Date point: 14y 9m 1d AV
Total Combat Fitness, southwest Folctha, Cimbrean
Mid-morning
Dr. Marc Tisdale
Marc was, at heart, a gentle man. He had love for most everyone he met and refused to hold anger for anyone or anything unless they had truly, irrevocably earned it. That said, he was still a man and had all the competitive instincts any man should. He was a successful scholar with serious post-doc research under his belt. He was a competitive powerlifter flirting with a super-heavyweight classification, and had co-founded Folctha’s first dojo. He’d even seriously considered joining Cimbrean’s olympic teams in all those events, if he only had time left to commit to it. But no matter. He had Hope, he had Hayley, he had important work, and he had the kids and adults in the gym scene all looking to improve themselves. All of them were special. Some of them were brightly-shining stars, destined for great things if they truly desired it. And a couple were genuine heroes in a very real sense of the term.
Like little Adam Arés, who didn’t remain little for long. At the ripe old age of fifteen he discovered the gym, became an iron rat pretty much on the first day, found Marc by the squat rack repping out ten plates on the bar and more or less idolized him right off the bat. Then, in what seemed like a blink of an eye, he grew. In less than a year the boy had turned sixteen and was matching Marc lift for lift despite being a head shorter and a solid twenty five kilos lighter. Within a month he was edging past, in another he was firmly ahead, and by the time he had any interest in the military, the boy was so far ahead of Marc both under the bar and on the scale it was legitimately intimidating. Then he went off to join the Air Force, which Marc tried not to judge…and came back a hero. Too much of one to really get.
And it wasn’t like Marc had stopped or anything. Marc never stopped, never stopped thinking, never stopped lifting, never stopped helping out with the school plays and the volunteer litter-pickers and patrolling downtown on weekends with cheap raincoats and plastic slippers in a bag to help drunk people get home safe, and the Gaoian refugees…
He was always working on himself and others, and he loved seeing them thrive…though it could still sometimes be a little hard to stomach when someone like Adam showed up and effortlessly passed him by. Some people were just born special and that grated at Marc’s instincts: It smacked of privilege. He detested the idea that some people were just dealt a better hand in life and there was nothing anybody could do to draw level with them.
Detest it as he might, though, facts couldn’t be denied. Adam was a man destined for greatness. It seemed, annoyingly, that Julian was too. Marc tried not to hold any of that against his friends, but that didn’t mean he had to like the facts of what it meant to be truly gifted. Marc had been playing the iron game his whole life and in the process built had himself up from a skinny nerd in public school into a man you’d never want to meet in a dark alley. Julian…he’d only really been at it for a little over two years and underwent the kind of transformation one only hears about in tall tales, or maybe sees hyped half to death on the internet when some supplement company or another wanted to push their poison. In that sense Julian was like Adam. The explorer for-hire worked his ass off sure enough, but some petty undercurrent in Marc’s psyche couldn’t help but be a little jealous of a gifted man whose physique put virtually everyone Marc had ever met to utter shame.
Which made it a slightly guilty pleasure that he was able to take on a man like Julian, who was quite a bit heavier than Marc and a fuck of a lot stronger, and tie the big dude into a pretzel.
Repeatedly.
Life always had its little rewards.
Though Marc had to give Julian credit: he was was good-humored about it. Most dudes got butt-hurt, frustrated and angry when they couldn’t fight back but Julian would just chuckle ruefully and tap out whenever he decided he couldn’t escape the predicament of the moment. But Julian was a fast learner, and since Adam was involved in his training he was absurdly well-conditioned and ridiculously strong too, so Marc was under no illusion about that happy state of affairs lasting for very long. Against Julian, Marc only got one shot with any tactic or trick, so he had to make every move count.
Still, one took their victories where they could, which he did right then after a few minutes of a remarkably exhausting struggle to keep Julian pinned to the floor. He tapped out, Marc grinned and let go, and then flopped off to the side, dead tired.
“Adam was right. You’re full of tricks.” The shaggy-haired man had a lot more juice left in him and effortlessly kipped himself up, then prowled lazily toward the sink in the corner of the room.
“Had to be,” Marc revealed after catching his breath, feeling absurdly pleased by the compliment. “Dealing with him as a teenager was…trying.”
“Teenage ‘Horse. That’s a mental image…” Julian turned on the tap to fill the nearby bucket. The gym they trained in was one of the two “hardcore” iron dungeons in Folctha and had no air conditioning, being essentially a large prefab storage shed. Nobody had ever bothered to install one and nobody ever would; opening the rolling doors or getting good and soaked were luxury enough for those ‘rats.
