Feb 18 01:12:10 108 PA - Drama at the Gym
From Chronicles
Feb 18 01:12:10 108 PA.
HARRY'S GYM
The weather outside isn’t too bad, on a winter standard. Light wind, little snow, cold enough to kill. Someone said this season only last a quarter of the year, so it should all disappear in a week and a half right? Until then folks will continue copping. The gym certainly doesn’t mind being one such coping mechanism. With its full sized pool gym and sparring room many come to practice many sports that would otherwise be limited to better seasons. Valeriya has yet to see another season on this planet. She's skeptical she ever will. But until then she'll be content to keep coming to the gym for exercise. Especially given its very late hours. Nearly deserted she giving a very thorough beating to a secured punching bag. Not limiting it to her fits either as a few good kicks also compliment the assault.
Winter is simply another season, and another season that Gabriel seems quite happy with, and well adjusted to. His winter gear as barely anything more than others would call normal gear, and in fact, because of the night's light weather, the only piece of extra gear are two very thin white leather gloves - gloves which are quickly removed upon entering the gym. The green canvas duffel is slung over his shoulder as if a single-side backpack, and he only takes a cursory moment to examine the room before slipping into the changing area. He will emerge shortly thereafter in a tight Marine Corps T-shirt and any normal set of combat pants that he might wear anywhere else. Plus, standard combat boots that he came in with. It should take only a little while for him to look around, see who's here, if anyone, and what kind of equipment is available in the unusually empty gym.
WhaPING! rings out across the floor shortly followed by a sigh and a slight creaking. The noise may draw one's gaze over to Valeriya where she stands resting her hands on her hips as the formerly secured punching bag sways loosely. Ailing from a broken pin she turns to look to the gym staff. One was actually watching her and gives her a sheepish grin. "You know miss, that is the third pin tonight. Maybe you should give it a break." He suggests, trying to keep the fear out of his voice as she glares at him. "Sure. Shall I practice on you instead?" She answers in return with an all too eager smile. He quickly retreats in search of another pin.
Gabriel apparently finds a bit of humor in the whole thing. What part is humorous is anyone's guess. He looks around, and finds a secluded place in between shiny metal contraptions to begin doing a long set of situps. A long set that he doesn't seem to have any trouble keeping up. His drawl carries out across the room, whatever the distance. "What's the matter, Miss Valeriya? Someone assign you a word problem and you're getting lost on when the train's going to arrive in Tolkeen?" Situp. Situp. Situp. Grin. Situp.
Valeriya blinks, looking momentarily skeptical she just heard right. Not only did she get insulted, but in a rather untrue sense from someone who knows she could make him pulp if she meant to. Still looking skeptical, which may pass for confused she looks at Gabriel in query. "What makes you say that Colonel?" She asks, her tone calm but edged.
Situp. Situp. Wink. Situp. "Just seemed more interesting than a simple 'hello.' If I saw one of my friends from way back continually knock a bag off its setting, I'd assume that he was pissed off about something, too." Situp. Gabriel is between two pieces of equipment doing a long series of situps, wearing a dark green T-shirt with the letters USMC on the chest in white, and standard combat pants and boots. Valeriya is near a bunching bag with a recently-busted pin. "What'd you think of that little trip to Iowa, Miss Valeriya? I haven't been there in a while myself."
If the wink was expected to save has clearly failed as Valeriya shakes her head with a frown that shows quickly depreciating approval. "I was actually referring to the math part. See I'm pretty good at math, which kinda makes me wonder why you'd say that. Even more so to someone like me. Why would you want to be on my bad side? Or more on my badside some things considered." She asks, her gaze now a light glare.
The door to the street outside swings open and a slender built man clad in workout clothes, IE Shorts and a sleeveless shirt enters, a towel across his shoulders. His sky blue eyes flick across the room, seemingly locking onto each persons face in turn, only for an instant, before moving on to the next. Apparently satisfied, he enters fully, and heads for the free weights. He see's both Gabriel and Valeriya, but pays them no mind for the time being.
