The clanking of weights being dropped in machines, men flexing in front of mirrors, boys laughing around a bench press, the hum of treadmills, and cell phones recording everywhere. Luke stood just inside the doors of a huge commercial chain gym he picked out for no other reason than proximity to his apartment.
"Welcome!" a well-toned young woman chirped from behind the counter.
Luke pulled his gaze from the gym itself and looked at her, then swallowed and took a step back.
The receptionist frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Sorry," Luke mumbled. "Not my scene."
Back outside on the sidewalk, he regained his ability to draw proper breaths. That, in there, had been a nightmare. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but not that. Nothing like that. Checking the next closest place was just another big chain, but the third looked a little more promising, with the only picture online being of the staircase down to the basement floor where a nondescript door that looked like something leading to a storage facility sported a sign. It read: Gym.
It took some searching, even with GPS, but Luke found the staircase in a narrow alley where you had to go past a couple of dumpsters, then turn around a corner. True to the picture, it was just a narrow flight of stairs ending in a plain metal door. No windows. No other signage. He shrugged and walked down and tried the door. It opened without issue, and music streamed out, an old Iron Maiden song Luke hadn't heard since middle school.
Stepping over the high door threshold, Luke narrowed his eyes against the harsh, cold fluorescent light coming from the ceiling. To his right was a small office with an opening in the wall facing the entrance, which was empty, and ahead just a wide open space with racks full of dumbbells and the sort of weights you slide onto a weightlifting bar, whatever those were called. A bunch of cages lined one wall, and that was pretty much it, except for a couple of benches, both the weight lifting kind and the sit down and rest kind. Some brown wooden boxes were stacked in a corner along with a pile of kettlebells, all with a layer of dust on them.
Four men were working out, their grunting as they lifted impressive weights off the floor or over their heads, sounding over even the loud music. All four glanced in Luke's direction and nodded to him, but that was it in terms of interaction, an improvement over the previous place he visited. Unsure what to do, Luke walked into the room and looked around for someone he could talk to about joining.
Someone placed a pair of massive hands on his shoulders from behind. The loud music made it so Luke hadn't noticed whoever it was walking in through the door after him.
"Tall man! Good frame! We make you strong! Yes?" a booming eastern European voice called out as he spun Luke around.
It was the biggest man Luke had ever seen in his life, not counting the Integrated who could make himself massive. With a bald head, thick black eyebrows in a scowl, flat nose, and a few days' worth of stubble, whoever this was, his look did not match the excited tone of his voice.
"I am Vasilij!" he said, gesturing around the room with an arm bigger than Luke's leg. "My gym!"
"Luke," Luke said, giving a little wave before stopping himself and putting his hands down. "I need strength training."
"We train!" Vasilij bellowed, grabbing Luke's arm, narrowing his eyes. "We must train often," he grunted to himself.
"You don't have any machines?" Luke asked.
The four other men training all turned in his direction with incredulous looks on their faces, like Luke had just insulted their mothers, but Vasilij guffawed and straightened, his white, stained T-shirt straining across his massive chest muscles. "No machine man! Here we train muscle men!"
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
He waved for Luke to follow to the other side of the room, to the strange cages.
"How much is it per month?" Luke asked, glancing to the others again, hoping he hadn't committed another faux pas right away.
"Ach!" Vasilij barked, waving the question away as he unracked a weight lifting bar, holding it like it weighed no more than a broom. "Come!"
He directed Luke to stand under the bar, then he grabbed one of his own and put it behind his neck, across his shoulders. "Do like this!"
Luke stepped under the bar and got himself into position, a most uncomfortable position, then unracked the bar and stepped forward. It wasn't half bad, the weight, and he stood without his knees shaking or anything like that.
"Now what?" Luke asked.
Vasilij barked a laugh. "Now, you sit! Then stand!"
Luke made an honest attempt.
"Much, much lower. Then we add some plates!"
Luke glanced to the side, where a bunch of round weight plates hung on the cage's sides. "So I just do the same again, only I go lower?"
"Yes! Lower! We work form now before weight. Always form then weight!"
"Well, here I go," Luke said, clearing his throat before dropping into another squat, a much lower one this time.
"Lower!" Vasilij shouted.
"Lower than this?" Luke asked.
Vasilij turned to the side to show Luke his profile, then squatted down so far his muscular butt almost touched the floor.
"Oh," Luke said.
"Lower!" Vasilij shouted.
Luke went lower.
About an hour later, Luke stumbled out of the gym, drenched in sweat with legs feeling like overcooked spaghetti. Vasilij didn't let him try a single exercise other than squats. He'd lost count of the number of sets and repetitions he'd done, his leg muscles screaming at him like they were under assault the whole time. A fire burned in them now that Luke stood just outside the gym, gazing at the twelve steps back up to street level. It might as well have been an unclimbable mountain. As with any impossible challenge, he undertook it with grit and determination, stumbling and shuffling, clinging to the metal handrail like it was his only lifeline out of a sinking ship.
If not for a message as he climbed, Luke might not have made it.
System Message: Boon of Potential grants you an attribute point (+1 Strength).
Luke grinned with renewed determination and wiped sweat from his brow. This was it. The first step on a long path of gaining power on his own terms. After ascending the stairs, he raised his arms into the sky, fists clenched.
"I DID IT!"
Then he lost his balance and fell on his ass.
"Ow."
Luke's apartment was a twenty-minute walk from Vasilij's gym. It took him 45 minutes to get there. At least it had an elevator. After a quick shower, using the supplies he'd just bought from a nearby convenience store, he wiped himself off and put his old clothes back on. The workout clothes he'd just bought ended up in a pile on the floor near the inflatable mattress he'd splurged on, along with the other stuff. Perhaps he ought to check if the building had a communal washing machine or something.
It'd been a while since Luke lived away from his parents, and back then, it'd been in a dorm. Come to think of it, this was his first time living on his own. With everything going on, he hadn't even realized what a momentous step he'd just taken. Luke looked around the apartment, nodding to himself. Not bad. Not bad at all.
After a quick call to quit his old job, Luke headed out again. It was late afternoon, but as he saw it, the day was far from over. His stomach growled, demanding to be fed, so he got something to eat on his way over to Midwest General Hospital. It was time to grind some Focus and Willpower.
He'd visited the emergency room of a hospital, not this particular one, as a kid when he broke his leg. Even then, when he was eight or nine years old and in serious pain, he'd thought the place boring. In TV shows, the hospital is always bustling with activity, especially the emergency room, but then, and now, it was a quiet, slow place. Plenty of people waited to be seen by the nurses and doctors, of course, but no one was bleeding out or on the verge of having a stroke or seizure. No drama, just people waiting their turn.
In the physical realm, it was quiet, yes, but Luke's Weaver's Eye whispered to him, telling him of the illnesses and injuries surrounding him. So much quiet suffering. This would work. He'd found a suitable spot for increasing his mental attributes.
Luke sat down next to an old, pale lady with purple-colored hair, holding on to her right arm. It was mottled with dark bruises, and he saw quite a lot of swelling. Weaver's Eye told him she'd broken her ulna, the bone on the pinky side of the forearm. A common injury among the elderly.
He turned to the old woman and gave her a warm smile. "Would you like me to heal you?"