“Adam was a good kid. A really good kid, considering. But bloody intense. Very aggressive about everything, didn’t matter if it was just tryin’ to be friends, he went after it relentlessly. I’m honestly amazed he got into as few fights as he did.”
“Still like that today.” Julian rolled his thick neck and got a loud ‘pop’ for his efforts.
“In some ways he never changed. Still a friendly pup of a man.”
“Mhmm.” The shaggy-haired dude lifted the bucket over his head and dumped water all over himself, then mopped his hair out and paused for a bit, obviously thinking about something. “…Yeah. I wasn’t anything like that. Grandpa said I was laid back and quiet.”
“You are now, though. More intense and aggressive, I mean.”
Julian shrugged matter-of-factly. “That’s ‘cuz I have to be.”
“Sure.” Marc groaned and rolled to his feet, and briefly envied Julian’s much younger body. “Being honest, a completely laid back personality doesn’t manage the achievements you have.”
Julian had a great big towel with a large, friendly Hitchhiker’s reference on it—wholly commendable, in Marc’s view—which he was using to scrub himself and the padded floor as dry as he could. He also tried to dry his workout shorts, promptly gave up with a shrug and a growl, then thumped back toward Marc and flopped down on the mat alongside.
And sighed. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“That bothers you.” Sometimes it was better not to ask a question, but to state an observation.
“I guess.” He sighed again, “I just, I dunno. Never thought of myself like this, y’know?”
“Just a kid in the woods, tryin’ to get by.”
“…Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” Julian was bothered by something, that much was obvious. It seemed like right then was a good time to play the Wise Old Man.
“And now here you are, field researcher with the Ten’Gewek. Your samples have been much appreciated in the life sciences, by the way. You’re getting pretty famous amongst researchers.”
“Wait, reall y?”
“Yup. Byron Group have been writing papers left and right on Akyawentian life, and you’ve been credited as the ‘chief field researcher’ in each one of them.”
That seemed to amuse him and elicited a soft chuckle. “Funny, they never told me that.”
“I get the impression that’s deliberate, Julian.” Marc sat back down alongside and patted him paternally on the shoulder. “You’ve got a lot on your plate as is.”
“Yeah. S’why I’m here with you, I need to learn how to tussle better. Strength-wise I’m finally about level with Vemik, which is good ‘cuz he’s pretty damn strong these days for a Ten’Gewek man. But they get stronger and tougher with age and the older men can be beastly.”
“I’ve seen the pictures, and the videos. Just about everyone has by now.” Marc scratched at his ear for a moment. “Is it really true they put gorillas to shame?”
“Eh, sorta.” Julian flopped down on his back and grabbed his ankles to stretch. “But that’s maybe overhyped. Vemik isn’t quite that big yet. Most Ten’Gewek are built more like football or rugby players, but with no real body fat and they’re smushed down to like five, maybe five-and-a-half feet tall. The women are like runningbacks or something, and the men are more like really big linebackers.”
“…Dang. You’re serious?”
“Oh yeah!” Julian chuckled as he pulled his stretch tighter. “When we first showed up? Vemik had easily over twenty pounds on me and he was literally a lanky kid who’d just become a man. When we came back, what, over a year later? I’d done all this training and shit, Adam helped me get big and just stupid strong, right? I won’t lie, I was pretty hyped up about it. But then we meet again,” Julian laughed, “and the cave monkey bastard was over fifty pounds bigger than me!”
“And he’s still only about five feet tall.” Good Lord.
“Eh, five-two or five-three now I guess. His crest comes up to my nose now.” Julian chuckled, let go of his stretch, and sat up. “But yeah. These days Vemik could put basically anyone in the league to shame and he’s still not anything like the older men. Those dudes really are in tear-a-silverback-apart territory, and Given-Men can rip apart bears. Hell, I’ve watched Yan pull a small werne bull apart without a grunt of effort, like it was made of tissue. The damn thing had to be, I dunno, over a thousand pounds? More? Something ridiculous like that.”
“…Dang.” There really wasn’t much else to say.
“Yup. Now Walsh is strong enough now to match with the older men, but that’s ‘cuz he wants to join HEAT and he’s training with Crude and other stuff. I don’t know if I can go that far so I need to be crafty if I’m gonna keep their respect.”
