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Steve was in hell. This could be the only explanation. Why was he even here? He couldn't remember. No seriously the lack of blood going to his head made it so he couldn't remember. Or maybe it was the lack of air.
“Tap out.”
Steve wasn't a quitter, he never was, so no way would he tap out. It was a sign of weakness. And he was never weak, not before when he was puny and asthmatic and not now when he could bench press a car.
“You need to tap out.” The same voice told him. Tapping out was weakness, and Steve wasn't weak. He could get out of this. He surged upwards in an attempt to unbalance the girl sitting on him, but doing so only further punched his neck and made black dots swim across his vision.
“Time!” Called the coach and then bent down to offer Steve a hand up when the girl, Karen released him.
“Listen, I think it's great that you're trying something new and I'm proud I be the professor of the class that you're taking here at the gym, but you've got to learn when to tap out. Tapping out isn't a sign of weakness, it's a sign of respect for your opponent's skills and it's a way for them to continue learning how far to push and when to stop. If time hadn't even just ended you could've been seriously hurt and that's not what we strive in Jiu-Jitsu. Take a pause and watch how we roll and then with the next switch you'll be with me so that I can show you what I mean. You're not trying to hurt each other, you're trying to help each other learn and be better. Ok?”
Steve nodded, guilt burning in his chest from the chastisement as he sat down on his butt against the mirror in the corner of the mat as he dedicated himself to watch closely. It was a smoothly chaotic jumble of sweaty limbs entangled on the rubber matt as the fighter sparred, or rather rolled with each other. Steve decided to watch Natasha sparring with the only other woman in the gym as her black gi reflected her blue belt against the blue gi and black belt of the other girl, Karen, the same one who he had just sparred against, correction rolled with him. Across the busy warehouse Tony smiled smugly as he sat on the alcove above the desk to watch the people in the gym fight against one another.
Tony had a right to be smug, Steve figured. He had made a bet against Tony and he had lost the best, and now Tony was watching him struggle as all his physical prowess and strength fail him the second he had touched hands with the smaller woman.
Before Steve had even the ability to blink, he had found himself on his back with his ears ringing as his arm felt like it had been pulled out of it’s socket all the while Karen’s calf had pressed into Steve’s exposed throat. It had been perhaps the quickest takedown Steve had been part of, even accounting for all the times he hadn’t had the serum and he’d had to limp home after another altercation in the alleyways.
As the instructor called time and everyone backed up to stand at the mirrors, Steve grimley headed to the center of the mat, where he touched hands with the coach, an older and smaller man who’s grey gi was frayed at the edges as a sign of it’s years of use; Steve had only one thought.
This is what I get for playing Jenga against an engineer.