2018.12.1:Steele Fitness Academy
| Steele Fitness Academy | |
|---|---|
| A temporary pack of Garou visit a suspected wyrm stronghold called "The Steele Fitness Academy", following up on the lead found in 2018.11.24 Sadism Stick in the Woods | |
| IC Date | Saturday, December 1st, 2018 |
| Players | Hjalmar as Hank, Micah Winding River, Aleksandr, and Waziyata (ST) |
| Spheres | Shifter Gaian Garou |
It's early afternoon, lunch hour, and the sun is already dipping lower in the sky, shadows beginning to lengthen. Night comes quickly during the winter on the west coast, but it won't arrive for a few hours yet. The city streets are congested, full of cars and people as the lunch rush begins. A food truck has set up shop on the street corner here, doing a brisk trade in gyros and healthy greek dishes. A few men loiter outside the gym in the cool pacific sun, smoking cigarettes in the adjoining alleyway. All three of them are young, strong, and athletic in build, though not outrageously so. The shortest of them has a prematurely receeding hairline and a bit of a belly.
The Gym itself is wedged between a narrow alley bearing a dumpster, and a bail bonds outfit. Across the street are a little convenience store, a barber shop, and a massage parlor. It isn't the roughest part of town, but it isn't the best area, either. An old fashioned hangout zone for kids who were up to no good, before the internet age.
The gym itself has all of its blinds drawn down, hiding the interior from those in the street outside, with the name "Steele Fitness Academy" stenciled across the windows and again in the glass of the door. A sticker in the corner of the front window declares the property is monitored by ADT security, to answer the earlier question about a security system, though the sticker itself is faded and peeling, so who knows if it's still true?
As the makeshift pack approach the gym, the door opens and a very large latino steps out. The man wears a muscle shirt and gym shorts, and is an obvious, steroid-abusing bodybuilder with biceps as big around as most men's legs and massive veins popping out of his squat neck. He moves with the prototypical hulking swagger of the breed, and wears a scowl as he puts on a pair of rayban sunglasses and turns in the direction of the food truck. One of the smoking men gives him an upnod on his way past.
Hjalmar has himself readied up for support if needed and put up his best smile for the job. He grins to the others of his group and walks with them to the door, observing all that passes. From the three outside, to the latino walking to the food truck. The sticker is also noted ofcourse. Though he tries to see if more can be seen here. The group has talked through the plan. Micah would be doing the talking. Backed up where needed. Alek and Wazi would be staying a little on the background of the group for now. (Unless any decided otherwise!)
Yes, after much deliberation and discussion, the plan has been decided for a direct recon under the protection of the Veil and daylight. Micah is dressed casually as he ambles along the sidewalk, his demeanor friendly and amiable as he nods politely to those who may make eye contact with him on the way towards the small, hole-in-the-wall gym. When those who are loitering come into view, Micah makes a point of catching their attention to give them an engaging smile, turning on his charm for all it's worth and to also make certain that he presents an image of one who is fully confident in where he's going and that this is somewhere that he belongs. He then glances back to the others, stating in a conversational tone that can likely be overheard but it not loud enough to be deliberately done so. "Well, this is the place. Steel Fitness. Hope he's right, sounds like it's the kind of gym we've been looking for."
Aleksandr looks more like a guy who needs to spend time in the gym, than someone who should be trying to join one of roided out monkeys. Which makes him take up the rear as if just along for the ride and joining a gym with his friends. He's serious, as he always is, watching, seemingly, everything at once. The guys in the alley, the steroid junkie coming out the door, all of it, as if everything might contain a clue. There's a nod to Micah's words, but nothing more. His attention sis till more on the surroundings.
For her part, Wazi is hanging back in the group of garou. She has her hands buried in her hoodie pockets as she slouches along after the other three, though her eyes go wide at the sight of the swaggering strongman on his way to the food truck. Her mouth opens in a surprised expression, and she glances to the three men she's accompanying. Between the gaggle of them, most of the people on the street give a very wide berth, eyeing them with open wariness or suspicion, the curse in action. For her part, Wazi doesn't pay that any mind, she's probably long used to it, as an Ahroun.
