One Two

Who: Nate and Alexi
Where: Campbell’s Gym
When: Afternoon

Nate was going through the day, ticking all the boxes. There had been questions asked, of course. Where had he been? In bed, asleep. Had he heard anything? No - not until the scream that brought everyone running. Had he seen anything suspicious? No. His name had been kept right out of the gathering of men just before the murder. Nate didn’t know whether he was being covered for, or whether those that had seen him had plain forgot in the rush, but he hadn’t been in the kitchen when the screaming started and nobody contradicted his statement to the Syndicate higher-ups that he’d been sleeping.

He officially had no involvement in his step-father’s death.

There had been a guard on him and his mother all day, of course. She had been inconsolable. Nate had been playing stoic and brave. A boy who had just lost the only father he knew, but who knew that the business of the Syndicate had to come first, who was willing to channel the anger he felt at the murder in more useful ways. The questioning had, eventually, turned to suggestions that there was a definite future for him if he was interested. And Nate confirmed that yes, he was in fact interested. He was told that there would be recommendations made about him. Once the Syndicate’s house was back in order. He knew that may take a little time. But, he was on the rise, despite the change of plans.

By the afternoon, he was a little more free to move, but still playing the game. Which was how he ended up at Campbell’s Gym. After all, he had been playing the coolly angry card all day - there was nothing unusual in wanting to work out some of that anger through exercise. And Campbell’s was always a good place to judge the mood of people on the ground. His accompaniment was now down to two, and they were two men who answered to him, at least unofficially. Large, hulking, pure muscle in tailored suits, they knew when to stand back and give the much younger man some room. He changed and walked out onto the floor, wrapping his hands in preparation for his work out, whilst looking for someone to talk to. After all, conversation was his real motivation for being here, despite appearances.

Alexi had had one hell of a day. Of course his usual crew had been called elsewhere and someone had called him far earlier than he would have wanted to wake up this morning to make sure he hadn’t left his bed. Whoever was on the other line didn’t appreciate Alexi’s attitude when answering, but that was his problem, not Alexi’s. It took until afternoon before people started showing up, something that had annoyed Alexi. Sure it was bad that old man Konovich was dead, that thew a wrench in a large part of his day to day considering how closely his life was tied into the family but that didn’t mean he appreciated everyone taking the day off from training to stand around and look confused.

No one trusted Alexi to make decisions on what to do next, but in his mind, if they had someone to go after, they needed to be ready. Which meant training, keeping reflexes up and sticking to consistency. Even now, with the boxer he was coaching, it meant standing on the second rope of the ring in the middle of the room, yelling at the taller man and smacking him in the head. He’d seen Nate and his guards come in, but didn’t react until Nate came out of the locker room. “Get in there,” he told the boxer, giving him a small push into the ring before jumping down and nodding for someone else to take over his place.

Jumping down from the ring he watched the first few swings, moving his hands with it and nodding as the boxer finally landed a hit the way he should. “That’s what I’m talking about! Chin up! Keep going!” Alexi was grinning a little when he got to Nate, smile only fading slightly as he clapped a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “How’re you holding up sport?” he asked nodding him towards the hanging heavy bag so that Nate could warm up.

Nate had half expected the question - it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it today, after all, and he’d been working on his delivery. “My father was killed last night, how do you think I’m holding up?” he spat, though there was less venom in his tone than pain. He knew he could, and would almost be expected, to get away with more, under the circumstances. People would be more surprised if he was stable and calm than if he was teetering on the edge of an emotional meltdown. Especially here. Alexi would understand.

Unconsciously Alexi’s eyes went to his father, who was there, at the gym, doing another small task that would take him most of the day. “You’re walking, breathing, that’s better than most,” he said shaking his head and moving behind the bag to hold it steady. “Slow jabs, focus on form.” If Nate was as pissed as he sounded, then he was going to want to go for speed and pressure. One angry day could screw up an entire year of good work and Alexi wouldn’t have that.

“Better than most?” Nate asked, purposefully not choosing to follow Alexi’s gaze, though he knew where it would have gone. He knew the guy well enough for that. He took a couple of breaths, than moved into form, getting ready, before beginning, knowing Alexi would want to direct him.

