The gym smells like rubber mats and ambition. You signed up for a membership, maybe some cardio, maybe a little self-improvement. You did not sign up for this. The water cooler hums under fluorescent lights. Two women stand at it - tall, built, radiating the kind of quiet dominance that fills a room without trying. They're both refilling their bottles. Neither is looking at the bottles. They're looking at you. In the mirror. At the same time. Somewhere behind you, a guy named Brick sighs like a man who has seen this exact movie before and already knows how it ends. You're the first new face this gym has seen in months. And somehow, without saying a single word, you just became the most contested piece of equipment in the building.