab is suddenly a mess...

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
There was no sound. There was nothing to give it away. Kelso and Aaron had managed to fight back, particularly Aaron who now was trying to hold the attackers at bay. Only, he didn't take into account that not all of them might have on headlamps.

One moment Aaron was in control. The next he felt the attack. Strong punches and kicks. A smaller opponent by the angle but strong despite their stature. The weapon was knocked out of his grasp with a kick and another found his chin. Then suddenly there was a whir of movement, a person grabbing his arm, yanking it to the side, then a feeling of muscles tensing. A strike at the side of his neck, the carotoid, weakening him. Suddenly there are legs around his head and the body weight and momentum drags him down to the mats. The legs remain tight around his neck, the way they landed pinning one of his arms beneath him. They tighten enough to finish what the first blow to his neck had started, leading to him being knocked out.

Phobos has posed:
She moved in and just as he felt her presence... releasing his grip on the gunman she struck.

It was a blur of movement, the punches, the kicks, and surprisingly she felt his forearm slip one of those punches to the side, his shoulder accepting the kick. It forced her to use that chop to the side of his neck and as he reeled she was able to plant her foot on his bent leg and leap up...

Legs locked, twisted, and she tensed. Darkness quickly enveloped his senses as consciousness fled.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Once that problem was resolved, Kelso had already been captured by the others. He was shoved down next to the body of Aaron, the headlamps letting him see his fallen teammate.

The figure moved away from Aaron before any of them got a look at this warrior who took him down. All the people were gathered by the wall now.

"Move him. Now!" one of the attackers ordered Kelso, motioning to the wall with his weapon. Kelso dragged Aaron over next to the wall, glaring daggers at the man who had ordered him to do so.

A moment or two passed, with just the sounds of the men and women moving around, making sure their captives were done resisting. For now. Then there was the suddenly clare of lights coming up. There were six attackers holding their guns around the cadets and their instructors. Three emptied canisters laid in various parts of the room where they had landed.

And in the middle of those mats was a woman. Petite in stature. Dressed in a black bodysuit that hugged every curve. There were gold bands around her wrists. At her waist, a pair of belts. One with a red hourglass designed buckle. The other belts had holsters on either of her outer thighs, a Glock snapped into them. Her hair was red, falling to about mid back. Eyes of green. Her expression was unforgiving. She smiled, in a way that was unfriendly.

"Welcome to Hell."

Phobos has posed:
For Alexander Aaron, the lights that suddenly glared down at him seemed somehow brighter than any flashbang he had seen in the past. It was a gift given to him as consciousness returned with him trying to hold up a forearm to try and block out the glare as he turned his head to the side wincing.

Daggers stabbed into his brain as he realized that he brought a monstrous headache with him after that... training session turned hostage situation. Probably from that choke-hold that the invisible fighter had used. Enough that it marred his handsome face with a distinct scowl that might almost make him seem as young as he was, so displeased at his failure.

Yet he was his father's son. He took those first moments to take stock of his situation, of how his body was bound, to try and figure out where he was. Yet another part of his mind was replaying that fight. Or rather... what he remembered of it, for his perception was skewed with only a partial memory.

For all he remembered was the pain, the impacts, the whispered rush of bodies in the dark. But also... the scent. Gun metal, oil, leather, blood... and something else.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The room was empty except for three things. The first was him. Still in his training uniform. Bound to a metallic chair at legs and arms, with zip ties. That chair was the second thing in the room.

If he wanted to know what it looked like, it's matching number was across from him. Unoccupied. A non-descript metal chair with a mid-height straight back. There was a touch of padding to the seat. Close examination would show the chair was bound by a few screws holding the pieces together.

The room was solid white. A few lights hung above, old style rectangular pieces, with long rods casting sickly light into the room. One of those was half out, flickering a bit now and then before flaring to full power once more. To the right was a mirror. Obvious to anyone that had ever seen a crime show that it would have an observation room on the opposite side.

