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Ostensibly, Able was visiting the clinic when he received a sign that had been agreed upon years ago. In reality, he was checking up on the restaurant next door to make sure there were no further issues.
Cut to a bench in Central Park. Rather than his usual attire, he's dressed in winter athletic wear. A dedicated jogger taking a brief break. He has brief talks with passersby, occasionally gets up for a stretch, and generally does a perfect job of being inconspicuous. His only issue occurs when a woman stops for an over-long conversation, but he manages to extract himself after a few minutes.
Yuliya had used one of the spikes shoved in the ground near the clinic, marked with a crudely scratched clock on a brick wall. She certainly did remember the old mark to communicate. However she's changed her apperance for the park, her dark hair now strawberry blonde and instead of the bun, it hangs loose in a ponytail. Though she might be a person to seeking to shed some of the winter weight or she could have dressed that way to give herself a different appearance. She jogs along the path, wheezing and puffing as she puts on an act.
She makes her way over to the bench that Able sits at, and flops down beside him, wheezing and catching her breath. "Cor, innit a bit chilly?" she asks in an accent from London.
A touch," Able admits. He can't entirely suppress a smile at the change of appearance and accent. He reaches out to shake hands, at the same time discreetly palming the spike to the not-quite-Yuliya.
He cocks an eyebrow, but it's a subtle expression. "I've checked the area thoroughly," Despite his words, he still lowers his voice. "A good spy always arrives early. We're clean."
Still, for the benefit of the civilians, he performs another round of stretches. "You seem none the worse for wear after a bit of gunfire," he observes.
Yuliya does shake Able's hand, and as the spike is return, she discreetly slips it up her sleeve and then glances at her watch. She leans forward and rests her elbows against her knees and purses her lips as she continues the act of catching her breath. "No tails after me," she then adds in a soft tone of her own. "You sound like my father saying that. Be quick, be efficent, be quiet and have a contingency plan if you can't." She gives a soft snort and shakes her head. Yuliya She raises her hands up and runs it through her hair, and then shakes her head. "I did not get hit, so I have nothing to be concerned about. Been doing it too long to get shaken up by stuff like that."
Able nods agreeably. "I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't being shot at, though I've been hit more times than I like to remember." There's a brief, mirthless chuckle. As far as backup plans go, he pats his ribs. If there's a weapon there, it's the smallest one he's ever packed. "Good choice of spot, by the way. Public. Too many witnesses for anything but the worst trouble. No place to set up surveillance. And I count five ways out of here where a person can disappear in a few seconds."
Yuliya falls silent, and she looks thoughtful. "I try to avoid being shot at or shot," she admits quietly. "The whole squishy non-mutant and no enchancement thing really doesn't help when there's a bullet with your name on it. I have been there before, and do not wish to do it again." A nod is then given at the man's appraisal of her choice of meeting place. "What can I say? I am a fan of cliches, and it's one that does the job well. I was raised by an expert." She takes a deep breath and glances towards Able. "I've always been curious, but where did you get your training?"
"My father, as well. He's an expert combatant and tactician, among other things. German military. Though to be fair, his methods are a bit dated." Able shrugs his broad shoulders. "So we have a few things in common. Most of my covert training came from working alongside and against your people. You're very effective. The spike, for example."
It's a rare bit of honesty for a person who was once known to defend his secrets viciously. As a mercenary he would take down any target he was pointed at; now he seems to have gained a measure of temperance.
uliya glances towards Able when he mentions the German military. "My birth father hunted tanks during the Great Patriotic War," she admits, still in that same soft voice. "My adopted father was NVKD then, and you know what he is now." She laughs softly and shakes her head. "We are effective. We have to be." She purses her lips for a moment, and considers the man again. "I guess we are both cut from the same cloth, to a certain extent. Though you have changed a lot since how I remember you. Not killing, being slightly open." She shakes her head slowly. "I still think you are getting soft." It's just friendly teasing now.
"I have few things left to hide." Able is solemn, but he seems content with that fact. "I'm pleased you trusted me enough to use classified technology to contact me. Surprised, but pleased."
