The Olympus Rising training facility looked like someone had weaponized a luxury spa.
Marble floors. Gold trim. Equipment that probably cost more than my entire childhood neighborhood. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined every wall, which meant I got to watch myself look poor from seventeen different angles.
Veronica had assigned me a personal training coordinator. A woman named Helena who spoke in corporate jargon and smiled like she was paid by the tooth.
"Your morning session begins with assessment protocols. We need baseline metrics before customizing your development pathway."
"Cool. Where do I punch things?"
Helena's smile flickered. Just slightly.
"The combat evaluation suite is on level three. I'll escort you personally."
She walked ahead. Professional heels clicking against marble. Hips moving with the kind of rhythm that suggested extensive practice.
I followed. Observed. Catalogued.