“Grief does crazy things,” Alexi said shrugging one shoulder. “I’ve seen people lock themselves up, never leave. That you’re here is a good sign. Hell, that your pissed is a good sign. Means you’re not dead.” Leaning back from the bag he mimed the combination as he said what he wanted to do. “Jab, jab, uppercut. Slow, steady.” He nodded then moved to hold the bag again.

Nate followed instructions, as though he needed them to keep going. It didn’t take much to fall into the almost mindless acquiescence - and it gave him the opportunity to fix his mind on other things in the meantime. “Angry is not dead?” he suggested, as though he needed confirmation of that, wanting to encourage Alexi to lead this little conversation.

“Right.” He waved for Nat to stop, giving out a new combination, thing one incorporating a series of right and left hooks. “What happened? That’s awful, but you are still functioning, you still have your wits about you.” He made a face towards Nate’s body guards who were still lurking in the background. “Though you’ve gained some weight.”

Each time Nate threw a punch with his left fist, he felt the pull of the healing, scarring skin on his shoulder. It was covered with a bandage still, but he’d abandoned the sling, which had mostly been for show in any event. Still, he was being cautious, ensuring that he didn’t cause too much pull. The pain was a nice reminder of events, but he wasn’t looking to ruin the overall effect. “Orders from above - in case the bastard tries again,” Nate said, his focus on the bag as he set it spinning from a right hook.

Alexi focused on Nate’s punches, feeling the weight of each hit. “Shoulder bothering you?” he asked, with a sharp eye. That was his job, to train, and he was quick to pick up on a hesitation if it was there. “Those orders always come from above. Though they look more like gunmen then muscle men.” Alexi made another face at the guards, obviously judging. “Guess it’s all about precaution or whatever.”

“Got hurt in a fight last week - nothing that won’t mend,” Nate said, shrugging the question off the way he always had done so far - simply. The excuse, the explanation, the cut off from encouraging more questions. So far that strategy had worked for him. He didn’t even glance at his ‘guards’ though they would no doubt mentally refer to themselves as ‘friends’ - Nate encouraged people to think he cared about them, after all. Friends would do more for you than anyone else, after all. And he hadn’t yet obtained the rank to be able to command loyalty in any other way. “I suppose I should take it as a complement,” Nate said, pausing enough to roll his left shoulder, easing out the pulls there. “My father was educating me in the business, clearly that had been noticed.” It was an almost self-deprecating statement. A little humility. Nate, of course, knew he’d made more than his mark so far, but showing ego was not always a good thing, plus the throw away comment about Iakov being his father, rather than his step-father - he wanted people to associate the blood tie there. He wanted to now be considered Russian in people’s mind, despite the reality of the situation.

“Hope the other guy looks worse,” Alexi said, obviously concerned about the fighter he was training. He gave Nate a look, an expectant one, not needing details but needing to know that the other guy’s face was rearranged. He’d settle for nothing left. “That’s probably a good thing, unless you were trying to keep a low profile. At least someone knows. Means I might still have my second job right?” He gave Nate a smile, not really the most appropriate of moments for smiling but Alexi wasn’t always great with that. The joke made him laugh, no matter how somber the moment was.

Nate turned the his trainer and gave him a thousand watt smile. “You know damn well I can hold my own,” he joked. “I gave as good as I got,” he added, figuring that was actually true. But the ‘giving’ in each case was more than consensual. He got what he wanted from her, she got what she wanted from him. “I appreciate your concern - and yes, I’d say your second job is safe. Hell, at this rate, life might just get a little more interesting for us all - if you’re interested,” he suggested, tailing off without any real explanation, knowing Alexi would fill the details in for himself.

“Damn right you can,” Alexi said matching Nate’s grin. “Hell if I wasn’t so worried about mashing up that pretty face of yours I’d have you in that ring more often. But you’ve got to be pretty.” It was a playful tease, one he used before and shook his head with. It was’t like Alexi was ugly, but he didn’t bother with his looks...ever. Even now his hair was due for a trim, falling in his eyes and he’d not bothered with shaving for the past few days. “Do you have to ask? You know I’m up for anything.”

