Chapter 110: The Angry Gym
Even though Max and Jay weren’t around, the students had gotten used to the routine. They walked ahead with Joe, heading to the same familiar gym they always stopped at after school.
When they stepped inside, Steven was there to greet them like usual.
"The other two not with you today?" Steven asked, looking past them.
"They had some business to deal with during the day," Joe replied. "Haven’t come back yet. Don’t know if they will."
"Alright, everyone!" Steven shouted, clapping his hands. "Get ready and start your warm-up!"
The students headed straight to the changing rooms. Once they were out of their shoes and geared up, they started jogging in circles across the training mats.
At first, Steven had been hesitant to teach so many delinquents. The whole scene had thrown him off. But the shock wore off quick. And when he really thought about it, wasn’t this what he wanted?
His dream was to see the gym full. Kids coming in, getting off the streets, doing something with their energy instead of wasting it on games or getting into trouble.
Sure, maybe some of them were training to be better at fighting, and yeah, they might still end up in messes. But this was still a piece of his dream becoming real. So he leaned into it, pushing himself to teach more, to guide them right.
As the students ran, Joe jogged beside him and asked, "Hey... what’s the deal with this Billion Bloodline thing? I’ve been seeing the name everywhere. All these gyms popping up, and you even renamed this one. Is it like... a franchise or something? Did you start it?"
"Me?" Steven laughed. "Are you crazy? You think I’ve got that kind of money?"
Owning a chain of gyms was way beyond anything Steven had ever imagined for himself. It wasn’t even a dream he’d dared to consider.
There was only one person who came to mind. One person who might actually have the power to pull all this off. But even now, Steven didn’t fully understand how Max was doing it.
And that mystery? It was only getting deeper.
In the middle of their conversation, Steven felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.
"I should take this," he said, pulling it out. "Might be a while. You mind running the start of class for a bit?"
Joe nodded. "Yeah, sure."
He didn’t mind, he’d done it before. After training with Steven one-on-one for so long, he knew the routine well enough to guide the others.
The students wrapped up their warm-up jog, and Joe stepped to the front. He led them through some synchronized motion drills, basic patterns meant to loosen the joints and build rhythm. But even as he focused on the class, his eyes kept drifting toward the changing room.
As he walked by, just past the row of lockers, Joe’s curiosity got the better of him.
Steven’s taken a few of these calls before... Who keeps calling him like this? Joe wondered. Some clingy ex? Or something worse?
He paused near the small crack in the changing room door and leaned in slightly, just enough to hear.
"Please, just give me a few more days!" Steven’s voice was tight, desperate. "I swear things are working out this time. I’ve been paying you, haven’t I? Where do you think I got the money from? That means I can pay, so why can’t you just wait a little longer?"
There was silence on the other end, and then Steven’s frustration burst through louder.
"Do you guys even want the money or not?! Because it’s starting to sound like you don’t! "
Joe’s eyes widened. He pulled back slowly.
"Damn," he whispered. "He’s in serious trouble."
He always knew Steven wasn’t rich, but even with all the money Max had funneled into the gym, the guy was still struggling? It had to be more than bills. This sounded like something else entirely.
Maybe he’s in one of those bad deals... Joe thought. Loan sharks. Gangster types. The kind of people you don’t mess with.
Still, it wasn’t his place to keep listening. The pain in Steven’s voice made it feel too personal, too real.
Joe quietly stepped away.
I just hope he doesn’t have to shut the gym over this... Joe thought. Didn’t he say something about a new landlord owning the place now? Guess the whole thing’s more complicated than I realized.
Suddenly, Steven’s voice exploded from behind the door.
"Did you forget who I am?! Who do you think you’re threatening?!"
Joe flinched. That shout was loud enough for others to hear.
Just in case Steven came out any second, Joe hurried back to the training mat, slipping into leader mode.
"Alright, everyone, let’s move on to pad work!" he called. "Remember, if you’re holding the pads, pair up with someone at least two weight classes above you."
One student raised an eyebrow. "That still feels weird. Aren’t we always told to train with people in our own weight class?"
Joe didn’t miss a beat. "Are you dumber than me?" he shot back. "Were you even listening when Steven explained this?"
He stepped forward, voice steady.
"There’s a difference between competition boxing and using boxing practically . In a tournament, yeah, everything’s controlled. Weight classes exist so it’s fair, so you can see who’s best when all the variables are the same."
He paused, looking around at the group.
"But in real life? Out on the street? You think someone’s gonna check your weight class before they throw a punch?"
Silence.
"No. They’re not. That guy from another school who wants to mess with you? He might be twice your size. So if you can’t take a hit from someone bigger than you in here , you’ve got no chance out there ."
Joe clapped his hands sharply. "We’re not teaching you how to box. We’re teaching you how to fight. "
That landed. The students nodded and got to work fast, pairing up and diving into the drills with more focus than before.
They liked this kind of training, real, raw, useful. More than anything they ever got in school. And deep down, some of them were already wondering why they hadn’t started doing this sooner.
While Joe was watching over the students, the door creaked open.
Customer? he thought. Steven’s still busy... guess I’ll handle it.
Joe turned to see who had walked in, and immediately realized this wasn’t a student.
The man was clearly older. He wore camo-patterned pants and a tilted beret that gave him a slightly off-kilter look. He wasn’t particularly big, but his face was sharp, sunken just enough to make his cheekbones stand out unnaturally. There was something off about him.
He stood stiff as a board, back straight, eyes scanning the gym like he was measuring every inch of it.
"Welcome to Bloodline Gym," Joe said from across the mat, trying to keep his voice even. "Is there something I can help you with?"
The man’s head slowly turned toward him.
"I’ve been told this is the gym connected to the ones who took down Dipter and his crew," he said. "I’m looking for whoever did it. Was it you? The description could have been wrong...maybe it was you."
His voice was calm, too calm. And the way he tilted his head slightly to the side while staring dead at Joe sent a chill through him.
Joe swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how quiet the gym had become.
"Screw it." The man said. "I’ve decided it was you."