Fighting Fit

And next to Geena's head, Bec removed a small device clinging to the side of the weight bar, like...

Like a magnet.

"Took this from Props." Bec looked at the featureless little black device. She pressed a button on a small fob in her hand and the device jumped out of her hand and to the nearest steel thing, one of the removed weights. "It's a compact electromagnet."

Geena stared at her. "Why are you messing with my workout? We're on the same team!"

"We may work for the same people, but we are NOT on the same team." Bec pointed at her. "This thing was right next to your head and you didn't notice it. If this was a mine, you'd be dead."

"Well, I didn't notice it because I don't use this machine, because I don't bench press, because someone's too busy to spot me!"

"You're going to be in unfamiliar situations all the time in the field." Bec countered. "You have to keep your wits about you and take notice of things like this. Next time, it could mean all that training they put you through was just a waste of time."

Bec returned to her crunch bench.

Geena looked at the bench press, setting it back up and starting her workout.

She knew part of her training was to expect the unexpected.

She hadn't expected sabotage to come from an alleged ally.

On the plus side... there was a new fresh well of frustration to draw from as she bench pressed the one hundred fifty pounds barbell like it was a towel rod.

--

Geena jogged on the treadmill at an even pace and a small incline, as if running up a very long, gently sloping hill. It was an experience that reminded her of trying to advance in this company. But Geena kept at it, wiping a bit of sweat away from her eyes with the sweatband on her wrist.

As she jogged, Bec moved up to the treadmill to Geena's right. She held herself above the belt by one arm as she activated the treadmill. The treadmill suddenly spun so fast, it sounded like a dirt bike. She ran in place, her arms suspending her by the foam hand grips, like someone kicking while floating in an inner tube. Once she had matched the belt's speed, she let go and sprinted along the conveyor.

Geena was alarmed. "If I wanted to sprint, I'd just go to the track upstairs. I'd be too afraid I'd fall and knock my teeth out on this thing."

"Hhh... hhh..." Bec panted. "You need to be... ready to run... at any second. You can't mom-jog away from danger."

"I'm not trying to run faster. I'm just trying to build endurance. I'll be on here for quite a while."

"And I'll... still have gone further." Bec huffed, not slowing her stride at all.

"If you really wanted to get ready for field work... you should be doing that run in heels." Geena suggested.

"I've done that." Bec said. "Put a hole in one of these belts. Management asked me nicely not to do that anymore. But if I run on the track like that, the boys will laugh at me. Won't give them the chance."

Asking Bec to do something nicely didn't seem like the way to get her to do something, Geena mused as she continued her jog. Compared to Bec's blitz, it looked like a stroll.

"Why did you pick the treadmill right next to me?" Geena asked. "Are you trying to show me up?"

"Unlike you... I've used these enough to have... a favorite treadmill. This one. You just happened to be working out on one next to it."

"Well, unlike the bench press, I've used these enough to have learned something about them myself." Geena said. "These three all are all on the same circuit." She moved over to the one to her left, leaving her original treadmill spinning without her on it. "Normally, they can all operate at the same time... unless some fool is using more juice by running one of them at the highest setting to show off."

Bec looked to her side, seeing Geena's finger hovering over the third treadmill's power button. Her instincts were to look in front of her when sprinting, as to not run into stationary objects. But she kept her eyes on Geena, where the danger evidently was. Bec refused to slow down.

Geena turned on the third treadmill. It beeped once, came to life for a fraction of a second, and all three treadmills immediately went dead, the belts all freezing in place.

Bec grabbed the foam hand rests and pulled her legs up off the belt, saving herself from being chopped in half by dashing through the electronic display panel. She took a breath before releasing the grips and walking off the device. Sweat dripped down her body and legs like rainwater down a shapely rock.

"Very funny, but I'm still faster." Bec panted. "Now how do we fix these?"

Geena's eyes widened. "Oh, I don't know where the fuse box is."

Bec groaned audibly. "Thanks for ruining my fun." She walked off. "Now I have to get on the stationary bikes like some kind of forty-year-old trailer park mom in a Zumba class." She did so, hopping on the exercise bike and pedaling about as hard as she was running before. "This will be excellent training if I ever have to escape from international terrorists while on a paper route."

