image [https://i.imgur.com/tLdpLbM.jpeg]

An old gym stood on the corner of a deserted street, its flickering neon sign casting a ghostly glow on the cracked pavement. "Grind House Fitness," it read. Most of the lights were off in the city, but this place buzzed with activity. The noise of machinery whirring and faint groans leaked out from the entrance.

Two survivors, Jenna and Mike, crept toward the gym, their weapons drawn. They'd been scavenging the area for supplies when they noticed the lights and decided to investigate.

"Are those treadmills?" Jenna whispered, peering through the smudged window.

Mike squinted into the gym. "And… are those zombies on them?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Inside, a group of undead jogged, their decaying legs moving at an awkward but steady pace. A muscular zombie with a whistle around its neck barked instructions in guttural grunts, pointing at a whiteboard scribbled with phrases like "Dead Sprints," "Rotating Lunges," and "Brains & Gains."

"Alright, you lazy sacks of flesh!" growled the trainer zombie. "You wanna catch fresh meat? You gotta MOVE like you mean it! Dig deep! Knees up, let’s GO!"

Jenna blinked. "I think that zombie is… coaching them?"

The undead trainer smacked the treadmill with a bony hand. "No excuses! You think fresh brains are gonna wait around for slowpokes like you? If you wanna get faster, you gotta get stronger!"

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One zombie stumbled, its foot slipping off the treadmill belt. It was immediately set upon by the trainer. “Carl! If you fall behind, you’re off the team! Now push it, maggot!” With a grunt, Carl the zombie hoisted himself back up, eyes fixed with determination.

The two survivors ducked back out of sight, exchanging bewildered looks.

"This is insane," Mike said. "Zombies are supposed to shuffle around and moan, not go to CrossFit boot camp."

"Tell me about it," Jenna said. "But look at them! They're… actually improving. I mean, look at that sprint form!"

Just then, the trainer zombie blew his whistle. "Alright, switch to circuit training! You! Yeah, you with the arm falling off—pick up that kettlebell! Let’s see some swings. No one’s catching a survivor with noodle arms!"

Jenna's jaw dropped. "They’re doing squats. That one’s deadlifting."

Mike couldn't tear his eyes away. "This is terrifying. Imagine these guys with actual endurance!"

One of the zombies in the gym caught sight of Jenna and Mike through the window and let out an excited groan. The trainer spun around, a malevolent grin spreading across his decomposed face.

"Well, well, well, looks like we’ve got ourselves some live bait! Fresh motivation, folks!" he shouted, turning back to his undead trainees. "This is what we’ve been training for! Don’t let them get away!"

The zombies surged forward, their pace faster and more coordinated than any undead the survivors had ever seen. Jenna and Mike’s eyes widened in horror as the creatures sprinted toward them like a pack of ravenous athletes.

"Run!" Jenna screamed, grabbing Mike's arm as they bolted down the street. Behind them, the zombies were in hot pursuit, their new training paying off in terrifying speed and precision.

As they fled, Jenna glanced back one last time at the gym's neon sign. Underneath the glowing "Grind House Fitness" were the words scrawled in red paint: "No Pain, No Brains."