Marc nodded. The demands of living with the Ten’Gewek were by all accounts harsh. “That’s probably wise. And being honest I imagine whatever the HEAT are doing can’t be perfectly safe.” That had been something that had bothered Marc for some time. After all, Adam was a walking, talking example of how far a human could go if they really wanted to, but at what cost?
“Yeah. I’m not doing anything like that ‘cuz I wanna stay healthy and I don’t know how much more I’ve got left in me anyway.” He paused and reconsidered. “Well, okay. I suppose I could keep growing like a weed if I wanted to, but…”
“You’ve got lines you won’t cross.” That seemed pretty obvious.
Julian nodded. “Yeah. I got really lucky and met Adam, and I’ve, uh, I guess I’ve got the genetics to do this myself, so…may as well do it honestly, y’know?”
Marc raised an eyebrow. Julian wasn’t a hulk the same way Adam or any of his teammates were, true enough. But he was easily the largest and most capably fit athlete Marc had ever seen outside of that group, professional or otherwise. He’d built himself up from an impressive everyday fit kind of guy into a truly elite hardbody, and he’d managed all that very quickly.
Which meant that Marc had two one-of-a-kind prodigies in his personal orbit. That annoyed him enough that he couldn’t quite keep the snark out of his voice.
“Well shit, guess there’s no hope for me, then.”
And he immediately regretted it. Julian sort of…shrunk into himself. “…Sorry.”
Damnit.
“No, Julian. I’m sorry. Never apologize because you’re better. Anyway,” Marc barreled through before the situation got any more awkward, “So you’re still playing catch-up, then. You think you’ll ever draw level with them?” The kind of natural strength the Ten’Gewek possessed was honestly difficult to imagine. “And it was a hell of a slog for you to get where you are, too.”
“Yeah.” Julian shook his hair out then nodded. “And yeah, I’m still not where I want to be, but I think I can get there eventually. I’m finally strong enough to hunt alone on their world so it’s been totally worth it. That’s important to them.”
“Alone? Well, didn’t you manage to survive Nightmare for six years?”
“Yeah, I did, but…” Julian shrugged expansively and scratched the back of his head. “I kinda think Nightmare’s almost easy compared to Akyawentuo. Survival on the People’s world is hard work.”
“I thought Nightmare was a class thirteen or so.”
“It is, but that’s from a Corti’s perspective. The thing is they’re a small, weak people, and they’re dependent on agriculture. Assuming they survive in the first place, it’s probably easier for them to gather food on Akyawentuo.”
It was Marc’s turn to be impressed. “Really?”
“They’re primary mycovores. Mushrooms are everywhere on Akyawentuo and they’re nearly all safe to eat. For us, though? We need a lot more calories and on the People’s world you can’t get really them from anything growing on the ground, don’t matter if it’s jungle or steppe. Well, okay, there’s Bibtaw and Tanew and a few other things but that’s…none of that is food you can live on, long-term.”
“Fascinating!” Marc loved it when he got to learn something new. “So it’s all, what? Woody plants? Lots of cellulose and the like?”
“And mast, but yeah. Anything that fruits the way we think the word means, pretty much only grows in the forests and then it’s way high up. The grasses and ferns are rich, though. They’ve got really big herbivores and they breed like rabbits.”
“Like these werne I’ve seen on the news.”
“Yeah! They’re dangerous, too. Fast, strong, mean and they’ve got razor blades on their jaw and their hooves can cut you in half. They grow to something sized between a goat and a cow before their first season is up. After that they get way bigger if they live long enough. The biggest werne bulls? More massive than rhinos. Takes ‘em less than five years to get that big, too!”
“Good Lord,” Marc pondered, “And the Ten’Gewek are their main predators?”
“Nope! Not even close. There’s a bunch of competitors they gotta fend off. Like, there’s yshek in the rivers, which are like if an orca and a crocodile had babies. They can get just as big as an orca, too. On land they’ve got something that’s like a cross between a cave bear and a saber-toothed cat and it’s way bigger. Just once I saw one in open field chase down a werne and I swear the damn thing’s gotta be able to outrun a fuckin’ car on a freeway. It can lope along for hours, too. And it’s also got ten inch claws and can climb Ketta trees…I’m pretty sure that predator all by itself is the reason Given-Men evolved.”
“…Dang. That sounds like genuine nightmare fuel, right there. What’s it called?”
