The hotel gym occupied nearly an entire floor of the unfinished Continental. Fresh steel supports disappeared into the ceiling overhead while enormous floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Star City's skyline. Morning sunlight poured through the glass, illuminating rows of pristine equipment that still smelled faintly of machine oil and fresh packaging. Everything gleamed. Weight racks stood in perfect rows loaded with enough iron to satisfy professional athletes, while treadmills, cable machines, and squat racks filled the remaining space. Near one side of the gym, several heavy bags hung from reinforced supports, and beyond them a large section of wrestling mats stretched across the floor. A pair of boxing rings occupied the center of the room, their ropes still spotless from lack of use.
Despite being brand new, the gym already sounded less like a luxury facility and more like a battleground.
The repeated sound of impacts echoed through the room. Flesh struck flesh. Shoes scraped across the mats. Deep grunts accompanied bursts of movement. Sweat glistened beneath the sunlight and occasionally sprayed through the air as two figures crashed together before separating again.
One of those figures moved with terrifying efficiency.
Vey caught a punch before it could fully extend, redirected the momentum, and spun his opponent past him. The larger man stumbled several steps before managing to recover his balance.
"You're getting better," Vey remarked.
There was no sarcasm in his voice.
No mockery.
Just an honest observation.
Then he raised his hands again.
"Again."
Across from him, Dre bent forward and planted his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath.
The years had changed him considerably. He was a little older than Nolan and it showed around the edges. A thick beard covered his jaw while small flecks of grey had begun appearing throughout it, particularly near his chin and temples. His face carried the weathered look of someone who had spent most of his life fighting against circumstances rather than people. He still possessed some softness around his stomach, remnants of old habits that refused to disappear entirely, but there was no mistaking how much stronger he had become. His shoulders were broader than they once were, his arms carried real muscle, and years of hard work had transformed him into a physically imposing man.
He wasn't a professional fighter.
He wasn't some martial arts prodigy.
He was simply a man who had spent years improving himself one day at a time.
Unfortunately for him, his training partner happened to be Vey.
"You're killing me, boss."
Vey's expression remained completely unchanged.
"I said again."
Dre groaned loudly enough to make his opinion clear before stepping forward once more.
The moment he committed to the attack, Vey moved.
Watching Vey fight was strange because he never seemed particularly fast. He wasn't a blur. He wasn't darting around the room with impossible speed. Instead, he simply always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.
Dre threw a jab.
Vey slipped outside it.
A right hand followed immediately.
Vey blocked it with his forearm.
Dre attempted to close the distance and drive a knee toward his stomach.
Vey stepped back just far enough for it to miss.
The exchange lasted barely a few seconds before Vey casually tapped Dre's shoulder while redirecting his balance.
Suddenly Dre was staring at the ceiling.
He blinked several times.
"What the hell?"
"You crossed your feet."
Dre continued staring upward.
"I crossed my feet."
"Yes."
"That's why I'm on the floor?"
Vey nodded.
"That's why you're on the floor."
Dre muttered something highly inappropriate beneath his breath while rolling back onto his feet.
The training resumed.
This time Dre moved more cautiously. Instead of rushing forward, he circled around the mat. His hands stayed higher. His breathing steadied slightly. The improvements were small but noticeable.
A left hook came toward Vey.
Not bad.
Vey ducked beneath it.
A right hand followed.
Better.
Vey parried it away.
Then something surprising happened.
Dre immediately stepped backward instead of charging forward recklessly.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Vey's mouth.
"Good."
The compliment visibly pleased Dre.
Unfortunately, the satisfaction lasted all of half a second before Vey swept his leg and sent him crashing back onto the mat.
"Damn it!"
"You stopped paying attention."
"I got excited."
"Don't."
Dre rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
"You're a terrible teacher."
"I'm an excellent teacher."
"You keep hitting me."
Vey considered the accusation.
"Good teachers repeat important lessons."
Despite himself, Dre laughed.
They continued.
The next several minutes became a continuous cycle of movement, mistakes, corrections, and bruises. Dre would launch an attack, Vey would dismantle it, and then explain exactly what had gone wrong. Sometimes the explanation came before Dre hit the ground. More often it came afterward.
Dre wasn't a natural fighter. That much was obvious. His punches occasionally telegraphed themselves. His footwork still broke down whenever he felt pressured. Sometimes he focused so intensely on one threat that he forgot about everything else happening around him.
Vey exploited every mistake immediately.
Not cruelly.
Not maliciously.
Just honestly.
The streets wouldn't give second chances.
Neither would the people who might one day come after Dre.
Eventually another exchange ended with Dre stumbling backward into the ropes of one of the boxing rings. His chest rose and fell rapidly as sweat dripped from his beard and soaked through his shirt. Every muscle in his body seemed to ache.
Across from him, Vey looked almost untouched.
A thin sheen of sweat covered his skin, but his breathing remained steady and controlled. It was infuriating to look at.
Dre pointed at him accusingly, "I hate how easy you make this look."
Vey shrugged.
"It's not easy."
"That's complete bullshit."
"It isn't."
Dre gestured wildly around the gym.
"I feel like I'm dying."
"You aren't."
