What Are You? A Masochist?

Inside the Maines Fitness Club, Noah waited near the entrance, wearing a cap and a mask to keep a low profile. A few minutes later, he spotted his friend Peter jogging down the sidewalk, blond hair tousled and a bit out of breath.

"Noah!" Peter called, a bit louder than intended, catching the attention of a few passersby. He lowered his voice as he approached. "Everyone's been talking about you lately. Turns out you're a bit of a legend!"

Noah grinned but waved it off, leading Peter inside. "Let's catch up where it's quieter."

The two headed up to a private gym area on the third floor, away from the crowded workout spaces below. As they stepped inside, Peter glanced around, taking in the assortment of weights, punching bags, and a few hefty metal blocks in the corner.

"So," Peter began, "this part-time job you mentioned—$20,000 a month? What's the catch?"

Noah paused for effect, then replied casually, "Well, I was thinking we'd start with a bit of sparring."

Peter laughed nervously, but his smile faded as he realized Noah wasn't kidding. In a blink, Noah shifted his weight, pivoting on one foot, and launched a roundhouse kick aimed directly at Peter's head. Instinctively, Peter leaned back, feeling the whoosh of air as the kick narrowly missed his nose.

"Whoa!" Peter yelped, stumbling back a step. "What are you trying to do, knock my head off?"

Noah shrugged, unfazed. "Just wanted to test your reflexes. You'd be fine even if you hadn't dodged." He cracked a smile, and added, "Go on, hit me back. You can't hurt me."

"Your words, not mine," Peter replied, still wary but clearly intrigued. He balled his fist, and, still cautious, aimed a light punch to Noah's stomach.

Noah barely flinched, though his interface pinged to life, capturing Peter's stats as he landed the blow.

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Name: Peter Parker

Strength: 3.0

Agility: 2.6

Constitution: 2.8

Spirit: 4.2

Charisma: 1.1

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Noah couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. While Peter's stats were impressive for an average person, they didn't match up to the Spider-Man of movie fame. He remembered the scene in the movie where Peter held back a train—that would have taken far more strength than Peter's current numbers reflected.

"I knew you'd been working out, but I didn't think you'd be this… durable," Peter said, rubbing his hand. He paused, then continued, "What exactly do you need me for?"

"Simple. I need someone to help me with resistance training," Noah explained. "I'll pay you $20,000 a month, part-time. All you have to do is give me some good, solid hits—no holding back."

Peter looked unconvinced. "Are you saying you'll just stand there and let me hit you with, what, sticks? What are you? A masochist?"

Noah snorted and pulled out a stack of cash, waving it teasingly in front of Peter's face. "That's the deal. Think you're up for it?"

Peter's eyes lit up, his financial struggles temporarily forgotten. He grabbed the money with a grin, then glanced around the gym. "So, where's this stick?"

Noah motioned to a steel rod in the corner. Peter grabbed it, testing its weight as he gave it a few tentative swings.

"All right," he said. "Just tell me if this gets too much."

Noah shook his head. "Trust me, it won't."

Peter's first few strikes were light, almost tentative. The rod thudded against Noah's back, barely leaving a mark. Noah rolled his shoulders, urging Peter on. "Put some muscle into it. Don't worry about me."

Peter took a deep breath, tightening his grip. He swung harder, and the rod landed with a loud thud. A red mark started to form on Noah's back, but he didn't flinch, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to stay steady. It was painful, but pain was the point—each blow was a calculated step toward his goal.

"You're… you're not even reacting," Peter said, clearly impressed, though a bit unnerved. Noah's back was starting to bruise, but he stood firm.

Noah nodded approvingly. "Keep going. Just like that."

The rhythm picked up, the sound of metal against muscle filling the room as Peter struck in rapid succession. His concern for Noah started to fade, replaced by a kind of awe. He had never seen anyone take this kind of punishment without so much as a wince.

After several minutes, Peter's arms began to tire, though Noah still showed no sign of stopping. His back was battered, his skin red and bruised, but he just laughed, goading Peter to hit even harder.

Peter finally stopped, panting slightly. "Noah, I'm serious—you're bleeding."

"It's just a scratch. Nothing I can't handle," Noah replied, waving it off.

Peter's gaze softened, though his face held a look of disbelief. "You're saying this helps you get stronger? Are you sure you aren't just a masochist?"

"Exactly. Each hit makes me a little tougher, bit by bit. I've got goals, Peter, and they're a lot bigger than just hitting the gym." Noah gave a knowing smile. He didn't mention his interface's power or the level of resilience he'd been building. There was no need—he preferred to keep some things under wraps.

Peter took a step back, eyebrows raised, a mixture of concern and admiration in his eyes. "All right, if you're serious about this, I'm game. But next time, I'm bringing gloves."

Noah laughed, clapping Peter on the back. "Welcome to the team."

They continued for another round, with Peter striking faster, finding a rhythm in his strikes. Despite his aching arms, Peter couldn't deny the thrill—here he was, sparring with his friend, earning a paycheck for it, and feeling oddly empowered.

After another ten minutes, Noah decided they'd had enough for one session. He flexed his sore muscles, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. Progress was everything, and even a little went a long way.

As they cleaned up, Peter glanced over, brow furrowed. "Noah, why are you pushing yourself so hard? You're already… well, impressive."

Noah's smile faded, and for a brief moment, his expression hardened. "There's more to strength than just lifting weights, Peter. There are people out there—dangerous people. I want to be ready for them."

Peter sensed the gravity in his friend's words but didn't press further. Instead, he gave a simple nod, understanding more than words could convey.

With a final clap on Peter's shoulder, Noah headed out. He knew he still had a long road ahead, but with each hit and each step, he was getting closer to his goal. The world was bigger, darker, and more dangerous than Peter knew. But as long as Noah was there, he'd make sure they were ready for whatever came next.

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Good news, y'all. I was able to borrow a laptop for a few days, and my Pc should be fixed in that time. So, don't worry, I'm gonna keep writing.

So, this is my first time doing this. I hope you guys can help me improve by providing your feedback. Some stones would be nice. (づ ◕_◕ )づ