victory_road | gymtimidation (closed!)

Entry tags:

gymtimidation (closed!)

Who: Jack and Rhys!
Where: Goldenrod City
When: Now!
Summary: Going to the gym with your psycho boss is a good idea.
Rating: PG at least, maybe PG-13?

It doesn't take much to sneak out. Normally Rhys would just...leave his room like anyone else, but when one of your friends is a Vault Hunter who has a passionate hatred for the guy you're going to hang out with, it's not just leaving. It's sneaking out. It requires dusting off your fingerprints, hiding evidence of where you're going. If Athena ever, ever gets word of this, he's going to be absolutely screwed.

He couldn't blame her for being angry if she learned, though. If someone normal (or smart; not his choice of words but take your pick) was in Rhys' skag skin shoes, they'd be avoiding Handsome Jack with a fifty foot pole. In like, a month or two their 'relationship' has wavered from great! to absolutely horrible! like a roller coaster. They were on great terms, until Rhys didn't answer Jack's calls. Then everything was okay. Then Rhys admitted that he was the reason behind the death of Hyperion. Skip forward to kind-of present day where he "lipped off" to Jack once, and got a surprise strangulation that left him with finger marks on his neck for weeks.

But now - get this! - they're both going to work out at the gym. What's wrong with this picture?

Rhys walks through the doors of the gym, totally prepared to work his ass off. and of course, he's brought his team! Money Shot was the one who needed some serious workout-age, but Gortys and Loader were actually in pretty good shape! A little lifting never hurt anyone though, right?

He won't admit that he's nervous. But considering the last time he met Jack in person he almost died, Rhys is pretty scared. He'll just wait by the door, checking the time on his 'gear to make sure that he wasn't late, because if he is late and Jack already left, Rhys can kiss his ass goodbye.

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Jack's already there, but busy chatting up one of the receptionists. He's leaning with his arm against the wall, in all his usual Handsome Jack glory, laughing and winking and just enjoying flirting with a chick. He doesn't mean anything by it, if he's gonna pursue anyone it's gonna be that gorgeous gothy dish that actually went out with him already.

But he likes flirting. And he likes the attention. But he notices Rhys, hovering by the doors, and excuses himself from the cute gym girl to get him.

He's in a green t-shirt with a metapod on it and the words 'Get Hard or Go Home' on it, a pair of matching sweatpants, and a yellow unzipped sweatshirt with sneakers. Doom Boner is waddling along beside him, not on his leash currently.

"Hey there, cupcake! You know, I honestly wasn't sure if you were gonna show up! Glad ya did!"

He spots Jack after like, five minutes of searching and oh my god does he roll his eyes. Leave it to Handsome Jack to go flirting with management. What does he expect to get, free membership? Quit trying to fight the system Jack, seriously. Rhys is already kind of regretting coming here because he wants to work out.

It isn't until Jack comes closer that Rhys realizes what he's wearing...is absolutely horrible. Disgusting, to be honest. The whole Get Hard or Go Home thing? He's embarrassed. Never mind the fact that his sweatshirt doesn't even match. The fact that Jack had probably been flirting with that one girl and wearing a shirt like that gives him second hand embarrassment. Like, he's probably radiating it right now.

"Do you have to wear that shirt? You gotta have something different to wear."

"...says the guy in bright orange. It's my workout shirt." Jack raises an eyebrow, giving Rhys a skeptical look. Seriously, what the hell? "I bought it here. I mean, I've got my 'Pump It Like a King' shirt, but I get the feeling that one won't make ya feel any better. Since...you know. They're both workout puns that can double as a sex joke if you squint. And I forgot I was hanging out with Prince Prudebega."

He rolls his eyes and zips his sweatshirt up. It's a shirt. It's funny!

"That better? Crissakes, Rhys. How do you shower? How do you take a piss? Because I can only assume, if the mere allusion to functional genitalia freaks you out this much, you either don't have a dick, or are terrified of your own."