Climbing onto a stationary bike, Bec started up with just as much vigor as she had on the treadmill, pedaling furiously, like she was trying to catch up to a motorcycle on a ten-speed.

Geena climbed into the bike directly behind her and continued her cardio.

"What are you doing back there?" Bec called. "You checking me out?"

"No, but in any other bike, I'd have to look forward, into the mirror..." Geena took a breath. "And see your stupid sneering face. I'd rather be back here."

"Well, you've heard about what they say... if you aren't the lead sled dog, the view never changes." Bec kept pedaling. "And even if these bikes could move... you would never get out in front of me."

Geena took in a shuddering breath and pumped her pedals harder. Her legs were already tired from her extended workout, but maybe she could let her arms rest a bit... if she could loosen her grip on these handlebars.

--

Geena was intimately familiar with every instrument in this gym. But she had not used every single machine in a single workout session before.

Well, not literally every single machine. She never messed with the dumbbells unless they were part of dumbbell pushups. And as much as she hated running laps or running in place on the treadmill, seeing just ONE video of an overachieving gym rat's legs locking and being folded backwards like an ostrich... that was enough for her to forever swear off the leg press. No spotter could prevent that horrendous injury. She would just work harder and longer using the safer machines.

Of course, if Bec learned this... if she knew there was a machine that Geena didn't use out of fear of injury, she would never let it go. It would be one more feather in her cap to demonstrate her superiority.

Then again, she'd never seen Bec use the leg press, either.

So Geena was on the rowing machine, a comparatively less dangerous machine that nevertheless worked out just about everything between the neck and the toes. It was either that, or make a fool of herself on that pommel horse.

Across from her, Bec continued her workout, holding herself up by her arms and extending her legs out in front of her in an L-sit. The bars she held herself up from were a few feet in the air, possibly to allow for dip exercises, where men would strap a belt around their chests and hang weight platters from it. It was surely as effective as it was ridiculous.

Bec had not taken it that far, but held herself up as effortlessly as everything else she had done this afternoon. Didn't she ever tire? Every row of this imaginary boat was taxing, having already worked out well past her normal limit. She probably was past the point of whatever 'gains' the boys all crowed about. This could just result in an avoidable injury. She might need to fill one of those basins with ice to soothe her muscles, take a few days off. She should really pack it up...

But not before Bec.

"You having a nice break on that thing?" Geena called out.

"If you think you can hold this pose longer than me, you can start timing me." Bec growled.

"I... prefer to work out as many parts of the body as I can at once." Geena huffed as she rowed, not really believing her excuse.

"This is a full-body exercise." Bec said, lowering into a dip without letting her legs touch the floor. "You may think it superficially resembles sitting down, because that's what you're more familiar with. But this is definitely more of a workout than that thing. You won't see anyone selling THIS on late-night TV. Same thing with us. We might look similar, but there's really no comparison."

Bec brought herself up out of her dip. "And that's why you and I will never be equals."

Geena stopped, holding out her row as what Bec had said sunk in. Bec kept doing her L-sit on the parallel bars, holding herself aloft on her hands and keeping her legs stuck straight out in front of her. There was no noise in the gym for a few seconds.

Geena had been trained to keep her cool in tense situations. She had been through many strenuous training exercises, like disarming a bomb that would 'explode' and spray her with semi-permanent dye, or climbing down a building when the radio told her the guy controlling her safety rope went 'for a coffee,' or cracking a safe with the fire alarm going off. (Management swore that wasn't supposed to happen. Someone had smoked a cigarette in the bathroom, because working here really was just like high school.)

Geena could keep her cool when threatened with any of the dangers that she might face in the field. With training and practice, she could be ready for anything.

But finally... she'd had enough.

Geena released the handle of the rowing machine, which retracted into the belly of the machine with little noise. She slipped her feet out of the buckles and marched over to Bec, still holding her L-sit pose. With a swipe as quick as a photographer's flash, she slapped Bec across the face. Not a punch, what she was trained to do. A slap.

Bec stared directly ahead for a few seconds, sure that what she thought just happened hadn't just happened. Her head turned slowly, like a mounted gun on a battleship, and faced her attacker, who didn't seem have enough sense to know when to run.

