Pontrilas Army Training Area (SAS camp), Herefordshire, England
June 1996
The camp itself was fairly secluded, secret from most prying eyes of civilians. At first glance, one would think that it was an abandoned factory complex, or even an overgrown warehouse. But beyond the razor wire gates blocking curious teenagers from entering, barracks, training grounds, and mess halls dotted a wide area. Here, Special Forces trained new and promising individuals for service or the possible spot in the intelligence service. Seasoned officers ran most of the training, but some of it, like practice skirmishes, were self-guided in various spots around camp.
The Mudhole, as it had been dubbed, was the prime spot for the young recruits of the British Special Forces to practice wrestling and hand-to-hand under natural conditions. A prime spot, that is, if you enjoyed coming out of it plastered in an inch of mud. A handful of trainees were there now, forming a cheering circle around two individuals as they attempted to pin each other down. They were both shirtless, their bare chests slick with sweat and mud, dog tags hanging from both of their necks.
Second Lieutenant Hook dodged another left uppercut punch from his opponent and smirked. The young man was average size, but was smaller than most of the other recruits. He, like most of the other men, had the cropped military haircut, which left his dark hair short and bristly. He despised it, really, and couldn't wait to grow it out again. He was also younger than most of the other men, almost 21 but already outranking many of them, much to his surprise and glee. Maybe it was because of that and the fact that Hook was so unbearably annoying that he didn't have many friends in the camp... not that he wanted to make many friends anyway. In fact, most of the others wanted to punch his pretty little nose in a majority of the time.
Too bad for them that they couldn't seem to defeat him.
"Come on then, Blackwood! This is your 6th attempt to defeat me, you know. What makes you think you'll beat me this time?" He said, dancing forward and delivering a few quick jabs to the other man's ribs before dancing away again. Blackwood winced only slightly, his eyes narrowed in an aggressive fashion. His fists were balled up and held up in front of him, the exact position that he'd gone with the 5 previous attempts before. Hook sighed inwardly. When was this inferior being going to realize that simply using his fists instead of his brain was going to get him killed someday?
As usual, Blackwood responded to the jabs and teasing by rushing forward through the muck, his left fist pulled back and ready to strike. Another mistake. Hook could move faster than the bigger man, and easily (and once again) slid out of harm's way. It wasn't as much of a fight as it was a boringly choreographed dance… one that Hook had performed over, and over, and over. It was almost as if Blackwood wanted to be humiliated.
Hook slid by the advancing man and casually slid out one foot to trip his opponent, the other foot driving into the back of Blackwood's knee to bring him down faster. If there was one thing combat-wise that Hook was good at, it was playing dirty. His instructors both approved and frowned upon his unique fighting style, finding it ingenious and pointlessly violent at the same time. Unfortunately for Blackwood, in this case he was doing the same things he'd done before, but as a result, Hook was reacting with new things. Hook was able to predict Blackwood's moves, but Blackwood couldn't predict Hook's. And Blackwood honestly thought he was going to win someday.
The bigger man landed face-first in the mud to several cheers and several cries of disbelief from the circle of people around them. As he rolled over, Hook landed on top of him and the two began rolling around in the mud, wrestling to stay on top.
"I'm going to burn you!" Blackwood spat, trying to throw the other man off. At this point it was more difficult to hold the man down, as Hook was the lighter one and found it harder to keep a heavier man like Blackwood pinned down. That was why he had to play dirty again. His hand shot out and pinned one hand down, while the other hand was held down by Hook's left appendage. Then he pressed into the palms, knowing the precise pressure points on the hand.
"Burn me? That's a bit harsh. No thanks." He said calmly. The smaller man smiled as an uncomfortable look appeared on Blackwood's face as he tried to mask his pain. He tried to throw the younger man off again, but Hook pressed harder on the hands, driving his knees into Blackwood's chest as he did so and out of reach of Blackwood's flailing legs. Hook grinned, the cocky, triumphant glint appearing in his eyes as he continued to cause the man discomfort. He deserved it, really, thinking he could outsmart and defeat Hook. Well, he was wrong once again.
"Second Lieutenant!" A shrill bark suddenly sounded, and Hook looked up to see one of his superiors standing at the edge of the mud pit. He released Blackwood and stood, slogging towards the fully uniformed man. He stood at attention as he reached him, his clothes and skin caked in mud.
"Yes sir?" He said, standing stiffly, hearing Blackwood standing up somewhere behind him. The superior glanced over Hook's shoulder at the others before handing him an envelope, an official military order with a 'classified' stamp on it.
"Pack up your things, Hook. The government has found need for you in Vauxhall." The major said gruffly, but with a slight hint of a smile. Hook blinked, frowning ever so slightly.
"Vauxhall? Why would the SIS want me, sir?" He asked, causing his superior to shrug somewhat.
"Bloody hell if I know, Hook. Apparently they've heard of your questionable genius. But I doubt they've heard of your apparent lack of respect for rules." The major said with a small smirk. Hook nodded curtly.
"Yes sir. Who shall I report to when I get there?" He asked, gripping the orders in his hand. The major stood aside to let him walk by.
"Get going, Hook. And it's Holmes you're going to, second lieutenant. Major Mycroft Holmes."