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"Well?"

Burt sat back from the computer. His faded green upholstered leather office chair creaked. He spun to face Hiro.

"81,469 bucks. That's how much we've gotta raise in ten months," he said.

They were back in Burt's office at Hiro's home gym. The same tired second-hand furniture and used weight sets. The same clearance weight machines. Hiro had imagined using his triumph to refurbish the place. Certainly to buy his coach a new office suite. Instead, nothing had changed.

Hiro's chest swelled with a sigh. "Okay. So what are our options?"

"Well," Burt said, "if I sold off and mortgaged everything I own, that'd cover another fifth of the entry fee. But that still leaves us with over half the money to raise."

Hiro held up a finger as an idea occurred to him. "Those fans. You saw what they did for me. What if we reached out to them?"

"What do you mean?" Burt asked.

"Crowd funding, Burt! Haven't you ever heard of it? I could be the first international contestant who's FANS are his sponsor!"

Burt looked dubious. But he shrugged his meaty shoulders. "All right, we'll give it a shot. Where do we start?"

"With that huge extended rat family of yours" Hiro told him.

***

Burt and Hiro bent over the monitor. On the screen, amid a razzle dazzle of graphics, video filter effects and pounding music, Hiro stood proud on the national championship stage. The video cut to a montage of Hiro's training sessions. It ended with their pitch, and with a list of incentives for higher donations - signed photos of Hiro, workout routines and diet plans Hiro had personally used in the past, and at the top donation level, a personal training video from Hiro himself.

The video ended. Burt looked over to Chris. "What do you think?"

Chris rested her chin on the knuckle of her index finger. She gave a slow, exaggerated shrug. "It looks professional," she offered.

All three of them turned to Burt's youngest brother. Hiro didn't know the rat's real name. He insisted they all call him Nymh - his online handle.

Nymh threw up his hands. The spiked leather bracelet on his left arm rattled. "What?"

"Is this really going to raise fifty grand in two weeks?" Burt demanded. "Two weeks. FundMe only gives us two weeks to pull this off."

Nymh's eyes rolled behind his glasses. "Look, I modeled this after the most popular bodybuilding videos on Furtube for the last year. This'll get a million views, easy!"

"But will they pay?" Chris asked.

"Hey," Nymh said with another defensive shrug, "so you get maybe one in a thousand who might actually cough up some dough. If you do the numbers - and I HAVE - that means all you have make is an average of fifty bucks a donation or more, and you should be solid."

"Here goes," Hiro said. He clicked the 'Upload' button. "Now what?"

"I guess we wait," Burt said.

****

Jake's thick toes tapped in irritation. This Warra character was taking his sweet time showing up. Jake glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had gone by since his interview with Guntur was to have started. He stood in the entrance of Guntur's private training facility. A set of heavy black doors sat closed to his left, and a thick steel chain ran through the handles. Jake's long kangaroo ears could hear pounding music coming from inside and the muffled sounds of someone talking. Jake considered banging on the door, but he doubted whoever was inside would hear.

A muscle-bound tasmanian devil came bustling around the corner. He stood all of 5'4, but his swollen pecs, visible abs, and thick biceps stood out sharply against his freshly ironed yellow button-down shirt. Jake was impressed.

"So sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Lismore," Warra said.

Jake shook his hand. "No worries. It is only six months until the Mr. Colossus. I'm sure you have a lot on your mind."

Warra gave a mute nod. Jake noticed him cast a worried glance at the doors to the gym.

"Something wrong?" Jake asked.

"Not at all!" Warra said. He said it much too fast. Realizing this, the tasmanian devil huffed out a short exasperated breath. "You're not going to get that interview with Guntur, I'm afraid. He won't see anyone these days."

Jake folded his arms. "Mind telling me what I'm doing here, then?"

"I thought maybe I could answer your questions," Warra offered. "I am his trainer. I've been with Guntur since day one. I know everything he knows. What do you say?"

