ã€ŠGym Bros From Marsã€‹


 Give It To Me Straight Doctor

    The doctor was showing me the guy¡¯s charts. He was six feet¨C almost seven feet ¨Ctall. His Drug tests had come back negative, clean.

    ¡°He has a resting heart rate of twenty,¡± said the doctor. He was an old man, with a white beard, and liver spots. ¡°Do you know who has a resting heart rate of twenty?¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No one Mr. Alvarez, no one.¡±

    I pretended to look shocked. The man¡¯s unnatural physique was why I was there.

    ¡°How about this, do you know what the lowest ever recorded BPM in an athlete was?¡±

    ¡°No clue,¡± I said, ¡°enlighten me.¡±

    ¡°It was a long distance runner from England. Twenty-seven beats per minute! Twenty seven! Your man has beaten that long standing record by seven whole beats.¡±

    ¡°Astonishing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s more than astonishing Mr. Alvarez. It¡¯s uncanny. The man has a body from out of this world!¡±

    The doctor chuckled to himself and walked over to a board with black sheets clipped to it. He flipped a switch and the sheets revealed themselves to be brain scans. They were top and profile views. A noticeable dark spot could be seen near the frontal lobe in both pictures.

    ¡°When he first arrived, we feared that his amnesia may be due to brain swelling, as brain swelling can be a side effect of steroid abuse. Once you see him, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll understand why we suspected steroids. Anyway, we didn¡¯t find any swelling.

    ¡°Now,¡± continued the doctor, pointing to the dark spot on the brain scans. ¡°What we did find was evidence of a removed glioblastoma. I know what you¡¯re thinking, but no, the glioblastoma was removed from the motor cortex, not the hippocampus, it does not appear to have anything to do with his memory loss.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± I said, scratching my chin. ¡°Is that all?¡±

    ¡°More or less, yes, Mr. Alvarez. The extra tests your charity had us run did not reveal any other abnormalities. His pituitary gland was healthy, and growth hormone production was within normal.¡±

    ¡°Great, our guy is completely ordinary, besides his amnesia and the fact that he could out-bench God.¡±

    The doctor laughed. ¡°Precisely.¡±

    He finished his debrief, then led me through the hospital, stopping at a door with a file holder hanging on it. There was room for six folders, but there was only one just then. In a plastic slide underneath the folder was a slip of paper that read ¡°John Doe¡±.

    The doctor grabbed the folder off the hanger and opened the door to let us in.

    Inside, sitting on a bed, was a man in a stringy tank top, and gym shorts. The tank top was black, with red and green stripes that went down until they lined up with matching stripes on his shorts.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Besides his clothes, the first thing I noticed was his height. He was taller than me, but whoever had taken his height had either been blind or using a bad measuring stick. He was definitely six feet and some change, but nowhere near the seven feet that had been written on his chart. There was also a green tinge underneath his skin, like he was holding back his stomach, or just about to fall ill.

    ¡°Mr. John Doe,¡± said the doctor, ¡°meet Mr. Fernando Alvarez, he¡¯s the representative from the charity that¡¯s taking you in.¡±

    ¡°Hey Bro,¡± said the gentle giant, rising to greet me.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I replied, taking the hand he offered.

    He had a firm handshake, and a kind face, there was a softness to it somehow, despite the hard lines of his chiseled jaw. Actually, the whole of him was chiseled. He looked like a marble statue.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you Fernando. Can I call you Nando?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°Nice,¡± he said, then he started scratching his head, suddenly finding something interesting to stare at on a nearby wall. ¡°Uh¡­ I¡¯d give you my name, but¡­¡±

    ¡°I know. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll find your name. In the meantime it¡¯s nice to meet you, John Doe.¡±

    The big guy smiled, and his cheeks flushed red, as if being an amnesiac was something to be embarrassed about.

    The doctor must¡¯ve read John Doe¡¯s expression as one of anxiety, because he moved to put a hand on one of his massive shoulders and put on a comforting coo.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry John, Mr. Alvarez¡¯s people were very thorough, no expense was too great when it came to finding the root of your amnesia. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re in good hands.¡±

    ¡°In the spirit of being thorough,¡± I chimed in. ¡°Doctor, would you mind if we took his height again? It might just be me, but the man on your charts was supposed to be nearly seven feet tall. John is tall, but not nearly seven feet as reported.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± hummed the doctor. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not.¡±

    The doctor had a nurse retake John Doe¡¯s height. In the meantime I took the opportunity to ask about the pallor of John Doe¡¯s skin. The doctor claimed to not see anything off about the color, and the nurse, when she returned, agreed that he looked healthy.

    ¡°Six feet and five inches,¡± said the nurse, returning with her new measurements. ¡°Huh¡­¡±

    The doctor checked his charts and raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s six inches short of what I have written here,¡± said the doctor, addressing the nurse, ¡°you were the one that took his height when he arrived. Weren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I was¡­¡± said the nurse, growing unsure. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t know how I could have gotten that so wrong. I must¡¯ve been tired. Again, sorry.¡± Her apology was sincere, I think, but so was her confusion. She doubted the mismeasurement.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± hummed the doctor, ¡°let¡¯s not let that happen again.¡±

    The doctor turned to address me.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive us Mr. Alvarez, I assure you such mistakes are anomalies at our hospital. To err is to be human, yes?¡±

    ¡°I suppose it is,¡± I replied. ¡°What about his skin? You¡¯re sure it seems fine?¡±

    The doctor and nurse both nodded their heads and reaffirmed that they believed he looked well.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been attending to him ourselves this whole week,¡± said the doctor, ¡°if anything was amiss with him we¡¯d have noticed it by now.¡± That or it came on so slowly you didn¡¯t notice.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± chimed John Doe. ¡°I feel fine bro, really.¡±

    The nurse¡¯s confusion weighed on me. I wasn¡¯t assured, on either front, about the height or the faint green beneath his skin, but there was no arguing with the group¡¯s consensus.

    John Doe was released to me with a clean bill of health, and an amendment to his medical charts.

 The Car

    ¡°The first step in retracing yours is here,¡± I said, parking my car in front of a wooden shack that stood in front of a chain link fence. The sign on top of it read ¡°Larry ¡®n Son¡¯s Towing¡±.

    ¡°Bro, what is this place? A junkyard?¡± asked John Doe.

    ¡°It¡¯s an impound lot,¡± I said, though there was a fair amount of junked cars stacked behind the fence. ¡°Didn¡¯t the doctors tell you how you wound up at the hospital?¡±

    ¡°I think they might¡¯ve,¡± said John Doe, scratching his chin. ¡°There was a lot happening when I woke up, so I don¡¯t remember.¡±

    ¡°You drove,¡± I said, getting out of the car. ¡°Witnesses say you came running out of your vehicle and into the E.R clutching your head. You were in such a rush that you left it parked right in front of the entrance with the keys still inside. Hospital had to move it, so it ended up here.¡±

    ¡°Bro, that¡¯s so lucky. We can find out who I am with the license plate or something right?¡± said John Doe, smiling. ¡°Wait¡­ Why didn¡¯t the hospital do that in the first place?¡±

    ¡°Good question. Amnesia is a pretty common affliction to fake when trying to avoid paying for hospital visits, so the car you came in should have been the first place they looked to find out who to send the bill. We¡¯re here to find out why they didn¡¯t.¡±

    I walked to the service counter that was cut into the shack with John Doe in tow. The kid behind the counter couldn¡¯t have been older than eighteen. He must¡¯ve been the ¡°son¡± in ¡°Larry ¡®n Son¡¯s¡±. He was a skinny guy, with spiked hair that was painted blue at the tips. He wore a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and band patches sewn in. He had a few tattoos, but not as many as the blonde girl behind him. The girl was pretty, with a pixie cut, a plaid half top, and shorts. The guy¡¯s tattoos appeared to be mostly hardcore aesthetic, but the girl¡¯s looked political. The acronym ¡°ACAB¡± inked into the top of her exposed collarbone. All Cops Are Bastards.

    ¡°Larry and Son¡¯s,¡± said the guy, ¡°Larry is out, I¡¯m his son, got your ticket?¡± The kid sounded apathetic. It was clear he¡¯d rather be anywhere else, probably wishing he was out with the girl standing behind him, judging by how he was checking her out before I showed up to the counter.

    I looked up at John Doe to ask if the hospital had given him a ticket, but he shook his head ¡°no¡±.

    ¡°As it happens I don¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°But I don¡¯t need to take the car home, I just need to look at it.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± said John Doe from behind me. ¡°Bro, if it¡¯s my car It¡¯d be cool to get it back.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s at all possible, then we¡¯d like to take the car as well,¡± I said to the guy behind the counter, opening my wallet to flash a couple hundred dollars in cash. My ¡°charity¡± was very generous when it came to on the job resources.

    The guy looked at me and John Doe, then with a bored expression said: ¡°Man, look, no ticket, no car. We¡¯re not a dealership, okay?¡±

    ¡°What about just looking at it?¡±

    ¡°No ticket, no car.¡±

    ¡°Could you at least give us the license plate?¡±

    ¡°No ticket,¡± repeated the guy, ¡°no car.¡±

    I looked behind the shack toward the fence¡¯s gate. I thought about how easy it would be to pick the lock if I came back later at night. I decided to see if there were any other options to exhaust from the guy behind the counter.

    ¡°What happens to the cars that don¡¯t get picked up here?¡±

    ¡°They get sold at a police auction.¡±

    Bingo.

    ¡°So it¡¯s gonna get sold eventually?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yeah, I guess, but not here. Not by us.¡±

    ¡°Listen,¡± I said, bringing my hands together, powering up to get this guy to bend. ¡°My big friend here is suffering from a bout of amnesia. There¡¯s a car inside that may belong to him, and if it does, then it could help us discover his identity. If we don¡¯t take this car, then instead of helping a poor man with amnesia, it¡¯s going to be sold off to fund the police.¡±

    ¡°Look man, I¨C¡± started the guy, but the girl with the pixie cut behind him piped up.

    ¡°Hey, Tim, he¡¯s right,¡± said the girl. ¡°If we let that car sit there then it¡¯s just going to buy donuts for the pigs. At least let him look at it. Can¡¯t hurt, right?¡±

    ¡°But my dad¨C¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t even like your dad,¡± said the girl, ¡°c¡¯mon, please?¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°But¨C¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to stick it to the system in a way that matters? Help instead of giving some pigs more gun money?¡±

    The guy behind the counter started to sweat. I don¡¯t think he cared what the cops did with their money, or to whom, but he cared about what the girl thought of him. So he relented.

    ¡°Okay,¡± he said to me, ¡°I can let you take a look at the car. Which one is it?¡±

    I described the car to him. It was a red family van, the kind with sliding doors. He looked it up on his system, and it turns out they only had one such car.

    ¡°Are you sure this is it?¡± he asked after he found it on his system.

    ¡°Yeah, why?¡±

    ¡°License plate says it belongs to a cripple.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± I let out.

    ¡°Like, paralyzed?¡± asked John Doe.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said the guy behind the counter, whose name was apparently Tim.

    ¡°Yo, Nando, bro, what was I doing with a paralyzed guy¡¯s car?¡± he whisper shouted to me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I told him honestly.

    ¡°Do you still want to look at this car?¡± asked Tim.

    I did. Tim led us to the car, which sat all its lonesome in the corner of the fenced in dirt lot.

    The first thing I noticed was the handicap license plate.

    ¡°Think you could get us the address linked to the plate from your system?¡± I asked Tim, flashing the cash I¡¯d shown him earlier.

    ¡°Yeah, sure, whatever man,¡± he said, stomping off.

    John Doe and I started taking a look at the red van.

    The exterior had scratches at the bottom of the rear passenger door, the one behind the driver¡¯s. The scratches were deep enough to expose the bare door of the car, but not deep enough to be considered anything other than superficial damage. Combined with the fact that the front door was missing any of these scratches suggested that the damage had come from long term repeated scrapes and not any one time accident.

    It was a used car, or otherwise had been owned for a long time. The age of the car meant that all the van¡¯s faux leather seats were discolored from years of wear. Particularly, the front passenger seat had lots of scratches near the front where the legs would normally sit, with similar damage to the seat behind it. In contrast to the rest, the driver¡¯s seat looked practically new. In fact, it was a different make and model than the rest of the seats in the car. It looked expensive.

    Two metal rods that came together so that they could be held in one hand were strapped to the gas and brake pedals.

    ¡°Fancy,¡± said John Doe.