When Micah comes to a halt and makes that pronouncement, she stops too, looking at the three men in the alleyway, then to the gym itself. She wrinkles her nose, lips pursing for just a moment, before she huffs a quiet sigh. She glances to her three companions and then speaks up for the first time since the arguments over how the gym should be best approached. "Strength. I am here." It probably shouldn't be reassuring, coming from the awkward teenager with her difficult English. But the magic of her gift makes it so, her companions' wills being hardened just a little with renewed purpose and vigor. For her part, Wazi doesn't seem to feel the effects of whatever she's just done. Instead, she settles for frowning at the door again.
The steroid junkie ambles away to the gyro truck with only a scowl for anyone that crosses his path, including the man who gave him the nod. The three men smoking give the group of garou curious, slightly nervous looks. They shift their weight and their muttered conversation goes quiet in favor of watching the pack loiter in front of the door, and Micah's cheerful pronouncement. It isn't until Wazi says her piece that the tension eases a little, and one of the man snickers. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then seems to think better of it and takes a drag of his cigarette instead.
Nothing prevents the garou from entering the gym. A bell on a string above the door jingles merrily as they make their way inside, an old-fashioned solution to what would be an electric chime in most modern businesses. Inside, the gym's purpose is immediately, obviously, abundantly clear. It is a gym for the meatiest of meatheads. The hardcore weight lifters. The men who hate anyone who is weaker than them.
There isn't a treadmill, stairmaster, bike, or elliptical in sight, only a training mat in the back, and rack after rack of free weights, bench presses, and strength machines. The token nod to cardio fitness would be the jump ropes hanging on the left hand wall. Posters line the walls, each of them modeled after the stereotypical Motivational Poster, but aimed at the gym's style of clientele: "Unless you puke, faint, or die - KEEP GOING!" "I don't make excuses, I make results." "Don't stop when it hurts; stop when you're DONE!" and, the most objectionable for many, "Cheat on your GIRLFRIEND, Not your WORKOUT!"
The centerpiece seems to be an ad placement for a product. It has fine text littering the very bottom of its glossy page, but is dominated by a massive picture of swollen abs and biceps, zoomed in so that the man's head isn't visible, proclaiming: "Powered by M.E.A.T."
The gym is only semi-busy, despite the hour. A dozen or so men are lifting and spotting one another, a single man is skipping rope, and a breathtakingly gorgeous blonde woman sits at a little desk by the door. As the group walks in, she sits up and smiles winningly, her demeanor impossibly bright and chipper and with a slight southern accent, "Hey! Welcome to Daryl's Fitness Academy. How are ya'all doing today?"
Hjalmar grins at Micah and his remark. "Yep. Seems to be the place alright." His voice deep and powerful. A chuckle at Wazi's words before opening the door and going in, holding it open long enough for the next to come in, and take his place. He looks around as he does so, trying to spot anything seemingly out of sight before looking to that blonde, nodding at her. "Hey hey."
As he enters the gym, Micah gives a quick scan of the interior - noting the rather limited variety of workout machines. Like Aleksandr, he's nt really the beefiest of individuals either, but perhaps that makes his supposed interest in such an establishment all the more plausible, if he wants to *get* muscular and ripped. As he surveys the gym, he can't help but notice the various signs and posters - zeroing in on the apparent sponsor of everything that goes on here. He gives a quick glance to Wazi after her brief, but effective, inspirational comment and then the woman at the front desk is engaging the group - far too chipper than any receptionist has the right to be for a place with so much testosterone.
"Doing great," Micah answers the woman, taking a step over towards the desk. "My friends and I have heard some wonderful things about this place and thought we'd give it a look. We need a new place to work out." He smiles easily at her, his tone of voice friendly and sincere as he engages her in small talk. "You said Daryl's Fitness? The outside says Steele... Owner recently change hands?" It's a question presented as if out of idle curiosity, an excuse to chat maybe, not like the fact-finding inquiry it really is. As he talks, he pretends to look around the gym again, though surreptitiously flicks his eyes from the others towards the conspicous M.E.A.T. poster.
