NOVEL NEXT Buff 3.9
Buff 3.9
"So, where are your parents?" Greg asked Sparky as his friend locked the front door behind them. The house was quiet and dark, obviously apart from the two of them.
Greg pursed his lips in confusion, wondering why that was. The few times he'd been here, the place had been relatively lively with Sparky's mom fluttering in and out of places while music blared from a speaker somewhere in the house.
From what he knew, Sparky's mom spent nearly all her free time at home. He wasn't too sure about his dad but he knew the man owned a Mexican restaurant, so the guy had to be pretty busy, right?
At least, Greg assumed so. He wasn't over at his friend's house all that often, Sparky often came over to his place to hang out.
Sparky's house, despite being somewhat smaller than Greg's, was furnished far more… creatively. Due to his mother's profession as a sculptor and her habit of dabbling in other art forms, her unsold pieces often filled the open spaces. As a result, even in the dim lighting, the place looked rather lively.
"Oh, them," Sparky replied flatly, flicking on the light switch without even turning his head. As light flooded the room, he shrugged.
"They're… uh," he began to walk, Greg following right behind him as he made his way toward the stairs. "They're in Boston," Sparky paused to clear his throat, "At...uhh, at a hotel for the weekend."
"A hotel?" Greg blinked, obviously confused. "Why? What's going on in Boston?"
Sparky let out a sigh as he walked up towards the second floor. "They're just having some together… time."
This prompted Greg to tilt his head, his hand alighting on the banister as he followed Sparky from behind. "Together time?"
"Together time." Sparky frowned, the curve of his mouth visible from where Greg stood. "They do it every two weeks, leaving me alone at home for the weekend." He paused for a moment, halting as they reached the top of the stairs and flicking Greg a blank stare. "Not that I hate it, get me?"
"Sure," Greg replied, his voice bright despite his persistent confusion as to what exactly Sparky was talking about. "I get you."
"Well, let's do this," Sparky said as the two reached the first door on the right as they left the stairs. Grabbing a key hanging from a rack on the wall, Sparky unlocked the door, flinging it open and gesturing for Greg to enter.
Greg did, stepping through the threshold only to pause, his eyes widening as he took in the room. "Whoa."
"I know, right?" Sparky stepped up next to him, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face that almost seemed… proud. "Dad put almost fifteen grand into this place."
"I can…" Greg nodded slowly, taking in everything. "I can definitely see that."
Exercise equipment filled up most of the space that made up the room, a separate area covered with mats clearly for some other purpose. So many dumbbells, intimidatingly large weight plates covered in brightly colored rubber and a long, silver barbell took up one side of the room along with several floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
Next to all that was a structure that seemed solely designed for pull-ups, with several cloth straps attached to it as well as a bunch of rubber robes for some reason. Everything else was just complicated equipment that he couldn't make heads or tails of.
Greg couldn't deny that the room itself was the epitome of a home gym. "Huh."
"What?" Sparky gave him a look.
"You know, you've never shown me this before," Greg mused aloud, still taking in the undoubtedly expensive exercise equipment.
"Why would I?" Sparky replied, eyebrow raised. "This is my dad's workout room. I only do cardio, anyway, and that shit's in the basement, so I'm almost never in here."
Greg nodded slowly. "Fair enough. So, what are we doing first?"
"Hmm… first, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor."
The blond tilted his head. "Hmm?"
Sparky turned to face Greg, gaze going from his head to his toes as he slowly gave his friend a once-over. "...lose the clothes."
Blue eyes blinked rapidly.
"...what?"
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Greg entered the exercise room again, rolling his eyes as he saw Sparky smirking at him.
"You know, you could have just said that you were gonna give me a pair of shorts," the blond began, pulling his arms back in a lazy stretch.
Sparky's smirk twitched. "Yeah, but your face, though. You looked so weirded out."
"Sparks…" Greg whined, his face reddening slightly.
He let out a scoff, openly grinning as Greg pouted. "Oh, stop being a baby."
The two of them stood shirtless in the exercise room, the only thing they had on their bodies being socks, shorts and underwear. While it was a tad drafty, Greg didn't make mention of it and Sparky didn't seem to be that uncomfortable as he looked over the machines in front of him.
"Okay, now, you said your STR is at 28, right?" Sparky mused aloud, a hand caressing his hairless chin.
Greg nodded. "Yep."
"Well, we need to test what that means in the real world so use that Observe thing on me. Check my stats, brah."
Greg shrugged and looked straight at his friend. "I don't think it'll do that but… sure. [Observe.]"
Axel "Sparky" Ramon
Student
Lvl 8
HP: 200/200
Best friend and a true bro. Known you since Freshman year. Annoyed at you, but when is he not? Considers himself grunge. Despises being called emo. Really good at math but hates doing it, for the most part. Great at Guitar. Moderately good singer.
Greg shook his head. "No stats, except for health. That's 200. Everything else is just flavor text."
"Flavor text? You know what, I'll find out later." Sparky glanced over towards the weight equipment, gaze flicking between the actual machines and the more mundane weight tools, "Let's check out those barbells first."
