Riverport City, Phoenix Fitness Club

Ethan Gray wiped sweat from his brow, the 32-pound steel training rod clanging against the gym floor. His holographic watch buzzed – Jake Sullivan's pixelated face materialized, cheeks fuller than during their championship days.

"Ethan..." Jake's voice cracked. "Mom's cancer meds aren't covered. Need 50k."

The number glowed between them. Ethan transferred funds without blinking. Jake's faded World Combat Championship tattoo peeked through his collar – a relic from their Olympic Village dorm days.

5:07 PM - Phoenix Fitness Lobby

Mirrored walls reflected Ethan's scarred knuckles. Receptionists giggled over Jake's self-defense class footage looping on monitors.

"Mr. Sullivan's teaching groin kicks to soccer moms," a pink-haired clerk smirked.

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Ethan climbed soundproofed stairs, each step echoing Jake's career trajectory: Olympic medalist → state coach → minimum-wage trainer.

Third Floor - Self-Defense Demo

"Focus the strike here." Jake demonstrated on a punching bag, his bulkier frame moving with predator grace. "Even in heels, 200 pounds of force–"

The bag swung violently. Twelve middle-aged women gasped.

"Ethan?" Jake froze mid-kick.

Parking Lot Confrontation

Jake's calloused fingers trembled around a gas station coffee. "State Commission fired me after the raid. Said my 'reputation' scared sponsors."

Ethan remembered the headlines: Olympic Coach Arrested in Underground Fight Ring.

"Those weren't real matches!" Jake's mug shattered on asphalt. "They promised medical coverage for Mom if I threw bouts!"

Streetlights flickered. Ethan's prosthetic leg actuator whined – a permanent reminder of his own career-ending "accident".

"Come to Springvale." Ethan gripped Jake's shoulder. "We'll rebuild at Iron Fist Academy."

Jake stared at Phoenix Fitness' neon sign. "Rebuild what? Our glory days? Or more lies?"

Across town, Lucas Cheng's facial recognition algorithms pinged. Surveillance drones adjusted flight paths toward the reunion.