Aleksandr 's eyes catch the posters first, taking in one by one. Maybe just a simple curiousity. It's maybe just the first thing that catches his eye. Next, it goes to the rest in the place, the men working out, as he rather faintly sniffs at the air. Like his Pure Breed should be easily noticed, so should any BSD or like in here. It's just a gesture that makes his wolf self feel comfortable. Only once the woman talks, does Aleksandr take his eyes from everything else to look at her. And study her in great detail. It might just appear like a rather shy man checking out an insanely beautiful woman, but Alek is studying each detail, as if committing her to memory. Something about the kinfolk's report has him suspicious about her. And this must be here. Aleksandr can tell what a beautiful woman looks like. The wolf inside him reacts instantly, after all, howling silently. He remains silent though for now, dipping his head to her, but letting the others do the talking, unless he has need to interject his own questions.
Wazi goes quiet again after her brief reminder or announcement for the group, hands stuck in her hoodie pockets. She slips into the gym and grimaces again, her gaze falling immediately on the receptionist girl. The lupus shifts her weight a little, eyeing the woman suspiciously, with what could be clear dislike. She wrinkles her nose, then shakes her head slightly and looks to the other three garou she is with, considering their reactions in turn. Then she turns her gaze away from the other blonde to look over the gym itself, eyes tracking across each sweating, straining man in turn. The posters get her attention last, and her expression doesn't change noticeably for them.
On closer inspection, it is clear the woman has pure breeding. Quite a lot of it, at least as much as an average, full-blooded Silver Fang Garou would have. But she's batting for the wrong team. While she bears the blood of heroes, it is the blood of corrupted heroes. Black Spiral Dancers.
Her cheerful, winning smile doesn't change at all as she finds herself confronted by the gaggle of garou, most of whom are bred from the heroes of Gaian tribes. She giggles at Micah's question, shaking her head and bringing one hand up to touch a perfectly manicured finger against her chin in a flirtatious gesture, tilting her face a little to look up at the Native American through her eyelashes, "Oh, naw, Daryl's been the owner here forever. Mister Steele if you wanna be formal, but he's just Brother Daryl in here."
As she speaks, her hand moves from her chin to play with a strand of her hair, and her gaze moves over the four garou. Wazi gets a curious, then dismissive look, Hjalmar and Aleksandr get winning smiles all their own. And when Aleksandr focuses in on the woman in that shy manner, she even gives him a blatant wink.
In the gym proper, one of the men begins grunting loudly with each rep. He isn't quite as massive as the steroid junkie outside, but he's one of the biggest strongmen in the building, and is doing bicept curls with what has to be at least two hundred pounds of weight. His eyes track the receptionist girl as she interacts with the four newcomers.
Hjalmar notices the girl's beauty.. Rather damn fucking clearly actually. Though luckily, his attention is more onto the room and all that happens in it. It is clear that they attracted attention... Unwanted attention at that... Then again! What do you want with a PB torch like Alek next to you. He clasps both Alek and Micah on the shoulder and says in his voice. "Not what we look for. Not enough cardio stuff here. Let us move on." His voice clear and slightly commanding. He avoids any eye contact with the woman as for now.
Aleksandr is not the most likely to be swept off his feet by a woman, or feel strong emotions. That should be obvious for anyone that knows him. So as she looks at him, he shakes his head a little, but he actually smiles back at her. For anyone that knows Alek, they have never seen him smile, not truly smile. It's not forced like it generally is. Though Alek stills it and realizes what's happening almost immediately. He doesn't frown though, his face goes unreadable and he doesn't let on so much that he realizes what has happened. He doesn't speak, letting Micah continue to do so. He even does his best to hold the guise, continuing to look at the woman, but never in the eyes, as if that might be part of the power. Like he's enthralled by her too, and the jig isn't up.