    ¡°What, the seat?¡±

    ¡°Yeah bro! Those things are expensive.¡±

    ¡°Is it like, a massage chair?¡± It was the only thing I could think of. I¡¯d heard that those paralyzed beneath the waist needed to massage their legs to prevent blood clots.

    ¡°Nah bro, check it out.¡± John Doe hopped into the red van and fished out a white remote that connected to the seat. He pushed a button, and the seat lifted itself out of the car and lowered itself practically to the ground. John Doe then started shifting the seat back into place. ¡°It¡¯s a power lifter seat. These babies are pricey bro. It explains the scratches too.¡±

    ¡°How so? The chair didn¡¯t touch the frame at all.¡±

    ¡°From the wheelchair. Check it, if you needed to get the wheelchair inside, then you¡¯d have to take it apart. Pull the wheels off, the back, and the cushion.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯d be setting it up against the car for leverage, got it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah bro, if you¡¯re in a wheelchair, you¡¯re gonna have scratches on your car.¡±

    ¡°That explains the ones in the interior as well, but¡­ why do you know all that?¡±

    John Doe thought about it while sitting in the power seat. ¡°Uh¡­ maybe I work with wheelchair bound people?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. If so, then whoever owns this car would know you, and they¡¯d have come looking for you. There wasn¡¯t a missing person filed for anyone matching your description, however there might be a car theft filed. Our friend Tim might be able to help us with that.¡±

    ¡°Bro, please, no! I would die if I found out I stole a paralyzed dude¡¯s car. Maybe I bought it?¡±

    ¡°Maybe, maybe,¡± I said, making noise while I scratched my chin and thought about the possibility. ¡°If you bought it, then it was very recently. Our friend Tim said it showed up as belonging to someone disabled on his system. So either the purchase is still being processed at the DMV or¡­¡±

    ¡°Or I stole a disabled bro¡¯s car.¡± John Doe looked crestfallen. ¡°I must¡¯ve been a real butthole.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± came the voice of Tim. ¡°I found you an address. Guy that owned this car lived at the Margo Assisted Living Facility in town.¡± Tim handed me a printout with the address.

    ¡°Thanks for that friend,¡± I said, taking a look at the rest of the printout. Besides the address it had a name. Gavrillo Hodzic. ¡°So, can we take the car? It looks like our next stop is going to be the assisted living facility, might as well drop it off there.¡± And there¡¯s something I wanna see.

    ¡°Fuckin fine, yeah. I don¡¯t care anymore.¡±

    ¡°Bro!¡± said John Doe. ¡°We can¡¯t just buy a stolen disabled person¡¯s car!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not,¡± I said, finalizing the under the table translation with Tim by handing him a wad of cash. ¡°If this guy is at the assisted living facility, we¡¯ll be delivering it to him. This car has been sitting here for a week, maybe he couldn¡¯t afford the ticket?¡± I pointed at the printout, which had a copy for an invoice on it. ¡°The ticket here is highway robbery.¡±

    John Doe deliberated internally for a minute, closing his eyes. He seemed to be seriously weighing the morality of the situation. ¡°Okay,¡± he finally said. ¡°It¡¯s like we paid the ticket for him, we¡¯re just giving him back the car. It doesn¡¯t make up for stealing it, but it¡¯s better than it staying here.¡±

    ¡°There you go.¡±

    ¡°But what about your car? Are you going to leave it here?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll drive the van, and I¡¯ll drive my car.¡±

    ¡°Bro! I don''t know if I know how to drive though!¡±

    ¡°Relax, I¡¯m sure you do. You have a hard time with details about yourself, but you seem to do alright with facts and skills. Try it. If it doesn¡¯t work, we¡¯ll arrange for something.¡±

    John Doe relented, hesitantly switching the car on when Tim came back with the key. I sat in the passenger seat and watched him try to drive until I was satisfied with his performance. He did fine. Although, I couldn¡¯t help but notice that he chose to drive with the hand controls instead of the foot pedals.

 Assisted At The Facility

    The Margo Assisted Living Facility was located in a luxuriously uncultivated section of land within the city limits. It was a white, three story building surrounded by a giant grass lawn. A red brick wall separated it from the dentist offices and fast food places that neighbored it.

    I had to park some ways away from the front, unlike John Doe, who was able to park in front of the building with his handicap plates. During the walk up I could see him waiting for me, leaning on the side of the car. His arms were hugged tight to his chest, crossed together so that his palms could be warmed up. He looked down at the ground, scanned the horizon, and glanced at me, but never at the building. He was nervous.

    ¡°Doing alright big guy?¡± I asked him.

    ¡°Yeah, bro. I¡¯m fine,¡± he said, clearly not fine.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    ¡°Out with it big guy, it¡¯s fine.¡±

    John Doe shuffled around on his feet, staring at the ground. ¡°I¡¯m just really worried that I might¡¯ve been a real huge butthole, that''s all. Like, bro, I can¡¯t remember anything, but I didn¡¯t think that¡­ y¡¯know. I don¡¯t know.¡± He started pacing in the parking lot. ¡°I don¡¯t know who I thought I was, but someone who steals from disabled people was definitely not it, y¡¯know?¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, I don¡¯t think you stole that car.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Really really.¡±

    ¡°Then how did I end up driving it to the hospital?¡±

    ¡°Only one way to find out,¡± I said, gesturing to the facility¡¯s door.

    John Doe nodded, and we entered the building.

    The entrance appeared to be a common room of sorts. Coffee tables with magazines, regular tables with checkerboard and small flower decorations, a T.V. The furniture appeared to be from the same expensive catalog. There weren¡¯t many chairs, and it appeared that most of the residents in the common room didn¡¯t need them. They tended to bring their own.

    ¡°You again,¡± spat a blond woman with venom. By her uniform she appeared to be an orderly. She had been in the middle of wiping down one of the coffee tables when she stopped to make sure that John Doe knew just how unwelcome she found his presence. ¡°Here to kidnap more of my residents, you snake oil salesman?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± croaked John Doe. John Doe, who had been anguishing over the character of his pre-amnesia self, was mortified. His mouth was agape, and in his eyes he looked helpless. He couldn¡¯t speak.

    ¡°Well?¡± asked the orderly.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± croaked John Doe again.

    I began to interject on John Doe¡¯s behalf, when I was interrupted by one of the younger residents. ¡°That¡¯s not Michael,¡± he said. ¡°Built like a tank on two legs like Michael, but that isn¡¯t him.¡±

    The orderly looked at the resident, then back at John Doe, tilting her head. Suddenly, I think, she knew that she just unloaded a lot of grief on the wrong person, but the weird look on her face said she wasn¡¯t sure how that was possible.

    ¡°Michael¡¯s got red hair,¡± said the resident. He was a young man in a green sweater and a wheelchair. His hair was thick and curly. He wore baggy trousers with lots of pockets, the bulk of which hid his severely atrophied legs to the casual observer.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said the orderly, bringing her hand to her lips. ¡°Oh my gosh, I¡¯m so sorry!¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± continued to croak John Doe. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he managed to whimper.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The orderly was happy to have her apology accepted. She then finally took stock of the two strangers in her facility¡¯s common room. ¡°Who are you two?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Fernando Alvarez, I¡¯m working with a charity that aims to rediscover the identity of my friend here.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I¡¯m John Doe, for now I guess, it¡¯s nice to meet you bros.¡±

    ¡°And you,¡± said the orderly.

    ¡°We found that he was in possession of a resident¡¯s car at the time that his amnesia seemed to manifest. Do you happen to have a resident named Gavrilo Hodzic?¡±

    The orderly hummed the name to herself for a moment, closing her eyes to look inward. She seemed to be flipping through a mental list. When her mental list came up short, she excused herself to check the computer, leaving us with the young man in the green sweater.

    ¡°I¡¯m Eric,¡± said the young man.

    ¡°Nice to meet you brosky,¡± said John Doe.

    ¡°Yeah, a pleasure,¡± I said, echoing John Doe. ¡°While the orderly gets us our info, do you mind if I ask you some questions?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± he said, relaxed, if not a bit resigned. ¡°I don¡¯t have much else to do.¡±

    ¡°For starters, who¡¯s this Michael guy, and what was that about him kidnapping patients?¡±

    ¡°Yeah bro,¡± said John Doe, ¡°what gives?¡±

    Eric considered us both, with extra consideration for John Doe¡¯s impressive physique. ¡°Michael¡¯s this guy that¡¯s been coming in from time to time to peddle some miracle supplement. He says it¡¯ll give me a body like his, with a working set of legs, and a jaw that can cut diamonds. Seeing your friend here, I almost believe it.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I asked him.

    ¡°Because, he looks just like Michael, same mass of muscle, same chin, same everything. Except his hair isn¡¯t red, and his eyes don¡¯t look like they¡¯re trying to figure out what the right words are to get to hop into his car full of candy. That¡¯s not mentioning the uniform.¡±

    John Doe and I examined his stringy tank top and gym shorts.

    ¡°Bro, this is a uniform?¡± asked John Doe.

    ¡°Maybe not,¡± said Eric. ¡°It¡¯s what Michael always came in wearing though, and I heard that this place gets a kickback every time someone leaves with Michael. Guess who writes the checks?¡±

    ¡°Mars Gym?¡± I said.

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°Bro¡­¡± said John Doe, in disbelief.

    That¡¯s when the orderly¡¯s footsteps came echoing through the common area.

    ¡°Gavrillo Hodzic is no longer with us, I¡¯m afraid. Records don¡¯t say where he went, but he was congenital paraplegic with limited and deteriorating upper body mobility. Meaning he wasn¡¯t the kind of resident that leaves on his own or on a whim. Probably one of Michael¡¯s snake oil victims.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know for sure?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t. I know most of the residents we have now, but this place has been revolving door for staff and residents since Michael started combing by. I should have known something was up when a place that paid as well as this one was starving for staff. Turns out, most couldn¡¯t stomach what the administrator was letting slide.¡±

    ¡°You mean the kickbacks from Mars Gym?¡± I said.

    ¡°Ye¨C yes, how did you know?¡±

    ¡°Eric filled me in.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. Despite the pay I¡¯m thinking about leaving too. It¡¯s just¡­ so sickening seeing him come in and trick people out of a good home. Rooms here were at premium, and for good reason. Residents don¡¯t get charged to live here, completely government funded, and not lacking for it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to get in for years,¡± said Eric, ¡°but my condition wasn¡¯t critical enough. Then all of sudden, I¡¯m here, and I got my pick of the rooms.¡±

    ¡°Lucky,¡± I said.

    ¡°For me, yeah. I never met Gavrillo, but I¡¯d hate to think how your friend ended up with his car.¡±

    I felt the orderly and the young man bore a hole in John Doe¡¯s soul with their eyes.

    ¡°Sorry that you hit a dead end here,¡± said the orderly, ¡°but if you don¡¯t have any more questions, then I think it¡¯s best you leave.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± I said. ¡°C¡¯mon John.¡±

    John Doe and I started turning around when the young man spoke up. John Doe and I turned back to hear what he had to say.

    ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted. ¡°Your friend, John, he¡¯s green.¡±

    ¡°He is,¡± I said, almost surprised. The staff back at the hospital hadn¡¯t thought he was, and I had grown accustomed to the faint green beneath his skin, and had almost stopped noticing it. I was somewhat glad to have someone confirm that I hadn¡¯t been seeing things then.

    ¡°Michael tried to get me to sign up for his supplement treatment once. I asked him about the side effects and he told me there weren¡¯t any. I called bullshit, and then he admitted there was one.¡±

    The young man paused there, and I felt like he wanted me to ask what the side effect was, so I did.

    ¡°What¡¯s the one side effect to his miracle cureall?¡±

    ¡°Once you¡¯re on it, you can¡¯t go without it,¡± said Eric. ¡°One day Micael comes in, and he¡¯s looking green, the way your friend is right now. I tell him, and he gets this look on his face. His eyes get big, and he starts to sweat a little. He leaves in the middle of trying to sell me on his supplement for the day, and comes back right as rain. I asked him about it, and at first he didn¡¯t admit to anything, but I kept calling bullshit on him, and eventually he caved. He said that the supplement makes it so your body gets used to being super full of nutrients, and when it starts to wear off, it starts to feel sick. He says it¡¯s fine though. All you have to do is get another dose of the supplement and you¡¯re right as rain. I call bullshit though. I saw the look on his face. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯ll happen to your friend if he doesn¡¯t get another dose of Michael¡¯s stuff, but I¡¯m betting it¡¯s not good.¡±

 Mars Gym

    It seemed that I had found the source of John Doe¡¯s otherworldly physique. A phony miracle supplement that may not be phony at all, if John Doe¡¯s unnatural strength and fortitude was anything to go by. And if the claims of the miracle supplement were true, then it became possible that John Doe himself had been a former resident at Margo¡¯s. It was possible, even likely, that he was in fact Gavrillo Hodzic. The existence of the miracle cure and its possibly gruesome side effects weren¡¯t in question. It was the distribution.