Gabriel rolls his eyes as he continues his situps. "Dear God, did something go to shit on planet Earth and inject everyone with a serious cases of superiority complexes? Even if they're real? It's fucking joke. It's a friendly insult. It's the kind of thing that you tell your friend when you meet him at a bar." He pauses his situps only long enough to say, "You can't worry about being on people's bad sides. You do, and you're living their lives, not yours. Sorry, I thought we might enjoy working out together tonight." For the time, he resumes his situp sequence. Newcomers are just that, newcomers, and not ignored, but just really not noticed.
"Friendly hmm?" Valeriya inquires, her expression improving slightly. "I think you should get to know me better before trying such jests. Especially considering how you spoke to me in Iowa when I had the right of it." She says, definitely looking to hold a bit of a grudge. "Working out is a similar line. I'm not sure I like working with you a professional basis, let alone a casual one." She remarks coldly.
Terrance spares a glance up at Gabriel, then shifts his gaze to Val, as he can hear their conversation, even with a dozen or more people talking, grunting and conversing between him and them. He temporarily abandons his plans to wow people with the free weights and approaches the older man and his friend. "Sorry for interrupting, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Something about living other peoples lives?" He says, butting in intentionally, to focus any aggression on himself and defuse it between the pair.
That's quite enough to get Gabriel to his feet. He glances to the other man and nods briefly. "Yes, many, many people's lives." Not heated, just to his feet. He speaks clearly and plainly. Words chosen through definition and grammar, not tone. "Miss Valeriya, your conduct in Iowa was not conducive to the fortunately successful conclusion of our mission. In fact, from what I saw it was only detrimental to the team. You are a weapon, and I'd never deny you your lethality. But you were a disruption. I have no idea where you're from, and frankly, I don't care. But if you want to work as part of a useful team, you need know how to work with the other team members." He then slams shut one avenue of his life. "You have my word, I will never search you out as a member of a combat team. But thanks for the sword lessons." The older man's face is not expressionless. No, it's simply 'matter of fact.'
Celaeno hesitantly makes her way into the Gym, though she's waylaid a moment as she fishes out a credit chit to pay her way - and a certain dogged wariness surrounds her as she glances around at the machines before ducking into the locker room. Several moments pass before she emerges dressed in what appears to be a thin grey jogging suit. She shifts foot to foot for a long while, eyeing the machinery.
Valeriya nods slightly, seeming to accept the sentence as it were. "My lethality aside if you only think me a weapon I am quite agreeable with that. I do not wish to be a part of a team that cripples itself in including weak links. Or one that doesn’t even know what types of links it has." She states before turning away to walk past Terrance. A glance if made in his direction but she says nothing. Rather she seems more interested in the now secured punching bag.
As Gabriel drops into another series of exercises - pushups this time - he still maintains his military mind, which says that intelligence is where you get it. "Still, Miss Valeriya, as you are certainly more of the expert of the subject than I am, anything that you could share with me about these 'mystic knights' would be appreciated. What they are, where they come from. How best to kill them." The older man sounds through his tone as if he expects the chances of a response - particularly a useful one - are at best evenly split fifty-fifty. "I won't walk away if we're both hired, mind you. This isn't a stupid form of sour grapes."
Terrance raises an eyebrow as Val marches past him, and lets out a small chuckle of amusement. Not specifically at her, but in her direction, which might be misconstrued as the same. Oh well. "Would I be correct in assuming you two have a thing...? Or is this just an honest squabble between not so friendly friends?" He ventures to guess. He visibly perks up at the sound of 'hired' and he looks at Gabe. "Hired? Hired for what exactly?"
Celaeno's gaze will drift through the room, uncertainty nearly palpable before she too settles on a punching bag, though a circuitous path is taken in her approach. As her eyes flit over Gabriel, her lip twitches into the briefest of frowns before she looks away and her expression returns to neutral. She eyes the bags for a few moments, frowning.
A flurry of punches sound into the bag Valeriya stands before prior to her looking back to Gabriel with a shake of her head. "If you should be so unfortunate to encounter one I suggest you hide, and failing that run. You would not survive a fight with them." She states quite clearly before bring her leg up into the shoulder of the bag in a quick and powerful kick.