"My shirt doesn't say Get Hard or Go Home! You can't tell me you don't know how that sounds. Because it sounds pretty bad." And oh my god, here comes the prudebega thing. Rhys doesn't see him being a 'prudebega', he's just insanely embarrassed. Until Jack zips it up at least. His shirt still doesn't match well, but as long as the main line's covered up he can deal with it happily.

"Thank you."

What a way to start a day full of exercising with your crazy old boss.

And then they get into this conversation. "Okay. Do we, do we have to talk about this? Why don't we just work out?" He's just going to try and change the subject onto something that isn't about sex or dicks or anything slightly uncomfortable. "I'm going to let Money Shot out and do what he wants. As long as he's got the other guys on my team around he should be fine for motivation."

"You realize 'hard' is a move Metapod has, right? And working out gets you a hard body? It's only dirty if you decide it's dirty, pumpkin. And ya did. Immediately." What a weird mind Rhys has. He goes for the filthiest interpretation...and then gets embarrassed about it.

"I'm just saying. You have some issues when it comes to grown-up talk. I have never known anybody as freaked out by dirty jokes or casual mentions of actual sex lives as you. Good god, you freak out worse over me saying 'masturbation' than Athena did the first time she walked in on me and my girlfriend having sex on my desk. You outta see a professional, work through this repression you got going on."

As Jack talks, he's heading toward the workout area, Doom Boner waddling after him, tongue lolling out and single bent ear flopping.

Rhys shrugs incredulously! "Yes, I know. But I guarantee you people will see that shirt and automatically just think of what I did. That's just the first thing people are going to come up with." Rhys could probably bring up the lady Jack was talking to, but he won't. This conversation is already weird enough.

Oh my god, the things Jack is bringing up right now. Rhys raises his hands. "Okay. I don't want to talk about that, or what you did on your desk." He almost, almost says 'i touched that!' talking about that time he sat in Jack's chair and everything, but he holds that back. "Can we just change the subject? I'll keep the whole 'therapy' thing in mind. Promise."

Rhys pulls out his pokeballs and lets out his team! Loader and Gortys seem to be in perfectly fine shape, but they take off. Money Shot just yawns, but seeing Doom Boner again seems to make him happy! He pudges along beside him.

"And normal people get a chuckle out of it. You have some kind of brain seizure and can't even be in its presence." If Rhys expects Jack's sweatshirt to stay zipped the whole workout, he's got another thing coming.

"Well, it's either therapy or you need to get laid, but...I'm guessing you don't do that, either. Which is too bad, you're good looking, you could pull as much tail as a hyperactive toddler in a pet store."

Doom Boner wags his hind end at seeing Money Shot. The cats are always in and out of the house, and he can't always keep them straight, but he recognizes each of them.

"Anyway...like I said, Boner's not gonna work out. I'll show you what happens when we try. Don't worry, you can laugh, he's so fat he doesn't feel anything." Jack heads to the treadmills and looks down at his puppy, already shaking his head and chuckling. He's been through this before. Multiple times. Short of tying D.B to the treadmill, the Pokemon won't stay on. Jack flips on the machine, on its slowest setting, and sets the puppy on the moving belt.

Doom Boner simply lets his legs go limp and flops onto the belt in a sprawl. Until he slowly rides it to the end and slides off with a 'dooour' and lands in a lump of fat and fur on the floor.

"Or people think you're a pervert." He'll just throw that out there.

Oh my god, he doesn't want to talk about this. Not about sex, or his sex history, or whatever. My god this is such an embarrassing conversation. "Can we stop talking about this? Please." Hearing his ex hero talking about this stuff and whatever is just...weird. Jack's got to realize that, right?

Money Shot waddles alongside Doom Boner, not daring to separate the entire time. At least, not until they got to the treadmill. That's when Jack shows him what Doom Boner does, and oh my god does he burst into laughter. The way he just slumps and rolls off in a bubble of fat is just way too entertaining. "Seriously? Let's show him how it's done." By 'him', Rhys mostly means Jack.

