Driving around after escaping the gym, a newly designated forbidden zone in Mark's mind, he tries to find some way to get a reading on his strength. The scientific route and specific numbers can wait, I just need a general estimate.
Then, genius rarely seen in a century strikes like lightning. Why don't I Spider-Man this shit? Find an abandoned construction site near the docks and go to town there.
…
Three hours later, after driving around the outskirts of the city, Mark finally arrives at what seems to be an abandoned, half-destroyed warehouse.
"Fina-fucking-ly."
Parking at the edge of the property, he closes his eyes, holds his breath, and listens. Beyond the general rustle of wind kicking dust and rocks, the area seems quiet. His enhanced senses painting a faint mental picture of the surrounding area.
Let's see how accurate my off-brand Daredevil ears work.
Mark's ego rapidly inflates after stepping inside to see a very similar image to his mental mapping. Let's get to work, then.
The location he found was apparently the Holy Grail of abandoned warehouses for up and coming superhumans in training. From abandoned, gutted cars and dumpsters, to loose cement blocks and steel beams, it housed all the materials needed for the perfect training montage.
He begins by attempting to lift the dumpster. "HEAVE!" … Not even a budge. Maybe 2000 lbs of sheet metal filled to the brim with debris and rubble might be a bit much for Mark. Taking the hit to the ego, he moves on to the gutted abandoned car. A classic superhero baseline for strength. Small sedans.
He begins lifting with all the power he can muster. Legs slightly quaking as he holds it above his head, he pushes it off and it hits the ground with a loud crash. Holy shit. This is like a dream come true.
What kid didn't want to be Spider-Man, Hulk, Captain America, or Superman? Throwing cars, bounding over buildings in one leap, swinging through New York, or punching through solid steel. Now, Mark was living his childhood dreams and he would only get stronger.
Speaking of… let's see how high I can jump! After some test jumps, he aims for the roof of the warehouse, maybe one and a half stories up, and leaps! Panic grips his heart as he realizes he barely won't make it. Extending his hands above him, he claws at the edge of the decaying brick roof. The tips of his fingers sinking into the bricks as his left hand pulls one free from the structure. Scrambling and grabbing onto another brick above him, he barely halts his momentum.
Heaving himself onto the roof, his heartbeat settles back into its steady rate. Note to self, start doing more tests before attempting feats beyond your known capabilities.
Dusting himself off, he considers his new problem: how to get down. I know I just said to do more testing, but… can't do much testing without DOING. Fuck it, we ball. And he just jumps off the building.
THUMP
This thump was a visually successful superhero landing happening. Internally, however, his bones creak and vibrate, but don't fracture. Smiling through the pain, Mark gives the maneuver a solid 7/10. "Shiny gold bones can survive a 15 foot drop with no force dispersion with mild pain and discomfort. That's going in the manual."
Damn, should I become a superhero? Nah, I should just change the world through a shadow government. His lips curl into a sinister smile. Of course, with a focus on affordability and better living conditions for everyone.
The citizens of the world would never know what hit them, "MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA KEKEKEKEKE. This world shall know… PAI - I mean, uh, HUMANITARIANISM. MWEHEHEHEHEHEH." Seriously, though.
With a sigh of resignation, he realizes he has to test the worst of all physical activities, "Cardio." The word tastes like ash on his tongue, but it is necessary. With his physique, heart rate, and new blood cells produced by his Qi enriched bone marrow, Mark knows that his endurance will be off the charts, even by human standards.
He begins to run around the area at a pace just below a full sprint. Not even two minutes in, his boredom reaches its peak. This is why I hate running, if I wanted to be left alone to my thoughts, I'd just sit around and think! I wish I brought headphones or my speaker...
Thirty seconds later, he begins to try to integrate parkour and gymnastics moves when running at full speed. Flips, screws, borderline breakdancing, momentum shifts, jumps from one piece of debris to another, and anything else that can stave off the boredom that is running.
Mark eventually loses all interest in even getting a measure of his abilities and just starts having fun with it. He challenges himself to walk for as long as he can on his hands, to see how many backflips he can do midair from a standing position, or to see how low he can limbo.
His flexibility, balance, and grip strength are all put into play as he loses track of time and just immerses himself in the new world of superhuman physiques.
SNAP
Mark's head and eyes instantly lock onto the figure that attempted to hide around the corner. His heart lurches at the thought of being caught. How much did they see? Who was watching me? No fucking way I've already been caught by the government.
Accelerating to full speed in an instant, he rounds the corner to see three kids, just young teenagers, staring at him in awe.
"Bro. How did you do that? That was fire." The one in the middle speaks up.
Mark decides to play coy, to test them and see how much they saw. "Do what?"
This time the shorter kid to the left chimes in, "The flips! A-And, uh, th-the… shoot, what's it called?"
"Calisthenics?"
"Yeah! Where you, like, hold your body in really hard poses type shit!"
"Oh, uh, a lot of hard work and a good diet." He felt bad for lying, but he couldn't exactly tell these kids with shining eyes that they could only accomplish this if they interacted with a mystical energy unavailable to them and only after being chosen by God.
To be fair, a lot of what they saw IS achievable by humans, just those pushed to their very limits after years and years of training their muscles and tendons to maximize strength and flexibility.
Once they realized that he wasn't upset at their peeping, they started peppering him with questions and asking him to show off what else he could do. Despite his initial awkwardness, Mark still indulged their requests. I would've done the exact same thing at their age.
After several minutes of flexing his new capabilities in front of the teens and taking a few pictures, he shoos them away. "Why are y'all all the way out here anyways? Go home! Not all adults are gonna be nice if they see you poking around their business."
Nodding their heads like chickens pecking at food, they hop on their bikes and leave with a story they'll tell all their friends about.
One last test, then I gotta get home to meet Olivia in time.
Standing in front of a concrete pillar, Mark takes a deep breath, assumes a standard boxing stance, and throws his fist as hard as he can into the corner.
A shower of concrete chunks and dust fly off from the pillar as Mark doubles over in pain, holding his hand. "OWWW FUCK."
Staring at his now bloodied hand, he breathes through his teeth and groans in pain. After taking a minute to collect himself, he looks inward, scanning for injuries. Despite the broken skin and bruising on his hand, his bones remain thoroughly unblemished.
Another benefit to add to the list, though I am wondering if they're just hard or also shock absorbent. More testing required…
In just ten or fifteen minutes, the wound quickly scabs over as the skin rapidly begins its restoration process. Just one more thing to add to the manual.
After his minor hand injury, his day of testing quickly came to an end. Mark now had a solid grasp over his physical limits. He tested everything from lifting and running to jumping and body control. He was firmly in the realm of superhuman, similar to an early game Spider-Man.
Rushing home to shower and prepare for his girlfriend's eventual arrival, he is weaving in and out of traffic relying on his enhanced reflexes to push his compact SUV to its limits. Despite the recent rise in personal power, he is still plagued by the one of the fundamental mundane truths of New York City: traffic.
…
Traffic is top of the list when I achieve world domination. No more of it! Everyone must walk or maybe teleport… maybe transportation tubes like Futurama. Ooh, traffic would be cool if it was with flying cars, like on Coruscant…
DING DONG
"I GOT IT!" Mark yells out to his parents. He walks up to the door and hesitates. How do I explain the transformation fast enough to make her not freak out the instant she sees me? With a nervous gulp, he opens the door.