Team 3D Academy, Part 2
When the time came, the male and female trainees poured in, led by Donald McCarthy and Amy Adams, the same pair I had met the day before.
The existing male trainees whistled and whooped.
"Oh! New blood!"
"I knew that one would stick."
"Asian hot girl!"
"Was it Lina? How about dinner tonight?"
"All of you, shut it."
The voice that cut through them was thunderous. It was only two short words, but even those carried real charisma. The man who had shouted was the last to appear—Bibi Dudley of the Dudley Boys.
It was the first time I had ever seen a real wrestler in the flesh, someone I had only ever known through games and television.
"Listen up. If any of you get caught harassing a female wrestler, you're out. No—I'll bury you so deep you'll never set foot in this business again. A joke? Don't even joke about it. I'm warning you once."
Someone muttered under his breath at Bibi's words.
"Jason! Does this sound like a joke to you? If that's how you feel, get the hell out of here right now!"
"No, sir."
"You all know damn well that WWO, our TPA, and EAW don't forgive sex crimes."
Bibi looked each of the male trainees in the face, then went on about just how stupid sexual misconduct was. Even Victor McMahon, once the head of WWO, had been forced to step down over a sex scandal and hand the company over to his son-in-law Triple J and his daughter Stacey McMahon. He was far from the only wrestler or executive who had been run out for the same reason. That climate wasn't limited to WWO—EAW and TPA were much the same. The moral bar in WWO, and in pro wrestling as a whole, had never been higher. It was an era that let me breathe a little easier.
"Alfred Gonzalez."
"Selma Gonzalez. Some people seem to think we're a couple—we're brother and sister. I'm the older one."
As she said it, Selma looked straight at me. Had that really bothered her that much?
"Lina Cha. Just call me Lina."
Once the introductions were done, Bibi Dudley picked up without missing a beat.
"You'll start training under Coach Donald on the set course. You three, follow me."
We went with Bibi and Amy. The place we ended up was the weight room. From the thick smell of sweat and the lingering heat, it was clear the trainees had been packed in here only moments before.
"I still can't believe it no matter how I look at it. Let's see that four-fifty on the big three."
"Mr. Dudley, I put four-thirty on the form."
"You little shit! Call me Coach. And Alfred—not you. Lina. After Lina's done, you and Selma get measured too."
"Coach, you're saying she lifts four-fifty?"
Selma looked just as disbelieving as Alfred. I couldn't blame them. With these thin arms and legs, even two hundred kilos on the big three would have looked impressive.
"Coach Dudley. Shall I go ahead?"
"Yeah."
At his nod I went straight to the deadlift and set up.
"One-sixty?"
"I can do one-eighty, but I figured I should warm up a little, so I dropped it."
"Put a belt on."
"I'm fine."
"You don't know your body is your livelihood? You'll get hurt like that."
Was this the kind of man Bibi Dudley was? I had taken him for a hard-edged macho type, but he was more careful and considerate than I expected.
I took the belt Amy handed me, drew a breath, and lifted. Even at one-sixty kilos, Selma and Alfred let out startled sounds.
"Whoa."
"Holy—… that's the same as me."
I went straight up to one-eighty.
"Hnh."
A short grunt, a clean lift, and I set it down.
— Clank.
"Wow."
"She actually did it."
"With that body? Shit. Seeing it and still not believing it."
"What kind of body even is that?"
After that I hit one-seventy on squats and one hundred on the bench press.
"She's a powerhouse, all right."
"How do you get that kind of strength out of a frame like that…"
Selma was so fascinated she even reached out and squeezed my arm. Bibi and Amy put their heads together and muttered. From their faces, they were genuinely stunned. At least no one was muttering about the mysteries of the East. With so many Japanese wrestlers around, they had probably seen enough of that already.
Alfred and Selma took their big-three measurements next. Alfred, unwilling to lose to me, managed ten kilos over what he had written on his résumé. Selma, for a woman, put up an impressive three hundred kilos across the three lifts.
"Hmm. Lina. Looking at the muscle mass, it doesn't scream PEDs… but have you used anything?"
It's the blessing of the status window. No test in the world will catch it.
"No."
I answered fast and firm.
"Sorry, but I can't just take that at face value. Too many kids lie about it. Later, can you go to the hospital with Amy and get blood drawn?"
"Of course. Did I lift too much, though?"
I asked Bibi, but Amy answered.
