"So," Deadshot asked, looking at Lucas, "can you get me out now?"
"Give me your daughter's tuition account number," Lucas replied calmly.
"I'll have someone transfer the money."
"After that," he added, "don't rush to leave just yet."
Hearing that his daughter's tuition was settled, Deadshot finally relaxed and asked,
"So what do you need me to do while I'm still in here?"
He glanced around at the inmates on the yard—each one behaving like a model citizen—then turned back, puzzled.
"Honestly, it looks like you don't need me for anything."
"You'll find out soon enough," Lucas said.
Deadshot shrugged and sat down. He had nothing better to do anyway.
After making a call to arrange the transfer to Deadshot's account, Lucas had a video call with the two girls at home, then briefly explained the situation to his parents.
Just as he finished, the inspection of the gravity chamber was completed.
"Let's go," Lucas said.
He led Deadshot into the gravity chamber.
"What the hell is this thing?" Deadshot finally asked.
He had wanted to ask earlier, but years as an assassin had taught him one thing: sometimes, it's better to keep your mouth shut.
Now, faced with the ultra–high-tech facility, he couldn't help himself.
"You'll know in a moment," Lucas replied casually.
"By the way, how's your physical condition?"
Deadshot followed Lucas into the core training area and answered confidently,
"After two jobs, I can swim two kilometers and still have enough energy for three rounds back home."
Then he added quickly,
"Of course, that's nothing compared to a monster like you."
Lucas walked to a storage compartment and began putting on a weighted training suit.
He ignored the 600-kilogram set and directly equipped the 800-kilogram one.
Nearby were sets weighing 1,000 kilograms (1 ton), 1.2 tons, and 1.5 tons.
"Is that… weighted gear?" Deadshot asked with interest.
"So you're planning to train with me? How about getting me a set too?"
Lucas didn't answer. He simply tossed over two wrist weights from the 600-kilogram set.
Thud!
The moment Deadshot heard the sound, his expression stiffened.
He wasn't stupid—just from the noise, he could tell there was solid metal inside, and a lot of it.
"The hell is th—oh, shit!"
He crouched down and tried to lift one wrist weight with one hand.
His back almost gave out.
"Fuck! This thing has to weigh at least forty or fifty pounds!"
"And you train wearing this?!"
(Note: 1 pound ≈ 0.45 kg)
Holding the wrist weights with both hands, Deadshot stared at Lucas in disbelief.
"To be precise," Lucas said calmly,
"the set I'm wearing weighs 800 kilograms in total—about 1,800 pounds."
"I knew it," Deadshot muttered. "You're a freak."
"Ready?" Lucas asked.
"Ready for what? It's just weighted training, right?"
Deadshot suddenly had a very bad feeling.
"You'd better put that down," Lucas warned.
"Otherwise, you'll be carried out on a stretcher."
Deadshot immediately dropped the wrist weights and went on full alert.
His mind raced with wild possibilities—
'Are drones about to pop out of the walls? Automated turrets? Killer robots?'
Instead, he saw Lucas walk to the control panel beneath the central glass column and press a few buttons.
A low hum filled the chamber.
Deadshot instantly entered combat mode.
The glass pillar began to glow faint red as the super-dense core activated.
The next second, Deadshot let out a grunt.
His body suddenly felt several times heavier.
"This is… increased gravity?" he said, quickly realizing what was happening.
"Yeah," Lucas replied. "Two times gravity. How does it feel?"
"Barely okay," Deadshot said casually.
He regretted it immediately.
Lucas pressed the adjustment and increase buttons.
The gravity doubled again.
Deadshot groaned as his knees nearly buckled.
But pride—and sheer stubbornness—kept him upright.
"How about now?" Lucas asked calmly.
"If that's still fine, I can bump it up another level. I remember the human limit is around five times gravity."
"No! Fuck no! That's enough!" Deadshot nearly exploded.
"Alright," Lucas said. "Then let's begin."
He walked to the other side and started training.
Deadshot's brain went into overdrive.
1,800 pounds × 3 gravity = 5,400 pounds.
That was roughly 2.4 tons of effective load.
And that didn't even account for the crushing effect of triple gravity on internal organs.
Yet Lucas was calmly performing exercises—
single-arm lifts, using dumbbells that weighed over 500 pounds (240 kg) under triple gravity.
Deadshot swallowed hard.
"I'm not losing to him."
Despite his bravado, Deadshot didn't dare touch the equipment.
Instead, he started with push-ups and squats, trying to adapt to the triple-gravity environment.
Lucas trained while keeping an eye on Deadshot.
Now that Deadshot had joined the Guardians, improving his combat capability was only natural.
While Deadshot's physical condition far exceeded that of normal humans, he was still some distance from the true human peak.
Half an hour later, Deadshot collapsed face-down on the floor like a dead dog.
Lucas, meanwhile, had just finished warming up.
With a sigh, Lucas shut off the gravity and dragged Deadshot out of the training chamber.
"You're really weak," Lucas said bluntly.
"If you don't train properly, you'll be completely useless against what's coming."
"Fuck you," Deadshot gasped.
"I'm not one of you monsters! And I use guns—guns! Guns!"
Important things had to be said three times.
"Trust me," Lucas replied calmly.
"Once you build your body, you'll understand why."
With that, he shut the gravity chamber door.
"Fuck… monsters… fuck all of you…"
Deadshot crawled onto a bench, barely regaining some strength.
Click.
The chamber door opened again.
Thud!
A black metal case, about the size of a briefcase, landed in front of Deadshot.
"Inside are high-concentration energy drinks, high-protein, high-calorie food, and muscle recovery ointment," Lucas said.
"Follow the dosage instructions carefully. Do not overuse."
"This will last you more than a month."
Then the door closed again.
Deadshot stared at the small case.
"You've got to be kidding me. This tiny box is supposed to last me a month?"
After resting a bit, he opened the case and pulled out the instruction manual.
He grabbed one bottle, twisted it open, and tilted his head back for a big gulp.
The next second, he nearly spat it out.
"Holy shit! Is this even drinkable by humans?!"
Reading the nutritional breakdown, Deadshot almost cursed out loud.
Each bottle contained over twenty times the concentration of a standard energy drink.
In other words, if he drank it undiluted, he'd probably wake up in the infirmary.
Then he checked the food labels.
Line by line, his mouth opened wider and wider—until it could practically fit an egg.
"Oh… holy mother of shit," he muttered.
"This stuff is NOT meant for humans."
Deadshot covered his face.
At that moment, he truly felt like smashing his head against the wall.
___
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