Mock-flirting with the receptionist as he is, Micah is unfortunately oblivious to the magical whammy that's directed Aleksandr's way. He's also not cognizant of the way that the rest of the establishment seems to be hanging on every word that's taking place at the front desk. Instead, he's still trying a more mundane approach to things, for the time being, nodding as the girl details the owner's full name and how it ties in to the name of the gym. "Oh, makes sense," he answers, nodding. "Well, it looks like he's got a great setup here. Perfect for--" And that's when Hjalmar interrupts, indicating the lack of good cardio equipment present. "Ah, well, perfect for real serious bodybuilders. But Hank's right," he continues, intentionaly using a false ID for the Fianna. "We're really looking for something a little more cario friendly. You know ellipticals, stair-steppers. Those bow-flex things you see on TV. Man, I hear those things are *great*," he blathers on, playing it up just a little bit before he turns to the other three. "Oh, sorry, I've been kinda monopolizing the desk. You guys have any questions before we go?" And he steps away then, giving Wazi or Aleks or Hjalmar that opportunity while he gives the place another look over as he gravitates towards the door.
Wazi gives another heavy sigh, shaking her head slowly as she looks over the gym's interior, gaze moving slowly over the men who are working out in the room. Eventually, her gaze settles on the man who is grunting loudly and she scowls openly, shifting her weight again and beginning to tense up, jaw clenching tight enough for the muscles of her neck to visibly strain. The lupus stands very still and quiet, glowering at the man, her entire demeanor that of someone getting ready for a fight.
Meanwhile, the blonde receptionist giggles again as she watches Aleksandr grin, catch himself, and then look away. She licks her lips slowly, exaggeratedly, the movement emphasizing the ruby red lipstick she wears, "Ya'all-" She is interrupted by the first of the large man's shouted grunts, and she turns a startled glance in his direction. Then she giggles, pressing her perfect, painted nails against her lips again at the display.
But his attempt at gaining her attention works for only a moment, before the girl is cutting her sultry gaze back to Micah as the man talks earnestly about wanting to join the gym. She is again about to speak when she is interrupted, this time by Hjalmar's pronouncement that it's time to leave.
She pouts then, in the way of girls who know exactly how attractive they are, and aren't afraid to abuse it. She directs the look at Hjalmar, looking up at the man through fluttery eyelashes, her voice becoming honey sweet, "Aw, you're gonna give up on us already, Mister? I do all'a my cardio here, it don't take a buncha machines or nothin'. Why not give us a test run?"
It's then that a door in the back of the room thumps open, and a massive black man steps into the main room of the gym, out onto the training mat. He's well dressed, resembling a professional coach in a dark green polo shirt tucked into a pair of dark, blue jeans with athletic shoes. He stands head and shoulders taller than any of the men in the room, easily seven feet tall if he's an inch, with a shaved bald head gleaming in the light of the gym and a meticulously groomed goatee. He swaggers slightly as he walks, mouth pressed into a thin line, and his gaze latches onto the small crowd in the entrance. He halts a moment, looking at those gathered there for several heartbeats, then he smiles. It's an ugly smile, but it's his, and then he begins his slow approach.
Hjalmar is trying to get them all to leave with what they found out so far. And even though he tries to avoid eye contact with the lady.. It seems to be not enough. Her voice seemingly finds her way into his mind and he cocks his head as he looks up at her. "Sorry meis, wat zei je?" He observes her with newfound curiosity and because of this, even forgets to use the local language.. With all the things happening in his personal life at this moment.. All the hurt and uncertainty playing on his heart... He thought he finally had given it all a place and could continue with his freedom in having fun all around... But then... Here she is. He sighs deeply and feels that sensation he was sure about, not to be feeling it anytime soon again coming back uo to the surface.
Aleksandr is doing his best to pretend to pay attention only to the woman, to 'check her out'. Meanwhile he subtlely scans the counter near her, and other things. He doesn't really pay a lot of attention to the man coming out of the back. He's not much of an actor, but he simply gives the man a glance at his movement, as if that's what drew him. Then a cursory glance around the room as if surprised by where he is. Spotting his target, he moves his gaze back to the woman again, like he can't keep his eyes off her. But as he does so, he does something else. The water cooler at the back starts to suddenly fill and fill, and fill. He also does one other thing. He's not much for touching, but he notes Wazi's reaction, and he doesn't want that. He gives her a very small touch on the shoulder, a small squeeze. A simple message.