“I don’t know!” Julian laughed and shook his shaggy head, “They won’t even speak its name! Yan won’t tell me until my Rite of Manhood and I already promised never to speak of it to anyone. Not even the women know! Only the Singers and Dancers do, it’s unreal.”
That was…a remarkable thing to learn. “…Jesus.”
Julian gave a wry smile. “I’m not sure even He would fuck with one of these things, bro.”
“Well, can it walk on water?” Marc snarked.
“Heh, I doubt it. The one we saw from the ship we think musta weighed at least six thousand pounds. The People really hate wide open ground, by the way…”
“…I don’t blame them.” Marc shook his head in disbelief. “Anyway. So lots of prey.”
“—Right! Yeah. Lots of prey animals and they grow big, grow fast, and they breed like rabbits. Everything low to the ground is perfect for them to eat, but it isn’t very good for us. Now there are tubers and stuff but not as much as you’d need, so the other thing you need to eat lots of besides meat is fruit. They’re mostly like avocados too, and they grow way the fuck up in the trees.”
“Ah. Okay, this makes sense now. The Ten’Gewek seem like they evolved to take advantage of both food sources.”
“Yeah, I think so. On Akyawentuo you gotta do a fuck of a lotta climbing and gathering, or you gotta hunt big game, and doing either of those things on that planet means you need to be quick, clever, and strong as all hell. That’s the Ten’Gewek in a nutshell. That’s why I did all of this,“ Julian gestured across his body, “They want me to do their Rite of Manhood and I gotta do it their way, too. They don’t like the idea of me using human tools.”
“Just a bow and spear?”
“No, just the spear. The Given-Men got together and they think the bow is powerful Taking-Magic, and shouldn’t be used until a boy is already a man. Vemik gets a pass ‘cuz he invented it, ‘cuz ‘he was already a man’ when he did his Rite.”
“…great. Gorilla lawyers.”
That got a burst of laughter from Julian, loud and mirthful. He was normally in the habit of a quiet chuckle so a good belly laugh was more rewarding to provoke.
“Man! Anyway, yeah. It’ll be nice to finally, uh, prove myself.”
“Ah. So that’s why you’ve been at it like a madman. Peer pressure!”
“Heh.” Julian unselfconsciously scratched at the back of his head, and in so doing he absentmindedly flexed that massive, perfect bicep of his like he had done many times before. Which…All through their morning training, Marc had barely noticed anything like that, except in the way that anyone would notice their workout partners or friends. But not that time. Julian was unconsciously far too fucking hot, especially when he noticed Marc’s gawping stare. He chuckled happily, drew his entire upper body into a powerful flex and grinned a massive, shit-eating grin, then shook his head sheepishly and dropped his arms. “…Sorry.”
“N–No. I’m sorry,” Marc almost stammered. But after a moment of thought he found himself annoyed with Julian’s misplaced modesty. “Actually…No. Fuck it. I just wish you’d stop pretending to be less than you are, it’s getting bloody annoying. You’re better than me. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it. And humoring your repressed self-image is beginning to get a bit fucking tedious!”
“I…what?” Julian sat there rooted in place, momentarily stunned by the sudden outburst.
Feeling his dander up, Marc stabbed his index finger right in the center of Julian’s thick slab of a chest and growled, consequences be damned. “Actually, to be perfectly honest it’s getting a mite fuckin’ insulting. I’m not telling you to be some strutting bell-end, but seriously: stop acting like you aren’t among the best of the bloody best, ‘cuz you are.”
Julian swallowed and nodded vigorously. “…Yessir.”
Christ. But Marc had said his piece, and deflated with a sigh. “Shit. Sorry.”
Julian relaxed slowly and shook his shaggy head. “No. Don’t be. I think…maybe you’re right. Am…am I being an ass about it?”
“Not deliberately, no.” Christ, how to explain it. “It’s just, honestly? A man like you shouldn’t be walking around like he’s all meek and inoffensive. You’re not. You’re too big for my balance scale and once you learn how to properly spar you’ll be able to break me without trying. It’s…” Marc suddenly realized what his gripe was, and went in for the kill. “Your constant tip-toeing around what you can really do doesn’t feel polite or considerate. It feels…patronizing.”
“…Oh. Um…Sorry.” It was an odd thing watching a man like Julian shrink into himself, but if that got the lesson through his head, so be it.
“Right. Earlier today we lifted. You used the exact same weights I did. Yeah, I know,” he raised his hand to forestall the inevitable objection, “You weren’t here to lift, you were just being a good training partner. But now I gotta wonder…what can you really do? Tell me. Be honest, mate.”