He turns to Money Shot and picks him up, setting him gently on the treadmill. When it starts up he takes a step or two...and them flops over. He just rolls over on his back, sliding off and onto the floor with an overdramatic, 'merowwwwwttth."

Do as I say, not as I do is not a thing in the pokemon world, apparently.

"Yeah, so, the only times I've been called perverted...it...it wasn't being used as a bad thing. And it's usually less 'pervert' and more 'you dirty boy'. But seriously, Rhys, if you're gonna be hanging out with me, ya gotta get used to it. Have an open mind. Ya might learn something!"

God, their Pokemon are pathetic. Jack snorts as the Meowth follows suit, ending up on the floor the same as Doom Boner.

"I told you. I mean, I can tie him to the thing, but he does the same thing. And then he starts getting strangled, and he cries, and I've gotta shut the machine off and rub his tummy till he calms down...it's a whole thing. And now he's teaching yours bad habits."

You dirty boy oh my god jack please. Rhys is so close to just talking away. so close.

But he just rolls his eyes. Seriously just, rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You just...have fun with that. Whatever." Anyway! Turning to the cute, fat pokemon on the treadmill! Rhys will be sure to try and wipe his memory out so he doesn't have to remember this again. With a head port there's got to be a way.

"Sounds like you like him a lot." Rhys actually smiles up to Jack, watching his Meowth just try and roll himself over. In a way, Doom Boner kind of sounds like a therapy animal, almost? Maybe he can help Jack control his urge to kill people or shove them out through air vents. If this place had air vents.

When Money Shot tries (and fails) to turns himself over, Rhys bends over to do it himself. Dumb (cute) thing.

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I? Kinda hard not to like something that's round and cuddly and is always happy to see ya. So he's useless for battling, so what? I got plenty of deadly, badass Pokemon that are battling machines. Boner's...he's my pet."

Or does Rhys assume that Jack hates all animals, or something? Sure, he's not gonna go out of his way for them, and he doesn't care about other people's pets, but he likes animals just fine. He's had pets before. Hell, he had a magical space unicorn! That he still misses.

Butt Stallion was the best.

"Now, are we gonna stand around all day trying to achieve the impossible, or are we gonna settle our little bet? 'Cause I seem to recall you claiming you could bench more than me..."

Edited 2016-10-04 19:00 (UTC)

"We can't have pokemon without them being deadly." He says that, but Rhys'll look over to Jack and give him a shrug. "I heard half of the shit pokemon have to go through when they battle is something we couldn't even dream about. Like they can go through being electrocuted and everything, but if it was us we'd be cooked."

oh god bring up butt stallion and he'll feel like shit. rip

...Did he say that? He did, didn't he? Jack might look like some old guy, but you know. Looks are deceiving? Not that Rhys is thinking about backing up or anything! He's got a robo arm, and he plans to use it.

"It's not 'claiming', it's 'stating'. I bet you there's no way you can lift more than me." He'll just send his old boss a very, very arrogant smirk his way. "Just don't hurt yourself, old man."

"Oh yeah, they're resilient as hell. You should see my battle Pokemon, holy nutballs! They burn each other, they shock each other, they clobber each other, they poison each other... I'm telling ya, I had half the resources I did back home, I'd be taking a cue from these critters for weapon and shield designing."

Because really, he can think of dozens of applications for a variety of Pokemon moves and abilities.

But weapons aren't a thing here. Defensive items aren't a thing here. None of what he's spent his professional life working on exists here. So he's stuck running a friggin greeting card company. Which is great cover, it really is, but it doesn't do much for his reputation as the biggest badass in the universe.

He snorts at Rhys, heading to the weights.

"Uh, excuse you, I'm in the prime of my life, kiddo. A life full of fighting monsters and bandits and running all over Pandora and the moon, I might add. What've you done? Sit in an office chair? Yeah. Sure. You can bench more than me."

"...Seriously?" Rhys was too afraid to throw his Pokemon into battles. Seriously, the only things they've fought is the newest member of the team, and it's been how long since he's been here? Yeesh, he needs to get with the program. "I don't even know what mine can do. I'm just too afraid of them getting hurt. Like, what if something happens? If they break a bone?"

