I woke up at 5 AM to go and do my personal strength training for the day. Natasha is always baffled that I would choose to get up so early, but it was in my blood. Back before SHIELD, I woke up with the sun, as did my whole family. There were things to do and places to be at, and what better time to do so than before everyone else.
By 6, I had showered and changed into my regular suit. Natasha wouldn't be up for another hour or so, if she was even in the building right now. I knew she felt most at ease in the field, and hated sitting around waiting for a mission. Sometimes she would take small, simple missions just to keep her busy. Other times, she volunteered to tag politicians, or sit in at the White House. Whatever kept her moving, really. People thought it was because she hated being bored. I had a feeling there was a better reason.
For the next hour and a half, I ended up wandering around the Field department, with a bagel in one hand and a smoothie in the other. There had been no chance to check out the weight rooms or the gyms, until now. I wanted to capitalize on the opportunity.
They were nice, but a little more beat up than the training rooms in Espionage. A lot more people came through here to train, and their line of work was a little less clean cut. I saw Smith inside one of the weight rooms, with Levi and Bryan. He glared at me when he saw me watching, but I continued to stare, and he broke under the pressure first. Smith didn't scare me.
I was in the Point Hub when a text came through the SHIELD program on my phone. Doug had sent a mass message to the whole unit: 'One hour training in Gym 3, 15 minutes'.
That sounded like fun.
Running to grab shorts and a t-shirt, I made sure to grab a gatorade before I walked through the gym. Difference number 3: the gyms smelled much worse. Apparently, odor control wasn't a thing here. I set my stuff down along the wall, and waited for Doug to call training to order.
I wasn't the first one there. People came trickling in behind me too, but everyone was just kind of waiting for someone to take initiative. I leaned over to Tate, who was standing next to me. "Should I expect anything to happen?"
She shrugged. "How much do you remember from Academy training?"
"Bits and pieces," I answered, thinking back to the semesters I spent on campus. Most of my training had been done here, on site with Natasha, but I had put some time in at the Academy, as per requirements.
"Think of that, but more specific to the team," she explained, right as Doug walked in. "You'll see."
I nodded, running through the exercises I had picked up from the Field training courses. I had focused on Espionage at the time, but Natasha had put me through some gen ed Field classes, to 'round out my training'. Personally, I was confident that Romanoff training was as good as it got.
Everyone organized themselves onto a tape line on the ground. It was right then that I realized no one else was wearing ankle or wrist braces. Crap. Not good.
"Attention!" Doug called, and everyone straightened up silently.
Yep, just like the Academy.
"Raven," he called, and I made eye contact with him. "Tradition with me is that every time we pick up a new agent, we indoctrinate them into the unit. I hope you like team-building exercises."
"You don't have a choice," Levi commented, causing a few others to chuckle. Okay, so it was more casual that the Academy, but in the same style.
Doug zipped his lips shut in Levi's direction. Pointing over to the rock wall, he continued. "First up is the rock wall. We have a record for the term, I won't tell you who holds it, though. You ready, or do you need to warm up first?"
I studied the wall for a second. It looked familiar, I was fairly certain that Espionage had the same on in one of their gyms too. "No, sir," I answered.
"Don't get cocky," Smith advised, and Taylor smacked his arm.
Secretly, I was glad that I had brought my braces with me. I didn't want to risk tearing a tendon while I was doing this, and I intended on beating that record, no matter what it was. Walking over to the wall, I tried to envision Natasha trying to scale it. She always planned her movements, so she would pick what route she would take before she even touched the wall. She would make it look natural, like she had done it a thousand times before.
Unbeknownst to the others in the room, I had actually done this about a thousand times. This was thirty feet, almost straight up. Acting as Natasha would was easy. I glanced over at Doug, signaling that I was ready.
"On the whistle," he instructed, and I crouched, looking to my first holds. "Ready..."
When the sound pierced the air, I leapt up about five feet and grabbed the lip ten feet up. I secured my feet before my hands could give way, and boosted my upper half up. I reached to the left, moving both my feet before I brought my right hand with me. From here, it was a separated spider climb for ten feet.
