Alex POV:
Ok. What do I do now.
Ned said he signed me up for the classes at noon-ish. The problem is I don't know how exactly I can get to the class without raising alarm.
I twist and turn in the bed. If I leave now, the doctor is going to tell somebody that the patient left. Then I'll be hunted down and caught. I swear there needs to be a better way of infiltration then fucking "Get Help"...
The door creaks open, and a blonde Swiss doctor with glasses walks in, heels clicking. Her nametag reads [DOCTOR A. ZIEGLER]. I swear that sounds familiar...
Before my slow mind could think any further, she asked what my name was.
"Uhm, my name is Ale-" I start, realizing my mistake. My mind kind of freezes. What was my name again? Not my real name, the fake name ned made.
She cocks her eyebrow at me, urging me to continue.
"...Alessandro Kim. My mom was Russian." Oh my god, I'm just digging myself into a deeper hole aren't I.
Wait, I can recover from this. I finally remembered my alt ego
"... which is my cover identity, and my real identity is Hyun Woo Jung, a new shield recruit." I totally nailed that. I flash Doctor Ziegler an awkward smile.
She doesn't look convinced, but she just decides to go with it.
"Well, Mr. Jung. How did you get this-" she motioned at the rapidly growing red spot on my forehead. "Mild concussion?"
Another part that ned forgot to think out. Im not letting that guy plan shit ever again. Time to use my supreme bullshit skills.
[Skill acquired: Bullshitting (Passive)]
Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Do I pull stuff out of my ass so much that it becomes a fucking skill? (a/n Yes, yes you do.)
[People are more likely to fall for your BS.]
Thank you, system, that explains so much.
"Mr Jung?" Doctor Ziegler looks at me with curiosity. "Mr Jung? You're staring into space. Are you perchance feeling dizzy or disoriented?"
"Uh- Erm, Yeah, I was just enraptured by your beauty- I mean it was just the concussion." Smooth. I just went for whatever first came into my brain and pivoted asap since that sounded suspiciously a lot like workplace sexual harassment.
Probably used to this, Doctor Ziegler just looks at me with a dead expression.
She sighs quietly, then moves closer to inspect the wound with calm precision.
"Head trauma can have unpredictable effects. You're lucky it seems minor." Her hands are steady as she checks my vitals. "You're not feeling any nausea or blurred vision?"
"Nah. Just a bit of embarrassment and spiritual regret."
"Those are not typical symptoms," she says dryly. "How did this happen?"
"Today's my first day on the job, at least at this branch, so I just kind of fell over and landed on my head since I wasn't used to the area." I quickly stammer out.
"Mhm. Let me check your files." She looked like she believed it. Thank you, system.
She glances at the console, typing quickly. "Yes, I see your profile now. Hyun Woo Jung. Assigned to the Queens branch this week."
I breathe an internal sigh of relief.
Her eyes scan down the screen again, and then she frowns slightly. "You're scheduled for hand-to-hand training with Agent Romanoff in five minutes. If you're late," She visibly shudders. "You're gonna be in for a long day. Getting this concussion fixed won't be nothing compared to what I'll have to fix for you after that class."
As if remembering something, she pulled out a glowing blue liquid from a drawer and made me drink it.
"That's for the lesson. It's like a slight energy boost since I know how rough the training can get. You'll need that extra energy if you want to get anything done with that minor concussion. Now shoo, Ms Romanoff's last lessons just ended, which means it's my rush hour."
Then, with a subtle wave of her hand, she adds, "Now go. And try not to hit your head again."
-o-
Newly energized, I step outside of the doctor's office. Now, how the hell am I gonna find my class in 5 minutes?
I take a sweeping look all around my surroundings.
Aha. I just follow the trail of the bruised and bloodied Shield agents.
Not even kidding, like 25 Shield agents, looking to be one step in the grave, were walking down the hall towards Doctor Ziegler's office. She wasn't lying about the rush hour.
I run down the halls, following the trail of sweat and blood on the ground. A few employees gave me questioning glances to why I was running, and I just told them I was late for hand-to-hand with Nat, and they all just looked at me with sympathy.
Gosh, I was hoping it was Clint, too. He's so much cooler.
I screech to a halt in front of an ominous black door and do a retina scan. Thank god it worked; the door smoothly whooshes open.
Inside, it looks exactly like what you'd expect from SHIELD's "hand-to-hand" training room, which, apparently, is just code for where dreams go to die.
In the corners, there are piles of broken sandbags and training dummies, spilling sand from their sides. The walls are covered in weapons, ranging from the usual daggers and such all the way to weird stuff like morningstars and that scythe-on-a-chain thing from Shadow Fight 2. The floors are padded in mat, but it's like it's barely there, due to it being covered in so many scuff marks, stains of sweat and blood and... something else? Eughh.
"Did Shield's janitors just give up on this room?"
Oops, I think I said that out loud.
"They cleaned it this morning." A rough feminine voice comes from my side.
I turn, and all my surroundings fade into background noise when I spot her.
Leaning against the wall like she owns the place, which, let's be real, she probably does, is Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow herself. And I'm not saying that in a fanboy way. I'm saying that in a "this woman could beat me within an inch of my life, and I would sincerely write her a thank-you letter after" kind of way.
She's wearing a black tank top and cargo pants, drenched in sweat from what I'm assuming was her last class. Her blood-red hair tied back, a few strands stuck to her face, sipping water like she didn't just send a dozen agents to urgent care with lifelong injuries.
Then her eyes lock onto mine. Her bright, calculating green eyes scan me like I'm just some one use toy.
She lowers the bottle. Tilts her head.
Then, just when I think maybe- maybe- I'll get a hello, she squints slightly and says-
"You're late."
Yeah. Im cooked.
(a/n guys sorry I'm not uploading as much. The midterms and APs are coming up. I signed up for 3 APs and I only started like one of them. I also recently got binding of Isaac and I've been spending the little free time I have on that. Also there was a minor writers block. ill try to upload more.)