Bringing one foot back to the floor and then the other, Bec lowered herself from the L-sit bars with the grace of a ballerina. She stared at Geena. She did not back away, but brought one leg behind her, poised on the ball of one foot, like a frog ready to hop.

With a loud expletive, Bec swung her closed fist at Geena. It would have knocked her nose clean off her face if Geena hadn't rolled back and dodged it by less than an inch. The wind from the punch tossed around the wispy hair around her temples that had fallen loose from her hair tie.

Geena rolled into a backwards one-handed handspring. She was sure that Bec would be on her, so she assumed a defensive stance once her feet returned to the floor. Bec had stayed where she was, but her RBF had gone from 'resting' to 'something she was working very hard on.'

"You really want to do this?! Let's do this." Bec stalked around, leading them to the one area of the gym with enough free space for a proper brawl: the area set aside for the thinly attended aerobics and yoga classes. The mirrored wall with the dumbbells reached over to this corner of the gym.

They squared off. Bec took charge. "Let's set some ground rules. You familiar with MMA? No eye-gouging, no fish-hooking, headbutting, spitting, biting, no hits to the throat or spine, no small joint manipulation. Let's add 'no bone breaking or dislocations, and no targeting the melons or the teeth' to the list. The Institute put a lot of money into making us. We can't be laid up for weeks just because you picked a fight."

Her familiarity with those rules alarmed Geena. "I didn't hear 'no hair pulling' in those rules." She suddenly felt as a distinct disadvantage.

It was a feeling that would persist.

Bec spun in place like a top and threw her leg at Geena in a tornado kick, her shin contacting Geena's shoulder and arm. There was a splatter of sweat from the strong contact. She had blocked it and resisted stumbling from the force of the kick. While her leg was still raised, Geena tried to grab the ankle, but the sweaty thing slipped out from her fingers. Geena still sprung forward and tried to stomp where her other foot had been on the floor a moment before.

Geena pulled the leg back and retreated, narrowly avoiding Bec's flattened palm heading for her midsection. She reached out to grab her extended arm, but it slithered around her like a snake's head and clutched her by the wrist, twisting it a bit as she pulled her forward. Geena lost her balance, falling forward and into Bec's raised knee.

Crunches. Those really were the most important exercises that she did. Not only did it give her a sculpted and flat stomach that would be the envy of Greek statues... it also meant she could take a considerable hit to them and not have the wind knocked out of her...

As much. She still grunted and mentally resisted the pain. She'd been hit harder than that... a few times when sparring, when someone was being reckless.

Don't go down on all fours, she thought. Animals are on all fours, and we eat all the ones that taste even halfway decent. She had to resist the urge to fall over, so she grabbed the only thing nearby: Bec's leg.

Unable to free herself from the bear-hug around her thigh, Bec swung her fist into Geena's kidney. Geena had no way to block it, and simply grunted as she took a few body blows. Geena brought her leg behind Bec's, briefly tripping it off the floor. She hoisted her into the air and slammed them both into the rubber floor.

Geena coughed a bit as she caught her breath. That move sort of hurt them both in equal measure... Bec worked her leg free and was back to her feet before Geena was.

For a split second, Geena wondered what the score would be if this really was an MMA fight. Bec had landed several good hits on her, and all Geena had managed to do was get them both to the ground for less than a second.

Geena swallowed and tightened her fists. That's fine. She'll just have to try harder.

She wound up to throw another strike.

Bec advanced quickly and started throwing her own before Geena's was ready. Her upper arms were like the heads of two cobras, striking quickly. Geena's reflexes were sufficient to block every strike, but each hit meant Bec's hard knuckles slamming against her forearms. She may have invoked MMA rules, but neither of them were wearing gloves. She'd have to wear long sleeves for a while to cover her bruises. Then all the dudes would make fun of her for dressing preppy to cover her muscles and her breasts.

God, why couldn't it be one of those jerks? She at least knew where to hit them where it hurt...

Bec kept advancing, pushing Geena back with quick strikes. Geena tried to stand her ground and throw a few punches, but Bec let Geena get close so she could raise her leg up and push Geena back with her calf. Geena struggled to find the right time to throw a kick as she was walking backwards, trying to avoid the machines behind her.