As he steps towards the door, Micah directs one of Gaia's gifts across the interior of the gym - Sense Magic - and is a little revulsed, if not surprised, by what he finds. He does well to hide his reaction, however, his face still presenting that easy-going and charismatic demeanor - but, as he's got his attention directed towards the rest of the gym, he doesn't really notice that the same type of power which was recently directed at Aleksandr is now levied against Hjalmar, and this time to a much more significant effect. What he *does* notice, however is the huge black man that exits the back room and who gives the group of Garou that rather sickly, meancing smile. And regardless of anything else that's going on, Micah knows that things are rapidly getting to the point where they need to leave. They're not a war party. "Oh, gosh," he answers the receptionist's imploring notes. "Maybe some other time. We've got a busy schedule today though. Plenty of other gyms to visit. Right guys?" And he gives a look of 'We really really need to be going' to any of his colleagues that are paying attention to him, as he continues to sidle towards the door, ready to head right on out if others are taking his lead and starting to follow him.
Wazi shifts her weight a little, still tense, still scowling at the man who is doing his ridiculously heavy bicep curls. Somehow he's still at it, even as the conversation continues. Maybe she's impressed at the insane level of strength and endurance he's showing? Or maybe she wants to jump on him and tear his throat out with her teeth. It's hard to tell at the moment, with that fierce expression she's got on. The touch from Alek actually makes her jump slightly, and she pivots to look at the man, one hand slipping free of her hoodie's pocket. Then, she halts, and stuffs her hand back into her pocket and moves her gaze to Hjalmar as the man starts speaking in tongues.
"Hja-ank. We are leaving," she reminds the man, before licking her far less pretty, chapped lips and frowning at the receptionist. The man approaching from the back gets most of her attention, then, gaze snapping to him at the sound of footsteps.
Meanwhile, the receptionist grins like the cat who ate the canary as Hjalmar stumbles over his own words, dazzled by her beauty and charm. She leans forward against the desk in a way that's sure to emphasize her 'charm' and then giggles again, low and throaty, looking up at the Dutch man through her eyelashes, "I don't think that was English, sweetie. But, won't you please give us a chance? Hmmm? Pretty please?"
Aleksandr is forgotten or ignored for the moment, along with all of the men in the gym - most of whom have ceased working out in favor of watching the massive black man cross the room, or the receptionist's flirtations with Hjalmar.
For his part, the big black man has already crossed half the room, and is passing the center point. His voice booms out, a loud, low bass rumble, "Linda! Who's the fresh meat, baby?" A closer examination of the man, his stance, his voice, and his air makes it clear that he, too, bears the blood of heroes. His blood is as pure as Aleksandr's, a scion of the mightiest champioons the Wyrm has ever knwon to dance the spiral. His every movement is of sure grace and power, and his smile becomes markedly more predatory as he zeroes in on the four strangers in the gym.
Behind him, one of the men thumps his chest in a sudden display of testosterone, "BROTHER DARYL! HOOAH!" It only takes a moment before all of the men are slamming weights into racks and repeating both gesture and shout, all grinning boyishly or adopting stern expressions. It's probably creepy.
In the middle of all this, the innocent little water cooler that has been quietly burbling in the background begins to gurgle-gurgle-gurgle. There is a hissing sound of water pissing out onto the floor as some squirts through the valve that normally pours into paper cups, spritzing a pool of water onto the gym's hardwood floor, even as the five gallon jug balloons out as if on the verge of exploding, bulging with the sudden increase of water provided by Aleksandr's gift.
Hjalmar's looking at the pretty lady, tunnel vision setting in. "Nee.. I uh.. No... Maybe?...." But then there's his /friends/. And even though they are seemingly annoying at the moment.. They do have a point... With all the ruckus going on around them, the shouting and pounding of chests combined with the watery explosion make him grimace and sigh ever so deeply... This is not the right place for anything romantic. He shakes his head and looks rather damn appologetically towards the lady. (!How I hate being mindfucked!) He shrugs. "Sorry... This.. My friends.. I need to go.. Sorry..." He knows some bad Juju is going on here.. And he will come back to help her eventually! But for now, he reluctantly turns his head and will follow his /friends/ out of here.