"Not really. Fonda Rousey hits five hundred on the big three. Vianna Belair and Mia Ripley both clear four-fifty easy. Vicky Lynch couldn't do it now, but in her prime she was around four-thirty. They all weighed more than you, of course."
Vicky Lynch? A few centimeters taller than me, maybe around sixty-five kilos? There were quite a few wrestlers in that range. They had suspected PEDs, but the numbers I had set for myself hadn't been completely outrageous after all.
"For today, we'll wrap with an explanation of the daily schedule and the training you'll do here. For the rest of the time, follow Amy's instructions."
With that, Bibi Dudley left. We finished the day listening to Amy walk us through how the curriculum would run. Then I headed to the designated hospital with her.
"Car?"
"I live nearby, so I ran."
"Yeah? How long does it take?"
"Ten minutes by car. Twenty running."
"Close. Still, you'd be better off bringing a car."
"Why?"
"By the time the day is over you'll be dead on your feet just getting home. And if you finish late, it gets dangerous. Especially looking the way you do…"
She had a point. Come to think of it, I needed to get a self-defense gun, too…
"Coach."
"What?"
"Do you know much about guns? Something like a self-defense pistol."
"You don't have a single one at home?"
"No."
"Better ask Donald for help with that. I'll tell him—go with him tomorrow."
"Thank you."
About ten minutes later we reached the hospital. An appointment must already have been set, because the blood draw was over almost at once.
"I'll take you home."
"My place is right nearby from here. I can walk."
"Just get in."
A few minutes in the car and we were at the house.
"You're pretty well-off, huh."
It was only a modest two-story house, but Amy looked impressed.
"It's not that big."
"This neighborhood is quiet and safe, so it's expensive. At least a million dollars, I'd guess."
There was a police station and a fire station nearby, true enough.
"You live alone?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, you needed a gun."
My Korean memories would have had me invite her in for a quick bite, but the memories that had been poured into me said you didn't just bring people into your house.
"See you tomorrow. Don't be late."
"Yes. Thank you for today, Coach."
Amy waved as if that were only natural and drove off.
"Whew."
The moment she was gone, the first thing out of me was a sigh of relief—relief that I had buttoned the first button decently, and that the academy was better than I had expected. Right. The month's training fee. I needed to deposit the tuition first.
The next morning I left the house at six. As I parked and headed in, trainees started pouring in on bikes and in cars. Selma was among them.
"Morning, Lina."
Even at that hour she was irrepressibly bright. Alfred trailed in after her, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Selma. Alfred. Good morning."
"I was so excited I couldn't sleep."
"Yeah. Same."
Talking with Selma, I stepped into the women's locker room. A few of the women looked our way—more precisely, at me. Some faces were indifferent, but most of the eyes were hostile. Spots for a debut were limited, and I had the powerful weapon of looks; they were sizing me up as competition. Should I say hello first? I hesitated for a second, but Selma had no such reservations.
"There. Our name tags."
The lockers she pointed to had my name and Selma's side by side. I asked her quietly,
"Selma, do we not say hello?"
"Hello? How many of these people do you think will still be here next month? A couple of months, then they quit, scrape up the money again, and re-enroll."
Fair enough. Dropping three thousand dollars—over four million won—every month wasn't easy.
"How do you know that? Did you train here before?"
"Search! You search and it all comes up."
"You and Alfred okay, then?"
"Us? We saved hard for two years. We're fine. You?"
"I'm fine too."
From six-thirty for an hour, men and women alike worked on flexibility under an instructor—stretching and yoga. Then the academy put out breakfast: oatmeal, chicken breast, protein shakes, and a reasonable amount of fruit. After that came weight training.
"Coach Dudley wants Selma and Alfred to focus a little more on strength work. And Lina—he says just maintain. I agree. No point piling on weight and wrecking that physique. Lina, what do you want to do? Practice something else?"
That was Instructor May Runs. Something else? I would need to know what I could even do on my own first.
"For now I'll just watch."
"All right. Do that. If you're just standing around, help Selma out."
"Yes."
If I trained harder, I might squeeze out another five kilos. But my strength was already maxed out; no amount of work would raise it if the system wouldn't allow it. Train hard and show no progress? People would start looking at me strangely. And more than that, if I lifted any heavier, they would treat me like a real freak. Better not to push the strength work any further.
(The women's big three numbers are a fictional setting for this work.)