    If you have a cureall that can give someone a working pair of legs and a body made in the image of a greek god, then why wouldn¡¯t you announce it to the world? Something like that should be a headline. In fact, a former resident turned greek god showing up with Michael at the facility would be the best testimonial if they still needed volunteers for a testing phase. But the orderly and the young man never mentioned anyone coming back to testify to the supplement¡¯s effectiveness. They thoroughly believed it was a scam. Either the side effects were more gruesome than could be imagined, or there was something more going on here. Something weirder by far.

    John Doe and I set off for Mars Gym leaving behind my car at the facility for ease of travel. I still wanted John to do the driving, as there was a non zero chance that it could help with his memory. He was still using the hand controls.

    The pristine glass walls of Mars Gym made it look like a crystal palace. All the space of the first floor which wasn¡¯t the locker rooms, pool, or extra curricular side rooms, was wholly visible. The second and third, which were hardly smaller than the first, appeared to be see-through all the way, and seemed to carry additional amenities, along with more fancy equipment.

    I whistled. ¡°Wow,¡± I said, ¡°fancy.¡±

    ¡°Damn bro, I must¡¯ve been making <i>bank</i>.¡±

    ¡°I mean, I saw some pictures while getting the directions, but this is something else.¡±

    John Doe and I stepped into the gym where the amazement continued. Mars Gym had a climate control system that was out of this world. Entering was like passing through a force field that excluded the tepid heat of the afternoon from the cool, refreshing air inside.

    Aside from the air conditioning, there was also the sound system. The moment you stepped in your ears were filled with muscle pumping rhythms. They beat clear as crystal in my ears without being overwhelmingly loud. It was like I was wearing headphones that had spatial awareness settings, only they didn¡¯t compromise on sound quality.

    The entrance had a check in counter, and behind the check in counter, was a sporty girl in a tracksuit. The tracksuit was black, with a set of green and red stripes going down the jacket that continued down the pants. ¡°Mars Gym¡± was written on the breast.

    The sporty girl put on her best customer service smile, and I think she was about to say ¡°welcome to Mars Gym¡± until her eyes fell on John Doe.

    ¡°Gav!¡± shouted the sporty girl. ¡°I was wondering when I¡¯d see you again!¡±

    She did a standing jump over the counter she was manning. It was impressive, but seemed to take little effort from her. When she landed on the other side she walked up to John Doe and wrapped her arms around him.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t been answering any of your calls, you big goof, I was worried.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± said John Doe, dumbfounded.

    The sporty girl in the tracksuit looked up at John Doe, maybe because he was failing to return her embrace. His arms and body were pulled away from her like she was covered in prickly barbs. Her face, which had lit up upon seeing him, looked hurt.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Gav?¡±

    ¡°Hi,¡± he managed to say, still struck stupid. Partially, I think, it was because the sporty girl was pretty, <i>really</i> pretty. ¡°Sorry, but I¡­¡±

    His mouth failed to form words, and when he had gone too long without speaking, she let him go. John Doe, with a face like a burning red tomato, was happy to walk away, finding a spot on the floor that he suddenly found very interesting; conveniently, it was a spot that let him avoid making eye contact with the girl.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I interjected, bringing the girl¡¯s sad eyes to me. ¡°He¡¯s suffering from a bad case of memory loss.¡±

    The girl''s face twisted with worry.

    ¡°Oh my god,¡± she said, her hands rising to cover her dropped jaw.

    ¡°My name¡¯s Fernando Alvarez.¡± I stuck my hand out to greet her. ¡°I¡¯m helping him retrace his steps. Did you call him Gav? As in Gavrilo?¡±

    ¡°Lexa,¡± she said, taking my hand. ¡°And yeah, his name¡¯s Gavrilo. Did he forget his name?¡±

    I nodded. She looked back to John Doe, who was actually Gavrilo, and her face re-contorted with worry.

    John Doe being Gavrilo Hodzic. It was easier for me to swallow than you would think. In my line of work the unbelievable often became the believable. The impossible turned to the possible. And I¡¯d suspected <i>something</i> from the moment I got him behind the wheel. His first instinct was to drive using the hand controls, he never even bothered with the pedals.

    The how of it was still a mystery. How does a man that was born unable to walk get a pair of working legs? Was it Michael¡¯s miracle supplement? And what did Mars Gym have to do with it?

    ¡°I¡¯m glad we found someone that recognized him so quickly. Is he a co-worker or¡­?¡± <i>Friend?</i> <i>Lover? Boyfriend?</i>

    ¡°What? Oh, no! He¡¯s uhm¡­¡± Now it was her turn to be tomato red. ¡°He¡¯s uhm¡­ he¡¯s a friend. A really good friend.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t work here?¡±

    ¡°No, why?¡±

    ¡°Just an idea we got after visiting the assisted living facility he used to live at.¡±

    She cocked her head at that. <i>She hadn¡¯t known</i>.

    ¡°Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions about Gav?¡±

    ¡°No, not at all.¡±

    Lexa helped me build a time frame. She¡¯d only known Gav about as long as he¡¯d been attending Mars Gym, about two months, which lined up with his leaving the assisted living facility. They¡¯d met during his first week attending the gym, and became very fast ¡°friends¡±. Lexa kept saying friends, but her retelling of their time together alluded to more.

    During my questioning, I had her pull up Gav¡¯s last check-in at the gym. Considering he showed up at the hospital wearing his workout gear, it was possible that he had been here just before losing his memory, and as it would turn out, yes, his last check-in had been a week ago, the day that he had collapsed in the emergency room. Unfortunately Lexa hadn¡¯t been manning the desk that day, so she hadn¡¯t seen him, and therefore couldn¡¯t say whether anything about him had seemed off.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, you¡¯re already helping a lot as it is. Do you happen to know who could have been working that day? Is there a schedule you could check?¡±

    ¡°No need, the only other person that works here is my manager.¡±

    That was odd.

    ¡°It¡¯s just you two?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯m only part-time, he mostly runs this place by himself, we don¡¯t even have janitors. I think he only has me because he needs someone to cover the front when he has a day full of meetings.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± I let out. ¡°I was under the impression another guy named Michael worked here.¡±

    Lexa shrugged.

    ¡°If he does then he¡¯s not on the schedule. Maybe that¡¯s who my manager is meeting with?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I mused.

    My eye fell on a swiveling camera that was mounted on a far wall of the gym. I noticed another one not too far away, and another in a different corner of the gym. They were everywhere, observing every nook and cranny in the gym. Every other camera was accompanied by a device that looked like an alien speaker system. The speakers were pyramid shaped, pointed at the main floor of the gym, and their pyramids were formed by a single spiraling tube.

    ¡°How long do you guys keep the footage on those cameras?¡±

    Lexa looked up at the camera that was watching the entrance.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°I could try asking my manager.¡±

    ¡°I would appreciate that. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to check the footage from the last time Gavrilo was here, see if he was acting strangely.¡±

    ¡°Good idea,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll ask my manager about it when he¡¯s done with his meeting. I don¡¯t know when that¡¯ll be though.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Gavrilo and I can¨C ¡± I cut myself off, suddenly noticing he wasn¡¯t near the entrance. My head swiveled on my neck, scanning the gym like one of its cameras. ¡°Where is he?¡±

 A Guy Like Gav

    Lexa couldn¡¯t leave the front end unattended, so she allowed me to pass through and search for Gav on the main floor. I found him less than a minute later, engrossed in conversation with a fellow muscle building enthusiast. They were conversing near a bench press where it looked like the other big guy had stopped mid workout. In Gav¡¯s hand was a gym bag.

    Gav saw me approaching, and introduced me to his new friend.

    ¡°Nando! This is Keith. Keith, this is Nando, he¡¯s the guy helping me get my memory back.¡±

    ¡°Righteous,¡± said Keith, who was just as big as Gav, if not bigger.

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s pretty cool,¡± said Gav, throwing me a smile.

    ¡°Righteous,¡± said Keith again, bobbing his head in mellow approval. ¡°Nice to meet you Nando, sorry for holding your bro up. Game just had to appreciate game, you feel?¡±

    ¡°Keith asked me what my workout routine was, and I was gonna tell him that I couldn¡¯t remember, but I did. It all just came back to me.¡±

    ¡°Workout routines are the scripture of the iron temple bro, that¡¯s why,¡± said the other giant, Keith, putting his palms together in mock prayer.

    Gav laughed.

    ¡°Amen, bro!¡±

    The two giants proceeded to bro out, striking poses, and flexing at each other, each admiring the dedication of the other. While Keith was definitely bigger, their tone and definition was about on par. Gav was essentially a shrunk down version of Keith. If you upscaled him, they¡¯d be equal copies. Equally toned, equally as strong¡­. equally.

    It dawned on me how absolutely massive Keith was.

    I interrupted the bro off.

    ¡°Hey, Keith, how tall are you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, ¡®bout six-ten, maybe six eleven.¡±

    ¡°Were you always that tall?¡± I said.

    ¡°Naw, actually, I had a growth spurt recently. It was wild. Why?¡±

    ¡°Just curious.¡±

    That was about as tall as Gav had been reported to be, about as tall as his charts had claimed before they were amended. That couldn¡¯t be a coincidence. Could it?

    ¡°Hey, uh¨C bro, how does someone like me get as big as you do?¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Oh, righteous, you want pointers bro?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± said Keith, flexing his biceps for me. ¡°It¡¯s baby steps at first. A little bit of healthy eating, and heavy lifting. Don¡¯t need a gym to start. I started with a gallon of water at home.¡±

    ¡°Right, but I mean¡­ how do I get <i>really</i> big? Like you.¡±

    Keith¡¯s face soured.

    ¡°You accusing me of juicin¡¯ bro? Y¡¯think I¡¯m on gear? I¡¯m all natural bro, one hundred.¡±

    As Keith¡¯s offense started to build, Gav intervened.

    ¡°Relax bro,¡± he said to Keith, putting a hand on his shoulder, ¡°Nando¡¯s cool, he¡¯s on the level.¡± Gav winked at me.

    Keith studied me, looking me up and down. Eyebrows furrowing, his face pouted in concentration. I felt as if I was being appraised by someone who was deciding whether or not to reveal some kind of divine secret.

    At last Keith closed his eyes, and solemnly nodded. He had decided that I was indeed cool and on the level.

    ¡°Alright bro, alright,¡± he said, opening his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not jucin¡¯, I¡¯d never cheat myself like that. I¡¯m all natural alright? But¡­ I did get some help.¡±

    The giant, Keith, knelt down to unzip his gym bag. It was black, with red and green stripes going down to one side. I was not surprised to find that it bore the words ¡°Mars Gym¡±. When he came back up, he was holding a protein shaker that was filled with an ominous looking green powder. It was practically neon, almost shimmering where something mixed inside it caught the light.

    ¡°Michael¡¯s special blend,¡± said Keith, smiling and bobbing his head. ¡°Completely natural, it¡¯s just got loads of nutrients and stuff, promise. My buddy drank this stuff to help bulk up for a competition, and when they tested him, nothing. It¡¯s pure nutrients bro, I swear on it.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± I said.

    Beside me, Gav started digging through his own bag, which I noticed was the same as the one Keith had. From his bag he pulled out a protein shaker that was also the same as the one Keith had pulled from his. It was filled with the same neon green powder that also seemed to be mixed with something that shimmered when it caught the light.

    Gav held it in his hands, and stared at it, mouth agape, and eyes wide.

    ¡°Righteous,¡± said Keith. ¡°Looks like you used to grab Michael¡¯s special blend too.¡±

    Then Keith laughed.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he said, coming to a sudden realization. ¡°I should have known. Your skin bro, it¡¯s been a while since you had some of the shake.¡±

    Gav looked up from staring at the powder, but didn¡¯t speak.

