The acrid smell of sweat and disinfectant assaulted Hughie's nostrils as he pushed open the door to Grindhouse MMA. The gym was already alive with activity despite the early hour, the rhythmic thud of fists against heavy bags and grunts of exertion filling the air.
Hughie's stomach churned with a mixture of nervousness and excitement as he approached the front desk. The muscular woman behind it eyed him skeptically.
"You must be the new guy," she said, her voice gruff but not unkind. "Locker room's that way. Get changed and meet us on the mats in five."
Five minutes later, Hughie stood awkwardly at the edge of the training area, his new gym clothes already feeling damp with nervous sweat. A burly man with cauliflower ears and a nose that had clearly been broken more than once strode over.
"Campbell, right? I'm Coach Mike. Welcome to hell, kid."
The next hour was a blur of pain and humiliation. Hughie's body, soft from years of sedentary living, protested every movement. He fumbled through basic stances, gasped for air during warm-up exercises that left the regulars barely winded, and found himself staring at the ceiling more times than he could count during rudimentary grappling drills.
But something strange happened as the session wore on. Despite the aches, despite the embarrassment of being the weakest person in the room by far, Hughie felt... alive. Each correction from Coach Mike, each patient explanation from his future sparring partners, was another piece of knowledge to absorb, another tool to add to his arsenal.
During a water break, Hughie overheard two professional fighters chatting nearby.
"New guy's got decent instincts," one murmured. "Did you see how quick he picked up that hip escape?"
"Yeah, and his footwork ain't half bad for a beginner. Give him a few months, he might surprise us."
A small spark of pride flickered in Hughie's chest. It wasn't much, but it was something.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of studying and icing sore muscles. Hughie alternated between poring over his forensics textbooks and applying ice packs to various aching body parts. Despite the physical discomfort, he found himself energized, his mind racing with new information and possibilities.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of studying and icing sore muscles. As evening approached, Hughie's phone buzzed with a message he'd been both dreading and anticipating. The Vought lawyer wanted to meet.
An hour later, Hughie sat across from Gerald Feinberg in a nondescript cafe. The NDA sat between them, a stack of papers that represented both blood money and opportunity.
"Mr. Campbell, I hope you've had time to reconsider our offer," Feinberg began, his voice oily with false sympathy. "Vought understands your loss and wants to make this right."
Hughie's jaw clenched, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. But he forced himself to remain calm, to think strategically. This money could fund his training, his education, his transformation into someone capable of taking on Vought and the Seven.
"I'll sign," Hughie said, his voice flat. "On one condition. I want the payment in a lump sum, not installments."
Feinberg's eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded. "I'm sure we can accommodate that request."
As Hughie's pen scratched across the dotted line, he felt a mix of revulsion and determination. He was playing their game, for now. But one day, he'd change the rules entirely.
Back home, Hughie immediately set about putting the money to work. He invested in high-quality training gear, enrolled in online courses on criminology and forensic science, and set aside a significant portion for future expenses he couldn't yet anticipate.
As midnight approached, Hughie pulled out his "Weaknesses to Overcome" list. With a grim smile, he began to check off the day's progress:
✓ Physical weakness - First MMA class completed
✓ Lack of combat skills - Begun formal training
✓ Limited knowledge of investigation techniques - 4 hours of online study
✓ No resources or connections - Secured funding from Vought settlement
✓ Emotional vulnerability - Controlled anger during NDA signing □ Naivety about how the world works - Ongoing research
At the bottom, he added a new entry:
"Practical Application of Skills - Long-term goal, begin planning implementation"
Hughie circled "Day 2 of 365" at the bottom of the page. His body ached, his mind raced with new information, and the weight of his choices pressed down on him. But as he crawled into bed, utterly exhausted, Hughie felt a glimmer of satisfaction. He was no longer just reacting to the world around him.
Tomorrow would bring new aches, new frustrations, and new lessons. But it would also bring opportunities for growth, for strength, for becoming the person he needed to be. The person who could stand up to the likes of Vought and the Seven. The person who could bring justice for Robin, for his father, and for all the others who had been crushed beneath the wheels of corporate greed and superhuman indifference.