Phobos has posed:
The youth in the hot box was Olympian, and despite how much he decried his family, how much he spoke ill of them, he still had the blood of the immortals running through his veins. If they had a telepath on hand they would realize exactly how deep the young man's command of profanities in multiple languages ran. They would realize he was boiling at first in impetuous rage primarily at just... the /indignity/ of it all. Didn't they know who he was?!

Which, no. They didn't. That was the whole point of him doing this.

And which was also the reason why his body flexed and strained against the metal chair and the zip ties, the strong muscular frame of the youth's body clenching and releasing. Yet for now the chair... remains intact. If he's going to do this seriously, if he's going to do this for real. He needs to...

Play fair.

A breath is taken and as quick as the rage came it flees.

He takes a look around the room, the other chair, the mirrored facade. For a time he seems to ponder the distance from his chair to the other, but then shakes his head. No, right now they just wanted to bake him. To leave him there and let the time slip by. Worst thing he could do is to let them get to him.

So he stayed there. At ease. He focused his mind and allowed the time to pass.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
He was left alone for exactly 47 minutes. Waiting. Nothing to do but think and look at his surroundings. During that time he was most certainly under observation. There were no telepaths involved. This was not meant to be to that level. Although perhaps the next phase of training, for those that survived Hell Week.

But when the time came, that door opened. The petite figure that entered might not seem intimidating, which was one of her greatest powers. Most people underestimated her. But upon seeing the face, thanks to her time with a certail well-known superhero team, she would be known. It had made undercover work a pain in the ass for her these days.

"Cadet Aaron." The smooth voice as she closed the door behind her, lock clicking into place. She walked across to sit on the chair across from him. She looked him over in silence a long moment then shook her head.

"What are you doing here, Alexander?" Conversational. Almost friendly.

Phobos has posed:
The answer that was given to her came to his lips almost instantly, as in some ways he had thought over it repeatedly in the time he had here to sit and wonder what was coming next. "I'm training to be a SHIELD agent, Nastassia."

That impertinent... using her name like that with that elaborate pronunciation of her countrymen. But then again perhaps he sensed they weren't being observed somehow. Perhaps he knew they had a measure of privacy for these words. Or perhaps he just wanted to needle her as he had at ties by calling Director Fury, Nicholas.

Yet he held her eyes as he watched, lowering his head slightly as if some angle or another might give him some insight. Just his head leaning forward then down to the left, then to the right, seeking some hint or glimmer of something behind her eyes. And as he did that his features shifted slightly. A crack in the facade.

A smile.

Then he says quietly, "I have you to thank for this headache."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
The smile is returned. "You do. Not sure the others were ready to take you on. If you had shown your true abilities."

She crosses one leg over the other, a 'ladylike' posture though they both know she can be on her feet and in action immediately despite it. "As you have likely surmised, we have privacy. No observers. No cameras or microphones. Just us."

She shook her head slightly. "When I saw your name on the list going into Hell Week, I was surprised. I had no idea you had signed on."

A glint of curiousity in her green eyes. "So why in the world do you want to be a SHIELD agent? And why hide what you are to do it? I mean, you could be much farther along already if you used even half the skills I know you possess."

Phobos has posed:
"I don't suppose then if it's just us if you'd like to undo my zip ties?" As he asks that he turns his head akilter just a little as his pale eyebrows raise, biting his lower lip ever so slightly as he smiles in what some who didn't know him would call an innocent way. But she knows him well enough, and his father well enough, to know that he is far from innocent.

Yet he presses on, perhaps assuming she won't as he takes a breath and then just... answers her question.

"I don't know. Maybe?" To the statement of him being much further along. Perhaps he would be.

He lifts those beautiful hazel irises to meet her gaze, that faint glimmer of gold deep in their depths evident subtly as the pupils dilate for a moment, narrowing as if looking deep within her. "I think I am..."

Hesitation as his eyes lower, then they return to hers. "I mean, I doubt I'm the first person in the world to feel this way. But I sort of want to see... if I can hack it just as. You know. Alexander. And not as Phobos." Which in some ways might seem a silly thing, considering he cannot fully hide his powers or his talents. What he's doing to some might seem like playing an elaborate game. Yet there is a sincerity to him.