His smile is back, but it's a small one. The smile of a man who knows secrets few are privy to. "My father served in both wars, but not for love of country. Like him, I used to kill as a means to an end. Now there are only two names on my list, and only to settle a score. And you? You risk yourself to help an old adversary. Maybe I'm not the only one getting soft." Apparently, he can tease as well.
"It was friendlier than blowing up your clinic," Yuliya admits with a soft laugh. "I could have left a message scrawled in blood, but that would not have been all that clean. That and I like to think I've outgrown that phase." She purses her lips and hmms softly, as she goes glancing back towards the ground. She listens to the man speak and looks thoughtful for a few moments.
"Far from soft. I just have a bit of freedom these days. I also think that we've tried to maim each other enough. Besides, if I didn't help, I bet you would have called the FBI or the CIA," she teases in return. She glances back towards the man again, arching a brow. "Two left for vengence, huh? Make it slow for them, and you'll get more satisfaction."
"For them, it will be swift and deadly. They are… formidable. I don't have the luxury of toying with them." Able waves a hand dismissively.
The statement elicits a scowl, but it smooths out after a few seconds. "It would've been the CIA," he admits. "They're the ones who tried to pay me to kill you. And handsomely, I'm not afraid to say. The FBI doesn't interest me. Glorified policemen. Though if my clinic were to explode tomorrow, I may give them a ring." The glance he shoots toward Yuliya is less than serious. There's a code of honor among agents, especially ones with a history.
Yuliya rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "You need to make a nice garden for them," she comments with a grin. "A couple of mines, a couple of pit traps. Get them on your chosen ground." She offers a little nod of her head.
She then arches a brow at the mention of the CIA, and smiles brightly. "Awww! That's sweet of you to not take that contract. I didn't think I had that much of a following in the international community." She then gives the Doctor a half-lidded look, as well as a smirk. "So I can't blow it up, but I can still write on the walls in blood. Understood. Also, I don't think giving them a ring would be a good idea, after that gunfight, it might sound like we're working together again."
"I'll agree, for now I'll put my personal vendetta on hold. It's not as if I've made much progress anyway." The last bit is said with more than a bit of wistful regret. "But yes, it would appear we have more immediate concerns, you and I."
As he often does when he's embarrassed, Able affects a completely unnecessary cough into his fist. "I appreciate your thoughts on my declining. I'd consider it a favor if you didn't do anything in there with blood, though. Consider it a return favor as long as we're allies."
Yuliya arches a brow at the talk of immediate concerns and gives Able a curious look. "Now you have my interest. What building or vehicle needs to be cracked open or destroyed?" she asks curiously. "Or… Or are we talking an aircraft? I haven't brought one of those down yet." She looks thoughtful for a few moments. "Or is it something else?"
There's also a grin at the man's embarrassment. "You are not going to blush, are you?" she then playfully teases. "Oh, and no. I don't usually paint places in blood. There was this one time when I was fourteen, and after a mission my father caught me wiping blood on the wall." She grimces a little at that. "I got the beating of my life when we left."
"You were always trouble," Able chuckles. "Doesn't surprise me to hear you were the same as a teenager."
A deep breath is pulled in, held for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly. "For my personal concerns? Building. My enemies are extremely well protected. Sufficed to say, I've learned from experience that it would take a sniper far better than myself to eliminate them. I've tried explosives without much success, though it was satisfying to try. Poison would be my next choice. As for our little street fight, no one gets to gun down as gang that size without some form of trouble. And I don't blush." He finishes up with a mock glare.
"I will claim that I got it from my real family," Yuliya admits to Able with a laugh. "I never met them, but I assume it is the case." She then falls silent as she listens to the man and hmms softly.
Yuliya says, "I should be able to crack it open for you. I know you are good with explosives, but you don't have my advantage." She offers a wink. "I kind of know how to find the weaknesses of buildings. I'm a bit of a freak that way."
At the mention of the street fight, she looks a little thoughtful again. "Oh, sounds like trouble brewing for us. I guess I'll have to move up to a bigger gun." She actually smiles a bit like that. "Now if you gave me proper grenades, they'd be too scared to come after us.""