The next few seconds went by easily, but I was already looking to the second half of the wall. I set my feet about midway up the wall, and jumped for a ledge that had no handles, but was large enough that I could balance on it without them. Now I could jump straight up again, and gain another few feet. A bit of scrambling, and I was at the top. I tipped the bell, signaling completion.
"31.4 seconds," Doug reported, and I began descending without giving away my emotions. Right where my average was. Just slightly less than one vertical foot a second.
Then came the analysis: "You were short of the record by half a second."
Half a second? Conveniently, I was already controlling my expression, but if it hadn't have engaged by then, it definitely would have. Especially since Smith had a very smug smile on his face. He must be the record holder.
Doug reset his stopwatch. "Alright, veterans know the drill. Time for Tabata."
A collective groaning came from the unit. Tabata was a rotational workout, I knew, broken up into increments. You would do 4-10 exercises for about 30 seconds, which brief pauses, anywhere from 3-10 times through. It was a great workout, but clearly not preferred by the majority.
We did that for the next twenty minutes, much to the complaining of the others. As I kept watching them, they started weakening, their planks drooping and their mountain-climbers slowing. When we received a water break, they were practically desperate for hydration. Even Smith, who I had assumed would do well, was drained.
That was the secret behind the rock wall record: It was a sprint exercise, over a short period of time. If we had done the same race after Tabata, or weight lifting, or running a few miles, I had a feeling I would come out on top.
Natasha didn't talk about the Red Room often, but her lessons showed what the KBG had valued during the Cold War. Anyone could be skilled, or strong, or intelligent, but endurance was key. She who survived won the war. No one fell off their toes during the first ten minutes, but you still had to be en pointe after an hour. It was very possible that I would be kidnapped one day, but if my opponents were counting on my tiring out, then they would be sadly mistaken. The Black Widow wasn't about to allow for that.
While we drank up, Doug pulled out mats from the wall and set up benches around the outside. Sparring, perfect. He was even setting up the ring.
I wanted to take someone on and show them what I was capable of, but every instinct Natasha had given me was shooting that idea down. Play every card you have close to your body, she tells me. Use what you need when you need it, not before, and not after.
What advantages had I already revealed to the unit? My endurance, for sure, unless they were just as oblivious with me as they were with the mission yesterday. My sarcasm, but they probably didn't consider that an asset. Other than a good aim with a pool stick, they didn't have anything else to go off of.
I decided my strategy would be to not get punched. I would focus on agility, and hide flexibility and core strength. Easy.
Of course, being the rookie, I got matched up first. "Raven and Smith, go."
Grace laughed on the sidelines. "You really like putting those two up against each other, don't you?"
"No going easy," Doug instructed, ignoring Grace, and Smith climbed between the cables as I followed him.
"Wait, she has gloves on." Smith pointed at my hands, looking to his leader. "Is that legal?"
"They're braces," I corrected, undoing the velcro nonetheless. "Sorry for not wanting to break my wrist."
He narrowed his eyes my way. "Sure, birdgirl."
Smith took his stance, but it looked more like a sprinter's mark than anything else. He probably did track in high school, maybe college if he went. I opted for a gymnast's pose, ready to spring in about five different directions if need be. He wasn't stupid, he was going to capitalize on his strengths and my weaknesses. His chances at beating me decreased as time increased. If I could outlast him, the bout was mine.
The whistle blew again, and Smith came charging right at me. I sidestepped and dodged his fist, dropping low. I couldn't let him use his height to get over me, pun intended. I kicked out his knee, sending in a hit towards his face. There wasn't much he could do once I was standing behind him, so he received a fist to the back of his head. He twisted and tried to hit back in retaliation, but I had already backed up by that time.
What I didn't like was the spark that lit up his eye after that. He got back up and came my way, but dropped before I did, and basically fell on top of me. His weight pinned me down, and he wrapped an arm around my chest, immobilizing my arms.
And of course I decided that I wouldn't use my core for this one.
He stood up and threw me across the mat, right towards a pole. As I landed, I pushed off the leather so my feet landed on the pole first, parallel, and setting me up for a launch in the same direction I just came from.
Diving down and rolling over my head, I pushed up on my feet and punched him right in the groin. He dropped low enough that my other fist was at his head level. One more punch, and he was out.
Point for birdgirl.