Shorts: The Ride

 Part of the shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time. 

 

Max’s muscles still throbbed from the last set, heavy bench press, max weight, no spotter. It was the kind of lift where you grit your teeth so hard you feel it in your skull, where your chest feels like it might split open, but you push anyway because stopping isn’t in you. Stopping is what the loser bitches in this gym did. On the bench he stopped for a moment, and took a moment for himself. His pecs still felt carved from granite, every fiber swollen with that hard-earned pump. With a push off he was off to the looker room, no need to clean the machine he just used. The gym had hired idiots for that lowely work. Max, after all, had better things to do. He now stood in front of the locker room mirror, steam drifting around him from the showers in the next row. Outside, rain hammered against the narrow windows, but Max barely heard it over the thrum of his own pulse in his ears. His thick chest hair lay plastered to his pecs, dark and gleaming under the buzzing fluorescent lights. Over and over, in his mind, one thought commanded acknowledgment.

Damn.

I look good.

I look powerful.

I look, I am dangerous.

Shorts: Reporting In!

 Part of the shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time.

  

 [TV News Broadcast Transcript]

"Good evening. One of our own is in the news tonight. A face you know, a voice you’ve trusted! That's right, our very own investigative reporter, Marcus ‘Coach’ Johnson. Viewers have lovingly nicknamed him Coach over the years for his steady, guiding presence and relentless push to get the truth."

"This past week, Coach has been covering a daring and violent robbery that rocked the city. Two men stormed a downtown armored car just after dawn, overwhelming security with pipes and makeshift weapons. More than three million dollars in unmarked bills were stolen, along with several crates of rare, privately held bonds. Three guards were hospitalized, two with broken ribs, one still in critical condition from head trauma. Police have been stretched thin, chasing leads that dry up as quickly as they appear."

"But Coach wouldn’t let it go. Day after day, he tracked the story, speaking with witnesses, piecing together security footage, and connecting dots that others had missed. His latest discovery led him to an unlikely place: the sewers beneath the old rail district. Investigators had dismissed it as a dead end. Coach didn’t agree."

"And last night, following a lead of his own, Marcus ‘Coach’ Johnson was last seen descending into those tunnels. Where it will take him, and what he’ll find down there, we will proudly report tonight! But as I'm sure you already know, if there’s one thing this city can count on, it’s that Coach will follow the truth, no matter how deep it runs."

Shorts: The Twins

Part of the shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time. 

The twins, Aiden and Evan, were once inseparable. Born minutes apart, they grew up mirroring each other’s every move. Same toys, same sports, same grades, even the same damn haircut until they were seventeen. It was cute when they were kids, people joked they were telepathic, finishing each other’s sentences like some novelty act. But now? Now they were twenty-four, and the sameness that once bonded them was starting to feel like a prison. It wasn’t just that they liked the same music or both preferred their steaks rare. It was deeper, more instinctual. If Aiden started going to the gym at 6 a.m., Evan would show up the next day at 5:45, just to be first. If Evan mentioned a girl, Aiden would find a reason not to like her. It was competition masked as connection, closeness twisted into rivalry.

The shift didn’t come with fireworks either, it was more like a slow burn. Little frictions here and there piling up over days, months and then years. But no one saw the final match being struck. Not even them. All anyone knew was one Sunday afternoon, a shout rang through their parents’ house. Then another. Then came the sound of glass rattling, doors slamming. Their mother tried to intervene, only for both boys to yell in unison, "Stay out of it!" It was chaos. Their father left the room, muttering something about letting them be men and settle it. Whatever the fight was originally about, who took the last protein bar, whose girlfriend had more substance, who was the real reason they both quit college, got lost in the storm of shouting. Every wound, every slight they had swallowed over the years was vomited up in ugly, bitter words. They stormed out. Then came back. The yelling resumed. Someone’s shirt got torn. A chair was flipped. Their mother cried quietly in the kitchen. And finally, they stopped. Standing across from each other in the living room, heaving for breath, fists clenched. The old photo wall framed them perfectly, baby pictures, matching graduation caps, childhood smiles.

Now they stared each other down. The same face, reflected in rage.