<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: franklin gothic demi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">John Aaron: Training Room</span></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>Aerobics Chamber</em></span></span></div><br/>The sub-basement resonated with the clap of a basketball in the distance and voices of people conversing and laughing. John thought he had walked into Athens, since only Athenians would find some way to giggle through a stressful workout. Then again, the individuals probably knew nothing of a true warrior’s workout. It sounded nothing like the festival he was hearing. His malt ball eyes darted left and then right, noticing the glass that made up the walls of most of the chambers for observational reasons. It was a certain room to his left that made the teenager stop. There were strange balls inside it.<br/><br/><em>What foolishness is this?</em>John thought. He headed over to the room, the door electronically sliding back to permit him entrance. The senior came before the pink, beach-ball-sized ball and poked at it with his foot to see it go rolling like a balloon across the floor. How was anyone supposed to train with that?<em>I must be at the beach.</em><br/><br/>“What a joke,” he scoffed.<br/><br/>He noticed that there were more balls on the floor, one in particular that was smaller than the pink ball, and was white and green. John smirked and rushed it, bringing his right foot back. The top of his foot then collided with the ball to send it soaring like a cannonball at the steel wall. Unlike the pink ball, John was slightly surprised to have felt weight and resistance as the medicine ball struck the wall with a resonating slap, and the momentum sent it flying right back to nail the teen in the face. The force knocked John’s head back as the medicine ball simply rolled down his front to land like a rippling weight at his feet. The teenager’s eyes were wide in shock until his face began to turn red as his nerves screamed with pain. John clapped his hands over his face and stared from between his fingers at the medicine ball at his feet.<br/><br/>That had been no normal ball. Walking out with a hand still on his face, John’s examination of the aerobics chamber was finished.<em>That was stupid,</em>he thought. He had no real intention to work out and so wasn’t dressed for the part. He still adorned his school clothes that had so far been with him through several different occasions.<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: franklin gothic demi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">John Aaron: Training Room</span></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>Weight Room</em></span></span></div><br/>As his tour took him into another room, he saw that this one had a young woman within it, who was engrossed with a strange machine that apparently applied resistance to the thighs and groin. Her back was to him, and though he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was an attractive woman. The tower seemed to be full of them today. John watched the blonde in silence, specifically how her strong legs would spread and then her thighs and glutes would tense when they closed. He eventually turned his head when he realized he had been grinning and offered no greeting for he didn’t wish to disturb her exercise. If he was training, he wouldn’t have wanted to be disturbed.<br/><br/>John inspected the weight rack, lifting a few dumbbells effortlessly, and then picking up the discs that read 100 lbs. Was that supposed to be heavy?<em>I have lifted Cyclopes and hurled them into the sea</em>, John boasted to himself. He flipped the disc in his hands and had the impulse to launch it like a Frisbee, but even when hung over, he knew that wouldn’t have been a smart idea. Setting the disc back on the rack with a condescending smile, he gazed over to the bench press.<br/><br/>The machine was electronic though it was modeled after the original. The large weights on either end of the bar could be programmed to be as light as feather or as heavy as a mammoth.<br/><br/>“Hmph!” laughed John behind a smile.<em>A toy for a child.</em><br/><br/>John stepped over and settled upon the bench and typed in a random number of weight he wanted. He wasn’t planning to do anything too heavy for he wasn’t sure how much his mortal frame could handle. Yeah, he tackled a Mastodon earlier, but he didn’t lift anything.<br/><br/>“Sixty-five should do it,” John muttered and then laid back.<br/><br/>He flexed his fingers, rotated his arms, and adjusted on the bench. The teen then reached up to grasp the titanium bar and slid it free from its post. The weight came down on him, heavier than he expected. John’s muscles immediately locked up as he stopped the bar just from crushing his throat.<em>What is this!?</em>he thought in panic. Why had the bar been so heavy? John’s arms began to tremble and his legs rose off the floor to kick wildly in his struggle. The bar inched onto his chest and the weight was pressing down, threatening to slide against his throat. His teeth were clinched and his eyes were so wide they could have popped free of their sockets.<br/><br/>His lungs were desperately contracting strained amounts of oxygen through his teeth.<em>If I don’t do something, I will be crushed!</em>Not to mention he already looked pathetic flailing about like a weakling.<br/><br/>John’s face contorted sternly as his body began to expand. His clothes became tight, his black, T-shirt hugging the defined bricks of abdominal and pectoral muscle that stretched the material. His belt buckle and pants button popped as his quads and glutes became large and harder than steel. The sleeves on his school uniform shirt split as his biceps and deltoids became swollen with strength. It had been enough power for John to return the bar to its post, and with an abrupt exhale, the teen deflated back to normal size just before he thought his clothes would burst.<br/><br/>John closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with deep pants. He couldn’t believe that he had to almost become Ares just to lift that bar, and his eyes rose to the electronic screen to see that the weight wasn’t set to pounds but tons. They had a tons setting? Whoever was last to use the machine hadn’t pushed reset. John sluggishly rolled onto his side. That concluded his training room adventure.<br/><br/><em>I’m too hung over for this,</em>he thought—another excuse. He just might kill himself if he kept playing around the training facility. He rolled off the bench to the floor and went dragging back to the door.