When it came to weightlifting, there were many things to consider before judging others for what they could lift. Comparing one lifter to another was not always fair, for there were many factors which would change what their bodies could perform with. Troy might not have known much about the sport itself, yet he knew there was a difference between what a seventy-kilo woman and a hundred and twenty man could lift. Both the muscle fibre amounts and the natural height difference was not something which training could change.

Yet… something must have gone wrong in his brain because Troy was pretty sure the results were supposed to be the other way around. As in, with Zep being the one trying to stop the bleeding from their nose, instead of watching Charlie being the bloodied one. The young man had done the maths on it, but trusting himself with any number higher than two was a mistake in the making. While reluctant to do so, it was obvious that outside sources were needed. That drug could still be showing its effect somehow.

“Would either of you explain to me, what I just saw?” Troy asked as the two others continued to blabber on about the fairness of hand-straps. Only one of them had been using some, but that fact was not mentioned somehow. He would have thought it one of the main breaking-points, but the stylistic choices for it seemed to be a more important issue for some reason.

Charlie and Zep were kind enough to stop their pointless banter when the third person in the room finally spoke up. It was as if the two only had been speaking with each other to pass the time, already having planned exactly how the next five minutes would go out. Or had just planned out the key points, and just used improv on the rest to get into a natural feeling of movement.

“Would you like to do the honours, my dear?” Charlie asked the decent person that he was. If anybody wants to do work for free, they should be free to do it. Slave-labour benefited the economy after all. The chocolate market wouldn't have been as big as it was without it.

“Call me your dear ever again, and I’ll show you a reason to fear the word 'torsion,`” Zep said with a go-lucky tone, showing just how much pain she was promising. Troy could not figure out what she meant, but the temporary whiteness on Charlie’s face spoke a truth that he learnt by his heart. 'Fear the word, and that word is 'torsion.` “And, my shoulders do feel weak from being so high above you. How about you be a sweetheart, and explain it yourself?”

“Well, if you command it, then I can't do anything but follow your word,” Charlie said, his voice somewhere between respectful and fearful. Troy wasn't sure if it was comical or not. Had the magic word really put so much fear into him? Others needed to be consulted about it because there was no way he wouldn't be using it as well now. He just had to make sure it wasn't anything grossly inappropriate. “Troy. I'm guessing you want to know how Zep is so obviously…” A glaring from a certain person in the room made the muscular man change his mind about what he was going to say. “I mean, I'm sure you want to know how Zep won over me so easily?”

“I wouldn't have phrased it so bluntly, but, yes, that's kinda what I want to know. Your bloody biceps are nearly bigger than her head! How the heck can she lift more than you can? And so effortlessly at that!” Troy exclaimed, truly not sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. To the side, Zep was simply enjoying the atmosphere and the unintentional praise that came her way. If there was one thing which every animal needed to enjoy, it was to get praised for their hard work.

For even with the use of the ultimate version of steroids, getting to her current level had not been easy in the slightest. Meanwhile, Charlie was internally jealous of the praise, even if such thoughts were more than a little misguided. The common ground between the man’s descriptions was always about his actions and not the muscles which also had been worked very hard on. In all honesty, the only two people he had heard openly praising his muscles were Troy and Darlow, and one of them had only done so to prove his point.

“My biceps are indeed massive, thank you,” Charlie stated, bringing positive reinforcement to the compliment, before bringing the head point back into action. A little flexing would even have been done, if not the slight pain which was still being felt. “The answer to your question does lie in what you have already been shown. And, no, I will not be doing what Esme did. I like to confuse people by giving them more information than they ever wanted to hear when asking me a very simple question. And to take that just a step too far, Troy, do you remember the drink that you drank just about… an hour ago now?”

To Troy, he felt like he had drunk it five minutes prior. Being unintentionally knocked unconscious did make such temporal inaccuracies possible. At least the young man felt slightly safe, knowing that Adam could tell the time no matter what happened… mostly.

“I remember it like it was only a few minutes ago,” Troy said with a deadpan tone. That got a minor cough out of Esme at least.

“A shame. I would have loved to repeat myself over and over again. Well, whatever. As you might then have realised is that you are currently not on the ground, hating your entire existence and the fact that your muscles can not be surgically removed that easily,” Charlie pointed out, being so kind so as to make Troy remember the sad sack of flesh that he was trapped in not long ago. It had been hard to breathe.

That wasn't supposed to happen! His lungs were not asthmatic, yet they had the balls to act like it when they felt like it. If only he could give them a good pounding without literally hitting himself in the lungs. Troy truly was trapped by the technology of his time. But… that technology had also brought that drink of theirs with it. And since he wasn't hurting anymore, it was safe to say that the drug had likely been the cause of it.

“Yeah. Again, not so bluntly, but that was definitely how I was feeling,” Troy said agreeing. The mere word of it temporarily brought shivers down his spine. He was only glad it was over now.