Julian blushed and again scratched the back of his head, then eventually admitted the truth. “Well, some lifts I’m stronger than others, but…fuck. Here,” Julian stalked back to his bag and fished around, then fetched a battered black book. “Just read.”
Marc perused the numbers. Then paused unbelievingly, started again from the beginning, and read them more carefully. “Wait, so…you’re that much better? On every lift? Christ, that makes you stronger than I was at my absolute peak! And you’re doing that with how much volume?”
“…Yeah. I’ve, uh…” He grew more embarrassed by the second, “I’ve been focusing on work capacity.”
“So. You’ve got me beat for weight and for reps. And both at the same time. Which means that little session we did earlier today wasn’t remotely any kind of a challenge for you, was it.” He didn’t ask it as a question.
Julian’s cheeks went crimson. “…No…not really.”
Jesus.
“Julian…” Marc could only chuckle in disbelief and mild shock. “Those are massive numbers. You do know that, right?”
“…I do. And hell, I don’t mind the way it makes Al and Xiù look at me…” he cleared his throat. “…or other women. Or, uh, some guys. Or…you. That’s all good for the ego, I guess, but…”
“…Well, shit.” Marc grumbled, “Now I feel like a right arse.”
“No no! No. It’s okay. Really. I’m flattered. Also, uh, no,” he added hastily. “Just, y’know. For the record.”
Marc snorted in amused relief. “Please, do you feel the need to say that to every woman who checks you out? Besides I’m married.”
“Feh,” Julian’s troll-grin was on full display. “That’s never stopped you two before!”
“…Fair point, but Hayley would need to agree.” Marc, however, could troll right back. “Think your women are the type to share?”
“No, definitely not. And I still said no, Marc.” An even trollier grin, “You’re a dirty hippy!”
“Clean hippy, thank you—Hayley and I got into soap a few years back, you know. And you wouldn’t believe how much it costs to import Lush to this planet.”
And there it was. The patented combined sigh-chuckle-headshake that was uniquely and adorably Julian.
“Anyway. We clear on this? No more of this false modesty, Julian.”
“Yessir.” He seemed relieved there were no hard feelings.
“Good. And I’ll try and be less of a knob. Fair?”
“Heh. Fair.”
“Right. Anyway,” Marc looked at the clock. It was late morning, and Julian was due for a meal. “I think we need a run. So let’s get you and your pretty self up for a quick jog, then you can eat, rest, then we go at it again. Sound like a plan?”
Julian nodded happily and sprang to his feet with all the energy of a man barely out of high school. Marc in turn climbed a bit wearily to his own feet and shook his head. He had been a serious hardbod himself in his youth—hell, not even five years ago he was still lean and mean—but deep down he knew that he’d never again have a body even remotely like Julian’s, and that he’d never been close in his absolute prime.
But Marc found…he didn’t mind. Not anymore. Momentary confusion aside, Julian needed help. Not just with the wrestling—he needed help there too, no lie. But somehow Marc knew there was something deeper eating at Julian, and that he was a man not used to talking it out.
No. Julian was a lot like Adam. They both seemed to think best while they were exerting themselves, and today’s coaching was building to something bigger. Marc understood.
He’d just need to see it to its end.
“C’mon mate. Let’s see if those pretty legs of yours can jog.” Marc decided on a jaunt around town, just for some fresh air that didn’t taste like stale armpits and pain. He walked to the door and beckoned while he slipped on some falling-apart sneakers. Julian didn’t bother and followed behind barefoot.
One last thing. “Put this on.” Marc picked up a heavy weighted vest that had sat undisturbed by the door for many years now. “This was Adam’s when he was training to join the Air Force.” Julian nodded and picked it up…or attempted to, then raised his eyebrow and lifted it with a quiet grunt.
“Dang, this is heavy.”
“Yup. I need to level the playing field a bit. You might need to loosen it to fit, but…”
Julian nodded and did so. “Okay. Where we going?”
“Somewhere. Where we end up depends on when you tire out!”
That got the fire going again. “Okay old man, lead the way!”
Good. Marc was many things. Old. Well, oldish, anyway. He had some chronic pain. He’d definitely let the fat go too far. But he was still competitive, and he still enjoyed the game. If he could work out those urges while helping Julian get to wherever he needed to go, well…
What were friends for? They stepped out into the sun, and ran towards the river.