Geena passed a rack of dumbbells. For a moment, she considered pitching one of them at Bec. Her hand opened for a second, but then closed just as fast. She was not actually trying to kill Bec. They were on the same team... allegedly. What's the point of winning this scrap if it meant the end of her career? Maybe she should just let her win to get this over with...

Bec twirled around, fast as a whip, and slapped her calf into Geena's shoulder. Geena spun around and braced herself with one arm against the mirror, dazed. She had time to take in a breath before Bec appeared behind her, clutching something between both hands and pulling it tight against Geena's throat. What had Bec found to use as a weapon? It was stretchy and... damp.

The answer came to her when Bec pulled her in close, as something touched Geena's back: Bec's nipple. She had pulled off her workout top and was holding it by the armholes to use as a garrote.

"No choke-holds or strangulation" wasn't one of the rules, either.

Geena grit her teeth. Bec evidently had no hesitation to use potentially lethal force to end this fracas. Geena probably should have just thrown that barbell at her and let her deal with it.

The impromtu ligature wasn't being held tight enough to completely close off blood flow to her brain, like a folded arm choke-hold might. She might have twenty seconds before she lost consciousness, probably less with how fast her body was using oxygen right now. She had to do something... fast. She could see Bec's sneering face just over her shoulder in the mirror.

With a strangled cry, Geena jumped into the air, pushing her weight against Bec, reeled her legs in and kicked as hard as she could into the mirrored wall. The wall broke into a huge spider-web pattern. The force of the kick sent both women flying backwards and to the floor.

Geena managed to get back to her feet first. She took a few deep breaths as Bec brought herself off the floor. Geena grabbed the underside of her top and pulled it off over her head. She held the stretchy garment between both hands. She had practiced rope fighting before. She normally had a little more rope than this, but... she was more likely to have this handy than a meter of clothesline. (Those bastard men all got cool watches with garrotes built into the winding mechanism! All she ever got was a bottle of perfume that would knock someone out if you sprayed it in someone's face.)

"Ooh, scary." Bec sneered. "You just wanted to show them off. Rubes might be distracted by them, but not me."

"You took your shirt off first!"

Bec swung at Geena, missing her to Geena's left. Holding her top between both hands, she grabbed and twisted it around Bec's wrist. Geena pulled her by her arm to the right. Bec tipped over and moved past Geena... but quickly bucked up one leg and scorpion-kicked her right in her left tit.

Geena cried out and clutched the orb. The impact surprised her more than it hurt. She stepped away, and Bec quickly spun up off the floor. Even though Geena had stayed on her feet and Bec went to the mat... Bec was still winning.

"I thought we agreed not to aim for the melons!" Geena said, releasing the breast from its cradle. It was undamaged.

"Like anyone wants to touch those ugly bolt-ons, anyway."

"I have thirteen percent body fat!" Geena shouted. "Of COURSE I have implants! And so do you!"

"At least mine look good..." Bec sneered. "How are you going to explain those tan lines?"

"Some women have tan lines! I got these from running the outdoor track."

"You think your mission will be a woman who runs on outdoor tracks?"

"You think YOURS will be someone with a tattoo?"

Bec's response to that pressing inquiry was to reel back and start her attack.

"Wait!" Geena said.

To her surprise, Bec stopped. "What?! You stopping for more chocolate milk?"

Geena took off her sneaker and looked at the sole, tapping it on the exterior of the closest piece of sturdy gym equipment.

"Aw, baby got a rock in her shoe?"

"No, I'm checking to make sure there aren't shards of glass stuck in the sole." She tapped it a few more times and slipped it back on her foot. When she looked back up, she hoped that maybe Bec's anger would have subsided and this could end in a draw.

Instead, her arms were folded impatiently. It was like this gesture to make sure she doesn't pointlessly cut or even scar Bec... was wasting her precious workout time.

Geena took in a breath. Use it, she thought. Use it against her and get this over with.

This time, Geena pushed forward, not letting Bec put her on the back foot again. She threw strikes and punches at Bec from seemingly random directions, but Bec blocked each hit before they could get close. Bec's blocks weren't just using her forearm as a flat shield. It was more like she was punching the hits before they could hit her. It was defense and offense in equal measure. It was impressive.