"If it's possible, I would appreciate my team and the instructors to, perhaps not be told?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"But how can you be one or the other? You are always both. You will sense the fear, know if somehing is staged or not. It is why I changed the plan today, once I knew you were present. You would sense the instructors you had were not in on the ploy, would feel their reactions to our attack. They knew about the flashbangs, the entry. They thought we would round up only cadets and have no firearms." A hint of a smirk.

She considered him long moments, considering, weighing what he had shared. "You are trying to find who you are, if you weren't a godling. To see what sort of man you would be." She nods. Terse. Once. "I can understand and respect that. I'm just not certain you will find the answers you're looking for this way." A shrug. "I suppose we'll find out."

And with that, she's answered his question though she continues to spell it out clearly. "I will not tell them what you are capable of. Who you are. But I also will only let this go on as long as it doesn't endanger someone. If you need to reveal yourself to save someone, I expect you to do so. Shouldn't come to that in training but once in the field, it will eventually happen. And then the cat will be out of the bag. How do you plan to deal with that?"

Phobos has posed:
"I know, I know." She'll see his head bob a few times in agreement "I have to be what I am, but I can... I don't know, do my best to try and make it on my own merits?" There's a small shrug of his shoulders and for a moment he does seem to be so terribly young, as if this was some sort of principal's office and he was trying to explain himself to the school official.

"It's why I'm trying to go with what I feel would be normal... ish for me." He crinkles his nose as he lightly pulls at one zip tie, but to his credit he still plays fair and doesn't break free. "After training, and after I get through perhaps the grunt work that needs to be put in, I figure then level with people and let the chips fall where they may. I'm not going to go into the field and risk peoples' lives just so I can prove something to myself. But..."

The youth looks back to her and then blows a puff of air up towards his bangs to cause a clump of his hair to fwupf upwards, then back down into his eyes. "I hope maybe we can go with another story like. I don't know, a radioactive cricket bit me or something. Not the whole..." He looks down and then shrugs, "God thing."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"You can no more deny your nature than I can." Natasha frowned a bit as she rose to her feet. She took a step closer then ran her fingers through that hair falling into his eyes, brushing it back out of his view to give him clear sight once more. "I am not the woman I had been. I am more. And less." The last two added with a self-deprecating tone.

"But to deny that I am the Black Widow, created and formed, would be a disservice to myself. Something it took me some time to accept. I am certain it will be the same for you."

She turned away and resumed her seat. Now that playful smirk was back. "Radioactive cricket? I think your codename will be Jiminy."

Phobos has posed:
She is a student of the human condition, and she knows the ways of the human form, the unspoken language of the body. And he is talented in hiding aspects of himself due to that control he has of his emotions. Yet here in this room, with only them to share these few moments, some small barrier is lowered. For when she steps close and pushes her fingers through that pale golden hair, she can see him draw in a breath perhaps slightly faster than his normal pace.

For him to hold it when she pushes her fingers through his hair.

For small hints of goosebumps to rise into life at that brief caress.

And for him to perhaps unconsciously lean ever so slightly into that touch.

It all happens in the span of a single heartbeat. Then alost instantly is gone. For when she sits back down he smiles back, a slight hint of color to his cheeks as he tells her with feigned severity. "Don't you dare." Jiminy indeed.

But then he lifts his chin and asks, "Did you have a better idea?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Better than a radioactive cricket?" Natasha laughs softly. She shakes her head a bit again. "I am positive I cannot come up with something better than that. Unless you want to be an alien. They are all the rage these days."

She considers it a long moment. Then she focuses on the more serious situation at hand. "You have to come up with some chinks. Right now, you are confusing to the instructors. This version of training is designed to make people break. Then once they break, they are rebuilt. You don't break. Have walls up still. Can you act well enough to make it seem you've broken? Or can you give yourself that much freedom of control to actually do so?"

