21 The Gym #21
My head snapped to the rooftops like a cat spotting a laser dot. There, a shadowy figure stood, nonchalantly turning away as if they'd just finished watching the latest blockbuster. Seriously, who does rooftop voyeurism in New York?
My first instinct was to engage in superhero mode, activate my Storm Walker Shoes, and ascend to the heights to give Mr. Shadow a piece of my mind. But then reason kicked in – what if my shoes failed me mid-air? Splat-- not a glamorous way to go.
Considering the potential disaster of chasing mysterious figures, I shrugged off the superhero urge. Sure, I thought about siccing Rattigan on them, but my furry companion had a flair for turning simple tasks into chaotic odysseys. Can't have him starting a rat-rodeo where I couldn't even stop him.
"Oh, well... what's the worst that could happen?" I muttered, letting the thought drift away like New York fog. "Time to swing by and give that boxing gym another look," I decided, strolling toward the alley's exit.
The mysterious rooftop dude could have his moment; I had my priorities – namely, learning to throw a proper punch and maybe working on my stamina.
...
Walking into the gym, I couldn't help but be impressed. The place buzzed with energy as people put in the sweat and effort for their training. A pair of guys were locked in a boxing ring, throwing punches like it was a contest of who could defy the laws of physics more.
Meanwhile, a young woman unleashed a flurry of blows on a punching bag, making it sway and regret all its life choices.
In the midst of this vigorous symphony of physical activity, a middle-aged, muscle-bound man caught sight of me checking out the scene. He flashed a welcoming smile, his weathered hands suggesting he'd danced with many a punching bag in his day.
With a confident stride, he approached, ready to welcome a potential new recruit.
"Welcome to the gym, kiddo. Are you here to sign up?" the man asked, a twinkle of enthusiasm in his eyes. I took a moment to appreciate the man's seasoned physique – short, tank top, calloused knuckles, and cauliflower ears.
He practically screamed "boxing veteran." Even someone as clueless about boxing as me could tell this guy had seen his fair share of ring action.
I gave him a nod. "I'm considering it," I replied.
The man's grin widened. "Then let me give you the introductory tour..." he said, motioning for me to follow as he led the way into the world of jabs, hooks, and sweat.
The man guided me through the gym's impressive array of facilities. From the bustling boxing rings to the clanging weights and lifting equipment, and even a pool, sauna, and a specialist for muscle injuries – it was a champion's training ground-- Not that I had a clue what that should look like, but this place seemed top-notch.
As we circled back to our starting point, the man beamed at me with pride. "Well, what do you think?" he asked, eager for my verdict.
I chuckled, rubbing the back of my head. "Well, it does look impressive... but I honestly wouldn't know," I admitted, earning a thoughtful nod from the man.
"An amateur, then," he declared, and I had to concede that he hit the nail on the head. "Tell me, what is it you want? What kind of training do you need?" he inquired.
"I thought about learning to throw a proper punch, maybe build a bit of stamina," I explained. "But now that I've taken a closer look at your gym... it might be out of my price range for now," I added with a sigh.
The Justice League had thrown some funds my way, but this gym looked like it could chew through cash faster than I could say knockout. Plus, I planned on being frugal with the League's money – returning every penny once I found my footing in this world and even ditching the apartment they provided.
It was part caution so the League wouldn't always have tabs on me and part pure stubborn pride-- You see, I lived and grew up just fine, relying on no one but myself in my past world, and I planned to do the same here.
The man chuckled, as if he found my worry amusing. With a shake of his head, he reassured me, "You don't have to worry about that just yet." His explanation followed, describing the gym owner as a bit of a weirdo but more interested in cultivating talent than making a profit.
"World champ, huh...?" I muttered, the words echoing with a strange familiarity tied to the sign above the gym's entrance. Shoving aside the distracting thoughts, I refocused on the man. "Sounds intriguing, but what's the catch?"
He pointed toward the now-deserted boxing ring nearby. "You just gotta hop into the ring and show me what you've got," he grinned widely. "Impress me, and I'll happily recommend you to the boss-- have him cut you a sweet deal."
Taking a moment to mull it over, I nonchalantly shrugged. "Fair enough. Just so we're clear, though—I'm no Rocky Balboa. My boxing knowledge is probably limited to the 'jab' and 'dodge' from video games."
The man waved off my concerns with a dismissive gesture. "Boxing isn't just about technique; it's about spirit, kiddo. Anyone can learn how to throw a punch, but you can't teach heart," he explained, leading the way toward the ring. "So, are you up for the challenge?
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, I soaked in the clichéd but enthusiastic atmosphere. The guy in front of me was clearly passionate about his gig, and even I had to appreciate anyone enjoying what they do as much as he did.
"Well, if you insist on wasting your time, then who am I to stop you...?" I teased as I gracefully ascended into the boxing ring, earning a nod of satisfaction from my overly enthusiastic coach.
"That's the spirit, kiddo," he applauded with a grin. "There's a pair of gloves in that corner; suit up and tell me when you're ready."
Nodding, I retrieved the gloves, ready to turn off Guardian Veil and put on a show.
But as I started to gear up, a sudden realization hit me like a surprise uppercut. How in the world do you turn off Guardian Veil? I fumbled with the gloves, trying to maintain composure while secretly panicking.
No wonder the damned thing was so cheap! As it turns out, my super-useful, cost-effective ability had a little snag-- it didn't have a friggen off-switch.
Observing the coach eagerly smacking his gloves together, a bead of sweat formed on my forehead. "Hold on a second... I just remembered there's a very pressing matter I need to attend to," I confessed with a sheepish grin, desperately searching for an escape route.
The coach, with an air of no-nonsense, shook his head. "Sorry, kiddo. Stepping into the ring and stepping out of it are two entirely different ball games," he stated firmly.
Attempting to negotiate my way out, I began, "I mean, I get the whole serious vibe here, but--" My sentence hung in the air as if awaiting the punchline of a cosmic joke.
Suddenly, the coach closed the gap between us with superhero speed, fist cocked and ready to deliver a punch that would likely take my head off if the Guardian Veil's barrier wasn't protecting me.
Panic set in, but my quick thinking kicked, though my brain almost malfunctioned.
As his fist zeroed in on my face, I executed a nimble lean-back-and-shift-weight maneuver, gearing up to take the fall the moment his punch collided with my invisible shield, intent on putting my acting skill to full use.
The irony of having to stage a tumble before I could even start my illustrious career as a boxer wasn't lost on me. I'm sure I would have had a wise-ass remark about it in any other circumstances but now wasn't the time.
Maintaining my composure, I stood my ground, biding my time until the coach's fist seemed a mere two inches from my face. Bracing for my impeccable performance, I was ready to collapse in a dramatic tumble when, to my bewilderment, the coach's punch halted before connecting with the invisible barrier.
Swinging my gaze toward the coach, my eyes widened at the knowing smirk on his face. He took a purposeful step forward, lowering his center of gravity as he readied another punch, even as I began my descent.
Did this guy have some insider information or something?!
...
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