The old Marine stops his pushups on a push, arms half-bent. His head spins to look for the source of Terrance's voice, and when he finds it, his head stops. In a Kentucky drawl, "Hired to ensure that no man, woman, or D-Bee is being deprived of the opportunity for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This -" Gabriel holds a one-armed stance for a time as he waves a hand in Valeriya's direction "- is a squabble between soldiers." Friends, not friends, any other kind of possible or impossible relationship is left out completely, probably because those who know him well know that he's just about the last person to cause problems, despite what has just transpired. Celaeno is simply not close enough, particularly during the pushups, which have now resumed, to be noticed. His mentor in swordsmanship is addressed as he slows his exercise enough to speak clearly. "Let's say I'm dumb enough to stand and fight. How do I kill 'em. Are they men behind armor? Something that I can finally kill with a fucking slug to the head, like the good ol' times?"
Terrance raises that single eyebrow again and he leans out of the direct line of sight between Gabe and Val. He gives a slight nod to Cel as he see's her, but his attention is on the two soldiers. "Nothing wrong that that, s'long as you get paid at the end. Just what are we talking a about here though? I've been around a time or two, killed lots of things, and people too. " He asks, not in the conversation, but injecting himself in the interests of future employment.
Celaeno eyes the bag as Valeriya begins unloading her pent up frustrations into it, glancing down to the conversation before taking up position next to one of her own. For her own part, she opens up with a knee, followed by an elbow, followed by a kick in rapid fire succession. She looks halfheartedly at Valeriya's bag, then halfheartedly at her own and gives it another kick while she drops eaves.
If Cel is looking for comparison with Valeria's blows she may feel rather outmatched. The blows to the bag look quite adequate to severely wound or even kill a person lacking protection. The bag is certainly feeling it as it creaks under the blows before she makes another pause to grin at Gabriel. "The reason I advised hiding is because even though they are men under that armor it is thick and its magical protection is equally so. It would be quite likely that you would run out of ammo well before you could damage it. Assuming they don’t kill you before you get that far."
Gabriel shakes his head rather strongly when Terrance speaks. "No, no. It's isn't about getting paid in the end. It's about doing what's right, and only doing it because it's the right thing to do. Whether or not you get paid is immaterial. You ever hear about the Chinese Shao-lin monks being wealthy?" The older man's face pauses in place for a time. "It's unfortunate that physical courage is so common, but moral courage so rare. I'd rather live off of grubs and berries the rest of my life in clothing made from shreds of burlap sacks, being poor because I did what was right, than being bought off to simply do someone else's bidding." His face breaks into a grin, the wide kind that is common to his countenance when he realizes that he's probably being simply amusing to others - if not himself. "Of course, getting paid to do a good thing isn't something that I'd ever complain about. But killing lots of things - and people too - doesn't make anyone a good soldier." He does ten more pushups, very neatly and apparently effortlessly before answering Terrance with, "Towns are being destroyed up in Iowa. Unfortunately our employer didn't give us time to do any thorough reconnaissance, so that's about all we know, save something about these 'mystic knights' being behind it. Speaking of which, Miss Valeriya, humor me. I only assume - maybe wrongly - that you're going to see out the remainder of this thing. That means more people, which means a grand total more ammunition. Are you going to be there? You have something to offer before they kill you before you get too far?" Okay, maybe that's a tiny little bit of goading.
Terrance shakes his head. "You misunderstand me. While I'm not gonna live in the streets if I don't have to, doing a good thing is great and I'm all down for it, just getting paid for that good thing is wonderful as well. And my killing lots of people and things is made up for in fixing, repairing and mending just as many, if not more people and things. I'm a man of many talents Mr... Sorry I never actually caught your name. I'm Terrance." He tells Gabe, extending a hand to shake the other man's. He shifts his head between Val and Gabe again at the mention of armored men. "Best way to crack armor is with explosives, and someone who knows how to use them." He tells them, nodding sagely.