Phobos has posed:
The way he responds to his potential origin story is with a crinkled nose, clearly regretting coming up with the idea of CricketMan. But at the suggestion of an alien he snorts and murmurs, "Bah, I'll try and come up with something. Or, I don't know. Could just say it's Top Secret and let me be all mysterious?" His smile slips back into place, a little wry now, but honest.

Yet then she addresses the matter at hand and he nods as she gives him that insight. "I understand, but..." He looks down, then to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he does so. "I don't know if I can act that well. I remember what fear felt like, despair. But recreating it?"

A deep breath is taken, "I could. I don't know. Maybe just give up at a particular point and... feign a surrender?"

His lips part then as if something occurred to him. "Or... I could push myself too hard and perhaps get injured and then that could be my breaking. Like..."

He raises his eyebrows, "When Nelson or one of the instructors tries to make an example out of me I could just not let up and push it too far but..." A breath is taken, "Ah crap, but then I'd heal. Something like that maybe?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"I mean more emotionally. Not fear necessarily," Natasha says, trying to phrase this properly. "They want to tear down your walls. The ones you use to hide things. You need to share things that are private, that you don't want anyone to know. Just carefully so as not to give up the truth. Perhaps..."

She frowns a little as a thought comes to her. "I know that your upbringing was different from most humans. Just because of who your father is. He did his best. I don't fault him. And honestly, who am I to judge child soldiers in truth." A hint of the truth of her there in that instant.

"Since it is the truth, but not exactly, it may come across as more believable. That your father was one of those prepper types, wanted you to be ready for everything in life. The harshness of that upbringing. Sargeant Graves is a lot like your father in bearing, though not appearance obviously. Perhaps at some point when he is lighting into you, you let out that glimmer of information when you break? Give them something to feel you broke and then they will find you more normal. After that, they will understand the walls more and be more accepting."

Phobos has posed:
Listening to her, Alexander gives another pair of nods, accepting her wisdom offered and in turn looks thoughtful as his pale hazel eyes distance beyond her, somewhere over her shoulder. A deep breath is taken and he says, "If the situation comes up, I'll try to angle into that. Maybe when Nelson is taking his cheap shots and I can lose my temper then."

A beat then he adds quietly, "Or something." But then he lifts his chin, "I'd prefer to have the critical moment come when I'm matched with Kelso or Rothstein, but they pull their punches more with me. I think they're attracted to me."

Which to anyone else might seem arrogant, but between them it's just him relaying data on the situation to help figure out the best course of action. Until finally he says, "I'll figure something out." Letting her know at least that somehow he'll handle it.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"I noticed that. They think of you as a friend and perhaps more if they have good luck." Natasha doesn't find it arrogant. She has picked up things in her observation of them all.

"I will have to work that out of them. The pulling punches is not a way to help themselves grow. Or to help you do the same. After all, an enemy won't pull a punch. I'll make certain they both get that lesson this week. The easy or hard way." After all, this week isn't about things being simple.

"We will be starting to sort out who can work as a team and try to build you up from there. Those who can't have no place in SHIELD. We rely on each other too much."

Phobos has posed:
Following along he watches her, accepting that decision to make the other cadets adapt and overcome or else wash out. Again, another wise course of action and he answers silently with another nod. "Alright, what should I tell them happened to me in here? Strong interrogation technique and sleep dep, while working on my injury?" He asks her calmly, imagining those would be her choices...

Since that is what he'd do himself.

"And maybe punished for taking that risk against the intrusion team?" Since he did somewhat endanger the other cadets. He seems resigned to some measure of a fate like that before he seems to remember and adds quietly, "Oh and Nastassia." He smiles slightly, "It was nice to see you again."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"That's Senior Agent Romanoff to you, Cadet," she says with a grin as she rises up to her feet again. "Sleep deprivation. Berated for stupidity and endangering your teammates before you had a real plan and a true chance to succeed. You acted hastily because you knew you could survive. They wouldn't have. So that is truly a lesson for you."

"Or do you think we should beat the information into you?" she asks. "Perhaps that would be a bit excessive for a man tied to a chair. This time."