"I didn't fly all the way from Houston to get a run around. Muscle Today is paying that bloody bear's meal ticket to the contest. He owes me at least one feature for our magazine before that happens."

Warra's paws fussed with themselves. "He's not going to like this."

"He'll manage, or he can kiss his sponsorship goodbye."

Warra held up his paws. "All right, all right! Come with me. Guntur's chained the doors. But there's an emergency elevator in the back. This way."

Jake followed Warra down a short side hallway. He'd been in the business of muscle magazines for ten years. Most international muscle furs had their eccentricities. Jake took Guntur's behavior in stride.

Warra seemed to grow even more nervous as they entered the elevator. He couldn't stop fidgeting. Sometimes a little shiver ran through his wide body. Jake watched Warra try to fight the urge to pace.

"Something has you worried," Jake said.

Warra hung his head. He pushed the emergency stop button. "Can I confide in you, Jake? Off the record?"

Jake put a paw on Warra's bulging arm, the very picture of sympathy. "Of course, mate."

"I haven't seen Guntur in weeks. He never leaves the gym any more. He texts me whenever he wants something and I take the elevator up to deliver it, but that's all."

"You haven't tried getting him to open up?" Jake said.

"If I linger too long, he knows about it and roars at me to get out." Warra hugged himself in shame. "He blames me for losing the Nationals. I don't think he'll ever forgive me."

Jake pressed the stop button again. The elevator resumed. "Let me have a go at him, mate," he said. "I've got experience dealing with difficult characters like him."

The elevator doors opened into Hell. The heat reminded Jake of home, of summer trips to the east coast rainforest as a boy to escape the frying pan of his family's flat in Brisbane. Some of the fluorescent lights had burned out, casting the gym in twilight. The music was deafening. It thundered from every speaker, vibrating the walls. Guntur's own recorded voice spoke over the top of it. Warra recognized it from one of the press statements Guntur had given three years ago. Guntur was bragging about his latest achievements, telling the unknown journalist how unstoppable he was.

Weights lay about the floor like the rubble of a battle. Warra noted a few places where they'd dented the padded tiles. The gym's water fountain had been torn open. The naked pipe gurgled out a constant heavy stream that the fountain's drain struggled to keep up with. Guntur's scent was everywhere. As cloying as smog. Warra hardened in seconds. He started to tremble again. He shouldn't be here, he knew. This was trespassing. Or worse, blasphemy.

Jake glanced at Warra's immobile figure and shook his head. He strode forward, over to the sound system.

"No, don't!" Warra cried.

Jake pressed the power button. His ears rang in the sudden quiet. An enraged ROAR exploded from the small side room off of the main gym. Jake flinched back a bit. He adjusted his collar and prepared himself to face Guntur's wrath.

But nothing could have prepared Jake or Warra for the creature that burst into the room, naked and gleaming with weeks of unwashed sweat. Guntur barely looked mortal any more. Veins seethed across his arms like Amazonian strangler plants. His heaving pecs yawned outward so far Jake couldn't even see Guntur's nipples any more. Guntur's whole core was a deformed knotwork of seething bulges, with a waistline that sliced down toward his hips like some Martian canyon. Jake's teeth buzzed with every crashing step Guntur took toward them. Drool dripped from his thick exposed fangs.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't crush every bone in your body!" Guntur bellowed.

Jake recognized that crazed look in the bear's eyes. He was roided up all to hell. His adrenaline was probably off the charts.

"Because I'm from the blokes who are paying your entry fee, Mr. Sabah," Jake said.

"Tell them I need more money, then! I'm almost out of GroStem!"

"Mr. Sabah-"

"NOBODY comes in here, you hear me, roo? NOBODY!"

Guntur slammed a fist into the sound system. It shattered inward like a planet struck by a meteor. Guntur let out a wordless snarl. "NOW look what you've made me do! GET OUT!"