    ¡°What was that about his skin?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Nothing bro, really, it¡¯s just that if you go too long without Michael¡¯s special blend, then your skin starts to go green. Michael says it¡¯s a natural reaction, because your body gets so used to being super healthy that when it starts to go back to normal it thinks it¡¯s getting sick. Like, imagine if you went from eating salads to eating nothing but fast food, you¡¯d feel like crap. Ja feel me bro?¡±

    ¡°I feel you,¡± I said, suddenly concerned for Gav¡¯s health. ¡°What exactly happens if you stop taking it? Have you ever gone off it?¡±

    ¡°Like once, I think. Just don¡¯t do it. Trust me bro, you don¡¯t want to be caught lacking the special blend. You get like a really bad hangover, the absolute gnarliest one you¡¯ll ever have. You get all sore and achy, and your head starts to hurt like hell. I couldn¡¯t keep anything down when it happened to me, and honestly I think the dehydration shrank me, because I shriveled up, like actually shrank. Honestly, yeah it was kinda freaky. I was sweatin¡¯ so bad that my fingers got pruney. Eugh. Yeah. Don¡¯t do it brosky. Green skin is the first sign you need another shake.¡±

    ¡°You went cold turkey?¡±

    ¡°Naw, close, but naw. Michael came through for me and put me back on the shake. Haven¡¯t let myself go without since. I drink extra now just to make sure too.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s really nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, just grab some more supply from Michael. You¡¯ll be fine. You need his number?¡±

    ¡°I was just about to ask.¡±

 Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

    Back at the front, Lexa was clicking through screen after screen of red and green dots with her tongue sticking out. From our angle of approach it was hard to say what kind of information she was clicking through.

    ¡°Hey, Lexa,¡± I said.

    My voice snapped Lexa out of her focus, making her jump in her seat.

    ¡°Oh! Mr. Alvarez,¡± she said. She saw Gav beside me, and there was a brief pause before she decided to say hello to him as well. ¡°H¨C Hey Gav, you spooked us just now.¡±

    ¡°Uhm¡­ yeah, sorry,¡± said Gav, suddenly looking at the floor. It was truly amazing how he always managed to find such interesting spots on the floors and walls.

    Their situation was pitiable. Lexa clearly had some feelings for Gav, and Gav was the kind of guy that felt embarrassed for not remembering his own name during an introduction <i>despite</i> being an amnesiac. I could only imagine how he felt about not remembering someone that clearly had been a good friend, if not a budding lover.

    They both started looking away from each other now, so I spoke to breach the silence.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a new lead,¡± I said to Lexa. ¡°So, just stopping by to say goodbye.¡±

    ¡°Let me know if your manager approves us to view that footage.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, then, ¡°oh, Mr. Alvarez, before you go, I think I found something you might want to hear.¡±

    I cocked my head at her.

    ¡°What did you find?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I don¡¯t know. Maybe something?¡±

    ¡°Only way to know is to hear it.¡±

    ¡°Right, uhm,¡± she took a deep breath. ¡°When you had me check on Gav¡¯s last visit to the gym, I noticed that there were lots of other people who hadn¡¯t shown up in a while. So I did some more digging and found that our attendance is like way down!¡±

    <i>Interesting.</i>

    ¡°When does it start to go down?¡±

    ¡°Just before Gav went missing! Look!¡±

    Lexa turned her monitor so I could see it. The red and green dots she had been looking at earlier were names. Green for when a person had an attendance streak of two or more days, and red for anyone that has missed a day. Apparently up until a few days before last week, the majority of the members of Mars Gym had been attending daily. Now most of the names were red.

    ¡°Crazy right?¡± said Lexa.

    ¡°Very,¡± I agreed.

    Even Gav forgot to be awkward long enough to examine the screen. He leaned to examine it, unknowingly bringing his face closer to Lexa¡¯s. They caught each other¡¯s eyes and then each of them found interesting walls on opposite sides.

    ¡°Hey, Lexa, would you be able to get me the contact information for everyone who''s been missing days?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have access to their contact info, but I¡¯ll mention it along with the footage when my manager is done with his meeting.¡±

    ¡°Appreciate it, thanks.¡±

    ¡°Anything to help Gav,¡± she said, looking for Gav¡¯s eyes but finding that they were trained on a rack of branded merchandise.

    <i>Oh boy</i>.

    Gav and I bid our farewells to Lexa, Gav¡¯s being more than a touch awkward. I couldn¡¯t help but perceive a longing in both their eyes, and something extra in Gav¡¯s. His face was flush, just like it had been when he tried introducing himself to me at the hospital, but more so. I think I saw a hint of shame.

 A Chat Over Lunch

    I flipped over my phone to see if Michael had texted back yet, he hadn¡¯t.

    I set my phone back down and took a sip from my soda, watching the newly dubbed Gavrilo Hodzic wallow in the mirk of his thoughts. In his hands he was turning over a work badge with his name and picture on it. It read ¡°Gavrilo Hodzic, Jr. Engineer¡±. The badge had an old picture that was clearly him, but skinnier, maybe a little sicklier too when compared to his appearance now. Perhaps that was due to the chemotherapy he might have been going through at the time, though that was just a guess.

    We found the badge in his gym bag, along with a set of work clothes, the protein shaker, a water bottle, a wallet, and a phone that was out of power. The wallet had an I.D with an outdated address that still said he lived at the assisted living facility, so finding Gav¡¯s new home would have to wait. The phone was sitting next to mine on the diner table. We¡¯d picked up a power bank for it on the way over.

    If Michael didn¡¯t respond to me while I posed as a new customer, then we would message him as a returning one with Gav¡¯s phone. Gav had also agreed to let me sift through it for possible leads. We didn¡¯t know how he lost his memory, and we didn¡¯t know anything about Michael or the mysterious miracle supplement that he was pedaling¨C presumably, it would seem ¨Cfor Mars Gym. Michael didn¡¯t work in the gym itself according to Lexa, but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t working for them under the table, or just at a different level.

    At the table, Gav was still turning over his badge.

    ¡°Gavrilo?¡± No response. ¡°Gavrilo!¡±

    Gav¡¯s head snapped up.

    ¡°Huh? What?¡±

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah bro, I¡¯m fine. All good,¡± he said, pouting and casting his eyes to the table.

    I sippied my soda, and instead of saying anything I raised a demanding eyebrow, letting my silence speak for me.

    Gav wasn¡¯t making eye contact with me, but I knew he could see me because he was beginning to look pressured.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Okay!¡± he said at last. ¡°Okay, maybe it¡¯s not all good, maybe I¡¯m not fine.¡±

    ¡°I mean, you don¡¯t have to tell me, but¡­ what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really know, is the thing. Like¡­ some of it¡¯s my name¡­ some of it is¡­ other stuff.¡±

    ¡°Your name?¡±

    He sighed, and finally met my eyes.

    ¡°When I woke up today I had this picture of myself in my head. I didn¡¯t remember who I was, but I just <i>knew</i> it was someone dedicated enough to build themselves into something¨C someone ¨Cthat was out of this world.¡± Gav dug around in his gym bag which sat next to him on the booth. ¡°Now It turns out I¡¯m just this.¡±

    He brought out the shaker with its neon green contents, and planted it on the table.

    ¡°You told me Gavrilo Hodzic had congenital paraplegia, and somehow I knew what that meant. It meant he couldn¡¯t walk. Then it turns out that he¡¯s me, and I can walk. If this stuff gave me my legs, then maybe it gave me everything else. What if it¡¯s all I am?¡±

    ¡°Gavrilo, that¡¯s not true.¡±

    ¡°When that guy at the gym asked me about my workout routine it spilled out of me like that info was just waiting there. Then he said I forgot to mention what I did for legs, and for some reason that hit me, right here.¡± Gav pointed at his heart. ¡°And it was because I didn¡¯t have anything. So I made it up, and something about that felt familiar.¡±

    He paused. I didn¡¯t move to break the silence because it looked like he was summoning up the courage to say something that was important to him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything about Lexa, but when she looked at me I felt so ashamed. I don¡¯t think I ever told her. I think I pretended that I¡¯ve always been like this. Isn¡¯t that pathetic? Bro, be real. It¡¯s pathetic right?¡±

    <i>It¡¯s true, she hadn¡¯t known</i>, though I decided to keep that thought to myself for now.

    ¡°You¡¯re not pathetic,¡± I said, then, ¡°where is this coming from?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know bro. I guess I just didn¡¯t expect to be such a fake.¡±

    ¡°Hey, big guy, listen, when Keith asked about your workout routine, you had an answer for everything <i>but</i> your legs right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah bro, don¡¯t rub it or anything.¡±

    ¡°Well doesn¡¯t that mean you were doing something <i>before</i> you started taking the green stuff? I mean your leg routine was the only thing you lied about, you said it yourself.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but¨C¡±

    ¡°No buts, you aren¡¯t fake. Maybe you wouldn¡¯t be a Greek god without the green stuff, but so wouldn¡¯t anybody else, I told you. And Lexa talks to any number of hulked out bros all day, but you¡¯re the one she literally jumped for joy over. She liked <i>you</i>, not your body.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure how much I was able to convince Gav of what I¡¯d just said, but he did give me a smile.

    ¡°There we go!¡± I exclaimed.

    ¡°Thanks Nando.¡±

    ¡°No problem Gav. I can call you Gav right?¡±

    ¡° ¡®Course bro.¡±

    A moment later our food arrived. My meal was a burger and fries. Gav also had a burger and fries. For his first meal. He was still hungry afterwards so I bought two more meals off the menu, plus an ice cream. He was as mystified as me to discover his own appetite.

    He vacuumed it all up, and in the end he decided to have a fourth meal.

 Gav Goes Green

    Michael didn¡¯t get back to either of us. We even tried calling him, but our call went straight to voicemail. It was starting to look like our best lead had gone cold, but hope came in the form of Gav¡¯s message history with Michael. During their initial conversations, it seemed that Gav had been hesitant about taking the green stuff, but eventually cracked sometime between Michael¡¯s visits to the facility. Not wanting to wait, Gav had asked to go to him instead and Michael agreed, dropping a residential address in their chat.

    ¡°Bro, I don''t feel so hot,¡± said Gav, one hand on the steering wheel, another on the hand controls.

    We were heading for Michael¡¯s house, which would be our last stop for the night.

    ¡°I told you not to eat that fourth meal,¡± I said, flipping through some apps on his phone.

    ¡°I swear, I was hungry! Man, I¡¯m still hungry, even though my stomach hurts. Everything kinda hurts.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the withdrawal. That guy Keith said if you didn¡¯t take the green stuff then you¡¯d experience something like a hangover.¡±

    Gav didn¡¯t say anything for a second, pretending to clear his throat.

    ¡°Yeah, uhm¡­ I¡¯ll hold off on that. It¡¯s cool bro. I¡¯m cool.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. Unlike his moment of self pity at the diner, I didn¡¯t feel this was an issue worth pressing him on. Partly I think because it would have felt like encouraging a friend to drink or continue to abuse a substance when they were thinking of going sober.

    So I let the matter rest, and we drove in relative silence. Gav driving, and me invading his privacy for the sake of my investigation. Like with his locker combination, Gav had managed to unlock his phone by sheer muscle memory after it had finished charging.

    Apart from his message history with Michael, Gav¡¯s phone had little else to offer in terms of personal history. His social media consisted of apps with empty bios, and profile pictures of cartoon characters. He didn¡¯t have any friends on these apps, and if he¡¯d ever bothered to post something on them then he¡¯d erased it. With one exception.

    He had a profile on a platform dedicated to uploading photos of yourself. It was the only app he had any history on, and it only went back about two months. Most of the pictures were of him and Lexa. Going by the pictures on this account, Lexa had severely undersold her relationship with Gav to me. It looks like they¡¯d really hit it off. This was also where she had tried to message him when she didn¡¯t hear from him for a week. As much as I didn¡¯t want to check their messages, I wouldn¡¯t feel like I was doing my due diligence if I didn¡¯t. They ended up being unimportant, just messages expressing concern over the lack of communication.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Lexa ended up being a majority of what Gav had on his phone.

    I decided to tell him about Lexa¡¯s messages. No matter what I¡¯d said earlier at the diner, he was probably still feeling a bit like a phone, but Lexa¡¯s messages were filled with a very personal concern.

    ¡°Hey, Gav¨C¡±

    I started to speak, but I felt my stomach turn, something to do with the car¡¯s momentum. I looked up and saw that we were aggressively switching lanes.

    ¡°Gav?¡±

    Gav was out, fully catatonic, face planted into the steering wheel. The green tinge under his skin had darkened and fully overtaken his fair complexion. He looked like a piece of spoiled broccoli.

    As bad as Gav looked, I needed to get control of the car first, so I squeezed the hand control for the brakes, bringing us to a quick and sudden stop. Gav shifted in his seat and I was thrown against the restraints of the seatbelt. We had come to a full stop just before entering the lanes with oncoming traffic.

