Holding a yellow envelope, Ben was taking the elevator to deliver it to the basement. Although it was all the way at the bottom of the tower, his destination was a popular location: the in-house studio where various departments did production of photo and video content.
However, being popular meant a mix of all kinds of people passed through. As soon as Ben stepped out, he heard an abrasive yell shaking the space. "WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!?"
After hesitating a second, Ben spoke to the receptionist, who pointed out the target's direction to him. Walking to the designated destination, he entered a dark area with no windows, a concrete floor, and a high ceiling that attached to multiple rows of black professional lighting fixtures. Discovering such a shadowy cavern-like place in the middle of Manhattan made Ben raise an eyebrow. 'It looks like a dragon's den…'
He smelled his own kind…
It was a large space, with many pieces of film equipment all around, and a multitude of people operating them. Watching them, Ben nodded. 'These are the dragon's slaves…'
It was a film studio, so that assessment was close…
What was more interesting though was the setup in the center of it all: a well-lit set. There, Ben saw something he was familiar with—a bunch of weight racks.
It looked like a home gym, with a number of exercise equipment and free weights set up in an organized fashion.
"HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AN HOUR AGO!" At the edge of the set, surrounded by half a dozen people trying to calm him down, a middle-aged rotund redhead roared into the air.
After recovering from retired Guile's sonic boom…Ben stepped towards a stagehand moving props nearby. "Hello, I'm looking for Mr. Murphy."
The worker pointed him towards the epicenter of all the noise—big red himself.
Swallowing, Ben approached him. "Sir, I have—"
The man's crimson face turned towards him with the expression of a beast whose child was kidnapped from its cave… "WHAT THE F*CK DO YOU WANT?!?"
…
Ben exhaled to stay calm. He wasn't too keen on doing the beta dog dance…but he was here to perform an assignment. "Sir, a message from Public Relations…" he held the envelope out to Mr. Murphy
With a frown as deep as the Earth's anus…the large man yanked the envelope from Ben's hand and tore it open in a fury. Extending out the white paper in front of his eyes, he read the short message…and his hands started shaking…
A vein pulsated on big red's head like it was gaining sentience…
Then, his bloodshot eyes turned towards Ben. "THE F*CKER CANCELED THROUGH PR?!? THE BALLS! AND WHY THE F*CK DID THEY SEND A LITTLE SH*T LIKE YOU?!? THEY COULDN'T HAVE PICKED UP THE F*CKING PHONE?!?"
…
Everyone in the studio was silent, for fear of drawing the wrath of the fire-headed and fire-mouthed manager.
Ben frowned, he'd been besmirched…
He narrowed his eyes. 'Variation fire dragon…you're stepping past the bounds of your bloodline…'
Ben was a poison dragon, which he believed to be a much more noble being than a mutated fire dragon…
He gazed at big red. 'Oh, the fatty and redhead jokes I could launch upon you…would devolve you back into a sh*tty lizard…'
Yet, Ben kept silent for two reasons. The first was compassion. 'Perhaps he did this…for want of a father's love…'
Second, Ben possessed big hearts…and deep down, below his waist…he knew that this man, like every man, had a mother, wife, and if lucky–multiple daughters with certain needs.
…
However, Mr. Murphy wasn't finished. He pointed a shaky finger at Ben's face, and prepared to erupt again…when someone stopped him.
"Owen, give the boy a break, this is only his first day." An old man stepped forward from behind big red and pushed that shaky down. Seeing this elderly man, Ben realized he knew him. It was Jacob, the interviewer who treated him well several days ago.
Soon, the redhead stopped targeting Ben, because he understood Jacob was right, and it wouldn't solve his current problem.
Jacob smiled at Ben. "Forgive him. There's a serious issue here. We scheduled a shoot for an impending feature for their department's website, but the hired performer didn't show up again. It's for a headline that has to go up tomorrow, which creates quite the dilemma now."
The redhead Owen turned to the old man. "What do we do now, Jacob? This isn't a good situation for you either. We booked your entire production studio for the afternoon. At this rate, won't it be a complete waste?"
Jacob sighed. "Don't you have anyone that can fill in?"
"This guy was already filling in! We pushed it back as far as possible to get a famous personal trainer. When he canceled, this was our next choice. There isn't anyone else!" Marvin frowned.
Smelling a potential opportunity and fueled by ambition from his active social status multiplier, Ben turned to Jacob. "What's the job?"
This made the redhead frown with impatience but Jacob answered. "Owen's in charge of Male's Health magazine. They're doing a feature for the website for a modern training regimen for young men."
Checking a message on his phone, Owen shook his head and looked at Jacob. "I've already spoken to my assistant. There's no one from outside we can get on such short notice. Jacob, you know everybody in the building. Isn't there an amateur bodybuilder working somewhere in this huge skyscraper?!?"
Jacob spread a helpless smile. "You're leading a fitness magazine, you should understand this better than me. Most of the staff here are middle-aged workaholics. It isn't the type of environment that attracts elite athletes."
Ben nodded. 'Workaholics…so they're addicted to workahol…'
Then, he realized this was a chance. "So, you need someone strong?"
Although Owen ignored him, Jacob nodded. That's when Ben's eyes flashed. "Let me do it! I'm strong!"
Everyone in the space looked at him… Although he possessed some muscle tone, he was short and not big enough for anyone to call him a powerhouse. As a result, Owen and many people nearby broke out into chuckles!
It was like watching a 5 year old claim they would go to space!
Owen even stared at Ben while doubling over and slapping his leg!
A few seconds later, Owen wiped a tear from his eye. "Kid, thanks for lowering my blood pressure, but don't get cocky just because you've been doing curls in the squat rack…
This is an international magazine. No one's interested in a punk that's a little strong. This shoot was for a professional bodybuilder. You should've seen the size of the sh*thead meathead who canceled. Although you've got some definition, compared to him, you look like a pencil-neck crunchy Skeletor…"
However, Jacob had a different opinion. "Owen, you should give him a chance."
Big red squinted…
Jacob's eyes were enthusiastic. "I'm telling you, this boy's an athlete!"
…
The senile old man was still confused from the recent interview…but soon made a good point. "Think about it. Wouldn't it be an interesting feature? The workout program of a Male's Health employee!"
Hearing this concept, Owen looked at Ben, and then at the very heavy weights set up nearby and sighed. 'Even if he's an athlete, there's no way he'll be strong enough to be worth featuring.'
Reading Owen's dismissive body language, Ben knew what he was thinking. After glancing at the weight racks, and confirming it wasn't unachievable after taking two strength potions, Ben pointed at the weights and spoke up. "I eat those…"