"Now just one bloody minute!" Jake yelled back.

Guntur ignored him. He'd spotted the cowering figure of Warra.

"You."

Warra whimpered and shrank away from the approaching bear.

"I should have known you were behind this," Guntur growled.

"Guntur, he's from Muscle Today! Your sponsor! I had no choice!" Warra babbled.

Guntur spat in Warra's face. Warra howled in terror when Guntur yanked him off his feet. Guntur grinned like a demon. Stray lines of drool oozed from between his grinding fangs, down his cheeks to his nearly non-existent neck.

"Couldn't stand to be away from these muscles any longer, was that it, BITCH?"

"Guntur, please!" Warra wailed.

Guntur devoured Warra's mouth in a kiss of such savagery that Jake gulped and backed away. Jake watched Warra writhe, cumming until it dripped out the bottom of his pant leg. Guntur dropped the mewling mess that was Warra to the floor. He turned to loom over Jake.

"Guntur-" Jake tried again and again Guntur cut him off.

"You want an interview, you puny BUG? I'll give you an interview!"

Guntur let out a positively prehistoric snaaaaarrrl, fangs gleaming and tongue lolling as he flexed his gargantuan arms upward. Jake's knees gave out.

"Ask me your fucking questions!"

Jake shuddered. His thoughts flopped in his head like a lolling tongue. He'd rehearsed for this interview two weeks in advance. One flex from Guntur, and it crumbled. Guntur snorted at him in raw scorn and lumbered over to one of the mirrors.

Grinning, the naked monster crushed his mammoth arms into those unbelievable pecs in a side chest pose. "I'm waiting, bitch."

"Uh...about the Nationals..." Jake floundered.

"Bah, I'm a world class bodybuilder now! Who cares about the fucking Nationals?"

Guntur whirled on Jake as a thought occurred to him. "And where the hell's your photographer?"

"I was going to arrange that after we were done here," Jake said, meekly.

"You came to interview ME without a photographer? What fucking bullshit is this?" Guntur scoffed.

"C..careful, Guntur," Warra spoke up, limping over. "You don't want to piss off your sponsor."

Warra had to dive out of the way as Guntur tore the entire sound system out of the wall and hurled it at him. "I don't need your advice any more! I've grown beyond you...slave."

Warra whined, nodding wildly. Guntur smirked at him and slowly brought a gargantuan arm in for a bicep flex across his body.

"That's right, slave. You might have failed me, but you've still managed to turn me into a GOD. You deserve to worship this body."

"Oh master, thank you! Thank you!"

In minutes, Guntur was filling up one of the full length mirrors again, this time with Warra's head stuffed between his massive thighs while the tasmanian devil clung to his waist and sent feverish licks all over the base of his bloated cock.

Guntur eyed Jake.

"Jealous?"

Jake cleared his throat. What were some of his other questions? Right now, Jake could barely remember his own name.

"What about your background, Guntur? Or how about telling us something you like to do when you're not training." Jake said. He was ad libbing. Trying to get the conversation flowing to generate enough material for an article. He had to bring things under control before....before he lost whatever semblance of professionalism he still had.

"You don't understand anything about this lifestyle, do you?"

Guntur turned from the mirrors to lumber back toward Jake. "I am never NOT training. If I'm not lifting, I'm eating. If I'm not eating, I'm posing. If I'm not flexing these godly muscles of mine, I'm watching videos of the past winners to see how they worked a crowd." Guntur let out an incoherent rumble. "There is nothing else in life but this!" He rolled his obscene pecs. "Muscle...is...EVERYTHING!"

"That's really what you want me to say about you?" Jake stammered.

Warra reappeared. He pushed a massively loaded barbell across the floor toward Guntur, puffing with the strain. Guntur bent over to grab it, salivating. He yanked it up in his mighty arms before Warra had a chance to let go. Warra was smooshed against the wall of Guntur's enormous abs. Guntur grinned full fangs at Warra and as he slowly lowered the barbell back down, Warra sank lower until his naked muscular rump settled against Guntur's engorged cock head.