    I took a moment to thank every deity I had met personally, and a few more than I could remember off the top of my head. It was a miracle that we hadn¡¯t crashed into any of the cars that shared the lanes beside us. It was also very lucky that we had happened to be on a wide stretch of road, because as good as our luck had been, I doubted we would have survived unscathed if oncoming traffic had only been one painted line away.

    I threw on the emergency lights, and tried to wake up Gav.

    ¡°Gav? Hey, big guy, you still with me?¡±

    With a greater amount of effort than I care to admit, I brought him upright in his seat to check him out. He was still breathing, but his eyes were vacant, and his breathing sounded like it was struggling.

    <i>The green stuff.</i>

    I threw myself into the backseat where Gav had tossed the gym bag, and ripped out the water and the protein shaker. I frantically opened both to mix up the contents, then jumped back up to feed it to Gav. I dribbled some into his mouth, desperately hoping he¡¯d be able to swallow, and that I wasn¡¯t accidentally choking him.

    I was relieved when his hands came up to grab the shaker himself. He started drinking on his own, and his eyes began to open. He was back.

    Gav scarfed the green stuff down to the last drops. When the bottle came away from his lips he was gasping for air, having drunk the whole of the contents without hardly stopping for breath.

    And there was something else. His skin.

    The green tinge was completely gone, but that wasn¡¯t all. His muscles had grown. In the course of scarfing down the protein shake his body had swelled, his already world class physique becoming larger, more defined. He was taller, definitely taller. His head scraped the roof of the Van. He had become the giant that the doctors had first recorded, the man with a body out of this world.

 Wellness Check

    Gav took us to a parking lot so we could switch seats. It wasn¡¯t like I was expecting him to go green again so soon after taking a hit of the green stuff, it¡¯s just that I hadn¡¯t been expecting it when it happened the first time. Better to be safe than sorry.

    As we each got out to switch seats, I passed him, and got to truly appreciate the new difference in size. He had been just over a head taller than me before, but now I barely came up to his chest. He absolutely dwarfed me.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± I said, settling into the driver¡¯s seat.

    ¡°Bro, I feel amazing.¡±

    ¡°You look amazing. Let''s hope that keeps up.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Gav, staring at his hands.

    I started up the car and did a couple laps around the parking to get a feel for the modded controls. The foot pedals were still usable. They just had a bit more resistance than was expected.

    Gav and I passed the drive with minimal chatter. I was still in shock from nearly becoming a traffic statistic, and Gav was still stuck staring at his own hands. He kept opening and closing them, fixated on the flexing muscles of his forearm.

    I wondered what it felt like, to suddenly gain so much otherworldly strength.

    When we entered Michael¡¯s neighborhood it was at sunset, or close to it. The sun had disappeared behind a row of houses, leaving a pink trail that looked like alien blood in the sky.

    Michael¡¯s house was a clone of every other house in this neighborhood, only his looked like it had been allowed to decay. There were the remains of what might have been a white picket fence at one point, going by the flecks of paint that still remained, and the lawn was overgrown. Patches of some kind of weed grass grew in patches, growing taller than the other patches of grass and choking the life out of the surrounding area.

    The house was dark. There were no lights on, despite the fast encroaching night.

    Gav and I shared a look of concern, and approached Michael¡¯s front door. As we walked closer to the front door we were assaulted by a horrible smell. It wasn¡¯t quite <i>dead body</i> smell, though there were notes of dead body in it. The smell was closer to a dumpster full of hot garbage. Where most of the garbage was spoiled salad.

    ¡°Augh,¡± said Gav, vocalizing his disgust and covering his nose. ¡°Bro, this is rank.¡±

    ¡°I think this just turned into a wellness check,¡± I said.

    Gav nodded in agreement. There were tears in his eyes, but I don¡¯t think it was the prospect of finding a body, but rather the smell. It was truly something else.

    I rapped on Michael¡¯s door, and waited for a response that never came. I tried calling his phone, but just as before, there was no response, although we did hear it ringing somewhere inside.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s home,¡± I said, ¡°at least his phone is.¡±

    ¡°Smells like his body¡¯s in there too,¡± said Gav, holding his nose.

    I couldn¡¯t help but agree. So I whipped out my lockpicks.

    ¡°Bro!¡± said Gav, whispering protest. ¡°We can¡¯t be caught breaking and entering when there could be a dead body inside.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not breaking in, it¡¯s a wellness check,¡± I said, joking. Though that joke was only funny to me, because Gav remained mortified.

    ¡°I can smell him from here,¡± said Gav, still whispering, but much more animated. He was speaking with his hands now. ¡°He¡¯s definitely dead.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to check the house out.¡±

    Gav was reduced to protesting only with his hands, waving them in the air as if he was producing esoteric symbols that would communicate how wrong he felt this was.

    He wasn¡¯t waving his arms around for long. I had the door open in only a few seconds.

    The air that came out was magnitudes more putrid than the air outside. I knew it had to be worse, but I hadn¡¯t expected it to be <i>that</i> much worse. The notes of bodily decay were overtaken by the smell of spoiled vegetables. It was an overpowering moldy aroma that reeked of decay, no, <i>life</i>. I could only imagine what kind of unholy microorganisms had taken residence within Michael¡¯s decaying corpse.

    ¡°Christ!¡± I said, pulling my shirt over my nose.

    The door had opened into the living room. It connected to a small kitchen, and along the wall to our left was a dark hallway.

    I flipped on my flashlight, and scanned the inside, half expecting to see Michael¡¯s corpse just sitting in the corner.

    I called Michael¡¯s phone again, and heard it ringing from somewhere down the hallway. I looked at Gav who seemed queasy, so I told he could stay put out here if he wanted to.

    Entering the hallway I found three doors, one of which led to the bathroom. Another was closed, and another was left ajar. The ringing from Michael¡¯s phone was coming from the door that was slightly open, little flashes of light spilled out from in rhythm with the ringing.

    Cautiously, I crept forward, trying to keep my footsteps light, just in case this house wasn¡¯t as empty as it seemed.

    I made it to the door, slowly pushing it aside, opening it as cautiously as I had crept to it. Inside there was no one, the blinking phone sat by itself on the edge of a dirty and bare mattress. The mattress sat on the floor, right beside several piles of clothes that seemed to be separated into clean and dirty piles.

    I picked up the phone. It had two sets of missed calls. Several were from me, and two more were from someone whose contact name was ¡°El Putito Verde¡± <i>The Little Green Fucker</i>. I cocked my head at that.

    ¡°Huh,¡± I let out.

    I checked the lock on the phone, hoping that there wouldn''t be one, but there was. The lock screen would accept a pin, but it also had a biometric lock.

    <i>If Michael¡¯s body is still fresh, there may be enough electroconductivity to¡­</i>

    My thoughts were interrupted.

    ¡°Nando!¡± called a panicked Gav.

    I put the phone in my pocket, and rushed back to the front of the house. Gav wasn¡¯t there.

    ¡°Nando!¡± He called again, his voice was coming from the kitchen. ¡°Nando, look.¡±

    Gav¡¯s back was pressed into a cupboard. He was looking at something on the floor.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked.

    Whatever he was looking at must have been the kind of horrifying that you can¡¯t look away from, the kind of horrifying that demanded to be seen. Without responding to me, or looking away, he raised a finger to point at it.

    Whatever it was, I wouldn¡¯t be able to see it without stepping into the kitchen.

    I sidestepped Gav, and entered the kitchen.

    As many magnitudes worse as the inside air had been to the outside air, the air in the kitchen was that much worse. One step past Gav, and the smell of hot garbage and rotting salad crossed the line of bearability. And why wouldn¡¯t it? The source was right there on the kitchen floor.

 Unwellness Check

    It was a body, that much could be determined by the vague shape of it, and it had been a person, presumably; the clothes it wore were the exact same that hung off of Gav. Everything else about it was alien.

    The skin of the thing was dark green, like the leaves of old spinach that had gone slimy. Like old spinach, it appeared at once shriveled and drowned in water, as if there had been some degradation on the cellular level. The shriveled appearance, combined with the clothes, and a thin film of water beneath the body, suggested that it had once been bigger, at least the size of Gav. Now the proportions were about average, on par with someone you could pull off the street.

    Despite my body¡¯s desire to pull away, I knelt down to examine it more closely.

    I heard Gav shuffle behind me, and a second later the lights turned on. I turned around to see that Gav had found a light switch, and that he was looking sick again, understandably so.

    ¡°You¡¯re looking a little green around the gills.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine bro, really.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s cool Gav, you don¡¯t have to stick around while I examine the body.¡±

    I was able to see him argue with himself internally as that argument played out on his face. He looked at me, then at the door, and finally he took a breath that nearly made him wretch, and he decided to leave me to it.

    His eyes said sorry, and I gave him a nod that hopefully signaled ¡°it¡¯s okay¡±.

    After Gav left the kitchen, I returned my attention to the body.

    It looked like whoever this used to be, presumably Michael, had expired mid crawl. The trajectory of the crawl told me that he had been aiming for a water cooler, presumably to fill the protein shaker that his dead hands were gripping.

    Naturally¨C that is to say unsurprisingly ¨Cthe protein shaker was filled with a neon green powder. I pried the shaker from the corpse''s hands, and turned it over, watching particles in the green powder catch the light and shimmer.

    I stared with pity at the corpse, it seemed that, like Gav, the corpse had realized too soon that they had needed a new dose. Perhaps it had happened suddenly, without warning, just as it had happened to Gav. It was a troubling thought.

    The man back at the gym, Keith, had described withdrawal from the supplement as a kind of hangover, or fever. He said he had experienced dehydration, sweating. He hadn¡¯t mentioned sudden loss of consciousness, or a sudden anything. His recollection of the withdrawal gave me the impression of something that had happened much more slowly, something that had happened in a long enough time frame that he could have waited for Michael to come in with an emergency resupply.

    I continued examining the body.

    I went to touch the skin but not before finding protection. I¡¯d left the majority of my periphery supplies in my own car, carrying only my lockpicks, flashlight, and pistol. Luckily Michael had kept a hardly used pack of plastic gloves¨C meant for cleaning ¨Cunderneath the sink.

    Since it had the appearance of spoiled spinach I expected it to be soft, and mushy, and for it to tear away in strips or chunks. Instead the skin had a rubbery consistency, and much more disturbingly, a pulse.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I checked the corpse¡¯s veins, but the pulse wasn¡¯t localized there. It was faint, and present throughout the entirety of the skin. Placing a hand on the back of the chest also didn¡¯t reveal the beating of a heart, the only rhythm to be found being the pulsing that was present on the rest of the body.

    <i>What in the goddamn</i>?

    If this was Michael, then was very dead, but somehow his body was very alive. His head was lying on its side so I removed one of the gloves to put a wet finger near his nose and mouth to feel for breath, but nothing.

    Still, where there¡¯s a pulse and heat, there may be the electroconductivity required to open a biometric lock; as long as this was in fact Michael, and as long as whatever process his body went through didn¡¯t change his finger print overly much.

    I took out Michael¡¯s phone, and pressed one of the fingers to it. It seemed to register, which was a good sign, but it didn¡¯t open. A tried a few more, and eventually one did the trick.

    <i>Bingo</i>.

    Dismissing the notifications from my own, and Gav¡¯s, phone, there was only one that looked to be of importance. Messages from the contact named <i>El Putito Verde</i>. The relevant history, starting from a little over a week ago, read as follows:

    <b>Michael:</b> My clients are starting to complain. This last batch doesn¡¯t last as long. My boys are needing to re-up almost everyday, and I¡¯m running out.

    <b>EPV:</b> Do not be alarmed monkey. This is as planned. We have been tweaking the formula to increase demand. Perhaps we went too far this time. Send them to the gym and we will have a neutralizing agent ready to bring them back to their natural homeostasis.

    <b>Michael:</b> Homo what?

    For the rest of the week after, the messages between Michael and this ¡°Putito Verde¡± are either him begging for more supply or notifying them that he¡¯s sending someone over. The next set of relevant messages were recent, very recent.

    <b>EPV:</b> Hey, monkey, answer your phone. That test subject that ran out on us the other day came back, and he was with someone. They appear to be asking questions, and may come knocking on your hut. Remember, deny, deny, deny.

    <b>EPV:</b> Monkey, respond.

    <b>EPV:</b> Answer your phone biped.

    <b>EPV:</b> My men are on their way to check your hut. If you are not there, or if we find out you are complying with the escapee and his new associate, then there will be consequences.