“And the thing to take away from that experience is that you're not feeling it now. You would be feeling terrible for another day, or maybe even two, if you hadn't got that mixture of ours,” Charlie explained. The young man already knew this, but it was nice getting a refresher on the topic. “It is something of a cure-all when it comes to basic muscle fatigue. Helps accelerate the healing process by a factor of you-don't-want-to-know-it. Yet it also does so much more. Care to take a guess?”

“If it heals the muscle, it also improves muscle,” Troy said without pause. He had learned high school biology just like everybody else. He knew how the body worked, to a minor degree.

“Hit the nail right in the middle with that guess,” Charlie praised, using an out-of-date way of speech. “It can improve the muscle, to a degree that the natural process could not even dream about doing. It can nearly improve just about anything that has to do with the muscles as well. The tendons get stronger, the bones more durable. Even the skin regains its youth. The body in its entirety levels up. Everything gets just a little bit denser.”

It was all just super steroids. Troy thought such an abbreviation summed it all up quite easily. Take the remedy, and get strong because of it. An easy idea to get behind. But… that did make one other question get more traction inside the young man’s head.

“If Zep can get incredible results with the drug, why aren't you getting something similar? You should have been able to take at least fifty more kilos than her,” Troy asked. His earlier math should still have been right, even if there was a modifier put onto the end of it. Multiplying two different numbers with the same amount would still cause the same scaling ratio. Something was quite literally not adding up.

“Well, that one is short enough to answer,” Charlie said offhand-ish. “You see, I am a-”

“Coward,” Zep said, finishing the sentence, much to the obvious displeasure of the muscular man. “Little Charlie-Dickins here is a big wide coward, who does not want to take any chances.”

“I do want to take chances, when I don't know what the results would be,” Charlie fired back, showing the verbal version of a slap-back. “When I know the results will be terrible, I feel even less want to do anything with it.”

“Uh, mind cluing me in on the context here?” Troy requested politely, wanting to know what those two were talking about. It was way too interesting to only infer from the background information. Straight out facts were needed if he was to get the figurative back-handed slaps that were occurring before him. “Because I have no idea what you are talking about, and I definitely see a need for me to have that changed.”

“Oh, you see my dear Troy-” Zep began, but was cut off by Charlie this time. What a twist of irony that was.

“Oh, no you don't. I never leave any task behind, before it is finished,” Charlie said, stating a very obvious lie that the three other entities detected instantly, even if none brought the point forward. “It would be cruel to your friend if you were to rob me of this honour!”

Zep stared at Charlie for a good five seconds, both staring each other down. Even the crack of one the woman’s fingers was not enough to make him falter, even if the muscular man hated the sound. It ended off with her loss. If such an ending was positive or not would be decided by those close enough to witness it.

“Fine, you get to finish what you started,” Zep finally said, ending the improvised duel. It was not like she had figured any idea to work with yet.

“I shall do so swiftly,” Charlie promised, getting back on the subject at hand not a moment later. “Troy, you see, it is a bit complicated. This mixture is not the safest to ingest. It has very specific requirements if you want a safe consumption. One of those is to have the body be as pure as possible. You might infer this to mean as little technological influence. While the standard brain implants are acceptable to a degree, anything further than that can and will cause… let's call it errors, when improving the body.

Though this might surprise you, I have developed some technology for my department. As any reasonable person of science would do to prove a point, I have every piece that I have ever made installed somewhere on my body. It all synergizes into one big machine, which I can control with nothing but my thoughts. A completely enclosed system, if you will.”

“And, that's why the difference between the two of you is there?” Troy questioned, with a curious tone. “Because you can't safely use the mixture, else you might be in danger from its effects?”

“Exactly,” Charlie stated, with a swift nod. It seemed he was glad it took so little for the young man to understand. Wasn't that a contradiction to what had been stated before? Or, could it be that Troy was still hearing the wrong things? “While I can't be too sure what would happen, it will likely cause serious injury and a need for me to have my augmentations replaced or just permanently removed. And if it comes down to either biological augmentation or the right kind of augmentation, the choice is obvious. I would rather stay with what I have than what little I could gain from being dependent on a costly resource.”

“So sad a tale that is, not being able to see the truth in your eyes,” Zep said, wiping away an imaginary tear. “You have stood by your choice for so long, that you don't want to admit that my mixture is superior to everything you have ever made.”

“I am actually happy with what I have right now,” Charlie corrected her. “It might have taken more than a few years to get to my current level of strength, but that is also the fun part of this hobby. I get to see the results slowly get better.”

“That is one of the lamest things you have said today. And I listened to you talk about John Coltrane for ten minutes, so you know that is not a good thing.”

Troy was unsure how to take what he saw before him. Charlie had tried to lift Zep into the air, and likely swing her around. A fun little article meant as a joke. Instead, the situation had reverted upon itself, with Zep doing the swinging. A hundred and fifty centimetres tall woman swinging a nearly a hundred and ninety man around was certainly a sight that he had never imagined that he would see.

'Can you change your position? I need to get a better look at the mechanics of how Zep is holding herself upright.`

And Troy was not the only one wondering how that worked. Maybe that mixture did make the drinker just a little bit denser.