"It feels like it."
"Then you're improving."
Dre stared at him for several moments before shaking his head, "You know, people always talk about Nolan being the nice one."
"He is."
"I don't think they understand how much that says about the rest of you." For a brief moment, Vey actually smiled.
It wasn't a large smile. It wasn't particularly warm, but it was there.
Then it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. Vey raised his hands once more and settled back into his stance.
Dre looked toward the ceiling as though searching for divine intervention. After several seconds of consideration, he apparently decided no help was coming. With a dramatic sigh, he pushed himself away from the ropes and raised his fists again.
The moment he did, Vey stepped forward.
And the lesson continued.
An hour later both men finally called it quits.
The training mats were soaked with sweat, and the cool air flowing through the gym felt heavenly against overheated skin. Dre practically collapsed onto the floor the moment Vey ended the session. Every muscle in his body ached. His arms felt heavy, his legs felt worse, and he was fairly certain tomorrow morning was going to be a miserable experience.
Vey lowered himself onto the mat nearby and leaned back against the boxing ring. He looked tired, but nowhere near as exhausted as Dre. It was one of the many things about the man that Dre found deeply irritating.
A pair of water bottles disappeared quickly.
Dre drained nearly half of his in one go before finally lowering it with a satisfied sigh. Across from him, Vey drank slowly and methodically, taking small measured sips while allowing his breathing to settle.
For a few moments neither spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was simply the silence of two men recovering after a hard workout.
Eventually Vey broke it, "Tell me about your progress."
Dre lowered his bottle and glanced over, "Doesn't Quentin usually handle these conversations?"
Vey gave him a sidelong look, "It's really none of your business, Dre. If you must know, I'm looking at it from an operational standpoint."
Dre immediately raised a hand, "Sorry boss. Didn't mean nothin' by it."
"Then talk."
Dre nodded and shifted slightly against the ring, "We're making progress."
That answer seemed to satisfy Vey enough for him to remain silent.
"A good number of our people have blended in already. Better than expected honestly. They've established relationships, made themselves familiar faces, and started building trust. Nobody is looking at them twice anymore."
He scratched at his beard thoughtfully, "They're part of the routine now. That's probably the biggest victory so far."
Vey nodded, "Good."
"The issue isn't getting people into position anymore. That's already happening. Right now we're mostly waiting for the right moment to make a move."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Vey's mouth, "Then let's create the right moment."
Dre frowned, "What do you have in mind?"
Vey took another sip of water before answering, "I want you to make an offer."
"Oh. Is it the right time?"
Vey returned the grin, "yes."
The plan was simple.
Simple enough that it was almost elegant.
"I want the offer made publicly. Just pick somewhere people can see it happen."
Dre's smile widened, "Someone gets offered a job."
"Yes."
"And everyone around them sees it."
"Yes."
The grin spread even further. Now he understood completely. Curiosity was powerful, envy was even stronger.
One person suddenly receiving an opportunity naturally led others to wonder why.
What had they done?
How had they earned it?
Could someone else do the same?
People would ask questions long before anyone from the Underpass needed to provide answers.
"I like it."
"You should."
Vey capped his water bottle and rested his forearms across his knees.
"Most people don't care what we say. They care what they see. One person getting a legitimate opportunity will accomplish more than a hundred promises."
Dre nodded in agreement.
It was hard to argue with that logic, "Alright. I can make that happen."
"Good."
Vey's expression became thoughtful, "One more thing."
Dre waited.
"When employee training starts, I want that person front and center."
The grin returned immediately. Now he really understood where this was going.
Vey continued, "I don't want them hidden in the back of a room."
"You want them visible."
"I want them impossible to miss."
The hotel would soon begin training employees for the grand opening. New uniforms. New responsibilities. New careers.
And right in the middle of it all would be someone everyone recognized.
Someone who only weeks earlier had been standing exactly where they were.
Dre chuckled, "That's sneaky."
Vey shrugged, "It's practical."
Vey stood and stretched before looking down at him, "People believe their own eyes more than they believe us."
Dre couldn't argue with that, "Fair enough."
Vey started toward the locker rooms before pausing. "Dre."
"Yeah?"
"Good work."
The praise was brief.
Yet it still caught Dre off guard.
Before he could respond, Vey had already continued walking away.
Dre sat there for a moment staring after him before shaking his head and laughing softly to himself.
Then he took another drink of water and started planning exactly who would receive that very public job offer.
***
Nolan worked carefully as he sewed into his suit. Suit beaded at his brow as his delicate fingers softly pressed onto the fabric. Careful not to hard any of the electronics he was laying into the design.
"So the reports." He said talking sometimes helped him focus, "They haven't called us yet."
Kieran propped onto the table next to Nolan, "Yeah, they must be worried about bothering us."
Nolan hummed, "It's more than that likely they want to impress us, Marcy especially."
"Well what should we do?" Kieran asked, "We could make a trip back."
Nolan shook his head, "No, let them try it on their own. We already made plans anyways."
Kieran smirked, "Thanks to me they will work huh?"
Nolan laughed, "Something like that. Though I can't help but worry for them."
"Don't worry too much I'm sure they will suprise us."