    <i>Crap</i>.

    Those messages were only minutes old. If I was alone it would be a different story, but I had Gav with me, and I didn¡¯t want to put his life at risk. I needed to grab him and get out before whoever was going to show up showed up.

    I bolted to the front where I found Gav slumped against the front door.

    <i>Crap. Crap. Crap.</i>

    The first thought that came to me was that I was too late, those men were here, and they¡¯d done something to Gav, but I was wrong. A closer look revealed that his skin had gone green again. He had entered that catatonic state from before.

    I ran back to the kitchen, and filled the protein shaker with water to mix up another dose of the green stuff, running back to the front to dribble it into Gav¡¯s mouth.

    He was quicker on the comeback this time, his eyes fluttering to life the moment the shaker touched his lips. He grabbed it from me and began to scarf down the green stuff, drinking the contents to the last drop and then letting the empty shaker roll away from on the floor as he tried gasping for air.

    ¡°Gav,¡± I said, trying to get his attention. ¡°Someone¡¯s coming to check on Michael.¡±

    ¡°I think they¡¯re here,¡± he said, pointing at a white van that had just parked in front of Michael¡¯s house.

    Two men emerged from the white van.

    ¡°Hey, that''s them!¡± yelled one of the men.

    There was something strange about their voices, but I didn¡¯t have time to process that. They were carrying assault rifles, and they were already being raised.

    ¡°Nando!¡± yelled Gav, grabbing me and throwing us both behind cover.

    The lead started flying, and the walls of the house provided no meaningful resistance at all. The bullets turned the walls to swiss cheese. Splinters from the wall started flying over us. It was only a matter of time before the shooters would find their targets.

    Then I heard a loud <i>thunk</i> as something hit Gav on the side of his temple. That little something fell to the floor and rolled around before settling near my head. It was a bullet that had flattened itself on Gav¡¯s head.

 Bulletproof Brosky

    Gav¡¯s eyes went wide, moving to the bullet and back to me. Am I bulletproof? I could almost hear him think.

    Every bullet that would have ripped through Gav, and therefore me, made a loud thunk as it bounced off his body and then another duller thud as the flattened bullets rolled around on the ground.

    It felt like we were under fire forever, but it couldn¡¯t have been longer than a few seconds. The assault rifles I¡¯d seen were capable of emptying their magazine in roughly five seconds flat. So in no time at all really, the storm of bullets ceased.

    ¡°They¡¯re reloading,¡± I said.

    Gav gave me the slightest nod, and jumped to his feet, or more literally, pushed himself off the ground. Using one arm, he threw himself away from the ground, twisting with inertia, performing a midair pirouette so he landed facing the outside. He landed like a track athlete ready to start a race, and in the near instant that his feet touched the ground, he exploded out the door.

    I got up to follow Gav, and as I approached the door a few stray bullets created a splatter of splinters in front of me. The sounds of gunfire hadn¡¯t ceased, but none of the volley was reaching any part of the house. I dared to glance outside, and saw that both men had concentrated their fire¨C fruitlessly ¨Con Gav.

    Their bullets bounced uselessly off Gav¡¯s, and I heard one yell ¡°Is he supposed to be bulletproof?¡± Again, I registered that there was something wrong with his voice, but again I couldn¡¯t say what.

    A second later, the one that yelled had his face smashed into the side of the van they had come in, and I swore I saw sparks.

    The other man, paralyzed with fear, watched his comrades face get smashed in. The man found the will to move, and raised his weapon to fire, but nothing came out the barrel. That¡¯s when I stepped out and fired on him. The man registered the sound of my weapon just in time to catch the bullet with his eye, and this time I was sure that I had seen sparks of electricity.

    Gav took a step back from the remains of the man whose head he had smashed into the van. I came from behind to examine the bodies.

    The man I had shot had an oddly clean entrance wound, and a closer look revealed that there was only the thinnest layer of blood where skin met metal. The other man¡¯s mangled head revealed a much more obvious architecture of silicon and circuits.

    ¡°Robots?¡± Gav said. He was voicing a mote of disbelief, not really asking a question.

    ¡°I don''t know,¡± I said, kneeling down beside them.

    Both men were identical, and though their faces were mangled, it was easy to tell that they could be twins. Though it was probably more accurate to say that they were both the same ¡°model¡±.

    The robot men¡¯s weapons were empty, and both had used up the entirety of their backup magazines. They were both wearing long coats, whose pockets I started to rifle through. In one of their pockets, I found a set of keys for the van. What I didn¡¯t find was any identification, which made sense, but I also didn¡¯t find a phone or any other communication device. Perhaps the robots could communicate to their leader by some in-built device. If so, then it¡¯s possible that Gav and I had just destroyed it.

    My own pocket started vibrating. I answered the call, getting up at the same time to check out the back of the van. The back of this one had two doors, and looked like it might be carrying something useful.

    ¡°Hello? Mr. Alvarez?¡± came the voice in my phone, it was Lexa¡¯s. ¡°I can¡¯t see anything.¡±

    I pulled the phone away from my ear. I¡¯d answered a video call assuming it had been a voice call.

    ¡°Better?¡± I said.

    ¡°I can see you now. Is Gav there with you?¡±

    ¡°He is.¡± I flipped my phone¡¯s camera to a very bashful Gav, who suddenly took a keen interest in the pavement that let him face away from the camera.

    I think Lexa was about to say hi to him, but the ¡°hi¡± died in her throat the moment he turned away. Then she just sighed.

    I flipped the phone back to myself.

    ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure Lexa, did your manager agree to help us?¡± I asked, opening the back of the van, and finding exactly what I was hoping to find.

    Bingo.

    ¡°No, not even a little bit. Actually when I asked him he got really weird, like really. The bad kind of weird.¡±

    ¡°Weird how?¡±

    ¡°Like serial-killer-psycho-weird. He asked me why I asked him, and then he asked me about you guys. He was giving me super creep vibes so I lied and said you didn¡¯t give me your name.¡±

    ¡°Appreciate that Lexa.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Yeah, no problem, but there¡¯s something else. Look.¡±

    Lexa¡¯s camera flipped to focus on a monitor. It looked like footage from one of the gym¡¯s cameras was running on it. It definitely wasn¡¯t current, because sunlight was spilling from the glass walls. The video was in surprisingly high definition, and in color, which was odd for a twenty four hour security system.

    The footage appeared to be mundane. The only thing happening on screen was people running on treadmills and lifting weights. Some were doing stretches.

    Lexa¡¯s voice came as a whisper from somewhere behind the camera.

    ¡°This video¡¯s from the last time Gav showed up. After my manager interrogated me about you guys, he sent me home. I clocked out, but instead of going home I hid. I watched him step into the security, and when he came out, I snuck in!¡±

    Something started to happen in the footage. The lights started flashing in the gym. There wasn¡¯t any sound to go with the footage, but you could tell that something loud started playing on the sound system because everyone in the gym started to cover their ears. Most of them looked like they were trying to fight against something that was happening in their heads, but if they were, then the fact that they were blindsided meant they were at a disadvantage. Most fell to their knees, only to rise again moments later, back straight, and arms at the side. All except one.

    There was a figure in the corner that I now recognized as Gav. While everyone had already fallen and risen, he was still struggling. People around him began to form into a line, like soldiers ready for inspection, or maybe more like test subjects, because it looked like someone¨C an old man ¨Chad come from out of frame to examine them. He was wearing a tracksuit that looked just like Lexa¡¯s, all black, with red and green striped dunning down the side.

    Gav seemed to gain control of himself, at least enough to ignore the debilitating sound¨C if it was still playing ¨Cand he looked around, seeing everyone forming into those lines. He rose to stand, panicking as he continued to assess the situation, ultimately choosing to run. Gav sprinted out of frame. He did not go unnoticed by the old man, who had stopped examining one of the other gym members to gawk at Gav.

    The footage paused, and then Lexa started navigating some menus on the monitor.

    ¡°Who''s that old guy?¡± I asked.

    ¡°The old guy? That¡¯s my manager.¡±

    Lexa finished navigating through menus and a new angle of the gym around the same time started playing. The camera was pointed at the front of the gym. Gav came sprinting from off screen, and as he did I noticed that sunlight wasn¡¯t spilling from the crystal walls of the gym anymore, they had gone opaque, black like obsidian glass.

    Gav stopped in front of the entrance and tried to push it open, but it didn¡¯t budge. He looked behind himself for a second, but if he saw anything it was impossible to tell. He refocused on the door, and took a few steps back, aligning himself to one of the panels next to the door. He then took a running leap, crashing through the glass, and running from the gym.

    ¡°Bro!¡± said Gav, suddenly appearing behind and making me jump inside my skin.

    ¡°Is that Gav?¡± asked Lexa.

    I looked up at Gav. Surprisingly he hadn¡¯t immediately tried to fixate on the pavement. Our eyes, and I silently communicated to him that he had to at least say ¡°hi¡±.

    ¡°Uhh¡­ hey, Lexa.¡±

    ¡°Hey Gav, how¡¯re you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good, still¡­ uhm¡­ getting my head back together.¡±

    ¡°Great! That¡¯s uhm¡­ really great!¡±

    There was a short silence, and then the camera flipped back to Lexa¡¯s face.

    ¡°Gav, if there¡¯s anything you need, I just want you to know that¨C¡±

    There was a loud knocking that made Lexa go quiet. She put a hand over her mouth, and her eyes flashed to something offscreen. She turned her camera away from her face to show us a door with the shadow of a person underneath it.

    An old man¡¯s voice came from behind the door. It sounded off, the same way the robot¡¯s who attacked us had sounded off. Like something trying to imitate a human voice.

    ¡°Lexa? Lexa! I know you¡¯re in there. Open this goddamn door right now and I might let you keep your job!¡±

    Lexa didn¡¯t reply.

    For a moment there was nothing but tense silence. The shadow underneath the door shifted a little, and the old man let out a long sigh. Then his hand burst through the door, right above where the handle was.

    Lexa let out a yelp.

    ¡°I heard that!¡± said the old man. ¡°I knew you were in there.¡±

    The hand that had punched through the door fondled the spaces underneath it to search for the handle, finding it, and then turning it to open the door.

    The door burst open, and waiting on the other side was the old man from the video. He had a head of closely cut, almost shaven, white hair. He looked like the robots we had taken out, only older looking, with a few wrinkles that looked unnatural. Maybe I wouldn¡¯t have noticed under other circumstances, but his wrinkles looked like they were molded, not formed. His face was like a mask that was made using something that very convincingly mimicked human skin, but it only just barely crested the hill out of the uncanny valley.

    ¡°Come here monkey!¡± yelled the old man, charging at Lexa.

    Lexa jumped to escape her manager¡¯s charge, leaping right over him, but dropping her phone in the process. It clattered to the ground, but in such a way that it wound up propped up against something so that it landed pointing at the door. Lexa was sprinting down a concrete hallway, and a second later her manager was doing the same.

    Eventually the only thing her phone was capturing was a closed door.

    ¡°Nando! We have to go back to the gym!¡±

    ¡°Agreed let me just¨C¡±

    Gav stumbled backwards.

    Either it had been difficult to notice in the moonlight, or it had started to happen only moments ago, but Gav was green again.

    ¡°It¡¯s happening again, bro, why? I just had some¡­¡±

    Gav slurred the end of his sentence.

    ¡°New and improved formula,¡± I said. ¡°They wanted customers to resupply sooner, I guess to increase profits, only they made the half-life too short.¡±

    ¡°Am I gonna die, like Michael? Do you think he had any more of the green stuff in his house?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna die Gav, and we don¡¯t have to scrounge around Michael¡¯s place to find more of the green stuff.¡±

    I stepped aside, and let Gav see the treasure trove that our robot assailants had left us.

    ¡°Nice bro!¡±

    We got Gav fixed up with another dose, this time managing to get it to him before he went catatonic. After that we loaded up the crate of green stuff in Gav¡¯s van, and went back inside Michael¡¯s house to fill up the shakers and an empty water bottle we had with water so we could prepare some more doses on the way.

    We left just before we started hearing sirens from somewhere in the distance. Police had arrived to answer the sounds of gunfire from earlier. Luckily, they were coming from the opposite end of the neighborhood that we had decided to leave from.

    I looked into the rearview mirror to witness the oncoming red, white, and blues of the police¡¯s lights flashing. Appreciating our lucky break.

    Silhouetted against a backdrop of flashing lights, the robots¡¯ bodies were slumped against their van, and although we were already a ways away, I could swear that I was able to see something climbing out of one of their chests.