He's been way too much of a mommy, needless to say.

But off to the weights! Rhys grins in a rather smug fashion, using his metal hand to help crack the knuckles in his left. He wants to say that there's no way Jack's done all of that, because when he was on Helios, Jack was either in his office or venting people into space. Or at meetings. Not on the moon, or on Pandora, or anything!

But no wait, wait a second. He did the whole free Pandora thing with the Vault. And he fought those bandits. And a goddamn Vault Monster.

...All Rhys did was sit in a chair at work, too...

Nervousness aside! It was to be expected. Rhys takes a deep breath and flops in one of the chairs, tinkering around with the size of the weights like he wasn't totally nervous or anything. Rhys has a metal hand; now is the time to use it. "Uhh, yeah! I can bench more than you. I'm like, twenty-seven. Prime of my youth, right here."

He sniffs. Clears his throat. "So, uh. How much do you want to start with. Like...f-fifty, or...?"

"Yeah! This is what nature or some scientist designed them to do. They get hurt, you give'em a potion or whatever. Fixes'em right up. But it's like a boxer getting something broken in the ring - it happens, they know it might happen, it's fine." Yeah Rhys, get with the program already!

"Hey, tell ya what, we can train together sometime. Really train, I'll show you how it's done. You can pit some of your guys against some of my low level guys." And Jack wants to train with some actual adults.

He watches Rhys get comfortable and then snorts.

"Oh boy, if you wanna start at fifty, I've won this already, cupcake. Twenty seven...pfff. You realize I have like twice as much time, of which I've devoted to this sick ass body of mine." Okay, so Jack doesn't ever go completely shirtless in public, but there are times when it's appropriate to break out the guns. the natural ones.

So he unzips his sweatshirt and pulls it off, then the t-shirt as well. Under which he's wearing a snug black tank top with thick straps. It covers most of the scars on his upper back and shoulders, leaving his broad, thick arms bare. And showing off everything else.

"Still wanna go through with this?"

"So, so that's it? Just the potion things, and it helps them completely?" Rhys is so, so skeptical about this, but can you blame him? He's poked bandits in the eyes with a stun baton and seen them rain from the sky. He's seen some pretty bad stuff! "Would it be okay if my guys trained with yours, though? I mean, they haven't really...fought anyone before. Other than Gortys when I first got her. But that was how long ago, so."

To make a long story short, Rhys has isolated his pokemon basically.

But enough of this! It's weight lifting time. Rhys is...so nervous. He doesn't have any money to buy himself food let alone booze. But he's got this! High ho robot arm, right?

Hopefully.

Rhys watches as Jack takes off his sweatshirt, then that horrible t shirt. And uh, Jack's got muscles. He's like, fifty, and he's got muscles. All off a sudden, Rhys is very aware of the fact that he has skinny ass little arm. Skinny. Whimpy. Weak.

Can he just start crying in the gym? Will he get kicked out? "Well, I mean...yeah. I guess." It's in his tone of voice though- Rhys is coming to terms with defeat already.

"Just...name a number."

"There's specific stuff for specific injuries, but yeah. This is what they do! and it's fine, Rhys, I'm talking about training battles. Not actual challenging you battles, christ. My team would eat yours for breakfast, we did that."

But there's a difference between training battling and serious battling.

Ohoho, Rhys doesn't sound as confident now. Jack snorts and stretches, deliberately.

"How about I be nice, and we can start with seventy five? Uh, fair warning, since you're a stubborn little bucket of gumption that's gonna see this through, I can't promise I can fix your shiny Hyperion cyberarm if you break it. Tools are limited around here, ya know."

And while Jack is perfectly capable of repairing his own company's cybernetics....he doesn't have the labs and equipment that he does back home.