Celaeno is indeed rather outmatched at her bag, and perhaps that's why she's looking halfheartedly between the bags. She interjects with a small agreement with Terrance, with uncharacteristically quiet and self-effacing tone, "Whole lot easier to get things done when you've got a bankroll behind you." She gives another kick at her bag. "Otherwise you're going to find yourself in rags with a stick against some beastie that can bite through steel like butter. Just the way of the world - need to earn to keep living. Need to live to get what you want done." She fixes her attention on the bag in front of her, frowning.
Valeriya sneers, shaking her head slightly. "I won't be going. Not if I have to worry about the others going being unable or unwilling to pull their weight." She remarks between blows before eyeing Cel's back momentarily. "Imagine its a person, and aim for the joints. You'll do more damage that way." She advises the other woman with a small smile.
The older man says, "Fair enough." Gabriel allows as he apparently finishes his long set of pushups. He gets to his feet - not particularly quickly, not particularly forcefully, but just some movement that says he could probably turn this into a two-hundred set squatting session and not break a sweat. He accepts the other man's hand with a smile. "Gabriel. Nice to meet you, Terrance." He then allows a short nod. "Don't worry, I know that mercenary work is second only to the world's oldest profession these days when it comes to volume of available manpower. Just remember that when you choose the lesser of two evils - it's still an evil." It doesn't sound judgmental. Or at least, it shouldn't. Just a little bit of philosophy. Still, he couldn't help but smirk at Valeriya's comment about people pulling their own weight; but he's not speaking with her, either. "You're a soldier, or did you just fall into mercenary work?" As he releases the other man's hand, he pokes his own chest with a thumb. "I usually end up lifting a lot of bricks. Lotta jobs that don't deserve to be done. Where'd you train?"
Terrance's grip is one of steel, firm and unwavering. And his hand doesn't really give in the center like most peoples do in a handshake. And he seems to suddenly get evasive with his answers. Less forthcoming than he was a moment ago. "Evil or not I was a soldier first.. I'm a merc because mercs are soldiers who get paid by the job. I was trained in most everything I know by the army I was enlisted in." He says, purposely leaving it vague, knowing how most people here regard that particular faction, and wanting none of that resentment tossed his way.
Celaeno's blank gaze slides to Valeriya, to whom she gives a shrug. "I guess. Never was much good at practicing, and this..." she flaps a hand at the room at large, "doesn't do much for me. But, we try things, and sometimes they even work, or are fun." She throws an elbow at the bag, about neck level, before dropping into a half-assed roundhouse at knee-level. "Not so often as I'd like, of course." She watches the introduction between Gabriel and Terrance, but her eyes slide over the main players around her, but she shows minimal interest in initiating any introductions herself.
Valeriya nods slightly to Cel and looks back to her own back and sighs with disapproval. "I'm gonna find something that can hit back." She mutters quietly before turning away and making her way to the change rooms.
Gabriel nods at Terrance, probably making a good guess at what's being left out. Again, the words, "Fair enough." At Terrance's grip, he both chuckles, and looks interested. Chuckles, because he's always bemused by people who seem to insist on giving tough grips. Interested, obvious when he says with a narrowed eye, perhaps indicating to the other man that he's being deliberately sly, "Y'know, one of my men, he took one in the hand. A seven-point-six-two from an AK (which comes out as 'aye-kay'). Destroyed his bones. They replaced it with a steel plate. Couldn't do much about moving his fingers ever again, but at least his hand didn't fall apart." He arches an eyebrow and lowers his voice. "Little bit of metal, or just a lot of bone?" Once again, he seems amused at the rather absurd things that are coming out of his own mouth.
Terrance turns up a grin at the question posed to him. "Uhm.. a bit of metal here and there." He says, wondering how the man might react if he knew just how understated that answer was. "I had an accident about four years ago.. Suffice it to say I'd never make it past a metal sensor without the thing going crazy." He says aloud, followed by a shrug. "But I'm still alive and kicking.