Warra's eyes rolled back. His incoherent groan mingled with Guntur's bestial growls. Guntur slowly pumped the sagging barbell back up, reveling in how his biceps exploded in size, the veins as thick as Jake's fingers. The action dragged Warra back up Guntur's mighty shaft but didn't fully remove him from it. The tasmanian devil was practically gibbering.

"You tell your readers this, little roo," Guntur raved. "I will NEVER stop. You hear me? NEVER! I don't want to win any more. I want to RULE. I want to become so huge that those puny, pathetic judges will BOW before me! No one will EVER be bigger than me! Stronger than me! More hung than ME!"

Jake exploded in his pants.

****

$70,000 short. Hiro's fans had poured everything they had into the crowd funding event, and he was still $70,000 short. Sponsor after sponsor had been on the phone with Burt, but the biggest paycheck Burt had been able to get out of them still left a $20,000 gap.

Intellectually, Hiro understood the problem. These were the national level sponsors. They just didn't have that kind of cash to throw around. That did nothing to help the rage. The stinging disappointment. The crushing sense of failure.

Hiro left Burt to break the bad news to the fans and the media. He didn't care any more. Days turned to weeks, and Hiro stayed out of the gym. Some times it was all he could do to get out of bed.

Another week passed with no sign of Hiro. Burt finally drove to Hiro's house. He let himself in the back door with the spare key Hiro had made for him.

"You in here, champ?" Burt called.

No answer. Burt made his way down the main hall to the bedroom. The bed was a rumpled mess, but there was no sign of the huge fox. Then a sharp ring of metal on metal reached Burt. Burt followed the sound to the garage. He opened the door.

Hiro stood in the middle of the concrete floor in his boxers and a sleeveless undershirt holding a sledgehammer, panting. His muzzle twisted and he swung it over his head. Burt's eyes widened when he saw what Hiro was hitting.

"Hiro!"

Burt jumped down the short flight of steps. He caught hold of Hiro's arms before Hiro could smash another blow. The National Bodybuilding Championship trophy lay on its side, a skull-sized dent marring its smooth curve. The blow had scraped off some of the gold leaf, exposing the iron beneath.

Hiro looked into Burt's eyes. The tears welled up. Burt took the hammer from him and guided Hiro over to the steps, where Hiro collapsed against him and sobbed.Burt hugged him as best he could.

"I know how you feel, champ," Burt soothed. "It's a damn shame."

"So that's it, then," Hiro sniffed. "Guntur wins and I get whatever he doesn't want."

"Now hold up a sec, Hiro. Is that what you really think?"

Hiro gave his dripping nose an angry rub. "What else is there to think?"

Burt slipped free of Hiro. He retrieved the trophy and set it down in Hiro's lap.

"You see that? That's yours, Hiro. That's months and years of dedication and sacrifice, of waking up early and going to bed exhausted. You EARNED that. So don't sit there and think you're a loser when you've got proof you're not staring you in the face."

Hiro shrugged his thick shoulders. "It doesn't matter. Guntur-"

"Forget about Guntur!" Burt yelled. "There'll always be someone like him, who thinks he's hot shit because he's got the biggest biceps in the gym! Are you going to let every one of them grind you down like this?"

Hiro looked up at him. Burt had never seen him so lost.

"So what do I do?" Hiro asked.

Burt offered Hiro his paw. "Get inside. Get cleaned up. Have a good meal, and then go back to the gym."

"That's it? As if nothing happened?"

"You lose, you go back to the weights. You win, you go back to the weights," Burt said.

Hiro smiled in recognition. "Lawrence Tavoro said that."

"And now I'm saying it. Come on, champ."

Hiro stood. He carried the trophy back inside. Burt stood in the bedroom doorway while Hiro set it back in its place of honor at the head of his bed.

