My phone rings as I step off the bus in front of my apartment building. Vivienne.

"Hey V, what's up?" I asked.

"Are we still on for today?"

"Yeah, I don't have anything to do till later tonight. I just got back from class. Give me like twenty minutes to change, and I'll meet you in the gym," I said.

"Fantastic! Hope you're ready; I won't go easy on you. See you in a few," Vivienne said, hanging up.

Vivienne moved into the same building as me; it helps bridge the gap between my two identities. It also serves to allow me to have her around my civilian self without raising suspicion. Slowly but surely, I will integrate her into Eryk's life. We have been working out together since she moved in. About a month and a half back, I asked her to teach me how to fight. I know how to hurt people, but I have no fighting skills to speak of. There may come a time when I won't be able to rely on others. Being able to defend myself is the bare minimum I have to achieve. She was more than happy to oblige, and now we spar every other day. Our apartment building has several floors dedicated to exercise, featuring hundreds of machines, a spa and sauna, private workout rooms that can be reserved, an Olympic-sized pool, and more. The only downside of the building is its location. It's a twenty-minute bus ride from QUTD, but it's definitely worth the $5,000 a month Daniel is paying.

I take the elevator up to my apartment, with only a single break for someone else to get on. I punch the code into my door and let the camera scan my retina. After a second, it beeps, and my door unlocks. I quickly change into the workout clothes Vivienne recommended, I'm ready to get the shit beaten out of me. I'm wearing a pair of tight-fitting black shorts that are still breathable, and an Under Armour long-sleeved shirt. I grab my gym bag, which contains a spare set of clothes that I'll need after our workout. The elevator is empty as I descend to the gym floor.

The door dings, and I walk out onto the expansive room floor. It's comprised of deep gray vinyl hexagons with slight gaps between them where the grates are located. Everywhere I look, people are working out, maintaining the look that the majority of the building has. The price tag and amenities attract a certain type of tenant: rich, active, aesthetically appealing, or some combination of the three. There is a giant elevated track above the ground floor that circles the room, where people walk, run, and jog. To the right of the main room is where the pool is located. The spa and sauna are accessed through a hallway off the pool room that is large enough so that no tenants might accidentally bump into one another. To the left is the juice bar, where several workers mix and craft potent elixirs scientifically proven to help burn fat and retain muscle. Bullshit.

There's light jazz playing from the speakers, and it mixes with the pleasant, thrumming sound throughout the gym, caused by the powerful ventilation system that keeps the area cool and pumps neutral scents to prevent any unpleasant smells from lingering. Only rich people would go through so much just to avoid the possibility of a gym smelling or sounding like a gym. Only poor people sweat. I'm fairly knowledgeable about exercise equipment, but there are machines here that people use that I've never seen before. There's a machine that squeezes and then releases your arms and legs at the same time. It supposedly increases blood flow while checking your blood pressure. It would be more at home at a hospital than here. I walk past the bar and head down the stairs to the area where people have one-on-one sessions with personal trainers. The room Vivienne rented for us to spar is also down there. Vivienne is definitely already there. She is so excited about this that she shows up early.

I knock on the door and hear Vivienne shout, "Come in!" The room is well-lit, and she has set up extra mats all over the ground to soften our falls. It's more like my falls. She's wearing tight purple shorts, made for function, not sex appeal, and a matching Nike sports bra. Her long red hair is tied in a tight knot. Vivienne has a huge smile on her face and looks raring to go.

"Hey, Nobody. Start stretching, and then we can begin."

She's lucky that a place as pricey as this doesn't use cameras in the private rooms.

"I'll go ahead and assume you've already done yours? That's fine."

I sit down and start doing the stretching exercises V taught me. Working out with her has made the act much more effective, and I've gained some muscle mass. Getting nice and loose is the most important thing in a fight, she says. The last thing I want to do is tear something and be out of commission for months.

After twenty minutes of stretches and warmup exercises, Vivienne decides I'm ready.

"Last time, we worked on footwork and kicks. Show me what you learned," V said calmly.

There's a seriousness in the room that descends whenever we begin. Vivienne views fighting as an art form rather than a means to an end. I've watched Vivienne fight plenty of times, but fighting her myself is a completely different beast. Without using her Shifter form, she still manages to be a force of nature. Vivienne outclasses me in every category, and that makes her the ideal teacher for me. She holds back, but that doesn't mean she doesn't beat my ass every time.

I start to shuffle my feet like she showed me, slowly advancing forward. Is she going to defend herself or launch a preemptive strike? I'm focusing on her feet for any indication of movement, trying to anticipate the move before she makes it. She hides her intentions perfectly; her body doesn't give anything away. My ability to read people's emotions is useless in a fight. Be decisive, Eryk. Still shuffling forward, I extend my right leg further to feint a kick, then pivot to a roundhouse with my left. She crouches to avoid my kick and performs a leg sweep knocking me onto my ass.

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"That's one," she said, offering her hand to help me up.