 Let Us Play

    By the time we made it back to Mars Gym Gav was down to his last drinkable dose of the green stuff. Each dose lasted half as long as the previous one, and we started to realize how someone like Michael could accidentally go too long without another one.

    ¡°How do you feel Gav?¡±

    ¡°Stronger. Is that weird?¡±

    ¡°Definitely. I don¡¯t think the people making this stuff expected to make you bulletproof. Maybe it¡¯s a side effect of having it run through your system faster.¡±

    I parked the car and pulled my pistol out of its holster beneath my jacket.

    ¡°You ready?¡±

    ¡°¡®Course I¡¯m ready bro, they¡¯ve got Lexa, and they¡¯re letting people turn into spoiled veggies. These suckers gotta go.¡±

    I nodded at him, and jumped out of the car. Even if Lexa wasn¡¯t here, the neutralizing agent mentioned in Michael¡¯s message history was, and we needed it bad. Even with a whole crate of the green stuff in the back of the van, at the rate Gav was having to take another dose, he¡¯d be out before the sun came up, maybe sooner.

    We reached the front doors of Mars Gym, and found them to be locked. No surprises there.

    I examined the lock on the door and saw that it was a pretty standard retail lock. I whipped out my set of picks and had the lock undone in a matter of seconds, but the door didn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°Fake lock for a fake business,¡± I said to Gav. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re up big guy.¡±

    Gav nodded, downing another dose of the green stuff. He gingerly set the protein shaker down, and took a few steps back, aligning himself with the doors of the gym. He took a moment to compose himself, then rammed his body into the front doors, blowing them open.

    Gav¡¯s entrance didn¡¯t set off any alarms. I wasn¡¯t sure if I should have been surprised or not. On the one hand, if you were pedaling a miracle cure with potentially lethal side effects, you wouldn¡¯t want anyone snooping around, on the other, you definitely wouldn''t want police snooping around your weird fake gym.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    I passed through the broken down doors of the gym. As I passed I felt that same membrane of air that separated the inside from the outside. It was much more noticeable at night. The slight chill of the air outside did not interact in the slightest with the relative heat of the gym.

    Once I was inside, the lights flipped on in the gym.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid the gym is closed,¡± said a voice that I recognized as Lexa¡¯s manager. His voice came crisp and clear in my ears like it was coming from an expensive set of earbuds.

    ¡°Impressive sound system,¡± I said to the empty gym.

    ¡°Only the best for business,¡± said the voice.

    Any moment now I expected to turn into a vapid zombie. I hadn¡¯t forgotten the trance-like state the other gym members besides Gav had been put in. I was going to count on Gav to do something about that for me. He seemed somehow to be able to resist it.

    ¡°Are you Lexa¡¯s manager? Is she okay?¡±

    ¡°Of course she is, why would she not be?¡±

    ¡°Is she with you?¡±

    ¡°I am afraid it would be unprofessional to disclose the whereabouts of my employees to customers.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant and you know it.¡±

    ¡°No, I do not believe I know what you are talking about. Here is what I do know. You are trespassing on my property, in fact you have already broken in, and if you do not vacate the premises immediately then I will be forced to call the police.¡±

    ¡°Call them,¡± I said, calling his bluff. ¡°I bet you¡¯d love to have police come down here and start snooping around your little operation. What is this place, huh? Some kind of messed up research facility?¡±

    ¡°As I said, I do not know what you are talking about.¡±

    ¡°You can cut the act, old man. Lexa showed us a video of you putting everyone in the gym into a trance-like state. I saw you come out and examine them. That¡¯s what you were doing, right? Until you saw Gav escape?¡±

    He didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°We ran into your men by the way. It¡¯s unfortunate they were the ¡°ask questions later¡± type. Had to do them in.¡±

    I let my words sit in the air, and there was a long pause before the voice of Lexa¡¯s manager came back.

    ¡°You killed my men?¡± said the old man¡¯s voice, and I could swear that it almost sounded regretful, sad.

    ¡°You won¡¯t be hearing from them any time soon that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    There was another long pause in the conversation.

    I wasn¡¯t technically lying¨C I think ¨Che probably wouldn¡¯t be hearing from his men any time soon, but I also didn¡¯t think they were dead. I remembered the little silhouette I had seen crawl out of one of the robot men¡¯s chests.

    The manager¡¯s voice came back. This time with a homicidal edge to it.

    ¡°Okay monkey,¡± he said. ¡°You want to play? Let us play.¡±

    In the next instant, my ears were assaulted by a sound so debilitating that it caused me to double over, covering my ears. The sound, which wasn¡¯t really a sound, was like wads of cotton being rhythmically pounded into my ears. It was loudness without noise, and it was invading my mind.

    It was then, with an increasing amount of horror, that I realized that I had lost control of my arms and legs.

 Browski Brawl

    I was frozen stiff, sweating from a struggle that started unconsciously as soon as the alien speakers had started blaring. I wondered when I would enter that trance-like state I had seen the other gym members enter, but it never happened. The smallest of small reliefs washed over me as I realized that although I could not exert control over any of my muscles, neither could the system that was firing cotton pistons into my ear.

    To my left I heard Gav fight his own struggle. He grunted in exertion, fighting the same force I was that wanted to subsume control over our bodies. I wished that I could see how he was faring with my eyes, but my neck rebelled against me, frozen in the same stalemate as the rest of me. Eventually I managed to wrestle control of my vocal chords, and I was able to produce sound.

    ¡°Gav?¡± I said, the exertion of vocalizing anything drawing another bead of sweat from my forehead.

    Nothing.

    ¡°Gav, buddy?¡± Two words that time. It was getting easier to speak.

    ¡°I¡¯m good bro, I¡¯m good.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I grunted.

    I was still doubled over, hands uselessly over my ears as they tried to block out the sound. With a little bit of effort, I was able to wiggle a few fingers. Then, all at once, I was able to right myself, and I found that I had full motor control of my upper body again. I looked to my left to find that Gav had managed the same.

    We each smiled at each other, and a small laugh might have escaped us as we reveled in our minor victory, but that feeling of victory was short lived. The gym had rooms that looked like they were partitioned for sessions with fitness instructors. These rooms lined the whole perimeter of the gym, and they were all bursting open. From them spilled a small legion of gym bros that shared Gav¡¯s out of this world physique. I recognized one of the faces streaming out as Keith¡¯s, that giant we met here earlier.

    <i>Holy shit, not good.</i>

    ¡°Civilians!¡± I screamed. ¡°Gav these are normal people.¡± Bystanders. Regular people that were just caught in the crossfire.

    I don¡¯t know what I had expected coming here, but it hadn¡¯t been a legion of zombified innocents.

    Lexa had said their attendance at the gym had suffered in the past week. At the time I thought they had all gotten lost, suffering amnesia like Gav, but later I figured they had actually gone out like Michael. It was probable that many had gone out like Michael, if they were taking the green stuff, but you also couldn¡¯t check back in if you never checked out in the first place.

    ¡°Nando,¡± said Gav, strained. ¡°That guy that was speaking, that was Lexa¡¯s manager, right?¡±

    ¡°Pretty sure,¡± I said, also straining. I was desperately trying to get my legs to work again.

    ¡°So that means she¡¯s here right?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± <i>Dead or alive, we don¡¯t know</i>, I thought.

    ¡°Cool, you go get her bro, I¡¯ll handle these guys.¡±

    ¡°What? You versus all of them? There¡¯s no¨C Gav? Gav!¡±

    In what appeared to be a herculean display of will, Gav tore away from the invisible chains that were binding us, and stomped forward toward the small legion of toned giants. I cried out to him to stop, but I don¡¯t know why. Even if I could move freely, what was I going to do? Shoot innocent people?

    Gav had seemed to regain complete control of his body. He definitely wasn¡¯t struggling to move like I was. He walked up to the closest meat head and gave it to him on the side of the head, knocking him out instantly. The blow was so quick and decisive that for a moment I wondered if a bullet wound from my gun wouldn¡¯t have been more merciful.

    More gym bros kept coming, but Gav danced around them. Their fists would start flying only to swing at empty air. It wasn¡¯t just that Gav was fast¨C though he was ¨Cit was that they were slow. It was like they were experiencing lag between their thoughts and actions. Think, swing, think, swing, and maybe there was a truth to that. Just because their bodies were following through on the orders issued by the sound system, it didn¡¯t mean that they weren¡¯t still fighting for control. If they were, then maybe there was some kind of lag between the order issued, and the action it commanded. That meant Gav had the advantage.

    There was also the advantage of strength. Now that Gav was standing next to the legion of gym bros, I could see that he was bigger, stronger somehow.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    <i>New improved formula</i>.

    It dawned on me that the others must have been ¡°stabilized¡± and put back on the old formula. Gav was still running on the formula that ran faster through his body, the formula that had made him unexpectedly bulletproof. <i>The formula that could sap his strength any minute now.</i>

    Gav kept knocking out his fellow muscle bound behemoths, but sooner or later they would surround him, and by then no advantage would be able to contend with sheer numbers. I had to join the fray or reach the back of the gym; the controls to the sound system had to be somewhere in the back, in the same area that I would find Lexa, if she was still alive.

    I lurched forward, nearly tumbling ass over head. The effort of the first step alone made my stomach sick, and the following step wasn¡¯t much easier. I started to wonder how it was possible that Gav seemed to effortlessly move. He had started the same as me, but looking at him go toe to toe with the others, knocking people out left and right, there had to be something that set him apart, and there was.

    This whole time I¡¯d been fighting for control over my body, but not my thoughts. I had no way of knowing how this alien sound system took a person over, but I could think of only one method that would have given Gav a definitive advantage. It had to somehow route through your motor cortex, a piece of the brain that Gav was either partly missing, or that was slightly damaged due to his glioblastoma.

    Gav had every advantage he could ask for, I realized that then. As long as I could do my part in finding Lexa and shutting down this alien sound system, then together we could save everyone here. <i>Assuming Gav¡¯s blows weren¡¯t lethal</i>, I thought, and the thought almost made me chuckle.

    With my newfound faith in Gav, I began to search the perimeter of the gym for a door that looked like it would lead to a backroom. I found one, and started making my way, skirting the edge of the melee that was happening in the center of the gym.

    As I skirted the melee I had to wonder how it was possible they didn¡¯t notice me. Gav must have invited their whole attention, but what about the old man? Surely he was still overseeing the brawl, and if he was, then surely he would be calling attention to me. Maybe something was keeping him busy. <i>Lexa</i>. I held onto hope that she might still be alive.

    I kept walking the perimeter toward the door, each step easier than the last but not any easier on my stomach.

    Here and there I would check to see how Gav was doing, and for the most part he was doing fine. He used the exercise equipment to create obstacles and to break up the horde of gym bros when they tried to swarm him. He continued to dance around their feeble attempts at hitting him as he kept bringing them down. A stray shot from one of the gym bros landed on a piece of equipment, denting the metal frame. Even if they weren¡¯t as strong as Gav it looked like all it would take was one well placed shot for them to take him out.

    I continued my slow, desperate, march, and finally reached the door I was aiming for. Somewhat surprisingly it appeared that the door was kept closed using a regular lock. I had to hope that it was anyways, not like the fake one that had held the entrance closed.

    I took out my picks and started working the lock. It took longer than expected to get the thing open. Macro movements like walking had become relatively simple, if nauseating, but fine motor control was still sweat inducing work. Still, I managed to get the lock open with a satisfying <i>click</i>.

    A wave of joy washed over me, followed by a much more overwhelming wave of despair. I tried the door, but even though the lock had turned, the door was still not budging.

    I slammed my fist against the door in anger and frustration. Gav had pinned his faith in me and I¡¯d failed him before ever getting a chance to try.

    I searched the melee happening behind me to look for Gav. He was still doing well, and it appeared that every advantage given to him would keep buying him time, time that was going to simply tick away until he fell to the horde because I couldn¡¯t get a goddamn door open.

    My eyes stayed on the melee as I desperately thought of a way to bypass the door, and they spotted someone behind Gav. One of the gym bros, the one I recognized as Keith, had managed to break away from the rest of the horde. He was behind Gav, getting ready to brain him with a bar he¡¯d pulled from a bench press. I tried calling out to Gav but from this distance I couldn¡¯t hope to be heard over the sound of the cotton pounding in our ears.

    Keith approached Gav from behind, and I found that I had to make a decision. I still had my gun. I could stop Keith before he ever reached Gav, but that would mean killing him. Realistically speaking, there¡¯s no such thing as an ¡°incapacitating¡± shot. All shots could be killing shots.