"You want me to cook you something?" Burt asked.

"No," Hiro said. "I'll pick up something at the beach. I need to go for a walk."

****

The beach was nearly deserted this late in the season. The only people in the water were snowbirds from places that suffered from real winter weather. Hiro hadn't bothered with a swim suit. He was satisfied with a tee shirt and some knee-length shorts.

Hiro walked just deep enough in the surf for the icy water to wash over his ankles. It was odd. Most of the time, guys would be flocking up to him by now. His shirt hid a lot of his definition. To the casual eye, Hiro was just an unusually big fox. Maybe even a touch overweight.

The Pit came into view. Hiro stopped. It was the open air gym that gave this beach the reputation it had. All the classic greats had trained there at one time or another, Lawrence Tavoro included. Hiro pushed against the sand with his feet to mount the slight incline. The ground suddenly flattened out, changing to concrete. Ahead, a wide square of fortress-thick concrete held back the beach so that the Pit looked recessed into the ground. The floor was all heavy-duty black matting, the kind used on farms to let cows trod on. Free weights gleamed in the cloud-tinted sun. There were no machines in the pit, just dumbbells, plates, barbells and an array of jungle gym equipment in the back for body weight exercises.

Only one figure was using the equipment as Hiro came up - an otter with a decent amount of beef to him, considering the species. Hiro watched him puffing as he curled his dumbbells back and forth. Maybe he would need a spotter. Hiro hoped so.

Four much larger figures cut Hiro off before he could make his move - a quartet of panthers that looked like they weighed half a ton between them all. Their leader was the largest across the soldiers and pecs, boasting a red bandanna and an energy drink logo muscle shirt.

"Oh, no, no, no, what is this?" Bandanna said, arms open in a gesture of disgust.

The otter let go of the weights he'd been about to pick up.

"This is the Pit, small fry. Not a playground. Out."

"Oh, come on, guys," the otter protested. "I'm almost done."

"You ARE done," another panther said.

"Can you believe these guys?" Bandana said. "I'm always tripping over them at the gym."

The otter looked down. "I don't mean to be a bother."

"Yeah? Well take a swim, go for a jog, do something that makes sense," Bandana said, poking the otter in the chest. "Because it's guys like you that clog up the weights and hog the equipment from REAL lifters."

"I've been lifting for three years," the otter muttered to the big panther's feet.

"Jesus, you don't take a hint, do you? You're small, you stupid otter! You'll always be small! Why do you bother?"

The otter bit his lip. "I just love to lift."

The panthers parted far enough for the otter to pass through them on his way out. The otter didn't even see Hiro until Hiro stopped him with a paw on his shoulder.

"Hey! Assholes!" Hiro called.

The panthers fixed Hiro with their golden eyes as if they couldn't believe that a fox would have the balls to insult them.

"That's right. I'm talking to you, you sons of bitches! Where do you get off treating someone like that? This is a public space! He's got as much right to be here as you do!" Hiro said.

"Hey, take it easy, foxy," Bandana said. "If I came off a little strong, I'm sorry, okay?"

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You should be ashamed of yourselves. All four of you! It's guys like you that everyone looks up to at the gym, and you know it! How do you think it feels for a guy with the kind of body you've always admired to tell you that you're worthless and wasting your time?"

"Is this guy for real?" jibed one of the panthers from the back.

"Okay, foxy, okay," Bandana soothed. "You've had your Gandhi moment. Now can I and my boys get a little space? We've got weights to set up."

Hiro narrowed his eyes. He imagined Guntur standing in his place and tried to copy the sun bear's scornful tone. "What do you bench, cat? Two hundred? How much setup time do you think you need?"

Bandana rounded the corner of the Pit and planted his pecs against Hiro's. "Boy, you better get the fuck out of here before I show just what these muscles can really do," he growled.

"Show me, then," Hiro challenged. "I could out-bench any one of you as a warm up!"