Rhys opens his mouth to argue, and then he shuts it. Coming from a guy who literally hasn't battled anything or anyone since coming here, yeah. Jack's team would probably wipe him out in a second. He seriously needs to fix this problem. "Could...could we do that, then? The training battles?" He has no idea how to train, either. Yeah.

How can such an old guy work out so much? There had to be a limit to what the human body could do. Hurting your back, pulling a muscle...how is Jack not affected by any of that? How old is he, anyway? This is going to end up horribly, and Rhys knows it.

"Seventy five? Just that? Pssh. I can, I can lift that for...break..fast." That didn't make a lick of sense, and he doesn't even care right now. Jack was obviously born with some kind of intimidation factor, and Rhys has none. He really has to step up his game here, and that's what he plans to do! So he stands and gets rid of the stupid tanktop he was wearing (people were looking at it weird, anyway) and there we go.

At first he was going to just show off his awesome arm, which can lift both his weight and Sasha's together, he now remembers. But oh yeah, there's that tattoo. And the nip window. He didn't even think about that.

"Yeah, I've got some lower levels guys that could use it anyway."

And they won't destroy Rhys' team.

Jack's about to settle in to properly lift...and then Rhys takes off his shirt. First instinct is to make a comment about Rhys stripping for him, because...Rhys is stripping in the middle of the gym. But then he gets a good look at the kid's ink.

And that is some serious ink. Jack whistles, eyeing the design from the banded wrist - excellent choice, in his opinion - to the sun details at the top and over Rhys' chest....

"Nice tat...you ever gonna get it finished?"

That sounds...relieving, actually. If Rhys has a chance to crush (haha) his old boss at a pokemon battle, he'll take it! What a great way to stroke his ego and level up his team, right? "Name a place and a time and I'll be there."

Another day where he's got to sneak past Athena, but.

Okay, Rhys is totally proud of this tattoo. He hasn't had many opportunities to show it off, so why not at a gym? He's got a sleeve, man. Who honestly wouldn't show that off? And if his old dead boss thinks it's pretty great, then it's pretty great! Rhys is beaming right now.

"Uhh...it is finished? It's not like I can get anything done on my other arm, so."

Rhys just kind of looks over his arm, wondering if he missed a spot or something when he got it done. "Why?" If he really did miss a spot somewhere, he's going to be pissed. How much money did he spend for that...?

"...seriously? Just...cause...your pec looks like it's winking at me."

Kind of ruins the effect of an otherwise sweet piece. Jack shakes his head as he preps the weight machine. Does Rhys even realize how ridiculous it looks?

"My what?" Rhys looks down, and...of course. He sees what Jack's talking about. "Okay, listen. I like my tattoos just the way it is. And that would hurt. I already had to sit for hours to get this done, and I wasn't about to go through a whole box of tissues because of how much this hurt. Okay?"

How embarrassing. Leave it to Jack to notice the one little piece of his tattoo that wasn't exactly artsy-fartsy. Whatever.

Jerk.

Rhys sets the bars, literally pouting to Jack. "Ready?"

"...so, having your eye and your arm removed, and intense surgery to install implants is fine. All of the pain that getting a full friggin color blocked sleeve entails was fine. But that one little circle is a no go? Do you have hypersensitive nipples or something? I'm...I'm just asking. Cause it...it takes away from an otherwise great piece."

Just suck it up, Rhys, and get the damn think inked.

"Alright, I'm ready." Jack gets in position, well aware that they're garnering glances from other gym goers. People liked challenges, between Pokemon and people.

Rhys stutters. "My, my-" This is so embarrassing. Now he's wishing he hadn't taken his shirt off. He takes great pride of his tattoo's, no matter if he has the dumb nipple window or not. "They are just fine, thank you. And I'll have you know that the tattoo hurt in other places! Not just the arm."

He's so embarrassed, wowie!

Rhys looked to the crowd that was starting to gather, and smirked. "Alright. Ready? Uhh-" He's never done this before. "go?"

He'll push up as hard as he can, and ta-dah! Seventy-five pounds lifted! He's actually pretty proud of himself.

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gymtimidation (closed!)

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