Aleksandr watches what is happening to Hjalmar and has his own suspicions, even as he moves closer to the counter, all maybe to be closer to this woman. That almost worked on him. Almost. Even now he's struggling to feel ill will towards the woman. He just wants to look at her, and he knows it for what it is. He's with Wazi and Micah, time to go. He actually puts another hand on Hjalmar to pull his arm. Alek isn't that strong, but he knows he's not coming voluntarily. Not likely anyway. "We must to go." Just in time to spot the big guy, really spot him and that Pure Breed wafting off him. He knows what this place is, so any Garou here has to be similarly tainted. His eyes lock the black man's briefly as the wolf takes a turn to meet another predator eye on eye. It's just a second though and Alek is pulling again, to leave. Just as everyone sort of glances at the water cooler almost exploding, Alek makes a gesture towards the counter with his hand and then is walking out, pulling, not looking back.
The cult-like display of the weightlifters to the arrival of 'Brother Daryl' is the proverbial last straw for Micah. If he wasn't ready to just turn around and leave before, he certainly is now. Add in the fact that the guy is pretty much radiating Black Spiral lineage like a halogen light, and that somehow now Hjalmar is just hanging on the receptionist's every word? Yeah. Definitely time to get out, get home, and then get everything straightened out. The information that they've gathered is good, certainly, but there's plenty now that they don't need to risk... well, themselves, by staying any longer. As he notes Hjalmar's very pronounced reluctance, Micah joins in with Alekansdr to actually reaches out and grab the man's hand, tugging towards the door and motioning with his eyes for Aleksandr and Wazi to do the same. "C'mon, Hank," he uses the false name again. "Don't forget you have that dentist's appointment." Unlike Aleks, Micah does actually give a look back as he's exiting the place - much to his dismay as he catches sight of the one horny and overly ripped meathead reach down to his gym shorts and adjust himself rather indecently. Which, really, is the last and final beacon of 'thank god we are leaving the place none too soon' for Micah, as he plows through the exit without another thought.
Wazi has had just about enough of this nonsense. She shifts her weight again, tension unchanged as she turns her scowl toward the approaching, big black man instead. Seems she isn't a fan of Brother Daryl, even if every meathead in the room is literally shouting their approval for him.. Hjalmar might be resisting and hemming and hawing and trying to get lucky with the pretty black spiral girl, but this Coggie is tired of that shit. She steps to the front of the group of Garou, her back to them, facing squarely towards the oncoming Daryl even as the water gushes out upon the floor. Then she pushes her hands back into her hoodie pockets and lets herself stagger back a half-step, driving her back and shoulders against Hjalmar, bodily shoving the man after the other two as they work to pull him along. Then she braces herself and pushes backward, keeping her back pressed to the Philodox's, using her weight and considerable strength to shove him out of the room, gaze shifting frequently between each of the men in the room, and the receptionist, ready to spring to action. She doesn't bother making an excuse or offering an explanation.
Brother Daryl glances negligently over his shoulder at the approving shout to his merely crossing the room. He gives an upnod, smirks, then looks back to the strangers at the door. He opens his mouth as if to speak again, when the water bottle balloons out and sprays water across the floor. "What the fuck?"
In that moment, the room looks to the water cooler, giving their own cries of surprise or confusion or disbelief at the display of magic. Then Daryl glances back to the people leaving through the gym's door, "What the fuck!" he calls after them, "Bullshit!" He seems unreasonably pissed off, fists clenched at his sides, watching as they herd Hjalmar from the building. Then, he turns and shouts at one of the nearby men, "Johnny! Get the fuckin' mop, you dumb shit."
Finally, the receptionist was giving her best pouty-lipped expression to Hjalmar as he makes his excuses and oh-so-reluctantly is forced from the room. "See you soon, Hunky Hank," she coos after him, then grinning mischevioously in his last glance back at her. AFter that, she stands up from her office chair, looking at the disturbance of men rushing to deal with the spilled water. The group's last glimpse of the woman is her taking an elegant, perfectly poised step toward Daryl, her yoga pants clinging in all the right places to her perfect curves.
Outside the gym, the steroid junkie is making his way back to the gym, loaded down with a literal armload of food from the greek truck on the corner. His expression is still a scowl behind the dark sunglasses, though he seems to give a lingering look at the big man being all but dragged out of the gym. He doesn't comment, though.