Bandana burst into laughter. "Foxy, I don't know what's bigger - your balls or your head!" The panther rolled his thick pecs proudly under his shirt. "You challenging me to a bench-off?"

Hiro gave a slow nod. "Right here. Right now. And if I win, the otter stays."

Bandana raised his eyebrows, a silent question to his fellow panthers. The way they grinned and started to load up the weights, they were all for it. One of them even took out his phone to record what he was sure would be a hilarious video.

Bandana stripped off his shirt, revealing the full swell of his hard pectorals and the sweep of his six pack. The other panthers started to cheer him on, psyching him up. Two bench press stations were set at 200 pounds.

Hiro stepped into the Pit and pulled off his own shirt.The otter and the panthers gasped in unison.

"....ohhhhhh shit!" cried Bandana's spotter. His eyes were round with disbelief. "Ohhhh SHIT!" he said again.

Hiro handed his shirt to the otter and winked. The otter gave a massive blush and took a seat next to Hiro's bench.

Hiro took his place under his own bench.

"Don't even think about forfeiting, cat," he said to Bandana. "You're not getting off that easily. I'm teaching all of you kittens a lesson! Raise 'em up!"

Together, the two muscle furs lifted their barbells off the cradles. Hiro performed his first set of ten with ease. Bandana was already panting by the time he set his barbell back down. They sat up while the panthers wordlessly added another twenty pounds to each barbell.

"You didn't think you were the biggest guy around this beach, did you, cat?" Hiro taunted.

They both made it through another set. Bandana took off his namesake to wipe at his brow.

"Tired already, cat?" Hiro gave his own thick pecs a slow, hard bounce. "I'm just getting started!"

"Shut up," Bandana snapped.

They went for another two rounds, up to 260 pounds. By now, Bandana was clearly struggling. Hiro finished his third set of ten as cool as a machine.

"I'm bored with this," Hiro said. "Let's go for 300."

"Th...three...three HUNDRED?" Bandana cried.

"Why not? That's my usual set," Hiro said with an evil grin. "Not bad for a fox, huh?"

Bandana hesitated. Hiro watched him fighting against his own pride. He silently hoped Bandana would forfeit. He didn't want to see the panther hurt himself.

"What's it gonna be, cat?"

"Load it up," Bandana snarled.

"Dude, listen," his spotter protested, but Bandana cut him off with a primal feline hiss.

Hiro took his place one last time. This time, he had to watch his form and concentrate. Three hundred pounds was no joke, no matter how buff he was. Hiro's focus narrowed to a laser point. His massive arms pumped. His pecs bulged and rolled, crushing together and flattening back out over and over again. By the time Hiro finished and racked his weights, he'd pumped out fifteen good reps.

Hiro sat up. All four panthers were staring, slack jawed.

"Who ARE you?" Bandana whispered, awestruck.

"A better sport than you when it comes to sharing work out space," Hiro said. He slowly stood up. Bandana gulped, ears low. "Now get out. My friend and I have weights to put back."

The panthers left without protest. Hiro folded his bulging arms with satisfaction. He felt fifty feet tall. He jumped when a slender pair of arms wrapped themselves around his back.Smiling, Hiro turned to give the otter a proper hug.

"I never in a million years thought that you of all people would come to my rescue, Hiro!" the otter said. He took a step back, flustered. "I..I mean...Mr. MacCarther."

Hiro patted his arm. "It's okay."

"I'm Jim Thealand. Congratulations on the Nationals."

Hiro shook paws with him. "Did you watch?"

"Only online," Jim said. "But I thought you were amazing!"

"Thanks," Hiro said with honest feeling. "It's been a while since I felt amazing, myself."

"What? Why?" Jim asked.

"Help me put these weights back. I'll tell you all about it," Hiro said.

***

Burt unlocked the gym door the next morning and found Hiro inside, already warming up. He paused, surprised.