She keeps score every spar for the number of times I make a mistake that would've led to her incapacitating me. My pride bristles at this practice; getting reminded of the gap between us makes me think of Technologica. Just you wait bitch. I'll crack your brain container open like a crab leg and feast on the power within.

I stare at her, trying to look for any opening. It's no surprise she doesn't have one. She doesn't give any feedback until the end of the day, so I have to figure it out on my own in the moment. I have to use my range advantage in a way that prevents her from destabilizing me. I approach her again, slower than before, and try to knee her in the chest. React V, fall for it. I'm planning on hitting her with the same move she used on me. She sidesteps my knee, pushes me off balance with her hip, and strikes my shin with the top of her foot. I fall over and land on my side. Despite her fighting me with what she calls kid gloves, my shin is throbbing.

"That's two," she said.

I stand up immediately, and we go again. I'm sure I could win one of our bouts if we weren't restricted to just kicks. Or is that my pride talking? At what point does pride become arrogance? Maybe a more aggressive plan of attack would work better. I rush at her, waiting till the last possible second to go for a slide tackle, hoping it'll trip her up. Vivienne jumps over me, and I scramble up to get off the ground. But V is already in my face. She places her hand on my shoulder and hooks her right leg around my own, then flips forward. She sends me tumbling onto the mats. This isn't getting any easier. I can't even land a hit, and we've been training for months.

"And that's three," Vivienne said.

My neck aches, and I'm sure the rest of my body will follow suit later. I lucked out finding her. I plucked a gem from the dirt, and she'll only continue to prove her worth. Thinking about what I felt for her before creates dissonance inside me. I can remember the flavor of the emotion, but the recipe has been wiped from my mind. It's good that I haven't gotten grief or sadness. It might be more than I can handle.

"You did well today. As always, that brain of yours is one of your biggest strengths. You don't get tunnel vision like some fighters do; you instantly ditch a plan if it doesn't work," Vivienne said.

"Thanks, but I feel like nothing I do works against you. You pick me apart with no effort," I said.

"Well, duh. I have years of training, and I've been in more fights than you can count. And all that is without factoring in any of the Neuvohumans I've fought. Nobody, you'll never beat me. That's not the point of these sessions. You aren't training to be able to take on professional fighters but to be able to handle yourself in a scrap. This is just meant to be another option at your disposal. If there's ever a point where your winning a fight is the only thing between us and failure, we've already failed," she laughed.

She's right. But that doesn't take away from the fact that I can't win even once. Nobody doesn't have to be perfect, but something about being less than that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

"You're right. My back's going to kill me tomorrow morning. Is everything all set for the meeting later?" I asked.

"Everyone will be there. Do you want to go together?" Vivienne asked.

"Sure. I have a party later on, but that isn't till after nine, so as long as I'm back in time for that, I'm good," I answered.

"No offense, but you don't seem like the party type," Vivienne said.

"No offense taken. You're right; even my civilian identity doesn't like parties. It's a huge frat thing that's going to be loud and full of drunk college students, which is absolutely not my idea of a good night. But I have to go; it's with that group."

"Ohhhh. You're hanging with the prim and proper posse of perfect people tonight. I still can't believe you're part of a Cape friend group. You got extremely lucky that Queen Bee doesn't remember anything from that night," Vivienne said.

"Nice alliteration. I am, and Aubrey's going by Stinger now. Actually, speaking of the party, do you have any Skullgirls that can pass for college-aged? The students with money and well-off families will be there, and you know how much rich kids love cocaine," I said.

Vivienne's project has been doing well, using Nicholas as a springboard to find a couple of other high-class customers. I offer advice from time to time, and she deposits a percentage of the funds into our investment account. Using our dirty drug money as investment funds was one of Rorschach's best ideas. We've ensured that there are no direct links between the gang and Momentus INC. Momentus must remain clean for the company's future.

"Yeah. I'll have Casper and Goblin send one of the girls to the party. Do you mind if I come? Sending one of the enforcers with them will attract attention; you know how much they stand out," Vivienne asked.

"I don't mind at all. Having someone I trust there will help me get through it. I need to hit the sauna and rest for a bit before the meeting."

"Text me whenever you wake up, and we can go."

"Do you have something to wear besides the usual? You'll stick out if you wear workout gear."

Vivienne's face goes flush. "Actually, I do. Isaiah and I went shopping a while back for a whole wardrobe."

I didn't know that. Whatever, they're all free to do whatever on their own time.

"Good."

The two of us exit the room and head for the sauna. I'm sweaty, and my clothes are sticking to me. The sauna here is excellent; it calms my ever-active mind. I find a sauna employee and reserve one of the solo steam rooms. I strip down in the locker room and wrap a towel around my waist. I put my sparring clothes and gym bag into the locker, using my thumbprint to engage the lock. The walk from the locker room to the steam room feels too long, but I get there and type in the code they gave me. The door shuts behind me, and the light turns on. I crank the room up and set it on a twenty-minute timer. I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes to rest. This is where I can relax and forget about the world. It's the only place I've found that allows me a sense of joyful tranquility.

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