Greg frowned, paling slightly as he took in the massive weight bar. "I dunno, man. That thing looks kinda heavy," he remarked, an uncertain tone in his voice.
Instead of simply replying, Sparky gave him a hard slap on the back, prompting a yelp from Greg, the blond teen jumping slightly. "You'll be fine."
Rubbing his back slightly, Greg frowned. "Jerk."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Test 1," Sparky spoke aloud, a pen and notebook in hand. "Fifty-five pounds. You ready?"
"Uh yeah," Greg shrugged, shooting Sparky a slightly annoyed glance. "Thing is, I'm pretty sure I can lift over a hundred pounds, though. Now, at least."
Sparky waved him off. "Testing purposes. Just do it."
Greg shook his head and turned to face the dumbbell. He had been wondering what his actual limit was right now or at least what the numbers meant on his Stat screen. Well, ever since Sparky brought it up, he had. At least, now, he could have some idea.
Gripping the dumbbell in both hands in what was most likely an incredibly bad stance, Greg easily lifted the bar, raising it over his head in a single movement. Greg looked up at the bar in his hands, a somewhat pensive look on his face. After a moment, he grinned and let one hand go, his other hand easily supporting the bar on it's own. "Done."
Sparky took a step closer. "This isn't pushing it at all, brah?"
Greg smirked. "Nope."
The mixed teen nodded. "Kay, moving on."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Test 2; One-hundred pounds."
Greg lifted the slightly heavier bar above his head without too much effort and held it there. "Done."
Sparky quickly made a note in his book, before glancing back up. "No prob?"
Greg shook his head a bit hesitantly. "Not… really."
"Mmhmm, little prob, then." Another scribble in the book. "Can you do the one arm thing?"
Greg frowned, letting let one hand go for a moment before the bar began to wobble in his other hand. Flinching, Greg quickly grabbed hold of the bar again with both hands. He shook his head at Sparky. "That… No, I don't think so."
Sparky nodded, making another note in the book. "Got it."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Test 4; Two-hundred pounds."
Greg nodded and gripped the bar, the weights on the sides beginning to truly stack up in size. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled the bar off the ground and lifted it overhead, the motion noticeably slower than the previous attempts. "Okay, this is still pretty doable. Startin' to feel it, though."
"Gotcha," Sparky muttered, sitting on a weight bench, his shirt now on. "So, on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being like nothing and 10 being impossible to lift, how much does this weigh to you?"
Greg frowned, the bar still over his head. He glanced up at the bar in his grip and then back to Sparky, mulling the question over in his head. "I'd say this is a three, maybe. Possibly four."
"Huh, next up."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"Test nine; Four-hundred and fifty pounds."
Greg bent down, squatting as he gripped the bar. With a grunt, he began to pull and the dumbbell began to rise. With another, much more audible grunt, Greg lifted the bar over his head and held it there. Droplets of sweat were visible on his forehead from the effort as he kept the bar raised but he persisted. "Done," he said, voice clearly strained.
"1 to 10?" Sparky asked.
"Eight and a half, maybe?" Greg replied, his voice relaxing somewhat as he began to get used to the weight on his arms.
"How long do you think you can hold it, brah?" Sparky asked, raising an eyebrow as he saw Greg's arm muscles bulge slightly. "Like, max."
The blond frowned, shaking his head. "I dunno… max? Maybe ten, fifteen? Fifteen minutes before my arms give out, I guess."
"Okay, let's move to step 11."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
"You got this, brah?"
"...nnngggghhh…."
"Brah?"
"...nnnghh…" Greg let out another grunt as he heaved the heavily laden bar up to his chest, sweat pouring down his brow as he continued struggling. "...shut. Up. please."
His eyes were shut tight, veins visible on his forehead and arms as he raised the bar higher and higher. His arms were criss-crossing paths of veins as they bulged out from the effort he was putting in. Come on! Come on!
"Yeaaaah!" With a triumphant scream, Greg raised the bar all the way into the air. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and, after blinking away the sweat falling in his eyes, he stared into Sparky's gaping face.
"Dude…"
"How much... did you say... this was again?" Greg said, pausing to take gulping breaths.
"Test 11," Sparky repeated, "Five-hundred and fifty pounds."
Arms beginning to shake under the pressure, Greg lowered the bar to the floor, letting out a relieved sigh as it hit the mat beneath his feet. "Yeah, pretty sure that's my limit. Nine and a half, right here."
"Pretty sure?" Sparky raised an eyebrow. "I figure you could have taken about five or ten pounds more but..."
Greg shot him a tired glare. "My limit. That was it."
Sparky shrugged. "If you say so, okay. Seeing as how your limit seems to be about five-fifty, it seems like your strength stat is about twenty pounds per point. I mean, it could be exponential or quadratic but considering a 2 probably isn't the same strength as a baby..." He raised an eyebrow again. "I really doubt it."
Greg blinked, standing up straight. "Cool."
Grinning, Sparky patted him on the back. "Yep, and it's gonna be even cooler when we find out what your SPD stat means."
Greg let out a groan as Sparky began to shepherd his sweaty body out of the weight room.
"Oh, shut up, we still gotta write down your skills and shit too."
Greg groaned even louder.