Nate knew his nickname around here - ‘pretty boy’ - and he’d never tried to get rid of it. No more than would be expected, anyway. He wanted the men to have a term of endearment for him, to think he could be one of them. He wanted them to feel close to him. It made manipulating them all the easier. “Anywhere but the nose,” Nate joked, an old joke between them, before his attitude turned more serious. “Nothing right now, but there will be - and I know you’re up for anything. Like you know I’ll always ask if you’re willing. I would never just presume...” Nate said, though that was exactly what he always did. He simply had a way about him that meant that he could make ‘suggestions’ people like Alexi would rarely turn down.

“Which is why you’re no good to me,” Alexi said about Nate’s nose, shaking his head as if he was terribly upset. It wasn’t true, Nate was still a good fighter, but Alexi did do his best to keep the kid out of the worst of spars. Just in case. “Presume all the fuck you want. I’m not afraid of anything.” Which was a point said in a serious tone. Alexi was fearless and wouldn’t have anyone suggest otherwise.

“Would never suggest for a minute you were,” Nate qualified, evenly. “Just that you may not choose to direct that fearlessness my way. You know it’s appreciated when you do,” he added, his tone laced with the underlying reminder that, as a result, Nate would do whatever he could to protect him and his. They’d had that conversation in the past, in roundabout ways. It didn’t need to be said again. And Nate much preferred his reminders to be suggested rather than stated specifically. It meant that playing politics was easier, when necessary.

Alexi nodded, knowing where the conversation was headed to. His father was still there, lurking and working on his simple things that he could handle. “Right of course. Well you know how I feel about things like that.” That he preferred to work for the man he saw rather than the name in the wind. It wasn’t like a guy like Alexi got one on one time with the now dead head of the family.

Nate nodded, knowing exactly how that went, and how Alexi was treated. He knew how much of a faceless organisation the Syndicate could be at times, which was why he made a point of doing things differently. He remembered names, faces. He made a personal connection with pretty much everyone he ever worked with. He remembered them, he made them feel like they had a place, that they were special - it was what had made him such a damn good recruiter in the first place. And he was never going to let that go. “How’s the Champ holding up?” he asked, glancing over at Alexi’s elderly father for a moment.

“He’s doing fine,” was the initial comment, no thought to it, just a defensive response. As if someone might think otherwise and take the old man away from his care. Taking a moment to breathe and realize who he was speaking to Alexi wound up shrugging. “It’s an okay week. No mishaps yet.” Which in Alexi’s eyes was a good deal. The old man could be a pain sometimes, forgetting his way, where he was, what he was doing, but it was better than him being dead.

Nate nodded, ignoring the defensiveness. “Glad to hear he’s holding up. If you need assistance, just let me know. I know a girl - she owes me a favour or three. She could spend time with him. She’s good with people. I think they would get along,” he offered, the suggestion not at all underhand. He did know a girl. She did owe him favours. And she’d practically raised her younger brothers and sisters after their parents had been killed. She would be able to cope with an elderly man. Plus she was of a decent, yet still young, age, and easy on the eyes - elderly or not, that never hurt.

Alexi wasn’t one to take help but he wound up nodding anyway. “I’ll think about it.” Though he only was because it was Nate. And because his father could probably use some company that wasn’t Alexi, but he wasn’t quick to admit that just yet. Shaking his head he brought himself back to the task at hand. “Come on pretty boy, back to work,” he said waving back towards the bag and miming out another combination for Nate to work through.

Nate smirked, “Slavedriver,” he commented, but yet he turned back to the bag without real protest, carrying out the combination to what he knew wouldn’t be Alexi’s satisfaction, but his injury simply wouldn’t allow that, and hopefully his trainer wouldn’t give him too much shit for it. Not now, not today.

“Of course. If I went easy on you, you’d be pretty and a pansy,” Alexi pointed out as he followed along with the rhythm. It was off, but he did give Nate a pass. just because of his dad, but also the hurt shoulder. It meant that he’d expect more as Nate got better, but today they’d take it a little easier.