Celaeno lifts a hand in farewell as the other woman takes her leave. Her attacks on the punching bag increase slightly in frequency, but don't approach what one might consider to be the pace or effort involved in a strenuous workout, before giving a shrug to the world. A large smile crosses her face and she walks off toward the changing room again, and will saunter back out, several minutes later, cigar trailing smoke behind her.
The older man can't help but notice as the two women file out. He also can't help but feel like he accomplished something important in the safety of other lives by being blunt with the woman who taught him swordsmanship. Just because you can kill and destroy doesn't mean that you're a soldier. But to Terrance, Gabriel nods, and it seems as if he truly understands, perhaps finally truly adapting to this world. "I think I understand. What kind of training did you get? Infantry? Demolitions? Mechanized?" He taps his chest again lightly. "Rather unique few decades for me." He then nods his head in an important direction. "Up north, right?"
Terrance grins at the questioning. "I was originally trained in intelligence, then counter intelligence. Then I was trained for basic infantry, and pulled from that to receive demolitions training, both land based and underwater. I was cross trained into chopper piloting and the medical sciences enough to act a field medic where required. I have in-depth knowledge and training in a very wide variety of weaponry, and I know how to, or can figure out how to dismantle it, repair it, and reassemble it all safely. Same applies to body armor. I also have some training in electronic warfare." He tells the man with a small smile, essentially giving him his resume. Just in case.
"United States Marine Corps, Special Operations Raider unit. Ten years of small-unit tactics, any and all environment you can think of. Surviving off the land, being there without being seen. Ambush, counter-ambush, sabotage and demolitions, EOD, tactical military intelligence and communications interception operations. We didn't have much in the way of electronic warfare - because there wasn't any at the time." Gabriel smiles, then continues. "Office of Strategic Services, then Central Intelligence Agency, ten years. Infiltration, extraction, strategic intelligence, research and general espionage, capture, sabotage - and assassination. But if we ever really sit down and talk about it, I didn't become a soldier, and then an agent, because I wanted to kill people. Actually figured it was the best way to defend my family from who were then some very, very bad people." He snuffles his nose. "Sorry. How long you been in? Or, were in? What made you leave?"
Terrance only offers a shrug and waves off your apology. "We all join for different reasons. Mine was family. I was enlisted for.. jeez.. six years or so.. I left because they killed me and it didn't stick.. It's easier if it stays that way." He tells you, offering yet another shrug, nonchalant in his explanation.
"Fair enough," Gabriel states for a third time, perhaps those words being somewhat of a signature line. He looks around the gym, looks at his watch and the late hour. "Terrance, I never come here. This place pisses me off, because it's usually filled with people, ninety-nine out of a hundred of whom are complete assholes. Which obviously presents a problem, because there are two of us." He winks and offers the man a friendly slap on the shoulder. "You care to get outta here and go somewhere more interesting? Coffee, pub, something like that? I'm only here because my usual exercise area is a little muddy at the moment."
Terrance grins, knowing that you slapping his shoulder is akin to slapping a vaguely padded steel post. But he nods, looking around at the 'assholes' present. "Yeah ok. I only come here for show anyway." He tells you, his voice low so only you can hear. He's not sure why, but he trusts you. More than most he's met. Maybe it's the military thing. "Yeah let's go get some coffee or something. We can talk more."
"Great. Lemme grab the rest of my shit. Be right back." The older man gives a nod, then walks off toward the changing rooms. He isn't gone long - probably because all that he comes out with is a green duffel bag and a white, multi-pocketed light jacket on his torso. Just after only a few observations, one might conclude that he isn't the fastest, or the strongest, but dammit, if you need something tough, something that will just keep going and going, he's your man. His weapons are back in place. Gabriel walks up to Terrance and manages to do what the male gender is capable of doing - summarizing an entire sentence and query into one word. "Tradewinds?"
Terrance has certain advantages in those area's, but feels no need to broadcast. "Yeah sure.." He answers, forgoing the traditional answer of a simple nod. Least that's what his brothers would have done. He falls in step with you as you leave, apparently all he brought is what he's wearing, and the chill outside doesn't seem to bother him all that much, if at all.