"You're almost late, coach," Hiro said.

Burt smiled. "It's good to see you again, champ."

They didn't try for any records that day. It was a day of pure sport, a day to celebrate the joy of training. Burt even joined Hiro for squats after lunch. The gym glowed with the easy warmth they shared between them. Burt knew Hiro so well he could counter Hiro's jokes before Hiro even made them.

Hiro and Burt were so wrapped up in training they didn't notice their visitor until Burt turned around after racking Hiro's dumbbells and saw him.

"Whoa! Hello there!"

Hiro sat up off the incline bench and half twisted to see an amused adult otter standing in the doorway. From ears to tail, the otter was impeccable. Every strand of fur groomed. A flawless ocean-colored business suit that Hiro swore had to be silk from the way it shone. Hiro hastily slurped his paw and ran it over his sweaty head fur.

"I apologize for interrupting," the otter said. "My name is Thealand. Mark Thealand."

"Burt Hayes."

"And this must be Hiro," Mark said with a grin.

Hiro grunted as he stood up. Mark took a step back.

"My goodness! James wasn't exaggerating!" he said, looking Hiro up and down.

"I'm sorry," Hiro ventured. "Do we know you?"

"Not formally, no," Mark said. "But I believe you've already met my son."

"Oh! Of course!" Hiro could see the family resemblance to Jim now.

Mark extended his paw to Hiro. "I wanted to thank you for standing up for James at the Pit yesterday."

Hiro shook paws. "It was no big deal, Mr. Thealand. I just hate seeing anyone pushed around."

"Mark, please," the otter insisted. "And I'm afraid I disagree with you, Hiro. If you hadn't been there, James might have been in some serious trouble. You impressed him. You've also impressed me. I'll be the first to admit, I've never paid much attention to bodybuilding, but James was only too happy to educate me last night regarding your career."

"Well, I'm flattered, Mark," Hiro said.

"I understand you've hit a spot of financial trouble," Mark went on.

Burt and Hiro looked at each other.

"No way," Burt said.

"Could I interest you in a sponsorship offer?" Mark asked.

"With who, exactly?" Burt said.

Mark handed Burt his card. "Thelcorp International. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. But I'm fairly sure you've heard of some of our fitness-related subsidiaries: Bufftek, Mansteele, Evolution, All Stars Fitness Equipment, and..." Mark gestured to the stylized bull's head logo that rested on the upper left hand corner of Hiro's muscle shirt "...Tavoroware.".

Hiro's head spun. Mark's company owned five of the biggest names in gym equipment.

Burt stared at the card he held in his paws in disbelief. "You....you're the CEO?"

"I am," Mark said, smiling. "Sponsoring Hiro for the entry fees into the Mr. Colossus will be no problem. Assuming we have an agreement?"

Mark staggered a little under the enthusiasm with which Hiro and Burt agreed.

"I've also taken the liberty of fast-tracking Hiro's international licence. It should arrive by next week. In the meantime, I've left instructions with Taylor, the rhino who runs Platinum Gym here in the city. He'll have a VIP membership card ready for you tomorrow. If you're going to go after the Mr. Colossus title, Hiro, I think you should train with the best."

Hiro covered his muzzle with both paws. He was speechless. He'd DREAMED of the chance to lift weights at Platinum! He'd trained at all sorts of local high performance gyms, but Platinum? Platinum Gym was an entire facility devoted to nothing but international-level bodybuilding. EVERYONE who had ever competed in the Mr. Colossus had lifted weights there - it was practically a tradition!

"This means the world to both of us, Mark," Burt said.

Mark waved away Burt's thanks. "I may not be an athlete, but I know what it's like to fight for a dream against the odds. Best of luck to the both of you. I'll look forward to seeing you on stage in six months!"

Mark left. Dead silence reigned in the gym. Then Hiro and Burt crushed together like school girls, rocking back and forth on their feet in a circle of jubilation.