    Keith continued his approach, and I decided that I had no real choice at all. If it was Gav¡¯s life or Keith¡¯s, I would choose Gav¡¯s every time.

    I raised my gun, and aimed for Keith¡¯s upper arm. The bullet would still shatter and tear through the awesome meat of him, but the worst possible outcome was that I broke open his brachial artery. He would go down, but it wouldn¡¯t be a total death sentence if we could resolve the conflict here fast enough to call an ambulance.

    I fired just as Keith raised the bar to bring it down on Gav¡¯s head.

    The sound of gunfire was enough to raise Gav¡¯s attention. He found me with my gun raised, and he quickly put two and two together, looking behind himself to find Keith. Keith had already dropped the bar, and was stumbling backwards, reeling from the shock. Without a second thought, Gav punched his lights out, and sent him flying to the ground.

    Gav turned back to the horde, but not before sharing a quiet ¡°thank you¡± that he communicated with a slight nod.

    I wondered if he was able to read the despair that I was still feeling, and as I wondered this I heard a loud whirring, and an even louder <i>click</i>. It was coming from somewhere near the door¡¯s handle, and when I tried to open it, the handle turned all the way.

    Somehow the door had unlocked. <i>Lexa</i>. It had to be.

    With newfound resolve I took one last look at Gav, and headed through the door.

 Help Me Kill My Manager

    The moment the door closed behind me, I was given back full control of my body, and the shock of it made me fall to my knees. The only reason my face didn¡¯t kiss the concrete was because my hands came up quick enough to stop it.

    I let my breath catch up with my racing heartbeat, and as it settled, I took in my surroundings. I was in the backrooms of the gym. Everything was concrete floors and white walls. It was larger than expected. I was presented with three whole hallways to choose from, and none of them looked like they connected, but they did look like the one that I had seen Lexa run down during her call. I was about to choose one at random when I heard a loud crash come from one of them.

    <i>That one</i>, I thought, and started limping down the hallway, slowly picking up steam as I went, eventually hitting a slow jog.

    I ran down the longer than expected hallway, not getting any other indication of where to go until I almost reached the end. I heard another crash, this one coming from behind a door.

    I kicked in the door, gun ready. It was a storage room of some kind. Mars Gym branded merchandise was stacked on metal shelves. There was even a table of folded Mars Gym yoga wear to my left.

    Scanning the room quickly revealed the source of the crashing sound. Something had blown a hole through the wall. The concrete wall.

    ¡°Mr. Alvarez, get down!¡± yelled Lexa. She was vaulting toward me, over the table stacked with yoga wear.

    She crashed into me and we rolled on the floor together. I was in a daze, but Lexa was already up. From the corner of my vision I could tell that she was flipping over the table, creating a barrier.

    Still on the floor, my vision was beginning to refocus, and I saw that, on the wall, about where my head would have been, a pinprick of smoke appeared. A half second later the pinprick exploded into a large circle of black stained wall.

    <i>Some kind of heat ray?</i> There had been no sound to it, or visible light.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Gav?¡± asked Lexa.

    I got up on my elbows.

    ¡°He¡¯s still holding back that horde of meatheads, I thought you would have seen, didn¡¯t you open the door for me?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that was me, but I thought I turned off that weird sound system too. Damnit!¡± She slammed the back of the table.

    Lexa looked like she was about to say something else, but she stopped. Her nose wrinkled and she sniffed at the air. Then I smelled it too. <i>Smoke</i>.

    ¡°Move!¡± She yelled.

    Lexa rolled away from her ad hoc barrier, and I did the same. A second later the table we¡¯d been hiding behind had a hole in it with cauterized edges.

    The source of the broken barrier wasn¡¯t trying to hide itself. The old man, Lexa¡¯s manager, was out in the open. His hand was still extended, and there was a hole in his palm where the ray of heat must¡¯ve come from.

    Lexa and I had rolled behind a shelf with a large stack of boxes. I saw her lips moving, but she wasn¡¯t speaking. It looked like she was counting. I wanted to ask her what she was doing, but she seemed to be concentrating, so I kept my mouth shut

    A few seconds later she told me to move again, so I did. This time we rolled away from each other, ending up on opposite ends of the aisle of metal shelves. The boxes we¡¯d been hiding behind a moment before had a perfectly cut tunnel in them. The edges were still smoking.

    ¡°I do not plan to hurt you monkeys,¡± said Lexa¡¯s manager. ¡°I will remain merciful, and only erase your memories, <i>if</i> you surrender.¡±

    <i>Fat chance</i>, I thought.

    Across the aisle from me, Lexa was holding up all ten fingers. <i>Ten seconds</i>.

    I raised my gun, and nodded, letting her know I understood.

    She bolted from behind her cover, drawing her manager¡¯s attention, and jumping behind another shelf with a stack of boxes. Her manager raised his arm and opened his palm. A singed tunnel appeared in the stack of boxes.

    <i>1¡­ 2¡­</i>

    I rose from behind my own cover, gun ready.

    <i>3¡­ 4¡­</i>

    I took aim.

    <i>5¡­ 6¡­</i>

    Fire.

    <i>7¡­ 8¡­</i>

    The bullet went right through his chest, exactly where I¡¯d been aiming. The old man lurched, and his non-heat-ray arm came up to clutch his undamaged shoulder. <i>I got you, you son of a bitch.</i>

    <i>9¡­ 10¡­</i>

    The old man turned around, intent to fire on me, but I unloaded my magazine into his chest. Every bullet landed, and some even caused sparks to fly.

    When my magazine ran empty I instinctually switched it out for a fresh one, but there was no need. He was done for.

    He collapsed into a heap on the ground, bending backwards at the knees. His feet remained planted, as if they were made of iron, and who knows, maybe they were.

 Pop Goes The Martian

    ¡°Is he dead?¡± Asked Lexa. We were both standing over the still body of her manager.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± I said, remembering the silhouette I had seen crawl out of another robotic assailant.

    I knelt down to examine the body. The old man¡¯s face looked like an old man¡¯s, mostly. There was a gash, or more exactly, a ¡°tear¡± in the skin that wrapped around the metallic frame of the thing. The body of the thing, that is to say the mid-section, was punched through like swiss cheese. There were more entry wounds than exit wounds, but they were small, and if there was a chamber in the man¡¯s chest that allowed something to pilot it, like I suspected might be the case, then it was too dark inside to tell from just my bullet holes.

    I stood up and kicked the robot shell. <i>At least it¡¯s out of commission</i>.

    ¡°We need to turn off the sound system, but I don¡¯t want to leave this thing where we can¡¯t see it. Mind giving me a hand?¡±

    Lexa agreed to help carry the limp robotic shell of her manager. She and I grabbed a leg each, and dragged the body behind us as she led the way to the control console. It didn''t take longer than a minute to navigate the large backrooms. The old man had punched a hole through every wall between the control room and where we had been.

    I whistled.

    ¡°How did you survive back here?¡±

    ¡°Good cardio,¡± she said, smirking. Her breathing was heavy from having to drag her share of the body¡¯s weight, but I think she was handling it better than me. ¡°Actually it was like playing one of my dad¡¯s horror games. I just kept running and hiding, trying to find a way out. I never realized this place didn¡¯t have any emergency exits.¡±

    Lexa took us through one more hole in the wall, and stopped.

    She had taken us to the room where she¡¯d called Gav and I. The monitor she¡¯d shown us the footage on was there, except now it was showing Gav fighting off the small army of gym bros. The monitor sat on top of a large console with lots of flashing lights, buttons, and switches. Part of the console looked like it¡¯d been smashed in.

    ¡°That was you guys,¡± she said, pointing at the smashed section of the console. ¡°The moment he saw Gav taking out all the brainwashed gym members he had a fit.¡±

    ¡°Hah, How¡¯d you manage to see that?¡± I asked, beginning to examine the console.

    ¡°I noticed he wasn¡¯t looking for me anymore. I guess that was when you guys showed up. He absolutely lost it when Gav started kicking ass. That¡¯s when he hit the console.¡± Lexa laughed. ¡°He was pissed!¡±

    While Lexa recounted her story, a sense of panic began to well up within me. It had nothing to do with Lexa¡¯s story, but everything to do with the console and its buttons. None of them had any labels. It almost looked like the console of a flight deck.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°How¡¯d you figure out the door to the lock?¡±

    ¡°I had to open the door for my manager a couple times. It¡¯s the only button I knew, but I flipped everything here last time.¡±

    ¡°Christ. Okay.¡±

    As much as I didn¡¯t want to, I started trying buttons and switches at random, checking the monitor to see if anything had changed. Nothing had.

    On the monitor, Gav was really starting to lose ground. For as many gym bros as he¡¯d taken out, there were as many more to replace them. He was one against many, and the inevitability of numbers was going to do him in if I didn¡¯t find the switch that would unbrainwash the horde.

    My flip switching and button mashing became more panicked. My anxiety was growing into a pique, when I heard a rustling. It was coming from the supine heap of the old man.

    In a flash I had my pistol out, summoning it from its holster in one swift motion. I had it trained, ready to fire at the old man¡¯s bulging chest.

    The tracksuit¡¯s top unzipped itself and out climbed a little green man. His head was bulbous, and his eyes were large black orbs. His hands, which only had three fingers instead of four, plus a thumb, were raised high.

    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot!¡± said the little green man. ¡°I¨C I can help your friend, just stay calm monkey. Don¡¯t go blowing your boom stick, and we can save your friend.¡±

    ¡°Oh my god!¡± yelled Lexa.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with how to get that horde of innocent civilians out of zombie mode,¡± I said, still aiming my gun at the little green man¡¯s head.

    ¡°Sure, monkey, sure, just let me¨C¡± The little green man started approaching the console.

    ¡°Nope,¡± I said, waving the gun. ¡°You can just tell us which button it is, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± he said.

    Not wanting to take my eyes off him, I had him instruct Lexa in finding the right button. A minute later, her finger was hovering over it.

    ¡°I want you to know if this does anything other than turn off your brainwashing waves, I¡¯m splattering your brains against the wall there.¡±

    ¡°Easy, easy, I get it,¡± he said. He still had his hands raised up.

    Lexa hit the button. She didn¡¯t make a sound, and I didn¡¯t want the little green man out of my line of sight.

    ¡°Lexa? Is anything happening?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re all unconscious, except for Gav. He¡¯s alright. He looks a little confused, but he¡¯s alright. But uhm¡­¡±

    ¡°Lexa?¡±

    ¡°He looks green, and I mean, really green. I know that isn¡¯t uhm¡­ normal, but is he going to be alright?¡±

    ¡°He will be,¡± I said, staring daggers. ¡°Alright green man, tell us where the neutralizing agent is.¡±

    The little green man growled. ¡°So you know about the neutralizing agent, ay monkey? But you don¡¯t know where to find it, and this ship is a lot bigger than it looks.¡±

    ¡°This is a ship?¡± asked Lexa.

    ¡°That''s right she-monkey, it¡¯s a ship.¡±

    ¡°Call me a monkey one more time and you¡¯ll be begging Mr. Alvarez to put you out of your misery.¡± She took a step toward the little green man, and he flinched. ¡°Heh.¡± she smirked. Then she turned to me. ¡°Mr. Alvarez, I think I know where the neutralizing agent is. Remember where you found me?¡±

    ¡°The room with all the Mars Gym merch?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. A truck came in about a week ago with some boxes that had weird symbols on it. He had me put them away for him.¡± Lexa let out a grunt of frustration. ¡°Gah! I knew that the delivery driver was weird. He¨C you¨C you guys were aliens?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right she-monkey¨C¡±

    ¡°One more time!¡± screamed Lexa, going for the helpless green creature.

    ¡°Hold on Lexa, I still need him. Do me a favor and get that neutralizing agent.¡±

    Lexa did as I asked, giving the martian one last mean look before she stomped through the hole in the wall.

    ¡°You have me all to yourself now monkey, what do you want from me?¡±

    ¡°Answers,¡± I said. ¡°What were you doing here? Why were handing out shakes that turned people into moldy plants?¡±

    ¡°We weren¡¯t trying to hurt anyone! Promise!¡± pleaded the martian. ¡°New tech is hard to get a pass on back home. Testing on people is illegal, so we figure we round up a bunch of monkeys and¨C¡±

    I¡¯d heard enough.

    ¡°We¡¯re apes.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re great apes, you little green piece of shit.¡±

    His head splattered into green goo.